From: Penphile99 Date: 29 May 1999 17:59:31 GMT Subject: NEW: "Divinity" (1/1) by Perelandra whoo! It's been a while! Well, here goes... TITLE: Divinity AUTHOR: Perelandra (pen_phile@hotmail.com) CATEGORY: VA SPOILERS: Biogenesis RATING: G SUMMARY: Scully suffers a crisis of faith, now that she knows the nature of the divine. DISCLAIMER: Not mine, dammit. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another one of these Faith!Scully post-ep pieces. These are so wonderful to write, exploring Scully's faith while I explore my own. =============================================== They said nothing when I flew home from Africa, and took him back. That's what I did -- walked right into that padded room, amidst the warnings of doctors and the protestations of my superior. He calmed at my presence, and my eyes locked with his. I touched his face, saying his name over and over; and his gaze held mine, firm and rational. As long as my world connected with his, he remained safe. He touched my face and I said everything was going to be fine. They said nothing when I took him home. The doctors could do nothing to treat or even explain Mulder's present mental condition; and I didn't blame them. Parts of his brain that didn't even have specific names yet were alive with activity, erratic waves dancing on the oscilloscope. They listed his condition as "beyond explanation," refusing to speculate on or even recognize the theory that Mulder's "god module" was active and that he operated on a level previously unattainable by a member of the human race. Science fiction, they called it. Preposterous. Ludicrous. That's what I would have called it too. Mulder said nothing as I loaded him into the car. I wasn't sure he was conscious or coherent -- he stared into space, rolled his eyes wildly at the orderlies, Skinner, Fowley. By all accounts, he had finally succumbed to the madness of the past six years, and stress had made his neurosis decline into psychosis. If I were the scientist I was before, I'd have made that diagnosis in a heartbeat. If I were the scientist I was before, I'd be completely convinced. Except for the way he looked at me when we got in the car. It was nothing, the way it started out -- head back, eyes half closed, glancing in my direction. There was a softness in his eyes that comforted me, offered a modicum of peace in the war being waged within me. It was as if he understood the turmoil in my soul. But he didn't know what happened in Africa. He couldn't have known. Glances became stares, and all I got before long was an incessant astonished stare that emanated from his upturned face. I felt his eyes bore into me, attempting to harvest the truth from that which I was trying so diligently to suppress. Truth was, I believed. I believed, and in that instant I died. Everything that was myself -- the scientist, the skeptic, believer in nothing but hard facts and an almighty God -- everything met its demise, leaving nothing but a wreck. I looked back at Mulder, stil staring, but with a tenderness in his eyes I realized I'd been craving ever since I returned. It was as if he knew, *really* knew what I was thinking, that he truly had the ability to read thoughts. And it frightened me to death how readily I believed it. With Mulder watching me, I chuckled softly to myself. They'd believe that from you, I thought to him. They'd believe this insanity from Spooky Mulder. But not from Dana Scully. Never from me. I pulled over in front of the church. "Where are you going?" It was the first words Mulder had said all night. "I'll be right back -- just stay here." The night air felt cold and crisp against my blushing cheeks as I made the first hesitant steps into the sanctuary. I was spinning, out of control, unable to take comfort or even discern a secure sense of myself. I sat in the front row, before an icon of my belief, but my faith was leaving me. The UFO had bible passages written on it. Aliens were Gods. Gods were aliens. It was impossible, I thought to myself. I couldn't believe this crap. But I saw it. I stood on that beach on the Ivory Coast, and saw it, and this time I couldn't explain it away, or rationalize it, or make any kind of excuse. And now that I knew the nature of the divine... I stared at the painting of Jesus Christ that adorned the wall behind the altar. It was impossible to believe in this all-powerful, benevolent God if I knew He could be killed by a simple stab to the back of the neck. If I knew He was one of Them. I felt so cold inside. Empty. I felt the playing fields upend, little me against the goliath of the Truth -- they had everything and I nothing. I had nothing anymore. "I like this place." I looked up, startled, and saw Mulder standing at the end of the pew, face uplifted to the picture of Christ. "Mulder, what are you doing here? I told you to stay in the.." "Since when do I ever listen to you?" He sat next to me, and smiled. He looked so goddamn peaceful, staring lovingly at the image of Jesus Christ while I strained to fight back bitter tears. "Mulder..." "You saw it. I know." He looked at me with a serenity that made his face look absolutely radiant. It was as if this place, of all places, made him calm and sane. As if the faith which I had lost burned strongly in him. It tore me up inside. Desperate tears burned down my cold cheeks. "Mulder, how did...how do you know I saw it? What makes you think..." He stopped me with a gentle hand on my face. "I see it. I see it as you saw it." He leaned over and kissed my forehead gently. "In there." I struggled with the next words, not wanting to hear the answer. "Like Gibson?" "Like Gibson." Mulder looked into my eyes then, looked through my eyes into the very center of my thoughts with an expression of complete wonder and awe. His hand reached up and caressed my face, and I leaned into his warmth. His face took on an expression of intense concentration, and suddenly I was there -- back in Africa, on the beach, witnessing once more the artifact that had shattered my entire life. I wanted to run away, run back home and feel alive, feel like myself again in the blanket of hard science, but something kept me rooted to the spot. "Don't be afraid," I heard in my head, and I realized the voice was Mulder's. "It's beautiful." No, Mulder, it is my undoing. I felt a hand brush my hair back and I was back in the church again with Mulder, who put his arm around me and gazed again at the altar. I leaned into him, seeking his warmth, which seemed to radiate all around him like a nimbus. "This is peace," he said after almost an eternity. "Mulder...people's thoughts..." "I hear them in my head. All the time. It's been that way ever since I saw the artifact." "And it's what made you insane?" "Face it Scully, you knew it was bound to happen." He smiled and hugged me closer. "But here...here it's quiet. No noise here but the steady hum of faith. It's comforting." "Mulder, I feel cold in this place now. I never did before, but..." "I know. You're losing your faith." He caught the lone tear that spilled defiantly down my face, and gently held it in his hand. "Don't be afraid, Scully. Don't lose your faith." "How can I be anything other than afraid, Mulder??" The thin sliver of frustration and rage that had streaked across my melancholy ripened into anger. "If gods are aliens -- if gods are aliens, Mulder, how the hell can I believe in Him?" I pointed at the picture of Christ, whose hand was raised in benediction. "How can I have faith when I know that He is one of Them, Mulder? One of Them who put this thing in my neck? If he is one of Them, flesh and blood entities that can kill or be killed, just like anybody else? Mulder..." "He's not one of Them." He looked at me then with tenderness and a beatific smile. I felt the cold shell of my heart soften and melt, spreading warmth through my body like light flooding a long, dark tunnel. He looked like divinity to me, taking away my dark thoughts and replacing them with thoughts of faith. He kissed me softly on my tear-streaked face; once, twice, and then on my lips with infinite gentility. He smiled in this quiet place, a soul at peace with himself for the first time in his life. "God is love, Scully," he said to me softly. "God is love." ==================================== END! Feedback fixes pleeeease at: pen_phile@hotmail.com -- XFW#73317, Xeminar '99, OBSSE, GAWS Los Angeles Scully Marathon 5/23! http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Realm/2373/marahome.html fanfiction by Perelandra: http://spookynet.simplenet.com/Perelandra/