Classification: X File
Summary: In her investigation into the mysterious death of Mulder's
mother, Scully finds herself at a personal crossroads.
NOTE: This is the second part of a series. If you have not read "Amor Caritas: Grief," then none of what follows will make much sense.
*****
Journal entry, Tuesday morning
I used to hate my hair.
I never wanted to stand out in the crowds at school. We moved often, and in each new place I heard the catcalls: "Hey, look at the redhead!" If I were seen sneaking a look at a boy, I was called "The little red-haired girl." Every quirk of my personality was attributed to "that red-headed temper of yours."
One day In fifth grade I just snapped, lashing out at the mean girls who yanked my hair whenever the teacher's back was turned. I let loose with some language that Daddy would have been stunned to know I'd overheard, not to mention upending my desk and breaking Howard Black's science project by accident.
After assessing the damage and chastising the unashamed girls, Sister Mary Ignacius called me to the front of the classroom. "Dana Katherine Scully, I am so disappointed in you. All the brains and hard work in the world won't make you a good person if you continue to act in this manner. Perhaps you need to learn to control that red-headed temper of yours."
The ten strokes of her ruler against my outstretched palm...I still feel them whenever my anger begins to overcome me. But it was those words, "I am so disappointed in you," that made the punishment so difficult to endure. To this day I can bear anything but the disappointment of someone I admire.
I remember the hot indignation of standing in front of my giggling tormentors, the difficulty in keeping my chin up (you're a Scully, little Starbuck, and Scullys don't cry...) and in keeping my hand steady. Most of all I remember the genuine regret I saw in Sister Mary's face as she meted out my punishment. I was her favorite, the smartest and the hardest-working, and at that moment I finally understood the meaning of "This hurts me more than it hurts you."
I remember wishing with all my heart that I had Mom's gentle disposition - and her smooth chestnut hair. Later, as I became a woman, I developed a certain pride in its unique hue and even enjoyed some of the attention it got me, but its association with my personality never went away.
"That red-headed temper of yours."
Yesterday I shot the man who is almost certainly responsible for every horrible thing that my family and I have endured since Dad died. I screamed into his face. I fully intended to blow his brains out.
"That red-headed temper of yours."
I wanted to pull the trigger more than I have ever wanted to do anything in my life. Not just for Missy or myself, but for Mulder as well, I wanted to perform that one act, that one sin that would obliterate this man from the face of the earth. I wanted to cut him into little pieces and feed him to the wolves.
But I heard the voice of the Mother Superior.
And I heard the voice of God.
He stopped me. Whether by granting me a moment in His presence or by helping me to remember who and what I am, He stopped me.
Me and my red-headed temper.
He let me feel horror and revulsion for this act of vengeance I had so nearly carried out, then He removed that burden from me. He supported me as I took care of Sharon and comforted the frightened sisters.
I felt His love and peace warm me as I packed my bags.
And then I realized that I could not leave.
I realized that God was telling me that I did not have to be a killer, that He had brought me to this time and place for a reason.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid? I was meant to be in this place where I could heal, not kill. Where I could repent. Where truth is not just an abstract idea meant to placate the gullible.Where love doesn't die.
I wanted to be free of my worldly ties, and I wanted to be free of them now, not three years from now, when I could take my final vows and become one with God and His will, but now.
I took the scissors from my medical bag. There was no mirror in the room, so I did the deed while looking into a pane of glass at my faint white reflection. Snip, and I was freed of one burden. Snip again, and more weight tumbled to the floor.
When I looked back in the window I saw myself as Mulder might see me: wild-eyed, covered in shocks of red hair that stuck to my clothing like thick, bloody rivulets of tears, my head bare except for the the inch-long bristle - a halo made of discarded vanity.
I ran my hand over the rough edges and began to laugh softly.
I was free.
Sister Rosario chose that moment to come check on me. "Oh, Dana!" she cried, "what have you done? Come with me. No, leave the scissors. Oh, Dana..." She ushered me to the kitchen, where the Mother Superior was sitting with a few other nuns, drinking tea and discussing the events of the day.
"Dana!" She was on her feet in an instant, hugging me tightly as she repeated Sister Rosario's stunned words. "What have you done? We should have had someone stay with you..."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to be such a shock. But I would like to stay here with you."
The other nuns were silent, staring at one another with lifted eyebrows.
"Dana, this is not a decision to be made lightly. You must have a calling, a vocation, to take these vows."
"But Mother..."
"No, listen to me." She held me by the shoulders, her wise, kind face filling my field of vision. "You are welcome to remain here until you have made a calm, rational decision. We need your expertise with the children, especially in light of what you've said about these computer chips. We will love you and counsel you. But as for being in Holy Orders, my child...one haircut does not make a nun."
Disappointment filled me - but I am a Scully and we are a determined family.
"All right," I said after a pause. "I appreciate your offer, Mother. I promise to think about it carefully."
She clasped me to her, touching my head gently, as she were afraid that I felt pain through the remains of my hair. "Go to bed now, Dana, and pray for His guidance. We'll talk more tomorrow."
I hated to leave her, hated to leave the place where I was with others who understood what joy there was in sacrifice. But I obeyed.
Once I had slipped back into the cocoon of my cell, I prayed to God to help me. I prayed for my mother to support me. I prayed for Mulder to understand and let me go.
I didn't know it then, but the answers to my prayers would be swift and sure. What I had forgotten was that His answers aren't always "yes."
Mulder's expression of bewildered sorrow will haunt me for the rest of my life. I wish I could have explained to him this incredible love of God that has taken over my entire being. I wanted to tell him how much I love the sisters here and how grateful I am for the good I will be able to do. I wanted to thank him for the six years with him that I will never forget, and for all the dangerous, foolhardy, wonderful things he's done on my behalf.
I thought it would hurt me more than it hurt him, but I was wrong.
I was wrong.
*****
Tuesday afternoon
"May I come in, Dana?"
Sister Rosario was standing in the doorway, holding a tray and smiling. Scully noticed the familiar, comforting scent of chicken broth, but her head was as heavy as her heart and she could manage only a small nod.
The tray barely fit on the little table next to Scully's bed. Sister Rosario put it down carefully, letting the aromas waft over to the woman who sat as if carved of marble. "I noticed that you didn't join us for morning prayers. Or for lunch. I took the liberty..."
"Thank you," Scully said in an automatic response. At last she turned her face upward to greet her visitor with a ghost of a smile. "I haven't been much help on my first day, have I?"
"No one expects you to leap into this vocation with a song in your heart, Dana. It's a serious decision, a commitment to God and His work. Everyone who has made this choice has faced conflicts." She knelt by the side of the bed and took Scully's hands in hers. "You have our prayers and our respect. And our ears, if you need them."
The first hint of color spread across Scully's wan face. "I was ready for my mother's reaction - she's always supported me, even when she thinks I'm making a mistake."
"Does she think that this is a mistake?"
"No...I don't think so." Scully took a moment to reflect. "She sided with me when I chose to go to medical school, and again when I left medicine to join the FBI. She knows some things that I've...been through...and she understands why I need to do this, why I have to break away from the life that was really no life at all."
"What about the man who came for you this morning?"
"Mulder." It was a whispered wound, emotion bleeding from between the syllables.
"He ran away from here almost as fast as you ran inside."
Scully focused her eyes on the floor. "He doesn't understand. I don't think he ever will. He has...doubts...about faith...and about me..."
"Dana." Sister Rosario squeezed her hands and peered up into her face. "These feelings don't ever go away. We learn to recognize the sacrifices and love them, the way God loved us and sacrificed for us. But love doesn't stop with these walls. Or with our vows."
"We weren't..."
She stopped cold and stared at Sister Rosario's face.
"Sister?" Scully pointed to her own upper lip.
Sister Rosario took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood. Scully saw other fresh stains as well.
"How long have you had those?"
She shrugged, smiling. "A few weeks. It's nothing important."
"Yes. Yes it is, very important." The miasma of unhappiness dissipated, replaced by quick, professional activity. "Let me see something. Please."
She reached behind the wimple "May I?" she asked quietly before removing it, then turned Sister Rosario around so that she could see the back of her neck. There was an old scar there, the line whiter than the surrounding skin. Scully ran her fingernail over the mark in a delicate stroke.
"When did this happen?"
"What?"
"That scar on the back of your neck."
"Oh." There was a long pause, during which Sister Rosario could not meet Scully's gaze. "I...I don't know."
Scully stood up and paced, needing to move, needing to get the blood flowing through her body so that she could think. "Did anything happen to you in the last year or so, something that affected the place where your scar is?"
"I fell down on the ice last winter and landed with my head on the curb. I was in a collar for a while...everyone laughed and said I was trying to look like a priest." Sister Rosario's amused smile vanished at the seriousness of Scully's expression. "Why?"
"I want you to get to a hospital as soon as you can. If this is what I think it is..."
"Dana..."
"I think you had a computer chip in your neck, the way Amanda and Sharon did. It was probably damaged in that fall."
"I don't think...I need to go..."
Scully took her by the arm, forestalling her exit. "Tell me about your parents, about your family. We need to know who did this to you, and why."
The nun frowned and pointed toward the tray with a shaking finger. "Your soup's getting cold," she whispered.
Sister Rosario's expression was as closed off as an old grave. Scully realized that no answers were forthcoming. "It was nice of you to bring this to me. Thank you."
"You're welcome. I hope you feel better soon, Dana. We'll look for you at vespers."
"Sister?"
She turned toward Scully, her lips quivering. "Dana, no more questions. Please. Please."
She fled, leaving Scully to brood over a bowl of cooling chicken soup.
*****
Wednesday evening
A sudden outbreak of chicken pox at the orphanage demanded Scully's undivided attention. She was there continually for twenty-four hours, napping whenever there was a lull. The sisters in charge of the infirmary were grateful for her expertise, attempting to shoo her off to bed only to be told that there was one more child to be checked for dehydration or one more fever to be brought down.
When at last she was satisfied that the children were suffering from nothing more insidious than a normal childhood illness, she took her leave and walked back to the convent. The cool air refreshed her hot face even as it stung her eyes, leaving them misty when she passed the garden where she had last seen Mulder. With a defiant toss of her head she shook off the melancholy and took long, confident strides up the path to the entrance.
"There she is," came a voice from outside her field of vision. "I'll get her."
Scully stopped in the vestibule.
"Dana?" A tall, thin postulant peered around the door. "I'm glad you're back. Someone's here to see you."
She shivered in the warm pool of sunlight. "Who is it?"
"I didn't get his name. A man. He says he's from the FBI."
Scully closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Exhaustion returned to her in a crashing wave, weighing down her limbs and weakening her enough to make a confrontation with a disconsolate Mulder seem unendurable. If he had come here to see her, however, she would not back away. With quiet resolve she forced herself to turn around and walk to the parlor door.
She paused for a moment, idly fingering the ends of her butchered hair, then she took a deep breath, walked in, and found herself face to face with Assistant Director Skinner.
"Sir!" she gasped.
He stared, then very obviously looked away, then just as obviously made himself look directly back at her. "I didn't mean to startle you."
The Mother Superior watched the exchange solemnly. "I'm so glad that you will get to see one another. Sister Mary Margaret will let you out when you are ready, Mr. Skinner. Dana, vespers are going to begin shortly."
"I won't forget, Mother," she whispered, never turning away from Skinner. After a pause that seemed endless, Scully motioned toward a table flanked by two chairs. "Please, Sir, sit down."
"Thank you." His tone was so formal as to be uncomfortable, his demeanor stiff to cover his obvious confusion. His dark eyes scanned restlessly, as if searching for the woman he knew but could not find. "I know you are surprised to see me here. When Human Resources called and told me..." He drifted off, gazing at a portrait of the Mater Dolorosa on the opposite wall.
"You wanted to see for yourself?" Scully prompted.
"Yes. Yes, I did." His forehead was creased with frown lines and he licked his lips nervously. "I understand that you had an unpleasant visitor here a couple of days ago. That he was wounded, but not seriously, and that you let him go."
Scully nodded, conscious of the blush creeping up the back of her neck with no veiling of hair to cover it.
"He was threatening a novice, Sir. He removed her chip - I couldn't let him do that to her, knowing what would happen. But I couldn't kill him."
"I understand." He adjusted his glasses, then leaned forward on the table to look more deeply into her eyes. "We haven't found any trace of Amanda Broadman. Mulder doesn't seem to think that we ever will. Do you concur?"
"I..." She broke off. "I'm no longer with the FBI. Of course I'll help in any way I can, but I'm not investigating this. My life is different now."
He smiled, reminding Scully of his reticent entrance to her hospital room the night her cancer went into remission. His voice was full of wistful pride as he spoke. "I can't imagine anything that will keep you from investigating this situation, Agent...I'm sorry, I don't even know what to call you anymore."
She returned his smile. "'Dana' will do fine. And you're right - I have some questions about what happened then and what's happening right now. But they're for someone else to ask."
Chapel bells pealed: an alarm, a signal, a release.
"I have to go," Scully said as she rose. Skinner stood as well, leaning forward a little so that Scully would not have to look up too far at him. "I'm grateful that you came to see me. I know that you deserve more than a letter, after all you've done for us..."
"Us?" Skinner's voice, a dark bass, made Scully painfully aware of her misstep. "You haven't asked about him."
She sighed, a dark and weary susurrence. "Have you seen Mulder?" she whispered.
His shoulders squared under his wool jacket. Scully's face, more fragile now that it was deprived of its brilliant frame, let him know that she would only accept the truth.
"Agent Mulder is currently the guest of Georgetown's Finest."
Scully gaped at him.
"Drunk and disorderly." He paused for effect. "He soaked his ID in gin and set it on fire at a bar. He told the arresting officer that he was sending a beacon to alien nuns who had kidnapped his partner."
"Oh, no..." Scully's horrified tone was overlaid with fond amusement.
"Oh, yes. They called me, of course, in the middle of the night. I told them to let him sleep it off. I'm going to pick him up as soon as I leave here." He put his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. "Agent...Dana. I need to ask you a question. Was there...did you and Agent Mulder have some sort of disagreement? An argument? Something that would make you walk out on him at a time like this?"
Scully shoved the chair into the table so hard that the room resounded with the crack of wood on wood. Her eyes flashed fire at her former superior. "I did NOT walk out on Agent Mulder."
Skinner stood his ground. "He's falling apart. He went to that bar straight from work, where he'd been for forty-eight hours - without food or sleep."
"Sir, I did everything I could. I performed the autopsy; I came here to find Amanda Broadman and get her story..."
He leaned over her, his voice electric with disappointment. "You two were on to something. You were close enough to put them on the run. And Mulder - he went to the ends of the earth for you and you turned your back on him."
"No!" She put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyelids shut. "I did not turn my back on him! You don't understand!"
"Then MAKE me understand. Why did you do this? Why did you leave behind the chance to bring about the justice you used to believe in?"
"I didn't turn my back on him. I didn't turn my back on justice." Her voice was a tortured echo. "I turned my face toward God."
Skinner gave her an ironic nod, dismissing her as he had done so many times before. "Then go to Him, Dana." As he watched her go through the doorway, his face softened and he called out to her again. "I'm sorry." He was at her side in a few quick strides, his hands hovering just above her shoulders. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too." She turned to him, her eyes troubled but dry. "I'll keep you in my prayers. If you're taking care of him..."
"...then I'll need it." He completed her sentence with a quiet chuckle, then extended his hand to her. "Goodbye, Dana."
She took the offered hand, matching its slight tremor of emotion with her own, and pressed it to her cheek. "I'll never forget you, Sir," she whispered.
As if of one accord, they let their military bearing support them as they parted.
*****
End Part 1
Go to part two.