From: Kelli Rocherolle Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Blowout" by Kelli Rocherolle Date: Mon, 08 Apr 1996 22:25:56 -0700 Blowout by Kelli Rocherolle I wrote this along time ago, amidst the Oubliette/War/Syzygy days for some personal catharsis, but was never really happy with it. I shared it with a friend who encouraged me to post it (thank you, Henry :-)). So I revamped it and this is the finished product. In light of more recent episodes, it's pretty obsolete... but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! Feel free to send any comments to kelli@edgenet.net *The following story is based on characters copyrighted by Ten *Thirteen Productions, created by The Man, Chris Carter, and who *are the property of the Fox network and are used without *permission. No infringement intended. ************************************** Time to eat all your words swallow your pride open your eyes... -Tears for Fears Blowout "Take a look at this, Scully." Mulder flopped a file down on the desk as Scully sat working on her laptop. She shook her head slightly in irritation. Mulder paused and turned to look at her. "Is that a problem?" "No, no problem at all." She didn't bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice. He worked at loading the slide viewer, his impatience growing. "What's with you Scully?" "What's with me?" He glanced up from the viewer briefly; his eyes dark. "Well maybe it is a problem, Mulder. I'm not just sitting here twiddling my thumbs, I'm working on my report." "Fine." He went back and plucked the file off the desk. Scully reached up and grabbed hold of it. "I didn't say I wouldn't look at it, I just can't do it right now." He snatched it out of her hand. "Forget it." He set the file on top of a stack of others and started sorting through them. "I can't seem to do anything right lately, can I, Scully? Maybe I should go into the other room to breath if that's bothering you too." She flashed him an impatient look over her computer. "Look, Mulder, I don't know when we started getting into these adolescent arguements but I really have no patience--" "What a surprise. Neither do I." "You started this one, not me." He scowled at her. "Whatever." He didn't know who had started this one, all he knew was that there had been a lot of them lately. "Let's just get some work done, okay?" "Fine." Scully turned her attention back to her computer. "Why do you even bother having me look at these things anyway?" she muttered as she continued to type away at her report. "What?" She looked up from the laptop, ready to do battle. "This is just a formality, right? You consulting me on a case? Or are you actually planning to include me in this investigation?" Mulder regarded her with a mixture of anger and amusement: where the hell was this coming from? "All this because I asked you to look at a file?" "This isn't about a file, Mulder. You know that." He rested against the file cabinet and folded his arms in front of him. "Then what *is* it about Scully? Why don't you enlighten me?" More than anything she hated to be patronized; Scully stared at him and fought the urge to lob the stapler in his direction. "Well?" Mulder stepped closer to her, purposely keeping the anger out of his voice. "What's going on?" It would have been easy - so easy - to let go of it. To ignore the anger like she had so many times before. But ignoring the anger had only brought them here, to a place where they argued like kids on a playground and fought hard to remember the love they had for each other. Not this time. Scully let the anger wash over her and felt strangely relieved. "I'm surprised Mulder. It's not like you to be so considerate of other people's feelings; it's not like you to be so considerate of me." That last word she emphasized the slightest bit, and she could tell by the look on his face that it had hit him hard. She hadn't really meant it to. "Oh really? Well I've been careful enough of your feelings not to tell you what I think of you." A hurt sensation twisted through heart. "What does that mean?" "Your attitude, Scully. Everytime I come to you with a case or an idea, you couldn't be less interested..." "And why do you think that is, Mulder?" She answered the question herself. "The X-files are no longer about us. Maybe they were for a while, but not anymore. They're about you; what you want, what you need. You go off on your own to track leads and I sit here and look at your files..." she brought her eyes back to the keyboard, "and wait for your e-mail." He shook his head at her. "Maybe sometimes I just need some space, Scully. It wasn't easy for me to get used to having a partner--" "Space? You're joking, right? You don't seem to be in need of space when there are more... 'appealing' local authorities to work with." He stared at her blankly. "Come on, Mulder, I've been the third wheel on one too many investigations these past few weeks." He sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, locking his hands behind his head. "This oughtta be good..." It was such a short distance between the stapler and his head... Scully calmed herself with an effort: this was getting them no where. "Look, just... never mind." "Tell me." "Mulder..." she cautioned. "I'm not going to drop this--" "Forget it. I don't want to get into this right now." "Come on, Scully. This has obviously been on your mind for some time. Just say it." She pushed from the desk abruptly and stood. "Like I said, I'm not going to get into this now." Mulder stood as well. Scully closed her laptop, took the file next to it and headed for the door with Mulder at her heels. She started to open the door, but the knob flew out of her hand as Mulder's arm came over her shoulder and shoved it back in its place. She took hold of the knob once more and attempted to pull it open; he kept his weight against it. Turning to face him, she pushed his arm away and started to turn toward the door again, but he placed his hands over her shoulders to prevent her from doing so. They both stopped, breathing heavily as the situation threatened to become volatile. Their eyes locked. And through all the anger and frustration he could see so clearly Dana Scully standing there, staring defiantly back up at him, her eyes blazing in anger. Dana Scully, his partner and friend... his one-time friend. And he never wanted to touch her in anger. He released her and walked away, resting his hands on his hips as he paced in the center of the room. Scully watched him for a long moment. "What's happening, Mulder?" He stopped and looked over at her. His voice was low. "I don't know, Scully." "Is it me? Have I done something? We're partners... more than that, I thought we were friends." "We are..." he said unconvincingly. "But?" "But what?" "This," she said, motioning back and forth between them. "What's going on?" He didn't respond, only shook his head as he studied the top of the desk. "You've been so distant lately; you take off without so much as a word. And when you do decide to involve me, you're dismissive and ambivalent toward me--" "Ambivalent? Is that what you think?" He shook his head and glanced away. "How can you say that to me, Scully, after all we've been through?" "Well what is it then? I feel like most of the time you'd just rather I wasn't around." He was slow in responding. "I don't know, Scully." He looked away. "You haven't exactly been easy to work with these past few weeks." "Me?" He lowered his eyes to the floor and was quiet for several seconds. "Maybe I'm just tired of your attitude, of your absolute inability to believe even in the face of everything you've seen." He looked back up at her. "Before, I could understand, I could listen to your opinion, respect it, but now I wonder where you're really coming from-- we've seen the same things, Scully, yet still you refuse to believe." She stared at him in confusion and disbelief. Was he suggesting that her refusal to believe was part of some continuing conspiracy to make him look like the off-balance disgrace in the basement? Was he questionning his trust in her?? How could he? Mulder wasn't doubting her loyalty; above all else, that was the one thing that rang true in his life; he was just genuinely confused as to where she was coming from. He continued: "And lately, you won't even hear me out; it seems you barely tolerate me, are barely civil about expressing your opinions. Just once I wish you'd keep an open mind." "My mind *is* open, Mulder. I just need to rule out a scientific explanation before I blindly pursue the more implausible alternatives." "I'm flattered by your high opinion of me." She straightened indignantly, then placed a hand at her chest. "No, you're right, Mulder-- it's me. My so-called 'closed mind' hasn't saved you from quite a few life or death situations. But that doesn't matter, right? What matters to you are the times I don't blindly follow along like your loyal little puppy dog. I'm sorry, I thought we were a good team *because* we looked at things from different angles. But the bottom line is really that no matter how good an investigator I may be, you'd rather I just shut-up and tag along." She placed a hand on her hip. "That I just sit by while you let your investigations be driven by hunches... or your hormones." Were they back to that? "What the hell are you talking about, Scully? That's ridiculous." "Is it? First the investigation into those roaches, then the case in Comity..." Was she accusing him of being unprofessional? She knew how important his work was to him, how committed he was to it. And he couldn't believe that was really what this was about. His own anger was growing and he lashed out at her. "Maybe you just can't stand to see me working with women who are more open to extreme possibilities, who are willing to consider all the alternatives, who aren't so... rigid." Those words wounded on several levels. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The words were out before he could stop them. "I mean it feels like the temperature drops ten degrees every time you enter the room." She shook her head at him, the anger and hurt burning in her eyes. "Just because I try to maintain a modicum of professionalism..." "You're saying I don't?" She could only stare at him as the pain rendered her numb. She'd lost all interest in their fight, all she could hear was the echo of his words in her mind. Rigid? Cold? Is that how he saw her? "Why don't you say what this is really about, Scully? You resent me for what's happened to you-- your tarnished record in the Bureau, your abduction, your sister's death. And more and more you're having difficulty keeping that resentment at bay." Her voice was tight. "I don't hold you responsible or resent you for any of those things, Mulder. What I resent is the way you treat me in spite of all those things, of all I've been through for you, the times I've risked everything. I've been a good friend to you--" "Well I never asked you to be." Her brows drew together; she wasn't quite sure she'd heard him right. "Excuse me?" He looked away as he spoke, waving a hand dismissively at her. "Just don't throw that in my face, Scully. I never asked you for your friendship. If anything, I did all I could to discourage it. Anything you ever gave you gave freely." "Well," she said curtly, "I can see now that maybe I shouldn't have." He gave a quick nod. "Maybe not." She stared at him, once again the skeptic in the face of unexplained behavior: her partner's. With a snap of her wrist, she flung the file at him, the papers scattering around his feet like falling leaves. "To hell with you!" she hissed, and stormed out of the office. ************************* The following day Mulder was called into Skinner's office. "Have a seat Agent Mulder." He settled into the chair opposite Skinner's desk. "What's this about, sir?" "Agent Scully." He shifted in his seat. "Agent Scully?" "Yes, she requested a temporary leave of absence for an unspecified period of time." His eyes darkened, he said nothing. "Can you tell me what this is about?" "I don't know, sir." Skinner stared at him. He found that difficult to believe; he knew how close they were. "You don't know anything about this?" "No sir." "Well you don't seem too concerned about it." He was silent. "How do you feel about this?" Mulder shrugged at him. "If that's what she wants." Skinner eyed him for another long moment. "All right then; I'm approving the request." He leaned forward in his chair, anxious to get out of there. "Is that all, sir?" "Yes that is all." ****************************** It had been two weeks since that meeting with Skinner, since their fight. At first it had been easy, almost refreshing... maybe they'd needed that break from each other. But it was a fleeting sense of reprieve, soon that feeling was gone and it started to hurt... badly. Mulder sat in his dark apartment staring at the TV as it blared out an infomercial for the 'Flobee'. A slow-burn nausea was eating away at his stomach. He was thinking about his fight with Scully-- no, this was beyond a fight; this was a full-fledged blowout. She'd been angry with him before, but never like this. They were never ones to hold grudges against each other, and if anything, she was always the one who backed down when they fought, she was always willing to let it go and move on. But not this time. He kept seeing her standing there, more furious with him than he had ever seen her, and her face... that face. The hurt in her eyes haunted him; those beautiful blue eyes turned liquid at the sting of his words. He could be injurious when verbal war was waged, he knew, but this time he'd gone too far. He'd said a lot of things he didn't mean, or at least he'd said them in the most destructive of ways. They'd been building up to this, he should've seen it coming. For weeks they'd been snapping at each other, barely putting up with each other. How long had he thought they could go on the way they were? How long had he expected her to follow him on blind faith, with unconditonal loyalty? Especially when, he had to admit, he hadn't given her the same consideration. That was true, he couldn't deny it. During the Kevin Cryer case, she had asked of him what she rarely hesitated to give herself: faith, trust in her judgement. It was the Boggs case all over again. But he'd let her down, both times. He'd let her go to that recycling facility on her own; essentially, he'd told her by his actions that he did not believe in her. He owed her more than that; she deserved more from him. Over the past few years, they'd grown so close, shared so much. Their reunion after his near-death experience and their subsequent investigation into the Paperclip project had only served to strengthen that bond. He'd had such a sense of certainty at that time that they were destined to pursue their work together, to seek the truth he'd spent most of his life searching for alone; his quest had suddenly become hers. But instead of moving forward, they seemed to be taking giant steps backward, to where he felt his mere presence irritated her. And the more she shut down, the more he pushed her away, because it just hurt too much to see her slipping away from him. He would rather be antagonistic toward her, because that was better than feeling numb... anything was better than that. And the more he distanced himself from her, the more resentful she became; and so the cycle seemed to be spinning out of control. He was left wondering about their quest for the truth together. He had told her it was fate... but was it fate? Or was it fault? His fault? The numerous blotches on her professional record, her sister's death, her own abduction... none of it would have happened if it wasn't for him. And maybe being around her everyday was a constant reminder of those failures. If that was true, then what did he intend to do about it? Was she right? Would he rather not have her around? His mind answered quickly: no. Even if it were true, what he had with her was more precious to him than anything else in this life: her friendship, her loyalty, and yet he'd hurt her by throwing those very things back in her face. Why? That little time-bomb of a thought that had been ticking away in the back of his mind for so long spoke up: he couldn't ignore the fact that the attraction between them was a factor in all of this. As much as he tried to push it away, it was always there, and it frustrated the hell out of him. Maybe being around her was a constant reminder of what he could never have. Images of her started to surface in his mind and his lips curled into a small smile: the little girl who had shot the snake in the woods because she wanted the approval of her brothers, the woman who had put it on the line for him time after time {{So you see, sir, Agent Mulder could not have done it because he was with me...}}, the friend who had stood by him and put up with his obsessive tendencies even when he didn't deserve it... like now. He ran a hand over his face. He'd really screwed this one up. He wouldn't blame her if this time she did bail out on him, not after the things he'd said. But he had to try; she was worth the trying... ******************************** Scully sat huddled under a throw blanket on her couch, trying to keep her mind on the movie she was watching. But it was useless, she kept replaying her argument with Mulder over and over in her mind. Things had escalated, had gotten out of hand, and he had said some things she suspected he'd probably been feeling for a long time, but that she didn't actually believe could be true until their biting cold had struck her face. Did he really think she resented him? How could he? She'd told him time and time again nothing that had happened to her, or her family, had been his fault. He was right, anything she ever gave to this relationship she gave freely. And him? Did he really think so little of her friendship? Did he really see her as some cold fish who tolerated him because she had to? At first she thought he did, that he'd meant every word; that he did not want to work with her anymore, and considered the possibility that maybe it would just be best if she left. She loved her job: the passion, the excitement, the commitment... and she had to admit-- him; she loved *him*. Why was that so difficult to admit? He was her friend and she loved him. But it was hard, working so intensely with someone you felt so strongly for... and knowing it could never be more. A little voice in the back of her mind challenged her: could it? No, it could never be more. Certainly not while they were working together. And what they had now, was it enough? Yes, her mind answered, their friendship was enough. But as much as she cherished their friendship and their working relationship, she wasn't about to stick around where she wasn't wanted. She should just tell him he was off the hook, that she was leaving for good. But the more she thought about it, the more she believed that it had been his anger talking. They'd both said some pretty damaging things, but pride kept her from going to talk to him about it any further. Besides, something *was* wrong between them; they'd only just seen the tip of the iceberg. They had a lot to work through, if that was even possible. And she believed that it was. She looked over at the door quickly, surprised to hear someone knocking at that late hour. "Who is it?" Mulder stood outside her door with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his barn jacket. Sure, he could say who it was, but then she probably wouldn't answer the door. He could pretend to be a maintenance worker, but then she'd probably be even more upset when she saw him standing there. The door opened suddenly, preventing him from having to say either. They stared at each other, and Mulder thought how pretty she looked in her casual clothes standing there with one hand on the doorknob, the other at her hip. She didn't slam the door in his face; that was a good sign. After a moment, she dropped the hand at her hip and made a gesture for him to come in as she turned and walked back into the apartment. Mulder paused awkwardly at the door as he watched her walk away, then entered. He closed the door and approached her as she stood in the center of the room with her back to him. She felt his hands come to rest lightly on her shoulders; the warmth and strength in his touch comforting as it always was. She hung her head and brought a hand to her face. "Mulder..." she started, her tone exasperated. His voice was soft and low, so low. "Scully, please... what is this? What happened to us?" She answered him, her own voice weary and strained. "I don't know, Mulder." She shrugged against his hands. "I just don't know." He swallowed hard. "I want to fix it," he said, enunciating every word. She turned to face him, he replaced his hands on her shoulders, and with a great sense of relief he could see that she wanted that, too. He smiled slightly down at her and brought a hand to her cheek. "I'm sorry, Scully, I..." he shook his head at her, unable to find the words. But he didn't have to, she understood, it was so clearly expressed in his eyes how precious she was to him. Smiling softly back at him, she pressed her face deeper into his palm. "Me too." He brought his other hand up to hold her face as they looked at each other. Their faces were very close now, and they both wanted to be closer, but struggled with the impossibility of the situation. And so he moved hesitantly for her, she tilted her face up to meet his as they settled for what could barely be considered a kiss. Their lips touched the slightest bit in tender apology. It was a sweet, innocent gesture, but its excitement was not lost on them. Still holding her face as he pulled back, he ran a hand gently back over her hair. "Will you come get something to eat with me?" It was long past dinner time, and she wasn't hungry. But she knew that he just wanted to be with her, that he was reluctant to leave her just yet, that he wanted to sit and talk with her because he *wanted* to and not because they had to to discuss some case. So she agreed, because she wanted that, too. Nodding against his palm, she mirrored his contented expression. And so they sat talking at a small table in a dim and empty diner long into the night. This time, the kindness of their friendship cushioned their conversation, giving their words the ability to heal rather than hurt. It was a slow process, and they knew things between them would not be miraculously repaired, but they also knew that they had taken the first steps towards healing. Eventually their conversation lost its direction and they reveled in the intimacy; it had been such a long time since they just *talked*. And as he watched her, eyes bright with memories as she recounted a tale of childhood mischief, he was content to face a simple fact: she was in this for the duration, that she would always be a part of his life, because what they felt for each other would always be enough to carry them through the rough times, and because they were friends. The End.