Date: Sat, 13 Jun 1998 04:44:39 -0700 (PDT) From: Fiona Bradley Subject: Black Spells (1/1) by Fiona Bradley ************* Black Spells ************* Author: Fiona Bradley Rating: strong PG (a couple of words that don't belong here)/very light R Category: S H A Keywords: A little UST on the side. Distribution Statement: Do not forward to ATXC, everywhere else OK Summary: Mulder's diary - tales of paranoia, shopping, and broken VCRs. How could it be anything but bizarre? Disclaimer: This production has not been approved, endorsed, or authorized by the Federal Bureau of Investigations, Ten Thirteen Productions, or Twentieth Century Fox. No infringement intended. All my stories can be found at http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dimension/3096/ I know it's been a long time since you've heard from me... five months I think! Too much study, not enough fanfic. I don't know if Mulder really would keep a diary or not, but you never know. This is kind of a departure for me, let me know what you think. ************* Black Spells ************* Monday ------ Woke up at 4am due to my falling off my couch. One of these days I will have to get it converted to a sofa-bed thingy. I am sure the people in the apartment below are sick of the *thump* every morning as I hit the floor. Had nothing to do so I went to work at 5am. Had nothing to do at work so I returned home. Went back to work at 8:30am and met up with Scully in the lobby. She looked fresh and ready-to-go! as always, whereas I felt all put-me- back-on-the-shelf-I'm-tired. Tried to muster up some enthusiasm to tell her about the latest spate of UFO sightings in somewhere-or- other. Scully picked all her usual holes in my theories to make me feel better but it didn't work. I just couldn't get into it today. Ate lunch of noodles and cheese. Tasted horrible but I'm addicted to the stuff. It's become a competition between Scully and me, she tells me I must have an iron stomach to eat that stuff and I eat it just because I don't want her to laugh at me for being weak. Am I really that insecure? Went home early at 7pm. No messages on my answer machine. It started raining outside. So I sat down to watch some videos (basketball) when I realised that my VCR still wasn't back from being repaired. Scully came over the other day and I was so frantic to get the video that I was watching (Skimpy Love Chicks) out of the machine that it got jammed. The video repair man just grinned knowingly when he extracted the video from the machine. Theory: maybe he's fixed the machine already and he's just holding onto it so he can watch the video. I'll have to go down there and pick it up. But not in this rain. The cable is out. The Lone Gunmen were trying to fix up some more stations for me but they fucked it up and now I have exactly one channel left - the Home Shopping Network. Now there's a conspiracy if ever I saw one. Tuesday ------- Stood in front of the fridge this morning praying to find something nice in it for breakfast. Opened the door and found one apple, one can of beer (how lonely must that can feel?), an unopened packet of prunes, and some chocolate sauce for ice cream. Decided that an apple and chocolate sauce could pass for an interesting combination of breakfast snack and dinnertime dessert. So I sat down at the table and cut my apple into slices then dipped it into the chocolate sauce. I don't know why I didn't try this before. It's delicious. I must remember to tell Scully about this one. Went to work. Told Scully about apples + chocolate sauce. She screwed up her nose then shook her head. "No no no. You've got it all wrong. You know what would taste really great? Fruit with that chocolate sauce that goes hard. You know?" I think she may be right. Wednesday --------- Got my VCR back but the video that was in it (Skimpy Love Chicks) was missing. They have some stupid policy about not being responsible for loss. Damn. Nothing is happening at work right now. When Scully goes upstairs to do pathology readings (she's always up-to-date) I swirl around in my chair and make paper aeroplanes. Got home and found a nice stack of mail waiting for me. Subscription day!! That's always the best day of the month. I get 'The Magic Bullet', 'Celebrity Skin', 'UFO Chronicle', and 'Paranoia Monthly' all delivered at the same time. I won something! Cool: Dear Mr Mulder: Congratulations! You have won a CD of your choice at the Megamart! I guess I'll have to ask Scully tomorrow what I should get. Perhaps I should take her shopping with me. Thursday -------- When I get to work Scully is already there (!). I showed her the letter about the CD that I won. I asked her what I should get and she said in her Vegas-poker-face (how does she do that?): "Version 2.0 by Garbage. There's a song on there called 'I think I'm Paranoid'" Haha very funny. So we went to the Megamart later that night. She headed straight to the Jazz section. She has impeccable taste. I don't. I headed right to the ALTERNATIVE section. I picked up one disc and then Scully was behind me all of a sudden out of nowhere and laughed. "Oh you *would* like that one!" It was 'This is Hardcore' by Pulp. "I hear it's really good..." I mumbled. She just nodded and wandered down the aisle a bit. "Oh here's one I know you'd love, chaos and paranoia and all that stuff. There's even a song called Paranoid Android!" she mocked me, grinning as she held up 'OK Computer' by Radiohead. Just to keep in with her little teasing game I took it over to the listening headphones station. Scully went back to Jazz, smiling her little smile. After about a half hour she got impatient. I was still on the listening station and she was starting to get a little worried. She kept glancing over at me and frowning. "Hey, you're the one who pointed this out!" I signalled back with my own glances. She shook her head and went back to flicking through the racks, probably searching for that elusive Al Green thing she's been looking for for months. I traded in my coupon for the 'OK Computer' CD much to Scully's surprise. She threw her hands up in the air and muttered, "It was supposed to be a joke!" I smiled my own little smile and we left the Megamart. Friday ------ I brought my new CD to work and put it on while we were down in the office doing paperwork. After awhile I realised that I had been signing my name as 'Mouller' on all the forms instead of 'Mulder' for the past hour. The power of music! Skinner came in in the afternoon and announced that he had a new case for Scully and me. Finally! Saturday -------- Scully and I flew to Los Angeles. How ironic. The one time we get to come to sunny California and it's *raining*. I listened to my new CD all the way over on the plane. I think it's starting to make me even more paranoid than I already am. Which is no mean feat. The case turned out to be a dud. I knew it the second we walked in the place. We won't be getting out of LA for another day so maybe we can do something. Visit Hollywood landmarks. Scully would probably laugh and go do some more research. Sunday ------ I finally convinced Scully that we should do something constructive. She asked if we could go to the Jet Propulsion Labs at Cal-Tech. On a Sunday! I suggested a UFO research centre. She quickly said no. As usual. Rain finally stopped in the afternoon so we went for a jog. Kind of dangerous in these suburbs. With the substandard accomodation only government money can buy, you have to watch your back. Later on I checked my email and felt pretty depressed that I got more spam than actual personal mail. So I subscribed onto a new mailing list. 'World's strangest facts'. Here's one that they sent to me today: The average person swallows 8 spiders in their sleep every year. I forwarded it on to the Lone Gunmen. I have a feeling that they would get a kick out of it. Monday ------ We had to drive back to Washington from New York because they weren't letting planes land at National. I missed the announcement actually, Scully had to tap me on the shoulder and tell me. I was still listening to my new CD. I tried to get Scully to listen to it but she just shook her head and went back to her 'Best of the 80's' compilation mix. Scully shifted uncomfortably in her seat the whole way back. She was attempting to feign sleep but after an hour she knew that I knew that she was faking it. But I didn't mind. I guess she was trying to get my to shut up about whatever it was I was talking about. I forget now. We were about an hour away from Washington still when I got a call from Skinner. A new assignment. Back out to Seattle. So I turned the car around and we were back on the road. Scully didn't protest. It's only when I make her travel all over the place that she complains. I don't mind though. Thursday -------- Expense report day. A hundred million useless questions asking things like, "How many paper clips were used by your department from the period June 9 1997 to May 15 1998?" etc. >From time to time I looked up to see how Scully was taking this drudgery, and she looked just as bored as I did. Then I had an odd thought - God she looks good when she's bored. Where the hell did that come from? OK I admit I've thought that before, but over expense reports?!? I must be weirder than I thought. Anyway, like I said, it's not the first time I've suddenly realised how beautiful Scully is. I'm not sure however if I could ever actually follow up on that thought and actually *tell* her that though. She'd probably just ask if I've been drinking that funny water again. Went for a walk at lunchtime and ended up at the MegaMart. Remembered my trip here with Scully and headed over to the alternative aisle. I picked up that CD she'd scoffed at, the one called "This is Hardcore" and bought it. Went back to the office and put it on the little CD player with the headphones in. Oh shit, I think. Have to read stupid expense reports to get my mind off Scully. Idly wonder if paper clips can be used as sex toys. Luckily Scully left at that point to go to some pathology seminar- something-or-other. I bang my head on the desk, the CD is sort of dely-echoing in my ears. Not a good feeling. Skinner walked by and said, "Feeling all right, Agent Mulder?" Me: jerks head upright suddenly, giving myself whiplash, "Oh! I'm fine, Sir. Expense reports, you know how it is." He just nodded and went on his way, I guess he's used to my outbursts by now. Went home early after feigning illness to Scully. She looked kind of worried but I just hurried out the door. I guess it was rude, but it was better than betraying how I really felt if she got too close. She can't get too close. It wouldn't be fair. Friday ------ Well after my slightly black spell of yesterday, I was feeling much more chipper today. There's a new movie opening at the cineplex that I might go and see - alone - after work. Like there's anyone who'd actually want to hang out with me. I'm quite resigned to "solo dating" as I refer to it. I treat myself to dinner when I'm home, sometimes theatre, sometimes a movie. God I'm a fuckup. But I've known that for a long time now. I can't change who I am. (Brief fleeting thought of buying one of those "You can change your life in a month!" books) Checked my email in the afternoon. More spamspamspam. Lots of porno- smut spam today, I noticed. Then I got that little funny ding-noise meaning new mail. So I open it up, and it's from Scully. Scully? I think, and I look over to the other side of the room where she is sitting at the drafting table (still no desk of her own, fuck me I should have taken care of that by now) with a funny lopsided smile on her face. So I decided to utilise technology and so here is a cut and paste of the ensuing email conversation, as it were - To: F_Mulder@fbi.gov From: D_Scully@fbi.gov Subject: Hi. I know it must seem strange to you to get a mail from across the room (the wonders of technology!) but never mind. Okay with you? Scully Two seconds later I fire back my reply. Amazing how long it took to get to her, so many hops around the world to her computer even though it'd actually be quicker to throw my response in the form of a paper airplane across the room. She just sat there and stared at her screen, refusing to look at me. To: D_Scully@fbi.gov From: F_Mulder@fbi.gov Subject: re: Hi. Okay. What's up? Mulder PS: where'd my sig go? ----------------------------- To: F_Mulder@fbi.gov From: D_Scully@fbi.gov Subject: Okay. This is serious Mulder. I want you to listen. No jokes. Scully PS: maybe your sig got... abducted! :-) ----------------------------- To: D_Scully@fbi.gov From: F_Mulder@fbi.gov Subject: re: Okay. I'm listening, Scully. Always. Mulder After that last message, she did a little clicking and then got up from the drafting table and went outside. I was more than a little confused, to say the least. But the little MacQuack new email ding rang and I knew that she'd sent me a message. So I slouched down in my chair and read - To: F_Mulder@fbi.gov From: D_Scully@fbi.gov Subject: Okay. I'm still afraid. Is it silly? Am I too paranoid? Am I turning into you?? (not that there's anything wrong with that) Why do I feel like this? Why can't I talk about this with you? What's wrong with me? I don't know what to do. I need your help but I don't know how to ask you. Scully Her message was like a ton of bricks on my chest, or another gun butt in my face (horrible memory of those incidents). And I realised that I don't know how to help her. And I didn't know what to do - sit here and think or run outside and try to find her? So I did nothing. Like the selfish bastard that I am. She didn't come back all day. This is really serious. I'm tearing myself apart not knowing what I should do. Saturday -------- Shit. Weekend. No Scully down in the office today. I came in under the pretense of filing or something, hoping that she'd come in and I'd be able to tell her that everything is wrong but it'll be okay anyway because that's what everyone always says because you can't say things aren't going to get better. They have to get better, or there's no hope. And without hope you might as well just die. Society is like a refrigerator. Krycek + Consortium types = the group of products that smell and are unseemly and you just don't want to touch, you can't even bring yourself to get rid of this stuff from your fridge because you don't want to get near it. Example - three month old tomatoes, dripping with mould. (I am looking in my fridge right now) Ex-girlfriends and others (I cannot bring myself to write their names) = those expensive snacky things that are full of fat that you know are bad for you but you keep eating them because you're a sucker. Scully = The exotic fat-fre chocolates that you can never dare to rip the plastic wrapper off of. You're dying to taste them (and they're not bad for you because hey, they're fat-free!) and you know that they'll fill you up and make you feel wonderful but you always hold back. I don't know why. Me = Egg. Generic, boring. And eggs are never allowed to get near the exotic chocolates, because they could corrupt the chocolates (ie, make them smell). I just got to thinking about what Skinner would be (Celery?) when there was a knock at the door. I knew immediately who it had to be. Scully. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept all last night. She knew what I was thinking, "I know what you're thinking. 34 hours up and I haven't fallen over yet. I've been through much worse." I opened my mouth but her gaze told me that I should keep my mouth shut. She wanted to talk, and I was going to listen. She sat down and thought for like, several centuries before she spoke again. "It's just... like sometimes I don't know whether it's all worth it. Whether I should just throw in the towel and say to those consortium guys, 'yah take me, whatever'." I cleared my throat, trying to think of something. "Well, you know, I feel that way too, sometimes. But most of the time, I... uh... well, I don't." What else was I supposed to say? "It's probably just the lack of success we've had lately, all these dead ends are so fucking annoying." She turned on the televison and flicked around before settling on, of all things, the children's TV channel. Teletubbies was playing. And then, get this - she smiled at this stupid show. "Eh-oh! Hey Mulder, isn't this cute?" I was surprised to say the very least. "Cute?? It's probably got some kind of subconscious voice running through it saying, 'bring down the government'." "Oh, so you've been watching it already, Mr-bring-down-the- consortium?" What could I do? I shrugged. So while Scully settled in to watch the TV I went off to the kitchen to find something to eat. Canned tomatoes? A lone pear? (sounds like an oxymoron to me) A box of graham crackers? Returned to find Scully laughing at the TV. "What, no food? I should have known. Why don't you call for pizza?" I thought it over. "Or maybe not." I remember those run ins with vampiric pizza guys and pizza boys zapped by lightning just a little too well for my liking. And then, wouldn't you know it, a total thunderstorm started outside and I couldn't even hear myself talking. So we both resorted to YELLING. Her: "MULDER, HOW ABOUT CHINESE?" Me: "WHAT?" Her: "FOR DINNER?" Me: "WHAT?" Her: "WHAT?" You get the picture. So then we just sat in silence until the thunderstorm ended and then Scully thought it was too late for dinner so she went home again. And so here I am typing all this up all alone in my little apartment with no food and I can't be bothered going out so I guess I'll just stay here and play solitaire or something. I've been working on my record, I'm down to 65 seconds. Woo. Too bad there isn't an office championships. Monday ------ Well nothing happened yesterday so I couldn't be bothered writing. But today - new case! And it's a good one, I think. Scully and I will head off tomorrow. Friday ------ I kept talking in the hopes that things would sort themselves out. That I'd suddenly say something and know the answer. They asked me if I believed, truly believed, and I didn't know what to say. There's two Mulders now, the part of me that thinks it's all bullshit, and the other half, that still wants to believe, to argue with Scully over all this. But I can't decide. Scully slept in the car all the way back from the case. I just tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and hummed a tune that I'd forgotten the name of. It didn't matter anyway. Them again. The question bounced around in my head, making me dizzy inside. Three words. Not much. But everything. Scully suddenly woke up near the highway and stared at me. I couldn't stand it, "What? You're going to have to stop that if you want me to keep driving, it's very distracting." "Sorry. Mulder..." She paused for about a decade this time, "I don't know what's been up with you the past few days. You've been acting kind of strangely." "Have I?" "You're just... not yourself." "Who am I then?" I said. "That's what I mean! Come on, what's wrong?" "Why should there be anything wrong? We just solved a case and we're finally going home. We've been on and off the road for ages now. I'm just tired." "Mulder, I know you. A few months ago, you could have dead on your feet and still have countered every rational scientific theory ever written. Now... it's like..." She looked at him, her friend with Mulder's face but seemingly someone else's soul. "It's like you don't care anymore." I sighed, intending to laugh but it wasn't coming out right. "Care about what?" "Everything." I didn't know what to say so I turned the radio on. I glanced out the window for a split second. Landmarks of surburbia passed by, houses with tiny gardens and washing lines, shopping malls, playgrounds. Sterile. Neat. Unlike my mind. Why won't the words go away? "Stop." Scully suddenly commanded. "What are-?" "Just pull over Mulder. I'm driving." When I pulled on the park brake she got out of her seat and walked around to the other side of the car. "All right, out you get." So we switched without a word. She kept driving, past the houses and the picket fences and the roadside diners. Soon the road drew alongside a railway line. A sign on the line caught my attention: It was so like life. Just when you think you're on a roll, something comes along to make everything more complicated than it needs to be. Never mind that the sign was referring to pedestrians. She slowed down and turned into a side street. "Where are we going Scully? This isn't on the way back to Washington." "I know. I just thought that a little detour wouldn't hurt any." He glanced at her, saw her smiling at her little joke. "Don't worry, we aren't going into the woods. Just for a late lunch. You hungry?" Scully asked me. "Famished." my stomach made screaming noises in sympathy. How little changes. We're not much closer to the truth now than we were a few years ago. Just in deeper. And though Scully and I trust each other with our lives, we're still just partners. Nothing more, nothing less. Purely platonic. Will I be sitting in another diner in another four years still wondering why that hasn't changed? "Care to tell me what's bugging you, Mulder?" Scully asked as she wiped her chin. "I don't know." "It's what they said to you, isn't it?" She studied my eyes, knowing they would give me away. I looked into her eyes and she knew. I could tell right away that she knew. "Why can't you tell me, Mulder? Don't you trust me?" "I do... it's just I'm not sure what it all means at the moment." Do You Believe ? They asked me at the crime scene, a suspected abduction. All the classic signs, but I didn't think it was true. I'd told them that I didn't believe in aliens, that it was something else, something very wierd, but normal and definitely not extraterrestrial. Do you believe? I'd paused, for not more than a second, but it was a second more than I had ever waited in the past. Back then, I'd been so sure that aliens and little grey men that were real. So certain. But for that once second that I'd hesitated in my reply, my mind had wandered. Maybe it's not true, a little voice had screamed inside of me. They're all laughing at you. Even Scully. And I'd looked at her then, noting her arched brow and folded arms, waiting for me to supply them with a textbookMulder answer. Yes, the old Mulder would have answered. But the imposter in old Mulder's place had frowned, and finally came up with a reply. "I don't know anymore." It surprised me to hear the words come out of my mouth. Scully reached out to touch my arm, knowing that something had to be wrong. But of course, if Mulder no longer believed in aliens, there had to be something terribly, terribly amiss. Didn't there? Six years we'd been together, busting our asses for what? Truth? But none had been forthcoming. Justice? She wanted to laugh at the idea. "So what are we going to do?" Scully said. "Let's go for a drive." She was the one who saw the sign, not me for once. She was surprised that she had noticed it, because it was small and almost hidden behind a bush but the side of the road, but there it was. And I was even more surprised when I realised Scully was following the sign's directions.She didn't say anything about where they we going and I didn't ask. Then somehow we found ourselves inside. Amidst the scented candles and crystal balls and tarot cards. Amongst things that used to make Scully laugh. Neither of us making motions to leave. "Hello." A woman with greying hair greeted us. "Would you like me to read your palms?" We nodded, I don't know why. The woman led us into a room bathed in crystals, lights and strange trinkets suspended from the ceiling. We sat side by side in front of the woman. She took Scully's hand and examined it for a good five minutes before she started to speak. "Very interesting. I can see that you have had a major health problem recently. Here..." the woman traced a line on Scully's palm. "See the little forks on the line? That's how I know." She touched the part of Scully's palm where her thumb ended, where there seemed to be a little cushion. "This means that you are very passionate. This line over here means that you will have one husband. But I don't see any lines for children." Scully looked away from the woman, knowing that she was speaking the truth - at least about that last part. I felt angry that a total stranger could know that most private and personal thing about her. "But apart from that, I see that you are very strong willed, and very intelligent. And you are creative... but you usually keep that side of yourself hidden to everyone, even those closest to you. But there will be trials ahead, many. To do with your job, your life... it may be in danger at times. But you will pull through." The woman patted Scully's hand as if to reassure her, then picked up mine. "You have also had poor health." I remembered all the times I had been shot, hit by cars, in car crashes, hit on the head, drugged and tied up. Poor health. Yeah, you could call it that. "And you are also very stubborn. Your life line is a little wavy, there's some forks... you might want to be a little more careful. Avoid jumping onto trains in the future?" She smiled, as though it was a joke. I guess she couldn't read that I actually had jumped onto a moving train once. Ha ha. Good joke. Without a word, we went back to the car. Scully sat in her seat and traced the lines on her hand with a finger. "What the hell just happened in there?" "I don't know. Are we losing it?" I asked. "Hope not. I just hope it's a temporary fork in the road." "Better be. Our next case may involve having to trespass onto government property. I haven't done that in a couple of months, should be fun." "I believe Mulder, that as long as we're in on this together, it can't fall apart completely. There's still hope. And that's all we need to keep going. Do you believe?" she asked me. "In hope? Yes I do." And I was sure this time. We turned our eyes back to the road. And Scully kept driving. ------ Well? Write me! - _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com