Resistance Headquarters
Conference Room
9:00am
* * * * * *
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward to their toil.
For if one falls, one will lift up the other; but woe is to one who falls
alone, for he has no one to get him up. Again, if two lie together, they
can keep each other warm, but how can one keep warm alone? Even if one
prevails against the other, two shall always withstand one.
--Ecclesiastes, 4:9-12
* * * * * *
Ed and Dagen had excused themselves only a few moments before; Scully
and Mulder were finally alone. Mulder wasn't sure if the men suspected
that he and Scully needed time alone to discuss the situation, or if
they really needed to check on 'things,' but whatever the reason, he was
grateful for their absence.
"So." The word echoed in the room.
"So." She parroted the word back at him. The room was silent for several
moments. Mulder's gaze had not left Scully, while Scully's eyes had not
wavered from the floor below her feet.
He acted first. "Scully I need to know what is wrong. I know that this
is hard to accept--"
"You don't know the half of it." Almost a whisper as she tried to avert
his dark seeking eyes.
"Then maybe you should fill me in."
Silence.
"Scully," he began again, "look, I know that this is hard, it's hard
even for me to completely agree with. But the evidence they've shown
us..." He trailed off.
"The evidence they've shown us...what?" She finally at him, and stood
there waiting expectantly.
"I really didn't have an ending in mind. You usually interrupt me before
I get that far." He smiled at her, hoping to coax a similar reaction
from her.
No such luck. She simply blinked several times, then gave him a long,
hard look. The colors in his eyes changed, darkening with frustration
and concern. He sighed, frustrated. "See, this is what I mean..." he
half muttered under his breath.
"What ever do you mean? I'm the same Scully that I've always been." Her
voice was as flat as level ground, emotionless, and it hurt his ears.
"How can you say that?" His voice boarded on incredulity.
"How can I say that when it's obvious that I'm so different now, that is
what you mean, right?"
"No!" Too sharp. He did his best to smooth out his voice before speaking
again. "That's not it at all. It's just...it's just, you're not acting
like yourself. So much has happened, so much revealed, but you're hardly
reacting. Where are your arguments? Your need to see the proof and know
for sure it's the real thing?" He paused. "It's like... it's like you
don't even care. And that just isn't you."
"I do care. How can you possibly think that I don't? They did this to
*me*. *Me* Mulder." With each word, her voice increased in volume and
intensity. "They changed me into something else. They stripped me of my
choices and now I'm nothing more than... a lab rat! A creature designed
in a laboratory. I'm--"
"Scully." He finished for her in an attempt to draw her back. "You're
still Scully."
Seconds ticked off as Mulder waited for her answer. The tension between
them thickened like a fog, obscuring his sight and increasing his
discernment. She finally spoke again. "If I'm still Scully, why are you
afraid of me?"
"Afraid? What are you talking about?" He was confused now. Afraid of
her?
"I can tell. You fear me, what I've become."
Mulder was totally speechless. How could she possibly think that? "That
is ridiculous... How could you even think that?"
"Mulder, I can read you. I can feel the fear in you."
"What...", he began. He knew, but he finished his question, "what are
you saying?"
"Just another one of those nice side effects of my *metamorphosis.*
"I still don't--"
"Understand?" she finished for him and looked directly at him. The hurt
and disappointment was evident in her eyes, and it nearly undid him.
How could she even think that? He could never be afraid of her. For
her...maybe, but not afraid of her.
"Mulder, I've been changed."
"Yes, I know that." He didn't see her point. Maybe that was what the
whole problem was.
"Mulder, I can read your mind." There, it was finally out.
The comment hung in the air, the word refusing to dissipate. Mulder
stared straight ahead, as if reading the words over and over.
He blinked. "Now?" He believed her.
"Not quite thoughts," she amended, "but I can tell what you're feeling."
"And I'm afraid of you?" He asked to clarify. He didn't think that he
felt afraid; stunned, amazed, yes, afraid no.
"Yes."
"So you can read my thoughts?"
She seemed to struggle with an internal conflict before finally
speaking. "No, not like this."
"Like what?"
"I have to have contact with you, that seems to be the only way."
Mulder thought for a moment. He raised his arm. "Touch me."
The mere thought caused her to recoil. "I don't want to. I don't want to
know."
He continued to hold his arm up, and said it again, "Touch me." She
raised her eyes to meet his, and they held it for nearly a minute
without moving. Mulder felt like a silent battle of wills was being
waged, and he hated it, but he also knew that she had to know the truth.
He was just about to give up, to give in, when she reached to grab his
hand.
* * * * * *
Outside, Main Yard
Ed found Allen outside playing with Pyka. He stood for a moment watching
the absurd ordinariness of it. A man playing fetch with his dog. Except
this was no ordinary man, and this was no ordinary situation.
"Allen?" Ed asked as a way of announcing his presence.
Allen glanced toward him. "I guess this means you've finished?"
"You didn't know already?"
"I did." He said with a shrug. "I was just trying to make conversation."
Pyka, noticing that someone else was there to play, ran up to Ed and
deposited a well-chewed baseball at his feet. She sat and waited
expectantly. Ed took the hint and bent to retrieve the ball. Chuckling
at her eagerness, he said, "You want me to throw the ball girl? Do you?
Ok, here goes."
He lobbed the ball, and both men watched silently as the ball flew in a
high graceful arc across the enclosed yard. The silence was interrupted
when the ball slammed into the fence. Its contact with the electrified
barrier sent up a flurry of sparks. Pyka had the sense to wait for the
ball to still, a few feet away from the fence, before grabbing it
between her teeth to bring it back.
The shower of electrical sparks seemed to trigger something in Ed. The
intenseness of their situation suddenly hit him, as if he was the one
slammed into the fence. He felt isolated out here in the wilderness, and
it had nothing to do with being alone. He had been alone before, out on
digs, out in land God had forsaken, but never like this. They were
fighting for the world, winner take all...
Allen spoke, interrupting Ed's thoughts, probably just as he intended
to. "Nice throw. For a second there I thought it was going to clear the
fence."
"Yeah, like a homerun." Ed smiled.
The joke fell flat, and Allen gave Ed a look that he didn't understand.
It suggested regret and hinted at tenderness. Allen turned away.
Pyka came running up and dropped the ball at Allen's feet, perhaps
decided that he was the safer of the two. His throws didn't result in
loud explosive sparks.
Allen leaned down and picked up the ball. But instead of throwing it, he
held it in his hand, studying it as if it held all the answers. "You
ever play baseball?" He asked suddenly.
Ed softly chuckled. "Not since I was a kid, and that was mostly just
sandlot games with my brothers and the neighborhood kids."
Allen never took his eyes off the ball. "My brother loved the game. He
said that it was the only thing that really made him smile. I couldn't
understand its appeal until recently, but by then it was too late." Pyka
whined then, frustrated that Allen had not relinquished the ball to
continue their game. Allen threw it, but instead of lobbing it high like
Ed had, he kept the ball close to the ground. Like a skipping stone on a
glass smooth lake, the ball hopped across the yard.
A grounder, as far from a homerun as you could get.
Ed's eyes widened slightly, Allen never mentioned a brother before. "Why
too late?"
"He died."
Allen refused to expand, and Ed let the subject drop. "Are you ready to
talk with them?"
Allen nodded. "Yes, but they aren't ready for me. They need more time to
digest the information."
"How long?" Ed wasn't asking out of impatience, only curiosity.
Allen shrugged his shoulders. "As long as it takes. It's not as if we
can proceed if she isn't ready. She needs to feel." He added
cryptically.
"What do you mean, 'she needs to feel?'
Again, the same shrugged shoulders. "Just that. She needs to feel. Right
now there's nothing, not really. Just... cold. I can't explain it any
other way." Pyka deposited the ball at Allen's feet, and he bent to pick
it up.
"Are you saying you can read her? I thought... I mean," Ed stammered,
"if you can, then this whole thing won't work... everything hinges on
that..."
"It'll work." He smiled reassuringly to Ed, but his tone remained
serious. "She's just so busy blocking herself that she can't block me."
"Can we do anything about that?"
"No, not us." He paused, and threw the ball again. This time it was a
line drive. "I'm beginning to think that having Mulder here will be of
great benefit."
"Are you saying that *he* can do something?"
"I think that they'll end up helping each other."
Gusts of wind came up, sending a small cloud of dust whirling into the
air. Pyka seemed undisturbed and plowed through to deposit the ball once
more. Ed looked up to the sky, now growing dark with clouds full of
rain. The smell of rain promised a storm to come.
Ed wanted to question him further, but Allen had already turned away,
indicating the conversation was over. He called over his shoulder, "Ed,
how about I come get *you* when they are ready?"
"I don't think that they will ever be fully ready. They aren't going to
like what you have to say, Mulder especially."
Allen sighed, "No, I don't imagine he will."
* * * * * *
Conference Room
9:08am
Nothing happened.
Scully had steeled herself against the expected inundation of images and
thoughts and words, each leading to the conclusion that he was terrified
of her, but there was nothing.
She'd closed her eyes as her hand clasped Mulder's, but she opened them
now. Mulder looked to her warily. "Can you read me?"
"No."
"No? But I thought that--"
"Maybe I can control it. Maybe now I'm not forced to read thoughts each
time I touch someone."
"You don't know?" He asked, surprised.
"And how would I know anything about what is happening to me? It's not
as if I have a how-to guide to read to figure out what's going on with
me."
"But you've done this with the others, right? That's why you say we can
trust them. This is why you aren't questioning them any more. You *know*
that they're telling the truth."
"Congratulations Mulder. I'll give you a gold star for figuring me out."
"Scully, I'm not afraid of you, and trying to drive me away won't keep
me from telling you that."
She hated that voice. Mulder the psychologist talking. "Mulder, how can
you say that? Stand there right in front of me and say that when I can
clearly feel it practically radiate off of you?"
"What I don't understand is how you can so clearly feel this so called
fear of mine, and yet can't, or more likely won't see what I'm
thinking."
"It's a mystery I guess."
Mulder looked away, frustration written in the furrows of his forehead.
"Damn it Scully! Don't use this against me! I'm offering my mind to you,
does that sound like someone who is afraid of you? It sounds like you
are the one who is afraid." The challenge was in his voice, would she
have the courage to meet it?
They just looked at each other. The stare stretched into seconds, then
moments, long, still, quiet moments on the outside, but clamorous where
emotions were housed.
"Fine." That single word rattled against his spine. "Give me your hand."
She demanded.
He gave it to her, and their hands grasped tightly to the other, almost
painfully.
-Flash-
"...is this working... i feel like saying testing one two
three...anybody out there... how can she think that i'm afraid of
her...still scully... always be scully to me... what's the plan ...what
are they going to do with scully... with me... will we get the
answers... how could they have done this... we still don't know why...
what was the plan... what is it now... yes, maybe i am afraid... afraid
of what will happen... so happy to see her... this shouldn't have
happened... should have been me... wasn't her quest, until i forced it
on her...should've gotten her out of my life years ago, before it became
hers... but i was selfish i wanted her in my life i needed her, even if
she didn't need me... i remember before, before her... but only as one
would remember a bleak and distant nightmare... i never wanted to go
back to that... i should have, shouldn't have sacrificed her for my own
happiness... yes, afraid... afraid of what was done to her... afraid of
what will happen--"
"...but not of me?"A soft voice broke through Mulder's thinking. So
soft and almost childlike in it's need for reassurance.
"...never you scully... never you... is this how it is... is this how
it is when you do this..."
"...no, not like this... the others couldn't hear me... only you...
the last time with you was different too..."
"...last time... i don't remember last time..."
"...last time... in my apartment... you were asleep... do you remember
the dream..."
"...the beach..."
-Flash-
With that single word, they found themselves on that beach, standing
bare feet in the sand, side by side, facing the waves that came crashing
in. It was so realistic. Scully could feel the wind ruffle her hair, and
taste the salt on her lips from the light spray that hissed up with each
incoming wave. The tide was coming in and the water began to pool at
their feet.
Mulder turned to face her. "It's not like this with the others?"
"No, nothing like this. This..." she looked around to take in the
surroundings, "this is only with you."
"Maybe I just have a really active imagination." He smiled.
Scully smiled back at him. "That must be it. I don't know why this is
different with you. Maybe because I know you and I don't know the
others."
"But it is working now, right? You can read my thought?"
"Yes."
"Am I afraid of you?"
Pause. "No."
"Then what was all of that about?"
"I don't know. I can still feel it here." She could. It seemed that
with every incoming wave came just a bit more of the fear. Like the sand
that being deposited with the waves, the sand that was beginning to hide
her feet.
"Why did you think it was me?"
She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. "Who else could
it be?" she said quietly.
"There is another possibility."
She turned back to look closely at him, studying him and his thoughts.
"Me. You think that it's my fear that I'm feeling?" She laughed
nervously, dismissing the idea almost immediately. "You think that I'm
so detached from my emotions that I don't know what I'm feeling? You
think that I would project my feelings to you like that?"
"You've been through a very stressful situation here, it is
possible--"
She interrupted him harshly. She simply did not want to hear it.
"Don't start playing psychologist with me here. I am fully capable of
figuring out my own emotions and--" Her voice cracked, and she lost
her train of thought.
Mulder watched as she bent at the waist and grabbed a handful of sand.
Without saying anything, she began to pour the sand from one hand to the
next. With each pass, more sand escaped from between her fingers; until
finally, she was left with empty hands. Sand wasn't the only thing that
was slipping through her fingers, she felt as if her hold on sanity was
just as precarious as the ever-shifting sand. She stood there, feeling
as if she'd been cut adrift- alone, floating. Unattached to anyone or
any thing around her.
It seemed to Mulder that she stood at the edge of a precipice,
teetering, gazing down to the rocks below. All he could do is stand
behind her and watch, helpless. He's afraid of what will happen to her
if she falls.
-Flash-
The beach was gone.
* * * * * *
Mulder opened his eyes and found himself back in the conference room.
Scully had disconnected from him, and had moved across the room. She was
shivering. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and there, in the
middle of the warm room, she was shivering.
He immediately knew what was happening. All of this time she had managed
to keep everything bottled up. She had detached herself from the fear
and uncertainly, from the terror that accompanied her from the moment
Diana awakened her.
Mulder went to her and put his arms around her. She tried to pull away,
but the effort lacked force. "Accept this," he urged softly. "Accept
what I can give you. Please. For my sake as much as your own." He felt
her nod against his chest, and then the sobs began.
His voice was quiet and gentle. "It's ok, it's ok. Let it out Scully.
Let it all come out." She nodded, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth
from chattering. She didn't pull away from him now, instead she trembled
even more violently, and one of her hands clamped onto his upper arm
with such fierceness that Mulder had to stifle the impulse to push her
hand away.
He stroked her face, and continued to make soft, comforting noises.
Letting her know it was ok to be afraid, to be terrified of all that
happened, and all that may happen. As he spoke, she drew herself closer
to him, pressing against him and readjusting his arms so that he
completely enveloped her. The trembling still convulsed her body. The
tears rolled down her face, but she did not cry out loud. Her complete
silence was almost eerie.
Mulder didn't say anything further. He merely rocked her, back and
forth, gently, letting his mere presence be something from which she
could draw reassurance. And slowly, ever so slowly, the shaking
diminished and eventually stopped. The tears ceased, and she brought her
hand up and wiped away the remainder of the moisture.
She pulled away from him, and he reluctantly let her. "I'm sorry," she
said uncertainly, trailing off.
"You have nothing to be sorry about."
"I shouldn't have thought that about you. I know you better than that."
She laughed, and it came out high pitched and pinched off. "You know,
I've been called a cold fish before, but this is ridiculous. To be so
removed from my emotions..."
"Scully, this is not an ordinary situation..."
She laughed. "No, no it isn't." She continued to wipe the tears from her
eyes. "I'm sorry about this too." She held up her wet hand.
"No, don't be. Scully, we're all that we have now. We have to rely on
one other."
"Hasn't it always been that way?" Scully asked.
"Yes, I guess it has. And we've depended on each other all those other
times, and we need to do it now."
"Is this where I say, 'We've been through harder times than this, and we
can get through this'?" She was not being entirely facetious; there was
a touch of hope in her voice.
"Now would be the time, if I thought that we'd been through harder times
than this. But for some reason, I think that this will be the hardest
thing that we will ever have to go through."
* * * * * *
Conference Room
9:00am
* * * * * *
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward to their toil.
For if one falls, one will lift up the other; but woe is to one who falls
alone, for he has no one to get him up. Again, if two lie together, they
can keep each other warm, but how can one keep warm alone? Even if one
prevails against the other, two shall always withstand one.
--Ecclesiastes, 4:9-12
* * * * * *
Ed and Dagen had excused themselves only a few moments before; Scully
and Mulder were finally alone. Mulder wasn't sure if the men suspected
that he and Scully needed time alone to discuss the situation, or if
they really needed to check on 'things,' but whatever the reason, he was
grateful for their absence.
"So." The word echoed in the room.
"So." She parroted the word back at him. The room was silent for several
moments. Mulder's gaze had not left Scully, while Scully's eyes had not
wavered from the floor below her feet.
He acted first. "Scully I need to know what is wrong. I know that this
is hard to accept--"
"You don't know the half of it." Almost a whisper as she tried to avert
his dark seeking eyes.
"Then maybe you should fill me in."
Silence.
"Scully," he began again, "look, I know that this is hard, it's hard
even for me to completely agree with. But the evidence they've shown
us..." He trailed off.
"The evidence they've shown us...what?" She finally at him, and stood
there waiting expectantly.
"I really didn't have an ending in mind. You usually interrupt me before
I get that far." He smiled at her, hoping to coax a similar reaction
from her.
No such luck. She simply blinked several times, then gave him a long,
hard look. The colors in his eyes changed, darkening with frustration
and concern. He sighed, frustrated. "See, this is what I mean..." he
half muttered under his breath.
"What ever do you mean? I'm the same Scully that I've always been." Her
voice was as flat as level ground, emotionless, and it hurt his ears.
"How can you say that?" His voice boarded on incredulity.
"How can I say that when it's obvious that I'm so different now, that is
what you mean, right?"
"No!" Too sharp. He did his best to smooth out his voice before speaking
again. "That's not it at all. It's just...it's just, you're not acting
like yourself. So much has happened, so much revealed, but you're hardly
reacting. Where are your arguments? Your need to see the proof and know
for sure it's the real thing?" He paused. "It's like... it's like you
don't even care. And that just isn't you."
"I do care. How can you possibly think that I don't? They did this to
*me*. *Me* Mulder." With each word, her voice increased in volume and
intensity. "They changed me into something else. They stripped me of my
choices and now I'm nothing more than... a lab rat! A creature designed
in a laboratory. I'm--"
"Scully." He finished for her in an attempt to draw her back. "You're
still Scully."
Seconds ticked off as Mulder waited for her answer. The tension between
them thickened like a fog, obscuring his sight and increasing his
discernment. She finally spoke again. "If I'm still Scully, why are you
afraid of me?"
"Afraid? What are you talking about?" He was confused now. Afraid of
her?
"I can tell. You fear me, what I've become."
Mulder was totally speechless. How could she possibly think that? "That
is ridiculous... How could you even think that?"
"Mulder, I can read you. I can feel the fear in you."
"What...", he began. He knew, but he finished his question, "what are
you saying?"
"Just another one of those nice side effects of my *metamorphosis.*
"I still don't--"
"Understand?" she finished for him and looked directly at him. The hurt
and disappointment was evident in her eyes, and it nearly undid him.
How could she even think that? He could never be afraid of her. For
her...maybe, but not afraid of her.
"Mulder, I've been changed."
"Yes, I know that." He didn't see her point. Maybe that was what the
whole problem was.
"Mulder, I can read your mind." There, it was finally out.
The comment hung in the air, the word refusing to dissipate. Mulder
stared straight ahead, as if reading the words over and over.
He blinked. "Now?" He believed her.
"Not quite thoughts," she amended, "but I can tell what you're feeling."
"And I'm afraid of you?" He asked to clarify. He didn't think that he
felt afraid; stunned, amazed, yes, afraid no.
"Yes."
"So you can read my thoughts?"
She seemed to struggle with an internal conflict before finally
speaking. "No, not like this."
"Like what?"
"I have to have contact with you, that seems to be the only way."
Mulder thought for a moment. He raised his arm. "Touch me."
The mere thought caused her to recoil. "I don't want to. I don't want to
know."
He continued to hold his arm up, and said it again, "Touch me." She
raised her eyes to meet his, and they held it for nearly a minute
without moving. Mulder felt like a silent battle of wills was being
waged, and he hated it, but he also knew that she had to know the truth.
He was just about to give up, to give in, when she reached to grab his
hand.
* * * * * *
Outside, Main Yard
Ed found Allen outside playing with Pyka. He stood for a moment watching
the absurd ordinariness of it. A man playing fetch with his dog. Except
this was no ordinary man, and this was no ordinary situation.
"Allen?" Ed asked as a way of announcing his presence.
Allen glanced toward him. "I guess this means you've finished?"
"You didn't know already?"
"I did." He said with a shrug. "I was just trying to make conversation."
Pyka, noticing that someone else was there to play, ran up to Ed and
deposited a well-chewed baseball at his feet. She sat and waited
expectantly. Ed took the hint and bent to retrieve the ball. Chuckling
at her eagerness, he said, "You want me to throw the ball girl? Do you?
Ok, here goes."
He lobbed the ball, and both men watched silently as the ball flew in a
high graceful arc across the enclosed yard. The silence was interrupted
when the ball slammed into the fence. Its contact with the electrified
barrier sent up a flurry of sparks. Pyka had the sense to wait for the
ball to still, a few feet away from the fence, before grabbing it
between her teeth to bring it back.
The shower of electrical sparks seemed to trigger something in Ed. The
intenseness of their situation suddenly hit him, as if he was the one
slammed into the fence. He felt isolated out here in the wilderness, and
it had nothing to do with being alone. He had been alone before, out on
digs, out in land God had forsaken, but never like this. They were
fighting for the world, winner take all...
Allen spoke, interrupting Ed's thoughts, probably just as he intended
to. "Nice throw. For a second there I thought it was going to clear the
fence."
"Yeah, like a homerun." Ed smiled.
The joke fell flat, and Allen gave Ed a look that he didn't understand.
It suggested regret and hinted at tenderness. Allen turned away.
Pyka came running up and dropped the ball at Allen's feet, perhaps
decided that he was the safer of the two. His throws didn't result in
loud explosive sparks.
Allen leaned down and picked up the ball. But instead of throwing it, he
held it in his hand, studying it as if it held all the answers. "You
ever play baseball?" He asked suddenly.
Ed softly chuckled. "Not since I was a kid, and that was mostly just
sandlot games with my brothers and the neighborhood kids."
Allen never took his eyes off the ball. "My brother loved the game. He
said that it was the only thing that really made him smile. I couldn't
understand its appeal until recently, but by then it was too late." Pyka
whined then, frustrated that Allen had not relinquished the ball to
continue their game. Allen threw it, but instead of lobbing it high like
Ed had, he kept the ball close to the ground. Like a skipping stone on a
glass smooth lake, the ball hopped across the yard.
A grounder, as far from a homerun as you could get.
Ed's eyes widened slightly, Allen never mentioned a brother before. "Why
too late?"
"He died."
Allen refused to expand, and Ed let the subject drop. "Are you ready to
talk with them?"
Allen nodded. "Yes, but they aren't ready for me. They need more time to
digest the information."
"How long?" Ed wasn't asking out of impatience, only curiosity.
Allen shrugged his shoulders. "As long as it takes. It's not as if we
can proceed if she isn't ready. She needs to feel." He added
cryptically.
"What do you mean, 'she needs to feel?'
Again, the same shrugged shoulders. "Just that. She needs to feel. Right
now there's nothing, not really. Just... cold. I can't explain it any
other way." Pyka deposited the ball at Allen's feet, and he bent to pick
it up.
"Are you saying you can read her? I thought... I mean," Ed stammered,
"if you can, then this whole thing won't work... everything hinges on
that..."
"It'll work." He smiled reassuringly to Ed, but his tone remained
serious. "She's just so busy blocking herself that she can't block me."
"Can we do anything about that?"
"No, not us." He paused, and threw the ball again. This time it was a
line drive. "I'm beginning to think that having Mulder here will be of
great benefit."
"Are you saying that *he* can do something?"
"I think that they'll end up helping each other."
Gusts of wind came up, sending a small cloud of dust whirling into the
air. Pyka seemed undisturbed and plowed through to deposit the ball once
more. Ed looked up to the sky, now growing dark with clouds full of
rain. The smell of rain promised a storm to come.
Ed wanted to question him further, but Allen had already turned away,
indicating the conversation was over. He called over his shoulder, "Ed,
how about I come get *you* when they are ready?"
"I don't think that they will ever be fully ready. They aren't going to
like what you have to say, Mulder especially."
Allen sighed, "No, I don't imagine he will."
* * * * * *
Conference Room
9:08am
Nothing happened.
Scully had steeled herself against the expected inundation of images and
thoughts and words, each leading to the conclusion that he was terrified
of her, but there was nothing.
She'd closed her eyes as her hand clasped Mulder's, but she opened them
now. Mulder looked to her warily. "Can you read me?"
"No."
"No? But I thought that--"
"Maybe I can control it. Maybe now I'm not forced to read thoughts each
time I touch someone."
"You don't know?" He asked, surprised.
"And how would I know anything about what is happening to me? It's not
as if I have a how-to guide to read to figure out what's going on with
me."
"But you've done this with the others, right? That's why you say we can
trust them. This is why you aren't questioning them any more. You *know*
that they're telling the truth."
"Congratulations Mulder. I'll give you a gold star for figuring me out."
"Scully, I'm not afraid of you, and trying to drive me away won't keep
me from telling you that."
She hated that voice. Mulder the psychologist talking. "Mulder, how can
you say that? Stand there right in front of me and say that when I can
clearly feel it practically radiate off of you?"
"What I don't understand is how you can so clearly feel this so called
fear of mine, and yet can't, or more likely won't see what I'm
thinking."
"It's a mystery I guess."
Mulder looked away, frustration written in the furrows of his forehead.
"Damn it Scully! Don't use this against me! I'm offering my mind to you,
does that sound like someone who is afraid of you? It sounds like you
are the one who is afraid." The challenge was in his voice, would she
have the courage to meet it?
They just looked at each other. The stare stretched into seconds, then
moments, long, still, quiet moments on the outside, but clamorous where
emotions were housed.
"Fine." That single word rattled against his spine. "Give me your hand."
She demanded.
He gave it to her, and their hands grasped tightly to the other, almost
painfully.
-Flash-
"...is this working... i feel like saying testing one two
three...anybody out there... how can she think that i'm afraid of
her...still scully... always be scully to me... what's the plan ...what
are they going to do with scully... with me... will we get the
answers... how could they have done this... we still don't know why...
what was the plan... what is it now... yes, maybe i am afraid... afraid
of what will happen... so happy to see her... this shouldn't have
happened... should have been me... wasn't her quest, until i forced it
on her...should've gotten her out of my life years ago, before it became
hers... but i was selfish i wanted her in my life i needed her, even if
she didn't need me... i remember before, before her... but only as one
would remember a bleak and distant nightmare... i never wanted to go
back to that... i should have, shouldn't have sacrificed her for my own
happiness... yes, afraid... afraid of what was done to her... afraid of
what will happen--"
"...but not of me?"A soft voice broke through Mulder's thinking. So
soft and almost childlike in it's need for reassurance.
"...never you scully... never you... is this how it is... is this how
it is when you do this..."
"...no, not like this... the others couldn't hear me... only you...
the last time with you was different too..."
"...last time... i don't remember last time..."
"...last time... in my apartment... you were asleep... do you remember
the dream..."
"...the beach..."
-Flash-
With that single word, they found themselves on that beach, standing
bare feet in the sand, side by side, facing the waves that came crashing
in. It was so realistic. Scully could feel the wind ruffle her hair, and
taste the salt on her lips from the light spray that hissed up with each
incoming wave. The tide was coming in and the water began to pool at
their feet.
Mulder turned to face her. "It's not like this with the others?"
"No, nothing like this. This..." she looked around to take in the
surroundings, "this is only with you."
"Maybe I just have a really active imagination." He smiled.
Scully smiled back at him. "That must be it. I don't know why this is
different with you. Maybe because I know you and I don't know the
others."
"But it is working now, right? You can read my thought?"
"Yes."
"Am I afraid of you?"
Pause. "No."
"Then what was all of that about?"
"I don't know. I can still feel it here." She could. It seemed that
with every incoming wave came just a bit more of the fear. Like the sand
that being deposited with the waves, the sand that was beginning to hide
her feet.
"Why did you think it was me?"
She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. "Who else could
it be?" she said quietly.
"There is another possibility."
She turned back to look closely at him, studying him and his thoughts.
"Me. You think that it's my fear that I'm feeling?" She laughed
nervously, dismissing the idea almost immediately. "You think that I'm
so detached from my emotions that I don't know what I'm feeling? You
think that I would project my feelings to you like that?"
"You've been through a very stressful situation here, it is
possible--"
She interrupted him harshly. She simply did not want to hear it.
"Don't start playing psychologist with me here. I am fully capable of
figuring out my own emotions and--" Her voice cracked, and she lost
her train of thought.
Mulder watched as she bent at the waist and grabbed a handful of sand.
Without saying anything, she began to pour the sand from one hand to the
next. With each pass, more sand escaped from between her fingers; until
finally, she was left with empty hands. Sand wasn't the only thing that
was slipping through her fingers, she felt as if her hold on sanity was
just as precarious as the ever-shifting sand. She stood there, feeling
as if she'd been cut adrift- alone, floating. Unattached to anyone or
any thing around her.
It seemed to Mulder that she stood at the edge of a precipice,
teetering, gazing down to the rocks below. All he could do is stand
behind her and watch, helpless. He's afraid of what will happen to her
if she falls.
-Flash-
The beach was gone.
* * * * * *
Mulder opened his eyes and found himself back in the conference room.
Scully had disconnected from him, and had moved across the room. She was
shivering. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and there, in the
middle of the warm room, she was shivering.
He immediately knew what was happening. All of this time she had managed
to keep everything bottled up. She had detached herself from the fear
and uncertainly, from the terror that accompanied her from the moment
Diana awakened her.
Mulder went to her and put his arms around her. She tried to pull away,
but the effort lacked force. "Accept this," he urged softly. "Accept
what I can give you. Please. For my sake as much as your own." He felt
her nod against his chest, and then the sobs began.
His voice was quiet and gentle. "It's ok, it's ok. Let it out Scully.
Let it all come out." She nodded, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth
from chattering. She didn't pull away from him now, instead she trembled
even more violently, and one of her hands clamped onto his upper arm
with such fierceness that Mulder had to stifle the impulse to push her
hand away.
He stroked her face, and continued to make soft, comforting noises.
Letting her know it was ok to be afraid, to be terrified of all that
happened, and all that may happen. As he spoke, she drew herself closer
to him, pressing against him and readjusting his arms so that he
completely enveloped her. The trembling still convulsed her body. The
tears rolled down her face, but she did not cry out loud. Her complete
silence was almost eerie.
Mulder didn't say anything further. He merely rocked her, back and
forth, gently, letting his mere presence be something from which she
could draw reassurance. And slowly, ever so slowly, the shaking
diminished and eventually stopped. The tears ceased, and she brought her
hand up and wiped away the remainder of the moisture.
She pulled away from him, and he reluctantly let her. "I'm sorry," she
said uncertainly, trailing off.
"You have nothing to be sorry about."
"I shouldn't have thought that about you. I know you better than that."
She laughed, and it came out high pitched and pinched off. "You know,
I've been called a cold fish before, but this is ridiculous. To be so
removed from my emotions..."
"Scully, this is not an ordinary situation..."
She laughed. "No, no it isn't." She continued to wipe the tears from her
eyes. "I'm sorry about this too." She held up her wet hand.
"No, don't be. Scully, we're all that we have now. We have to rely on
one other."
"Hasn't it always been that way?" Scully asked.
"Yes, I guess it has. And we've depended on each other all those other
times, and we need to do it now."
"Is this where I say, 'We've been through harder times than this, and we
can get through this'?" She was not being entirely facetious; there was
a touch of hope in her voice.
"Now would be the time, if I thought that we'd been through harder times
than this. But for some reason, I think that this will be the hardest
thing that we will ever have to go through."
* * * * * *