From: "Erin J Vance" Date: Fri, 17 Sep 1999 18:11:46 -0400 Subject: Submission 1 Source: direct Title: An Elegy of Dissenting Souls Author: Erin Vance Feedback: ejvance@prodigy.net Summary: This is a post-episode vignette, taking place immediately following the events in Elegy, 4th season, during Scully's cancer arc. Mulder decides that he is dissatisfied with the communication between himself and Scully, especially surrounding this case, so he goes to her apartment to finish their conversation. Classification: MSR, Angst Disclaimer: None of these characters, or anything to do with The X-Files is mine. They belong solely to Chris Carter, Fox Television and 1013 productions. I am merely borrowing them for this story...and no harm or misuse is intended. Archive: Gossamer, yes. All others, notify me and keep my name and e-mail addy attached. Rating: PG, I guess * symbol indicates emphasis Thanks so much to my beta reader/editor, Lanie, and special thanks to my great friend Ames, for all their suggestions :) An Elegy of Dissenting Souls By Erin Vance Scully heard the muffled sound of feet outside her apartment even before she heard the quick rap on her door. Despite the persistence of the unexpected visitor, she made no move to answer the knock. "Come on, Scully, open up. I know you're in there, damn it. Don't make me use my key." With a sigh, Scully stood slowly from the cushioned spot on her sofa that she had occupied for the past hour. She had just returned from a particularly harrowing case involving several murders, and the subsequent appearance of a number of ghostly apparitions. The last thing she wanted was to see Mulder again so soon. As she approached the door, she rested her forehead briefly against the cool wooden frame, inhaling deeply for composure. "Well, Mulder, what is it?" she asked as she turned from the now-open door, reluctantly granting him entry. "Since you asked, Scully," Mulder said to her retreating back, "I came over tonight because we didn't get to finish our earlier discussion, and I wanted to see how you were feeling." Crossing her arms as she turned toward him, she said, "You know, Mulder, I really wish you wouldn't try to coddle me like this. It's patronizing and demeaning, and I don't need you hovering over me all the time. As you can see, I'm fine." The stonewall expression that she presented him with spoke clearly of her reluctance to continue this line of conversation. However, Mulder merely stared at her for several seconds, his own expression closed and unreadable. Then, just as abruptly, a look of impatience and loosely veiled anger entered his visage. "Damn it, Scully, stop denying everything. I know that you are scared, but you stubbornly insist on building this wall around yourself that shuts me, and everyone you care for, out. But it won't work this time; I know that you're afraid and the thing is, I think that we are both worried about the same things. I am so tired of you trying to protect me, or yourself, by internalizing what you feel." Scully's face turned to one of anger, and as she spoke, her words came out in a hiss, low and menacing. "Mulder, how dare you come into my house tonight and have the gall to presume to know how I feel." "You're right, Scully," Mulder replied. "How could I possibly know? You adamantly refuse to trust me with that part of your life. But I will presume to tell you how I feel, regardless of whether you're ready to listen." With a derisive snort, Scully began to turn away from Mulder, clearly unwilling to hear what he wanted to say. But, before she could turn away completely, Mulder trudged on, and his next words stopped her cold. She could only stare up at him in silence, as he exclaimed, "I am so damn terrified, Scully! It scares the hell out of me to try and envision my life without you. I'm petrified. For you and for me! Scully, you define who I am. Without you, I'm just a spooked twelve-year old kid who foolishly chases after windmills, searching in vain for a sister who is probably already lost to me forever. A selfish loser who, with raised fists, shouts hollowly into the night sky that 'the truth is out there', somewhere. A pathetic dreamer who can't even protect the people around me, the people I care about the most. Scully, without you, *that* is who I am, what I will become. I need you so much and I can't even imagine where I'd be right now if you hadn't stepped into my life. You are the yardstick by which I measure myself, and without you there, I lack depth. I'm incomplete, inadequate. I simply fall short." Scully stood transfixed, unsure of what to think or say. So she said nothing. But, as she continued to gaze up at Mulder, she felt the dawning of a renewed closeness to him. The first hint of a bond that she thought had been lost, severed, since her diagnosis. Before she could formulate a response to what he had just expressed, he continued, quieter, but with just as much conviction. "Scully, I refuse to let you push me away because you are too scared to let me in, too scared to open up. It's too late now, anyway. I'm already a part of what is happening to you now. I have been since the beginning." Scully suddenly felt exhausted, as though she had unsuccessfully tried to swim the Atlantic Ocean alone. She was vaguely aware of the need to be rescued, but she needed to save herself, and she needed Mulder to understand. Letting him try to recover her would only destroy him. Beyond that, she only knew she needed time to recuperate and regain her strength before she dared reemerge into life. Her deep-seated weariness was evident as she said, "Mulder, stop. Please. I can't do this now. I don't want to hurt you, but I need to be alone for a while. I just need more time." "Well, that's too damn bad, Scully," he said, his patented die-hard stubborn look replacing his earlier angry expression. "You may not feel ready, and you may very well want to hide away somewhere, but I can't let you do that. Your distance hurts me. And, more than your misguided sense of protection, I need your trust and your honesty, no matter how painful. I think we owe each other that much by now." His words sparked a renewed exasperation in her, and she bit out, "Mulder, before either of us says something regrettable, I think you should just go. Get the hell out, go home, and stop trying to play psychologist with me. I don't need you pushing me to feel something I'm not. I just need to be left alone." "You know, Scully," he said, "if I thought that by walking away, I was really helping, I would do it without question. However, I know that we need to get some things out in the open. And I refuse to let you shut yourself away, while I work my ass off trying to bridge this sudden, unexplained gap between us. I won't do it any more. I need your help. I need you to be truthful with me." Scully's eyes flashed in anger at these words. Mulder looked down at her, her face reddened with emotion, her lips set into a thin line, her breathing quick and choppy. He smiled inwardly, unspeakably pleased to once again see this Scully, *his* Scully, instead of the pale, emotionally numb ghost that she had been lately. For a brief moment, she simply stared up at him. Then, with a determined upward tilt of her chin, she said, "Damn you, Mulder! What gives you the right to come here and demand that I be truthful with you? I have always, *always* been honest with you." Sudden, angry tears sprung into her eyes as she forced out these bitter words. "Scully, I know that in our work together, you do trust me, and you *are* truthful with me. Of that, I have no doubt. But Scully, now I need you to be completely honest with me, and with yourself, about what is happening to you. I know that it's never been easy for you, but I need to know that you trust me enough to reveal your feelings, not just your knowledge or expertise." He paused, and at her stony silence, he continued, a stronger, desperate pleading driving his words. "Please, Scully, stop running, just this once. Tell me what you feel, what you're scared of." For several long, tense seconds, Scully did nothing but stare coldly at Mulder. Then, just as Mulder began to fear that he had pushed her too far, she dropped her gaze, resignedly. In a near-whisper, she spoke, and Mulder had to lean in to hear her. "I saw her, Mulder. I saw him, too." "Who?" Mulder replied, disoriented from the sudden shift in their conversation. "That last girl who was murdered today - the student. I saw her in the bathroom right before you came and told me about her. She was trying to tell me something, and on the bathroom mirror, bloody letters spelled out 'she is me'." As Scully spoke, her voice got softer and softer, until he had to strain to hear. Mulder's face blanched, and he shook his head, silently willing her to stop. "Oh God, Scully, why didn't you say something to me?" Without looking up, Scully continued, as though he had never spoken. "And then, after it was over, I was sitting in my car, and I saw him. I saw Harold in the back seat. Mulder, both of these people were already dead when I saw them. But I *did* see them, just like the others had described." Suddenly, her voice changed, taking on a sardonic, bitter tone as her volume steadily rose. Her demeanor grew more rigid and tense as she finally looked up at Mulder, challenging him. "Do you get it yet, Mulder? Do you realize what this means?" Mulder shook his head more vigorously, even as he choked out, "No, Scully, I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. It means noth-" At his fervent denials, Scully's ire rose and, through clenched teeth, she said, "Yes, it does, Mulder! It means that I am dying! Just like all the others." As she spoke, Mulder's face turned ghostly pale, his eyebrows drew together and he shook his head so viciously that his neck threatened to snap in protest. Scully almost smiled as Mulder all but covered his ears with his hands, the classic picture of denial. "No," Mulder shouted. "I refuse to believe that! You, of all people, know that there are many more explanations for why you might have seen them. And just because..." "Just because everyone else who claimed to see these apparitions was dying and is now dead doesn't mean that I am dying too? Come on, Mulder, you said it yourself. What is there to deny? You wanted the truth, no matter how painful, so there it is. Now we need to face it. I have cancer. I *am* dying. There, it's out. But, is the truth supposed to make us feel better? Do *you* feel better?" Scully's anger escalated as she said this and she stood her ground firmly, challenging Mulder as he had challenged her. Mulder stared at her for several interminable seconds, unwilling to accept what she had concluded so unilaterally. Finally, he spoke, softly, in contrast to her angry shouts. "No, Scully, of course not, and I still refuse to believe this convoluted assumption of yours. I don't feel better. I feel scared. More scared than I've ever felt. But I also feel honored that you trusted me with this." Scully's sharp intake of breath was the only indication that his words affected her. In an amazingly steady voice, she said, "Well, I don't feel better at all, Mulder. This whole conversation is pointless. We have accomplished nothing by shouting at one another." "You're wrong Scully," Mulder replied. "Don't you see? We're connecting again, and no matter what is said, at least we are finally talking and saying something...something real." Scully said nothing to this. She just stared at Mulder, impatience beginning to show in her tightened features. "Scully, please, we've come this far. If you believe this 'truth' so adamantly, as you appear to, then you must feel something. Can you take it one step further and tell me exactly what?" The challenge he flaunted was clear, and Mulder hoped that it would prove impossible for Scully to resist. He saw her persona begin to change, although initially, it appeared as though she was going to withdraw again. "Mulder, I'm fi-" "No, Scully, no," he interrupted sharply. "Don't do that. You repeat that phrase over and over like a mantra, but I don't want to hear it. Not now. Tell me how you really feel." Scully paused, and looked up at him. For a moment, Mulder thought that she was going to turn and walk away, from this conversation and from him. Then, just as his heart was beginning to clench painfully in anticipation of her departure, she spoke, her voice guttural, raw with emotion. "I - I don't know, Mulder. I'm confused. I'm angry. I'm just tired." "Are you scared, Scully?" Mulder prompted, when she didn't elaborate. Scully's eyebrows drew together angrily at the inanity of his question. "Damn it, Mulder, of course I'm scared. I'm afraid that I'm going to die, just like the rest of them, that this disease is going to win. But, worse than that, I am terrified that my death, or maybe my entire life, will be meaningless, a sacrifice made for nothing. I'm scared that you will give up after I am gone, and that the truth that I know does exist will never be revealed. I am so afraid that you will blame yourself, and that that guilt will freeze you in this place and time. I'm paralyzed with fear at the suggestion that everything we have worked so hard for together will all be for nothing." She paused to inhale sharply, shakily, her posture tense. As she continued, her voice rose in pitch and her hands unconsciously clenched. "But more than that, I'm angry, damn it," she exclaimed. With each word, she punctuated the air with her fist, emphasizing every syllable. "I am so damn angry, Mulder. I'm mad at these shadowy men for covering up the truth with bigger and more seductive lies to begin with. I'm angry that I can't remember nearly three months of my life because of what these people did to me. I'm furious that these men are so desperate to hide the truth that they will take me away from you again, just as they took your sister, your father, and even Melissa." "I'm angry at the Bureau for somehow participating, and at myself, for letting it all get to me. I hate the fact that I have no control - apparently I never have - and I'm furious at myself for feeling that loss of control so deeply. I'm angry with you, Mulder, for pushing me to divulge all this tonight. And I'm furious at you for making this about you, for not letting me decide the timetable for when and what to confide. And for not listening when I do talk. I'm upset that you are already blaming yourself, even though none of this is your fault, just as losing Samantha wasn't your fault, or your responsibility. I'm even infuriated at your parents for making you carry that particular burden alone, and for making you feel guilty for their ineptitude. I am so angry that after all we have been through, this is how it is going to end - with our partnership permanently dissolved, us separated, and with them winning!" Scully's voice dropped suddenly, and Mulder wasn't prepared for the unexpected downshift. He reeled with all that she had said. Despite this, her next words were impossible for him to miss. "I think I hate that thought most of all," she said. "I miss you already, Mulder, and I'm not even gone yet." Tears filled her voice then, and she stopped, suddenly devoid of the energy to say more. Her shoulders slumped forward, and her head tilted downward, weariness set in every feature. Throughout Scully's diatribe, Mulder had remained stoic, silent. But, at her final, simply spoken confession, he drew in a sharp breath, stunned by her admissions, the force of her words. When he saw that she was not going to continue, he spoke, quietly, as though not to disturb the tenuous buzz that seemed to fill the air between them. "Scully, I hate this too. More than you can probably even begin to guess. I'm angry and scared of the same things. And, you're right. This isn't just about me, and I shouldn't make it out to be. For that, I'm sorry. But I won't apologize for forcing the issue, because I believe that this is important, maybe the *most* important thing for us, if we want to reclaim some control. It's our best chance for staying us, Scully - who we are, individually and together. So I won't be sorry about that. I hate what this disease is doing to you and to us. And most of all, I'm terrified of the idea that I could lose you." As he said this, Mulder reached out and tipped her chin up until she was forced to look at him again. Then, whispering, he said, "I hope that you know that I'd consider it more than a professional loss if you decided to leave." As he uttered this, his lips curved into a ghost of a smile. Hoping that he could convey the depth of his feeling with that smile, Mulder quirked a single brow at her. Scully looked him squarely in the face. The sudden sheen of moisture that covered her eyes indicated that she remembered as well. She scanned his features, taking in his haunted smile and the raised brow, recognizing his words and his expression as the olive branch that they were. After a few brief seconds, Scully's mouth flitted upward as well, a mirrored reflection of the somber smile that graced Mulder's face. When Mulder saw the smile begin to reach Scully's eyes, recapturing a tender, almost teasing, light inside, his own grin widened. Unexpectedly, tears of release and unaccustomed joy filled his eyes, seemingly in direct contrast to his smile. He reached out lightly, then, and gently cupped Scully's cheek in his hand. Silently, they each recalled when Scully had uttered those same words to Mulder, both realizing the significance of Mulder saying them back to her now. Such simple words, so often deliberately left unspoken, now chosen to reflect how their relationship had changed and grown over the years. The irony of those words was lost on neither, as they realized that, although the context was different, the conviction behind them was the same. At last, Mulder's lips moved again, and his voice, dry and rough, emerged, "Scully, no matter what happened today, or how this case affected you, I still refuse to give up or accept defeat. I know that there has to be a cure, and we *will* find it. We have to, because the alternative is just not an option. There is no alternative." With a slightly wavering, watery smile, Scully moved forward then, wrapping her arms around his waist, clinging to him with a strength she didn't know she possessed. The tears that she had held at bay for most of the night fought to escape. Yet Scully struggled just as mightily to keep them hidden. Mulder clung tightly to her, breathing in the scent of life and vigor that emanated from Scully and seemed to charge the entire room. After several long moments of silently holding one another, Scully pulled back. She looked up at him, managing to recapture a hint of a reassuring smile. However, her smile faltered, then faded altogether, as she saw the tautness of Mulder's features and the telltale moisture that outlined his eyes. Suddenly, a new sensation electrified the air around them. Scully's expression held a mixture of surprise and confusion, tinged with something else, something unidentifiable, as Mulder slowly moved toward her. She drew in a startled gasp as his mouth descended and their lips met tentatively in a slow, chaste kiss. Breaking apart, each scanned the other's face, searching for permission and compliance. Finding astonishment, but no wariness or regret, in Scully's eyes, Mulder leaned in again. He gently kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally, when Scully could not imagine a more tortuously slow exploration, he reclaimed her lips in another kiss, slightly longer and deeper than the first. Pulling back, but with his arms still protectively encircling her, Mulder said, in a rough whisper, "I won't lose you now, Scully. I can't." At his tenderly spoken promise, Scully looked up at him, stunned anew at the passion, determination and strength that she witnessed in his eyes. Carefully reaching up, she wiped away the remaining drops of moisture clinging to Mulder's lashes, only to witness fresh tears appear at her gentle touch. With a reassuring half-smile, Scully softly broke the silence. "Thank you, Mulder," she said. Taken aback, Mulder could only think to say, "For what?" "For not giving up. For not walking away when it would have been the easiest and safest path. For staying and fighting, no matter how hard I fought back. I needed this, Mulder. I needed you. Thank you for knowing that...for knowing me." With his eyes illumined anew by a film of unshed tears, Mulder's self-conscious grin grew into a full smile, filled with uncharacteristic, unfettered happiness. Wrapping his arms around her once again, Mulder relayed how deeply her words touched him by lightly tracing her back with his fingertips. After a brief moment, Scully began to feel overwhelmed, and she drew back, needing to put some physical distance between them. Mulder acknowledged this gesture, and the underlying need, with a slight nod of his head. "Well, Scully," he said, "it's pretty late and so much has happened here tonight. I think we both need some time to process it all, to let the dust settle, before we try to move forward. So, I'm gonna head home now, and we can figure all this out later." Unable to unscramble her muddled thoughts, and suddenly feeling exposed, overly self-aware, Scully replied, "I think that's a good idea, Mulder." "Just promise me one thing," he said. "Promise that you won't shut me out any more. As scary as this is, you need to know that I feel the same way you do. I need you to be truthful with me, always. That is the one unwavering reality that I rely on. No matter what happens, disclosure of even the most painful things is the only way to stay strong and unified." Hesitating only slightly before forcibly cloaking her uncertainty behind resolve, Scully nodded. "Well, Mulder, it won't be easy," she said, "and my first instinct will still be to heal my own wounds. I can't, I won't, change that about myself. But I do trust you, so what I can promise is that I won't intentionally deny your role in this aspect of my life again. For now, Mulder, that needs to be enough." Conceding this, Mulder nodded before walking to the door. As he turned quickly back toward her, he said, "goodnight, Scully," the comfortingly familiar, teasing, Mulder-grin firmly in place. With an answering half-smile herself, Scully walked to the open door, lingering briefly to watch him tread soundlessly down the darkened hallway. Finally, closing the door and moving back into the room, Scully released the pent-up breath she had not known she was holding. Instantly bone-weary, she sighed and whispered to the now-empty apartment, "Goodnight, Mulder." Then, with one last look around, she turned out the lights and walked slowly into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.