Date sent: Wed, 1 Apr 98 10:43:07 UT From: "Yvonne Richards" Subject: 1/1 Do I Really Feel the Way I Feel? by Yvonne J Richards DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. They also belong to Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, without whom, they would have life, but no soul. No copyright infringement intended. All other characters bear no resemblance to anyone either living or dead. No financial gain is made from this writing. ARCHIVE ANYWHERE except ON THESE CONDITIONS 1. I REMAIN AS AUTHOR along with my e-mail addy 2. MY DISCLAIMER AND LOGLINE REMAIN WITH THE STORY 3. YOU LET ME KNOW WHERE IT'S GOING DO I REALLY FEEL THE WAY I FEEL? (1/1) Yvonne J Richards Yvonne-Richards@classic.msn.com Set after Post Modern Prometheus SPOILER FOR SEASON 5 RATING - PG (one word f****ing) CLASSIFICATION - V CONTENT WARNING - US5 SPOILER Both Mulder and Scully have feelings about the Great Mutato. It seems they share the same feelings about a lot of things. DEDICATION This is dedicated to *me* as I was 43 today. THANK YOU'S As ever to Gerry Hill for her unfailing support of me. Also to Miki for her insightful comments and BETA reading efforts. US5SPOILER > > > > > > > > > > > DO I REALLY FEEL THE WAY I FEEL? by Yvonne J Richards 31st March 1998 There are times when the human soul can transcend all. A time when it will triumph over adversity, against all the odds. A time when the heart will rule the head. A time when it is right to be wrong. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I sensed it. When I went back to fetch Mulder. When I told him we really should go, that the prisoner was in the car. His disappointment. His reluctance to let go. His commitment to lack of prejudice, his abhorrence of judgmental decisions that affect others lives' beyond that infinitesimal space in time. I felt it too. My deep grief for this poor man, shunned by society, not allowed to develop into the person he could have been. People only see what they want to see, hiding that which they do not. A horribly disfigured face was not what they wanted. But who knows what lies behind a face? The Great Mutato. The people's amazement he could form words, let alone coherently and intelligently. That he could feel at all. Why? Just because his face was not how we think people *should* look? Take Mulder, for instance. A beautiful, intelligent face, who could argue with that? But who knows what anger and torment lie behind those deep, troubled eyes? Is Mulder so different from the Great Mutato? A beautiful face hiding a tortured soul. Or. A tortured face hiding a beautiful soul. But isn't it amazing how we as humans adapt? The monster who nurtures that soul, strives to develop himself, to be the best person he can be. To even try to recreate himself. Wrong perhaps, but courage and tenacity abound. And for me to say that Mulder's beautiful face hides a tortured soul is, in some way, unfair to him. It is true that his scars run so deep that I wonder if he'll ever heal, but he adapts. He too triumphs over adversity. The beautiful part of his soul is proving that now. It seems beyond his comprehension that this story cannot have the happy ending he desires. Not a selfish desire. Totally unselfish. This is all wrong, Scully, he says. This is not the way it's supposed to end. A part of me dies as I tell him there is no happy ending to this story. It's almost like telling the small boy that there is no hope, his pet rabbit is going to die. But Mulder, with his great courage and tenacity will not give up. He wants that ending, needs it. He calls for the writer. I ask myself the question over and over again. Do I really feel the way I feel? About the Great Mutato, about Mulder. I sense this great compassion flowing from Mulder, and it makes me feel good about our work. That we can still feel something. That we haven't become immune to our innermost feelings. Innermost feelings that, at this moment, are in danger of overpowering me. I want to put my arms around Mulder, tell him that I too want this happy, idylic ending but that this is life and life can be cruel. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Goddamn it. Life is cruel. So goddamn fucking cruel. Don't these people see that the Great Mutato is as much a product of their own invention as of his brother's? An experiment that went horribly wrong, but only on the outside. Inside he's as gentle and intelligent as the next man. It's others' reaction to him that make him the monster he is. In their eyes at least. I saw Scully's compassion, heard it in her voice when she first saw him. The words, "Oh, my God," were not said with malice or disgust, but from deep in her soul, that place reserved for the most human of tragedies. We tried to defend him, keep him safe from the 'villagers'. The whole scene could have come straight from some old Hammer Horror movie. The villagers moving in to burn the witch at the stake. Perhaps their reaction to him was born from a lack of information as much as anything. Fear probably. Whatever. He wasn't having too easy a time of it either. When they eventually allowed us to get him into the car, I felt a sense of loss. This was not the way it was supposed to end. Frankenstein paid for his evil ambitions but the monster should have escaped, to find his bride. Scully told me, quietly, gently. "There's not gonna be any bride, Mulder. Not in this story." But I wouldn't accept that. I wanted more than that. Needed more. The romantic in my soul desired only happiness for the misfortune that had befallen this man. A man with the same hopes, fears and desires as most of us but the inability to live within our world without fear of rejection and prejudice. My own soul ached for him. I feel torn now though. His father is dead, and buried, by his son's own hand. Should this be forgiven? He told me to arrest him, and I did. The trouble is I didn't want to. Should I feel like this? I want him to be free, free to pursue his hopes and dreams, his aspirations. Why should we deny him that? Scully and I, the FBI, are about to take away the only life this man has ever had, or ever will have. Are we just as bad as he is? Do I really feel the way I feel? After all, I'm a trained upholder of the law, albeit I see more gray areas in that than your average FBI employee, I still can't shake the feeling that what we are about to do is so wrong. Why is life so cruel? Fetch me the goddamn writer. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I haven't seen Mulder look so relaxed and happy in, well, I don't think I can ever remember seeing him so relaxed and happy. I think it warms my heart more than anything else. Such an admission, Dana. His happiness means as much to you as your own? If that is the admission then so be it. It's true. His quest, his life, his heart and soul are as precious to me as my own. They are my own. Inseparable. Irrepressible, that's Mulder. I laugh as he and the Great Mutato share a 'Yo' at the concert. The way he smiles as he watches the artiste come toward them. He rises so gracefully and guides our gentle monster into the arms of his idol. He doesn't sit down but extends his hand out to me. I'm slightly shocked. Does Mulder really want to dance? Slowly I feel his fingers curl around my own and then he pulls me forcefully to my feet and presses his hand into mine. The world stands still as the heat of his body reflects the heat of mine. The lyrics echo and reverberate around and around in my head as those deep, hazel pools gaze into mine. The broad smile has mellowed into an intense stare, filled with, what I can only describe as, the way I feel. Do I really feel the way I feel? Oh yes, Mulder, I do. I really do. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I can't remember feeling this happy, this free in a long time. And I think I know why. I've done something for someone else. I've given someone else the happiness that I can only dream of. Maybe it's egocentric, but I feel really good about myself at this moment in time. In fact, as the Great Mutato's hand comes up to strike mine, I feel darned good. This is all that he could ever hope for, and more, and I made it possible. Well, me and the writer. Scully's laughing now as she watches us, her face shines when she's happy. Perhaps the writer could weave a bit of magic for us. It's about time we had a break I think. Still, what counts is that our gentle monster is having a great time. Correction, our gentle man is having a wonderful time. I watch the singer approach us and I realise that she's come to make the ultimate gesture. To accept this disfigured man for what he is. Another human being. I want him to accept this, I rise with him and gently push him toward her. This feels somewhat out of character for me, a little paternal perhaps. But I feel like I'm giving him my blessing to move on. I feel so giddy with the happiness of him, the out-of-character gestures continue. I don't look at her but my hand extends out to her. It looks as if we're about to do some striking Spanish dance as I fiercely pull her against me and I'm smiling. A broad smile, but as her bright blue eyes meet mine, it narrows down to an intense stare. What I see in her eyes is what is mirrored in my own. Does she really feel the way I feel? In that infinitesimal space in time, our worlds collide, our hearts meld into each other as surely as do our eyes. This could change things forever. I want it to change things forever. I think she does too. I want to love her, need to love her. Want her to love me. God, I need her to love me. But as our happy, smiling faces turn to watch the Great Mutato, I know our fate is sealed. Etched in black and white. Finely drawn lines that we cannot cross. This is life, and life can be cruel. THE END 1/1 DO I REALLY FEEL THE WAY I FEEL? Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com "A beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings in vain." From 'Shelley' by Matthew Arnold Doesn't that just sum up Mulder's quest beautifully? Thank you for reading thus far. Any comments to Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com If you enjoyed this and want more, my other stories are archived on Gossamer..