February 20, 1999
Northern Virginia
12:50am
* * * * * *
MULDER: It's amazing how things change, isn't it?
SCULLY: The caterpillar?
MULDER: No, a change for us. It's coming.
SCULLY: How do you know?
MULDER: A hunch.
--"Tooms"
* * * * * *
"Scully, do you believe in fate?" Mulder's unexpected voice pulled
Scully away from the blessed limbo of half-sleep. The place where one's
mind begins to detach from one's body, and where the mind slows it's
frenetic pace and sustains a blessed balance of no thoughts, conscious,
or unconscious. She liked this place, she didn't have to think , to
contemplate, to debate......most importantly, she didn't have to think
about why she was still in this damn car with Mulder.
She glanced at him. She could barely make out his features in the faint
light that emanated from the clock on the dashboard, but she could
clearly read him. The hooded eyes, the knitted eyebrows, the way his
damn lower lip jutted just so...yes , Mulder was feeling melancholy
tonight, and he was drowning her in his sorrow. She didn't feel like
talking, debating; she would be perfectly content to sit in silence the
whole night.
Unfortunately, Mulder couldn't allow that. He repeated the question.
"Scully, did you hear me? What do you think about the concept of fate?"
Reluctantly, she responded. "What do you mean, fate?"
"Fate. You know, life events are preordained, happen for a purpose, the
people you meet, you met for a reason. You know, fate."
She paused for a moment, debating how much effort she should put into
her answer. "Well, I'm not sure. The idea that the things we do are
somehow planned or preordained...it's not exactly appealing to me. I
mean, what would be the point of it all? If things have already been
mapped, then is there such a thing as choice?"
Scully sighed heavily. "But then again, it is kind of reassuring to
think that perhaps there is a certain meaning, an overall plan to life.
That one's actions have some significance in the grand scheme of
things."
She stopped. Mulder waited expectantly, but she was finished. He looked
at her for a second, disappointed. "That isn't much of an answer."
She just shrugged her shoulders. "That is the only answer I have to
give." She turned away from him once more.
Several moments passed before Mulder spoke again. "Choice is very
important to you isn't it? The ability to make your life as you see
fit."
Seeing that this conversation will not die with her simply turning her
back to him, she decided to let it play out. "Well, I think that anyone
would agree that that was important to them. The idea, the very concept
of having one's free agency taken away or limited is...well it's almost
an aberration against human nature. Because with out choice, what are
we, puppets?"
Mulder nodded, understanding. "Scully have..." He paused here, thinking
about his next comment and carefully looking over her disposition, he
amended himself. "...are there things that you regret? Choices that you
wish you had had, or you could do over?"
Scully momentarily flashed back to a night years ago, when a man, who
unfortunately had not been Mulder, had asked her a very similar
question. She forgot for a moment his betrayal, and asked with genuine
concern. "Is something bothering you? What is this really about?" She
waited for him to continue. She knew that he would. Several minutes
passed, and she watched him nervously fiddle with the steering wheel,
picking at the seams and tracing the outlines of the controls, all the
while steadying refusing to meet her eyes.
"I was just thinking about choices made. By me, by you. Choices made for
us."
She asked the question again. "What is this really about?"
"I was wondering about things. About where we would be if different
choices had been made." He finally lifted his head and met her eyes with
his.
"We?" She did her best to keep her voice neutral.
"Sometimes I think...I think that I've made wrong choices, that things
would be so much better for..." He paused. "...for everyone if things
had been different. But then, other times, it feels like I'm not even
the one making these choices to begin with, like my life is being run by
something else."
"What brought this on Mulder?"
"Nothing. I'm sorry that I even brought it up." He said, dismissing her.
Scully could see that he wasn't done yet, but she didn't feel like
dragging it out of him. If he want to tell her, he would, if
not... well... she didn't really care all that much right at that
moment. She just wanted to get the hell out of there. "Fine." The word
came out harsher than she planned.
They settled into a suffocating silence. Scully rolled her window down,
folded her arms on the sill, and rested her head on her crossed arms.
She breathed in the fresh air. The evening was more raw than cold, but
she relished the feeling. She herself was raw. A breeze came up, and
lightly ruffled her hair.
More than anything, she wanted to get out of this damn car. Three hours
waiting, plus the two driving in this stifling car. Why she had agreed
to come on this charade of a lead was beyond her. The source had
contacted Mulder with some new and exciting information on... what was
it this time? Oh, this time they didn't even have an idea. Just a
cryptic message left on his voicemail. 'If you want to experience
something that will change everything...' and this location.
She looked at the desolate road outside her window. When was the last
time a car had even passed? She couldn't remember. She moved her head
and tried to look up into the night sky. The dense forest that
surrounded the road enveloped them with their dark canopy. She could
only see a thin segment of the sky, where the branches on each side of
the road didn't quite meet. She looked at the few stars that she could
see the light against the darkness, the points of gold brightness
against the amorphous night sky. This did not ease her feelings of
claustrophobia and isolation. Just her and Mulder, in the middle of god
knows where, waiting for god knows who, which, considering how long they
have waited, was not going to show up.
She glanced at her watch. 12:52. She had had enough of this. This was a
horrid idea to begin with. It was too soon. It was only a week ago that
he had ridiculed her, tore her down, and invalidated much of their work
together. In front of the Gunmen no less.
They'd called her.
She was about to leave her apartment this evening when the phone rang.
Thinking that it might be Mulder, she'd picked it up instead of letting
the machine get it. It had been them with an update. She had asked the
Gunman to continue to monitor Diana's accounts, even though she was
presumed dead. Scully didn't trust that presumption.
She knew that Mulder thought Diana was dead. Mulder had said that he
had sent her to the site, and she hadn't been seen since that evening,
but Scully still had her doubts. The DNA results had not proven
conclusive that she was one of the victims. It was still early of
course, and more tests needed to be done to determine anything
definitively, but she just didn't believe that Diana was one of the
victims. Scully couldn't see Diana letting herself get trapped like
that.
The call had been a short one. How long did it take to say there was no
information? But before they hung up Byres had paused.'Scully... um...
well, we just wanted you to know that... we believe you, even if... even
if--' She interjected wearily. 'Even if Mulder doesn't.' Langly had
then broken in with, 'Yeah, he can be a real asshole sometimes.' Byres
continued as if Langly hadn't interrupted. 'We just wanted you to know
that we don't think of you as just Mulder's partner, we think of you...
well, you are one of our friends. We just wanted you to know that.' She
had let several seconds pass before she had found the words to speak,
forcing strength into her hollow tone. 'Thanks for the information.' And
she had hung up, her empty words still in her head.
Looking back, she realized that phone call had begun the night's, as
well as her mood's, decent. She did not need the Gunman's sympathy.
'Poor Scully, she has to work with that insensitive asshole. How can she
stand it?' She didn't need the Gunman avoiding eye contact when with
her, she didn't need them speaking in hushed tones, acting like she had
lost her best friend.
Even though it felt like that sometimes...
That nagging thought was already beginning to gnaw at her, and she did
not particularly appreciate it. She wanted to dismiss it out of hand.
Lifting her head up, she shoved it away. Time to go. Enough of this. She
needed to get out of here, needed to get away from him so she could
breathe. She turned to look at Mulder. Her mouth had just begun to open
when she saw his face. She had worked with him long enough, in enough
different situations, to be able to recognized his various 'faces.' And
this one... of course it was the one she hated the most."Welcome to
the pity party Mulder. So nice to see you, join the others." She
thought sarcastically.
He had that face that screamed self-pity and guilt, and not just the
common variety guilt. No, this was a Mulder special. This was the
'Scully's life is royally fucked up, and it is all my fault.' "Damn
it! Why must he do this now? I don't need this. If he says
anything..." Well, she knew what she would do. She would rip his head
off.
He turned to face her. He was going to speak. She knew this. She knew
that she wouldn't be so lucky that he could actually keep his mouth
shut. Scully closed her eyes and braced herself for the sadly inevitable
self-flagellation.
And then the proverbial ax fell. For him or for her, she couldn't quite
tell. "Scully, why are you in the car with me? Why are you sitting here
at one in the morning in this damn car with me?"
She frowned as the meaning of his words sank in, soaked in the memory of
a quiet conversation in the Nevada desert. She didn't open her eyes.
Choosing her words very carefully, she spoke. "Don't do this. I don't
need this now. And you most certainly do not want me questioning my
reasons for being with you."
He turned to her, trying to meet her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
She doggedly kept her eyes closed.
"I don't feel much like discussing this now." She said these words
shortly, clipped.
"I still don't quite understand what you are talking about here Scully."
But his words betrayed him. Comprehension was beginning to seep into his
voice.
She opened her eyes. "But you do. We have traveled this path before, and
I just don't have the energy to placate you now."
"Placate me? What the hell does that mean? If you have something to say
to me, say it already." Now his voice began to take on a decidedly sharp
edge.
Her voice began to take on the same edge as well. "You know very well
what I'm talking about. Six years Mulder...six years Mulder, and I've
grown tired of this game."
"What--"
She interrupted him. "I said stop." Her words were coarsely spoken and
Mulder could almost feel her frustration radiate of off her. She did not
stop her tirade. "You know what. The 'Scully's-life-is-majorly-screwed-up,
-and-it-is-all-my-fault-Poor-me.'That *thing* you do." She spoke these
words heavy with scorn. "And then it is my turn to fall into the role of
comforter and assuage your guilt. Am I right?" She was only inflaming the
situation, but she suddenly didn't care.
She spoke once more. "Wait, no, I have changed my mind. I think that you
do need to hear this one more time. And this will be the last time, so
make sure that you file this carefully in that eidetic memory of yours.
That way next time you feel like taking this guilt trip of your, you can
leave me behind."
Mulder wasn't looking at her any more. He simply sat, jaw tightly
clenching, guilt morphing into anger. But he didn't stop her from
speaking.
"How do you see me Mulder? I'm curious. Because you would have to see me
in a certain way in order for you to take on this guilt. Do you see me
as a nave, easily manipulated person? Someone who would do something
out of simple obligation or duty, damn the consequences? Of course
you'll say no, that's not my Scully. But that is how I feel when you do
this."
She paused momentarily and looked at him. "Are you following?"
"Perfectly." He whispered, his voice harsh.
"It's like...it's like you invalidate my reasons for doing this. I'm not
here because it is my job, or because I feel an obligation to you." She
paused and looked to him. She studied him for a moment. Her voice was
softer now. "It isn't always about you Mulder. I've said this before,
and it was just as true then as it is now." She paused once more. "Has
it ever occurred to you that I could have my own reasons for staying
that don't necessarily have to do with you? That it is just as important
to me to find these truths, that we find these answers. If you don't
think that I'm here for these reasons, I'm curious to know what you
think my reasons are."
"Scully, I...this isn't how I wanted..."
"I'm sorry Mulder. I'm sorry about this, and I'm sorry that you can't
seem to understand. I am here, with you, because I chose to be. I take
responsibility for my actions, and whatever comes from them. I don't
need you to do that for me. I don't want you to do that."
Scully fixed his eyes with her own, choosing her next words carefully
and trying to temper them with gentleness. "Mulder, when they took
me..." His eyes squeezed tight at the memory. "...when they took me it
became more than finding the truth, it became about finding the
answers." Her voice regained its edginess as she spoke her next words.
"It became personal. Imagine that. Personal for me, much like it is
personal for you. You have what was done to Samantha, I have what was
done to me. And once you understand this we can move on."
She abruptly opened the door to the car and stepped out. Leaning against
the roof of the vehicle, as well as the doorframe, she put her head back
into the car, and spoke again. "Mulder, I made the choices, they were
mine to make, and I accept responsibility for where ever those choices
take me. That, Mulder, that's why I'm in the car with you." Her last
comment was punctuated with the slamming of the car door in his face.
* * * * *
He sat there, alone, staring at the emptiness, feeling as if all the
energy in the car had left with her.
That... that could have gone better.
"No shit Sherlock." His inner voice mocked him.
He wearily rested his head on the rim of the steering wheel. How had
that happened? He hadn't meant for the conversation to take such a
dramatic turn. He hadn't meant for the night to end with Scully
defending her role in his life. He hadn't meant... well there are a lot
of things that he hadn't meant to happen; yet they did.
Sometimes it seemed as if it didn't matter what he did anymore...
That was what he had been thinking about when he had begun the
conversation. He should have known that Scully wasn't in the mood, hell
her body language alone had screamed that she wanted to be anywhere else
than with him. He should have known that the wisest thing for him to do
would have involved taping his mouth shut, yet the words had tumbled out
nothingness. He wasn't surprised by her reaction, he deserved it.
He wanted to feel angry with her, he wanted to... he wanted to...hell,
he didn't know.
He opened the car door and followed her out into the crisp night. She
stood about 50 paces away from the car with her back to him, arms
wrapped tightly around her to ward off the cold. They stood silent for
an awkward moment, while he tried to decide what to say. "Scully..." he
said quietly, breaking the silent stalemate. His voice trailed off, he
didn't know what else to say. He began to approach her. "It's freezing
out here."
"I've been colder." The chill of the night air was nothing compared to
the chill in her voice.
Mulder saw the gulf between them yawning wider. He saw no way to span
it. He tried to find the words, and nothing better than the obvious
occurred to him. "Scully, I'm sorry... I..."
She sighed heavily, and with the expelled air went the last of her
anger. Now she was just incredibly tired. "I'm not looking for an
apology here Mulder. You don't have to do this." She said, voice dull
and tired.
Mulder reached forward and touched her shoulder, and gently turned her
around. She let him. "I'm not... this isn't out of some obligation...
this--"
But his own comment was broken off by the look in her eyes. Her eyes
wide, she looked up just over his left shoulder. There was a shocked
realization in her eyes. Mulder rapidly flipped around and saw a bright
light moving above, nearly on top of them. He turned back to Scully and
without thinking grabbed her hand and pulled her off the road and into
the forest. "Come on Scully!"
They didn't get far.
Mulder had just turned to glance back at the hovering object when there
was a sudden flash of light
It was as if his entire universe had instantly telescoped down to those
few seconds. Time slowed. He saw the flash of fear sweep over her
features... her lips beginning to form his name...
But time was like a rubber band. Just as quickly as it had stretched out
to eternity, it snapped back.
And then she was gone.
* * * * * *
Northern Virginia
12:50am
* * * * * *
MULDER: It's amazing how things change, isn't it?
SCULLY: The caterpillar?
MULDER: No, a change for us. It's coming.
SCULLY: How do you know?
MULDER: A hunch.
--"Tooms"
* * * * * *
"Scully, do you believe in fate?" Mulder's unexpected voice pulled
Scully away from the blessed limbo of half-sleep. The place where one's
mind begins to detach from one's body, and where the mind slows it's
frenetic pace and sustains a blessed balance of no thoughts, conscious,
or unconscious. She liked this place, she didn't have to think , to
contemplate, to debate......most importantly, she didn't have to think
about why she was still in this damn car with Mulder.
She glanced at him. She could barely make out his features in the faint
light that emanated from the clock on the dashboard, but she could
clearly read him. The hooded eyes, the knitted eyebrows, the way his
damn lower lip jutted just so...yes , Mulder was feeling melancholy
tonight, and he was drowning her in his sorrow. She didn't feel like
talking, debating; she would be perfectly content to sit in silence the
whole night.
Unfortunately, Mulder couldn't allow that. He repeated the question.
"Scully, did you hear me? What do you think about the concept of fate?"
Reluctantly, she responded. "What do you mean, fate?"
"Fate. You know, life events are preordained, happen for a purpose, the
people you meet, you met for a reason. You know, fate."
She paused for a moment, debating how much effort she should put into
her answer. "Well, I'm not sure. The idea that the things we do are
somehow planned or preordained...it's not exactly appealing to me. I
mean, what would be the point of it all? If things have already been
mapped, then is there such a thing as choice?"
Scully sighed heavily. "But then again, it is kind of reassuring to
think that perhaps there is a certain meaning, an overall plan to life.
That one's actions have some significance in the grand scheme of
things."
She stopped. Mulder waited expectantly, but she was finished. He looked
at her for a second, disappointed. "That isn't much of an answer."
She just shrugged her shoulders. "That is the only answer I have to
give." She turned away from him once more.
Several moments passed before Mulder spoke again. "Choice is very
important to you isn't it? The ability to make your life as you see
fit."
Seeing that this conversation will not die with her simply turning her
back to him, she decided to let it play out. "Well, I think that anyone
would agree that that was important to them. The idea, the very concept
of having one's free agency taken away or limited is...well it's almost
an aberration against human nature. Because with out choice, what are
we, puppets?"
Mulder nodded, understanding. "Scully have..." He paused here, thinking
about his next comment and carefully looking over her disposition, he
amended himself. "...are there things that you regret? Choices that you
wish you had had, or you could do over?"
Scully momentarily flashed back to a night years ago, when a man, who
unfortunately had not been Mulder, had asked her a very similar
question. She forgot for a moment his betrayal, and asked with genuine
concern. "Is something bothering you? What is this really about?" She
waited for him to continue. She knew that he would. Several minutes
passed, and she watched him nervously fiddle with the steering wheel,
picking at the seams and tracing the outlines of the controls, all the
while steadying refusing to meet her eyes.
"I was just thinking about choices made. By me, by you. Choices made for
us."
She asked the question again. "What is this really about?"
"I was wondering about things. About where we would be if different
choices had been made." He finally lifted his head and met her eyes with
his.
"We?" She did her best to keep her voice neutral.
"Sometimes I think...I think that I've made wrong choices, that things
would be so much better for..." He paused. "...for everyone if things
had been different. But then, other times, it feels like I'm not even
the one making these choices to begin with, like my life is being run by
something else."
"What brought this on Mulder?"
"Nothing. I'm sorry that I even brought it up." He said, dismissing her.
Scully could see that he wasn't done yet, but she didn't feel like
dragging it out of him. If he want to tell her, he would, if
not... well... she didn't really care all that much right at that
moment. She just wanted to get the hell out of there. "Fine." The word
came out harsher than she planned.
They settled into a suffocating silence. Scully rolled her window down,
folded her arms on the sill, and rested her head on her crossed arms.
She breathed in the fresh air. The evening was more raw than cold, but
she relished the feeling. She herself was raw. A breeze came up, and
lightly ruffled her hair.
More than anything, she wanted to get out of this damn car. Three hours
waiting, plus the two driving in this stifling car. Why she had agreed
to come on this charade of a lead was beyond her. The source had
contacted Mulder with some new and exciting information on... what was
it this time? Oh, this time they didn't even have an idea. Just a
cryptic message left on his voicemail. 'If you want to experience
something that will change everything...' and this location.
She looked at the desolate road outside her window. When was the last
time a car had even passed? She couldn't remember. She moved her head
and tried to look up into the night sky. The dense forest that
surrounded the road enveloped them with their dark canopy. She could
only see a thin segment of the sky, where the branches on each side of
the road didn't quite meet. She looked at the few stars that she could
see the light against the darkness, the points of gold brightness
against the amorphous night sky. This did not ease her feelings of
claustrophobia and isolation. Just her and Mulder, in the middle of god
knows where, waiting for god knows who, which, considering how long they
have waited, was not going to show up.
She glanced at her watch. 12:52. She had had enough of this. This was a
horrid idea to begin with. It was too soon. It was only a week ago that
he had ridiculed her, tore her down, and invalidated much of their work
together. In front of the Gunmen no less.
They'd called her.
She was about to leave her apartment this evening when the phone rang.
Thinking that it might be Mulder, she'd picked it up instead of letting
the machine get it. It had been them with an update. She had asked the
Gunman to continue to monitor Diana's accounts, even though she was
presumed dead. Scully didn't trust that presumption.
She knew that Mulder thought Diana was dead. Mulder had said that he
had sent her to the site, and she hadn't been seen since that evening,
but Scully still had her doubts. The DNA results had not proven
conclusive that she was one of the victims. It was still early of
course, and more tests needed to be done to determine anything
definitively, but she just didn't believe that Diana was one of the
victims. Scully couldn't see Diana letting herself get trapped like
that.
The call had been a short one. How long did it take to say there was no
information? But before they hung up Byres had paused.'Scully... um...
well, we just wanted you to know that... we believe you, even if... even
if--' She interjected wearily. 'Even if Mulder doesn't.' Langly had
then broken in with, 'Yeah, he can be a real asshole sometimes.' Byres
continued as if Langly hadn't interrupted. 'We just wanted you to know
that we don't think of you as just Mulder's partner, we think of you...
well, you are one of our friends. We just wanted you to know that.' She
had let several seconds pass before she had found the words to speak,
forcing strength into her hollow tone. 'Thanks for the information.' And
she had hung up, her empty words still in her head.
Looking back, she realized that phone call had begun the night's, as
well as her mood's, decent. She did not need the Gunman's sympathy.
'Poor Scully, she has to work with that insensitive asshole. How can she
stand it?' She didn't need the Gunman avoiding eye contact when with
her, she didn't need them speaking in hushed tones, acting like she had
lost her best friend.
Even though it felt like that sometimes...
That nagging thought was already beginning to gnaw at her, and she did
not particularly appreciate it. She wanted to dismiss it out of hand.
Lifting her head up, she shoved it away. Time to go. Enough of this. She
needed to get out of here, needed to get away from him so she could
breathe. She turned to look at Mulder. Her mouth had just begun to open
when she saw his face. She had worked with him long enough, in enough
different situations, to be able to recognized his various 'faces.' And
this one... of course it was the one she hated the most."Welcome to
the pity party Mulder. So nice to see you, join the others." She
thought sarcastically.
He had that face that screamed self-pity and guilt, and not just the
common variety guilt. No, this was a Mulder special. This was the
'Scully's life is royally fucked up, and it is all my fault.' "Damn
it! Why must he do this now? I don't need this. If he says
anything..." Well, she knew what she would do. She would rip his head
off.
He turned to face her. He was going to speak. She knew this. She knew
that she wouldn't be so lucky that he could actually keep his mouth
shut. Scully closed her eyes and braced herself for the sadly inevitable
self-flagellation.
And then the proverbial ax fell. For him or for her, she couldn't quite
tell. "Scully, why are you in the car with me? Why are you sitting here
at one in the morning in this damn car with me?"
She frowned as the meaning of his words sank in, soaked in the memory of
a quiet conversation in the Nevada desert. She didn't open her eyes.
Choosing her words very carefully, she spoke. "Don't do this. I don't
need this now. And you most certainly do not want me questioning my
reasons for being with you."
He turned to her, trying to meet her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
She doggedly kept her eyes closed.
"I don't feel much like discussing this now." She said these words
shortly, clipped.
"I still don't quite understand what you are talking about here Scully."
But his words betrayed him. Comprehension was beginning to seep into his
voice.
She opened her eyes. "But you do. We have traveled this path before, and
I just don't have the energy to placate you now."
"Placate me? What the hell does that mean? If you have something to say
to me, say it already." Now his voice began to take on a decidedly sharp
edge.
Her voice began to take on the same edge as well. "You know very well
what I'm talking about. Six years Mulder...six years Mulder, and I've
grown tired of this game."
"What--"
She interrupted him. "I said stop." Her words were coarsely spoken and
Mulder could almost feel her frustration radiate of off her. She did not
stop her tirade. "You know what. The 'Scully's-life-is-majorly-screwed-up,
-and-it-is-all-my-fault-Poor-me.'That *thing* you do." She spoke these
words heavy with scorn. "And then it is my turn to fall into the role of
comforter and assuage your guilt. Am I right?" She was only inflaming the
situation, but she suddenly didn't care.
She spoke once more. "Wait, no, I have changed my mind. I think that you
do need to hear this one more time. And this will be the last time, so
make sure that you file this carefully in that eidetic memory of yours.
That way next time you feel like taking this guilt trip of your, you can
leave me behind."
Mulder wasn't looking at her any more. He simply sat, jaw tightly
clenching, guilt morphing into anger. But he didn't stop her from
speaking.
"How do you see me Mulder? I'm curious. Because you would have to see me
in a certain way in order for you to take on this guilt. Do you see me
as a nave, easily manipulated person? Someone who would do something
out of simple obligation or duty, damn the consequences? Of course
you'll say no, that's not my Scully. But that is how I feel when you do
this."
She paused momentarily and looked at him. "Are you following?"
"Perfectly." He whispered, his voice harsh.
"It's like...it's like you invalidate my reasons for doing this. I'm not
here because it is my job, or because I feel an obligation to you." She
paused and looked to him. She studied him for a moment. Her voice was
softer now. "It isn't always about you Mulder. I've said this before,
and it was just as true then as it is now." She paused once more. "Has
it ever occurred to you that I could have my own reasons for staying
that don't necessarily have to do with you? That it is just as important
to me to find these truths, that we find these answers. If you don't
think that I'm here for these reasons, I'm curious to know what you
think my reasons are."
"Scully, I...this isn't how I wanted..."
"I'm sorry Mulder. I'm sorry about this, and I'm sorry that you can't
seem to understand. I am here, with you, because I chose to be. I take
responsibility for my actions, and whatever comes from them. I don't
need you to do that for me. I don't want you to do that."
Scully fixed his eyes with her own, choosing her next words carefully
and trying to temper them with gentleness. "Mulder, when they took
me..." His eyes squeezed tight at the memory. "...when they took me it
became more than finding the truth, it became about finding the
answers." Her voice regained its edginess as she spoke her next words.
"It became personal. Imagine that. Personal for me, much like it is
personal for you. You have what was done to Samantha, I have what was
done to me. And once you understand this we can move on."
She abruptly opened the door to the car and stepped out. Leaning against
the roof of the vehicle, as well as the doorframe, she put her head back
into the car, and spoke again. "Mulder, I made the choices, they were
mine to make, and I accept responsibility for where ever those choices
take me. That, Mulder, that's why I'm in the car with you." Her last
comment was punctuated with the slamming of the car door in his face.
* * * * *
He sat there, alone, staring at the emptiness, feeling as if all the
energy in the car had left with her.
That... that could have gone better.
"No shit Sherlock." His inner voice mocked him.
He wearily rested his head on the rim of the steering wheel. How had
that happened? He hadn't meant for the conversation to take such a
dramatic turn. He hadn't meant for the night to end with Scully
defending her role in his life. He hadn't meant... well there are a lot
of things that he hadn't meant to happen; yet they did.
Sometimes it seemed as if it didn't matter what he did anymore...
That was what he had been thinking about when he had begun the
conversation. He should have known that Scully wasn't in the mood, hell
her body language alone had screamed that she wanted to be anywhere else
than with him. He should have known that the wisest thing for him to do
would have involved taping his mouth shut, yet the words had tumbled out
nothingness. He wasn't surprised by her reaction, he deserved it.
He wanted to feel angry with her, he wanted to... he wanted to...hell,
he didn't know.
He opened the car door and followed her out into the crisp night. She
stood about 50 paces away from the car with her back to him, arms
wrapped tightly around her to ward off the cold. They stood silent for
an awkward moment, while he tried to decide what to say. "Scully..." he
said quietly, breaking the silent stalemate. His voice trailed off, he
didn't know what else to say. He began to approach her. "It's freezing
out here."
"I've been colder." The chill of the night air was nothing compared to
the chill in her voice.
Mulder saw the gulf between them yawning wider. He saw no way to span
it. He tried to find the words, and nothing better than the obvious
occurred to him. "Scully, I'm sorry... I..."
She sighed heavily, and with the expelled air went the last of her
anger. Now she was just incredibly tired. "I'm not looking for an
apology here Mulder. You don't have to do this." She said, voice dull
and tired.
Mulder reached forward and touched her shoulder, and gently turned her
around. She let him. "I'm not... this isn't out of some obligation...
this--"
But his own comment was broken off by the look in her eyes. Her eyes
wide, she looked up just over his left shoulder. There was a shocked
realization in her eyes. Mulder rapidly flipped around and saw a bright
light moving above, nearly on top of them. He turned back to Scully and
without thinking grabbed her hand and pulled her off the road and into
the forest. "Come on Scully!"
They didn't get far.
Mulder had just turned to glance back at the hovering object when there
was a sudden flash of light
It was as if his entire universe had instantly telescoped down to those
few seconds. Time slowed. He saw the flash of fear sweep over her
features... her lips beginning to form his name...
But time was like a rubber band. Just as quickly as it had stretched out
to eternity, it snapped back.
And then she was gone.
* * * * * *