DISCLAIMER:
They're not mine, never will
be.
AUTHOR'S
NOTE: This isn't a conventional fic. Ignore everything
from "Two Fathers"/"One Son,"
because in this world, it never
happened. Scully isn't very likable here, at least
in my opinion,
for much of the story. Consider yourself
warned!
"Man's mind is so formed that it
is far more susceptible to falsehood
than to
truth."
~Desiderius Erasmus (1466-1536)
I didn't believe it when they
told me.
I mean, how could
I?
I'd known her for five
years. I knew her better than
anyone.
I <thought> I knew her
better than anyone.
But then I looked into her
eyes. And I knew. I knew that
everything I'd believed in those
five years was false.
The
one person I trusted above all
others--even above myself--was
the person who had betrayed me
the most. I knew it just by
looking at
her.
Those eyes could never lie to
me.
Isn't that
ironic.
That's all they've ever
done.
Lies. The trust is gone. The connection, the friendship, the
partnership--it's all
disappeared. In its place, in the
empty,
hollow space that's left, there
is only deception and betrayal. And
lies.
Believe the lie. That's what they told me. That's exactly what I
did.
I don't remember exactly what
happened next. I started throwing
things...she was pleading with
me...I was yelling...she was
crying...I was storming out of
the room.
I was numb. I didn't feel a thing. The tears that stung at my eyes
refused to flow over. The fragments of thoughts invading my
mind
refused to materialize. The regrets and questions piercing my
soul
would not be
acknowledged.
I find myself on the sidewalk
outside her apartment before I can even
begin to comprehend what's
happening. A million different
theories
and probabilities flood my mind,
begging me to consider the facts--
the evidence I've witnessed
firsthand for the past five years.
Loyalty. Respect. Trust.
And then I find myself once more
at the single piece of dissenting
evidence--she didn't deny
it.
She had looked up, into my eyes,
and had been absolutely silent...
shocked... confused...
afraid. Never once had she denied
my
accusations. That's what had finally convinced
me. It wasn't like
her to not argue with me. She would have laughed at the thought
and
rambled off some technical
explanation as to why it wasn't even
remotely plausible. Then she would get offended. Didn't I know her
by now? Didn't I know that she would
never--ever--betray me in that
way?
But she had betrayed me. In worse ways than I could have possibly
imagined.
I felt like I had been thrown
off of a cliff and had fallen on a
million pieces of glass, while a
thousand video cameras captured the
moment and spectators jeered at
me.
My entire world collapsed before
my eyes.
The person I had trusted the
most... was one of... one of them.
I couldn't even begin to
understand the how's, let alone the why's.
I glance up at the window of her
apartment and see the silhouette of
her form watching me. I quickly turn my head, unable to look
at her
anymore.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I find myself in my own
apartment hours later, sprawled across my
couch. I guess I had fallen asleep... I really
don't remember
anything after leaving Scully's
place.
I look at my watch. I should be at work. I lie back down again. I
don't care. There's nothing left. My work doesn't matter anymore.
I can't face Skinner or Kersch
or anyone else at the office. And
if
Scully was there... I couldn't
risk having to see her.
I rub my temples. My head is killing me. It feels like there is a
hundred-pound weight pushing
down on me.
I wish it would just crush me
already.
I've never felt this bad
before. Not even when Samantha was
taken.
Not any time within the past
five years. No one has ever hurt me
like this.
They had told me about twenty
times before I had even considered
believing it. It seemed impossible. Not only impossible to believe,
but impossible to execute. How could they keep such a secret from
me
for so long? How could I be so close to someone and
then find out
that I don't know them at
all?
How could she do this to
me?
They told me plain and
clear. She's lying to you. She's one of them.
I told them it wasn't
true.
They told me that the entire
last five years had been built on a base
of lies. She was working with the men who had
done so much harm to
both of us. She had been in on it from the
beginning. She was
assigned to me--yes, to debunk
my work--but also to eventually lead
to my
downfall.
I hadn't believed one word of
it.
Until they showed me the
pictures.
A photograph. Scully sitting in a dark office. With him. He was
smoking a cigarette, as
usual. And they were reviewing a
file.
I still didn't fully believe
it. I told myself that it was a
scam.
That the photo was altered. That she had been set up or forced to
sit with
him.
I had been told so many lies in
my life. I had trouble
distinguishing between the
truths and falsehoods. The things I
believed were lies turned out to
be true... the things I trusted were
true became
lies.
I knew I couldn't handle
it. If this was true... it would be
one lie
too many. The ultimate betrayal. Deception beyond belief. I knew I
wouldn't be able to
recover.
That's why I immediately went to
see her.
I wanted comfort. Hope. I wanted the truth... but I wanted
<my>
truth. The truth that I had believed in for the
past five years.
That's what I
expected.
The last thing I expected was
that the lie would become true.
It was the last thing I
wanted.
Now I shut my eyes tightly. All I want is for the outside world to
just disappear, and leave me
here in the pits of my sorrow.
The darkness is soothing... but
also troublesome. I close my eyes,
and all I can picture is
her.
Her face.
Her eyes.
Her smile.
I can't help
myself.
I ask myself over and over again
how this can be possible... how she
could do this to
me...
If I keep this up, I'm going to
end up in a mental institution.
I finally open my eyes and
attempt to sit up. I don't know how
long
I've been lying there, but my
head ache is slightly gone, and my eyes
can take the light a little
better now.
I look out the window. The weather has changed from the night
before. What had once been a perfectly clear
blue sky was now
covered with ominous grey
clouds, which threaten to over flow at any
moment.
What a day to be depressed
beyond belief.
I still don't comprehend
it. Even after they had described
to me,
step by step, what had been
done... I don't understand at all.
Why me? Why concentrate such a vast global
conspiracy on me--an
insignificant failure of an FBI
Agent? Why ruin such an inspired,
intelligent, ambitious woman
like Scully by pulling her into a web of
lies and deceit so complicated
that the only way to get out is
through more lies and
deceit? Why waste five and a half
years of
manpower, supplies, and the risk
of exposure? Why not just kill me
right away if I'm such a
threat?
My thoughts turn to her
again. I wonder how she did
it. Was
everything she ever said to me a
lie? Does she even consider me a
friend? Or has she just been pretending through
it all? Pretending
to care for me, pretending she
was there for me, when all the time,
she was plotting against
me?
God, she must be one hell of an
actress.
Then the thought enters my mind
that... maybe... just maybe... she
wasn't acting. It's a small glimmer of hope, the
smallest idea that
might get me through this. Maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe she
tried to get out of it. Maybe she did genuinely care for me
through
it all.
Not even the greatest actress in
the world could fake that kind of
dedication... and respect... and
trust...
The phone rings beside me. Once. Twice. I don't move to answer
it.
The answering machine picks
up.
Damn. It's Kersch.
"Mulder," I say, grabbing the
phone from its receiver.
"Where the hell are
you?"
I try to think for a
second. None of my world famous
excuses come to
mind.
"I'm... I'm
sick."
"We had a meeting scheduled in
my office over an hour ago."
"I'm sick," I repeat. It's starting to become true. My head is
still pounding, and I'm starting
to feel sick to my stomach.
"You will be in my office within
the hour, or trust me, Agent Mulder-
" I almost laugh. Doesn't he know that I can't possibly
trust anyone
right now? "-you will be terminated at the
FBI."
Click. He's gone.
Terminated. The thought has no effect on me
anymore. I don't care.
I don't care about my job, my
career, my life for that matter.
All I care about right now is
her. How she did this, why she did
this.
And it's funny... I still care
about her. The person. My partner.
My friend.
Even though she has
double-crossed me for five and a half years, I
still think of her in almost the
same way.
I desperately want to run to
her, so she can comfort me. She's
the
only one who ever can.
But if I see her again, all I
will see is lies. Betrayal. A prime
example of why I rarely let
myself get close to anyone.
Now I start to wonder if it was
so blatantly obvious that everyone
saw it but me. Was I so blinded by my image of her that
I missed
every hint? Did I overlook clues that I would have
easily found if
it had been a case I was working
on?
I decide against that. I pick apart everything from the past
years.
Everything. And I can't find a single clue that
would have alerted
me to anything out of the
ordinary.
The rain is starting
outside. First in occasional drops
that trickle
down the window pane. Then it grows in intensity. Now it's pouring
down in sheets. The darkness is so great that only the
occasional
flashes of lightning give the
illusion that it is, in fact, only
midway through the
afternoon.
I sit and watch the rain for a
few minutes. I don't know how
long.
Time has lost all meaning for me
now. It could have been seconds; it
could have been hours. I'm almost sure I've been "terminated"
by
now. Still, I just sit and watch the rain, in
a state of shock that
transcends anything I've ever
felt before.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It's been awhile. I think it's night
now.
I haven't moved from my couch
all day. I haven't even eaten. I
never felt the need to. I haven't watched television, or
listened to
music, or do anything. Except just sit.
I hear a knock on my door. I don't want to answer--don't want to
talk to anyone--but they are
unrelentless, unceasing, and I am forced
to give in. I find myself getting up and walking to
the door,
opening it, and seeing her
standing there.
Her. The one person in the world that could
both comfort me and kill
me.
She is soaked to the bone from
the pouring rain. Her hair is
dripping down her face. She looks up at me, pleading with her
eyes--
God, those eyes--asking me
silently for a sign of forgiveness.
"Can I come in?" she asks, her
voice cracking ever so slightly.
I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. So I simply back
away from the door and retreat
back to my couch. My safe
haven. For
now, at
least.
I watch her survey the room
quickly and then step inside. She
slowly
pushes the door shut behind her
and takes off her coat. My eyes
never leave her as she runs a
hand through her hair, trying to
untangle the wet mess. Then she stops and looks at me. She doesn't
move, doesn't make an attempt to
come any closer to me. She's
probably afraid. I lower my eyes to the ground... I can't
stand to
look at her any more. It's too much.
"I... I'm sorry," she finally
says.
I look up at her. I must have looked angry--or
confused--or
something, because she repeats
it.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what to
say."
I shrug. "It's true, then?" I ask, looking out
the window again.
It's still raining. After a moment with no response, I look
at her
again.
She nods.
"I don't understand it." I stand up. "Why?"
As I walk closer to her, I can
see that there are tears filling her
eyes. "I... I don't
know..."
"So from the beginning... from
the very beginning... everything we've
done has been fixed. It's all been a lie. Everything between the
two of
us."
"No!" she says suddenly. "Not... not everything." She's having
trouble speaking, as if a well
of emotions inside her was about to
burst.
I almost feel sorry for
her.
Almost.
"Mulder, please... please say
something."
Say something? For once in my life, I'm at a loss for
words. I
don't know what I want to say to
her... actually, I can think of
hundreds of things I want to say
to her, but I don't know how to
phrase it or what to keep
back. I take a deep breath. "I want to
know one thing, Scully. One thing. That's all you have to tell
me." I pause. "Did you ever..." Now I'm having trouble
speaking. "Was it all a lie? Did you ever really care about
me?"
She gets a look on her face like
she's been slapped by her best
friend. A look of shock and disbelief. "Of course... Of course I
cared for you. I still do." She takes a step closer to
me. "Mulder, I swear to you, I didn't know
what I was getting myself
into. I didn't expect to walk in that office
and see you. I didn't
expect to find a friend. I didn't expect to end up working on
something that I completely
believed in. You've got to trust
me."
"Trust you? Tell me, how can I trust someone who has
done never done
anything but lie to me?!" I finally explode. Everything I've held
back since the day before comes
pouring out. Her eyes grow wide and
filled with
tears.
"Mulder, I can
explain-"
"Explain? I'd love to hear it. I'd love to hear you try to explain
five and a half years of
betrayal and lies and deception."
By this
point I'm
screaming.
She threatens to cry any
minute. It kills me
inside--absolutely
kills me--to see her like
this. I still care. I can't help it. In
my mind, I haven't grasped the
concept of it yet, that she isn't the
person I've always thought she
was. She isn't the person I've
always
admired. I'm still in denial. I look at her, and before I can stop
myself, I see Scully. My partner. My friend. My soul mate. My
kindred spirit. I see the woman who had never let me
down... who I
had always been able to count
on...
I can't get used to this new
woman standing before me.
"Go ahead..." I say, a little
quieter this time.
"Explain."
"What do you want to know?" she
asks.
"I really don't care," I reply
coldly.
She nods. It is a nod of sadness, despondency,
utter fear... the
usual brightness in her eyes is
gone. "They assigned me to be your
partner to debunk your
work. You know that. Shortly after my first
case report, I received a
call. I went to a meeting, where
the group
of men you have been fighting
all along propositioned me. I
basically had two choices. Either work with them... or die. And if
I died, soon you would have
too. I was to be paid a certain
amount
of money to make regular
reports--not only on the cases we worked on
but also on your behavior...
your informants... and anything else
that may have been of value to
them. The money wasn't what kept me
involved. It wasn't enough to hold any interest
for anyone. But you
know how powerful these men
are. You don't double-cross
them. I
wasn't aware of this when I got
involved. I didn't know how
dangerous they were. I didn't know what they were capable
of. Once
I got in, I had no choice but to
stay in."
She stops and looks to me for a
response. I don't give her
one. She
looks as if she's unsure of what
to do next.
"So you had the money. You had a secure job. All you had to do was
make reports, and you had your
life." I almost laugh. "It sounds
like a great plan. No problems. So what happened? What was the
glich?"
"What?"
"Well, something made you
question your position. It couldn't
have
been our wonderful job. It couldn't have been that you morally
didn't want to be there, because
you wouldn't have gotten involved in
it in the first place. So what was it? What was the
problem?"
A single tear overflows and
trickles down her cheek. Her eyes
are
full of sadness and lonelieness
and regret. She breathes deeply and
speaks slowly. "I fell in love."
My eyes are completely focused
on her. I can't move. I can't look
away. Part of me--a big part--wants to take
her hand and wipe away
the tear that has fallen... and
the other that has just followed in
its path. But I'm frozen. I don't know what to
do.
"Don't you think I tried to get
out?" she suddenly asks.
I stare at her,
dumbfounded. "No. Not really," I snap at her. I
don't know why I say it, but
it's all that comes out.
She closes her eyes tightly for
a moment. Opening them again, she
speaks softer. "Well, I did. I tried. But you know these men,
Mulder. You know that you can't mess
around. The only way I
could've gotten out was if I had
killed myself." She pauses. "And I
know that would have killed
you--if not physically, at least
spiritually." She stops again.
"I don't believe you," I
say.
More tears are now following the
others. "Look at me!" she
exclaims. "I am living proof of what these men
do! Listen to me."
She grabs my hand and holds it
tightly. "Listen! I wasn't abducted
because of <you>. They didn't give me cancer to punish
<you>. And
they sure as hell didn't give me
Emily and then kill her to get to
you!! Think about it! Everything from the past five years has
happened to <me>. Sure, they knew it would affect you, but
they did
it all to me. They wanted to make sure I wasn't going
anywhere. The
first time they shut down the
X-Files? They did that because I
was
drifting away from them. They needed a ploy to seperate us and
get
me back to where they wanted
me! Mulder, you have been so close
sometimes--closer than you can
possibly imagine. I want more than
anything to expose these men and
what they do. But I can't help you
do that. The only thing that is keeping us both
alive is the simple
fact that I have to cooperate
with them."
"And is that how you want to
live?" I interrupt her. "You want
to
live at the mercy of men who
kill for a living? Of men who could
kill you at any
time?"
"How else am I supposed to
live?! I can't get out now. It's been
too long, and I know too
much. If I leave, I'm dead
tomorrow. It's
as simple as that. I can't live any other way. I have no choice. I
made a horrible mistake, and I
would give anything--anything--to go
back and change
that."
"But you
can't."
"But I can't," she repeats.
She is still holding my hand,
and I can't think of anything else to
say. I find myself slipping my hand from hers
and backing away. She
nods subtly and clasps her hands
together. We just look at each for
what seems like an
eternity.
"I'm sorry," she says
again.
I cross my arms in front of my
chest. "What am I supposed to say
to
that?"
"I don't know." Her voice is barely a
whisper.
"What are we supposed to do
now?"
"I don't know that either." She wipes her eyes and takes a few deep
breaths. "I can't quit. You know that. We would never survive the
night."
Neither of us says
anything. It's almost as if all of
the words
between us have
disappeared. Our emotions have been
let loose; now
all we can do is sit back and
watch the remaining pieces shatter on
the ground. There is a coldness... a wall... This is a person who I
have never had trouble speaking
to, and now I can't find anything to
say.
She breaks the silence. "I had considered disappearing. Running
away. Becoming someone else--having a
different life--pretending
that Dana Scully never
existed."
She would have never done
that. Her eyes tell the truth. She could
never leave.
She confirms my unspoken
thoughts. "But I couldn't. There was no
way I could have
disappeared. Not with them. They can find anyone.
And I would have never been able
to leave. Living an entire lifetime
without the little
things--without ever seeing you again--it would
have been a torture greater than
death."
Life without the little
things. I think of the possibility
of never
seeing her again. Never again hearing her voice on my cell
phone.
Never again arguing with
her. Never again driving miles and
miles in
a rental car with her. It is a fate more frightening that
anything
I've ever
experienced.
"There is only one thing to do,"
she says.
I watch numbly as she removes
her gun from the holster around her
waist. Slowly, my body unfreezes as she raises
the gun... higher...
higher...
"Scully, put down the gun," I
hear myself say...
Higher... until it is pointed at
her own temple... and my worst fear
is standing right before
me...
"Scully, please," I plead with
her. "Put down the
gun."
The tears that had, at one time,
faded return again--this time with a
fierceness that consumes
her. "I can't..." she says, just
barely
making her voice audible. "I can't do anything else. I don't care
about myself anymore... All I
want to let you live..."
"Please..." I walk slowly towards her and move my
hand towards
hers. I grasp it and gradually pull it away
from her head. I push a
few scattered strands of hair
back and look deeply into her eyes.
Her eyes never could lie to
me.
Something in her clicks on--she
drops the gun to the floor and
collapses into my arms,
sobbing. Her body shakes with
tears.
I can't do anything but pull her
close to me. I sink to the floor of
my apartment, wrapping my arms
around her and cradling her.
I don't know how long we stay
like that... just the two of us against
the world... just like it always
was...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They found her body the next
day.
Lying on the floor of her
apartment. A single gunshot wound
to the
head.
They ruled it
suicide.
I didn't believe
it.
I couldn't bring myself to go to
the funeral.
I didn't want to remember her
that way.
I just want to be able to close
my eyes and picture her the way I saw
her last. Looking up at me... her eyes showing the
faintest sign of
hope... and shining with the
caring spirit she had always possessed.
Her eyes could never lie to
me.
Isn't that
ironic.
*~*~ END
*~*~
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