Date: Sat, 09 Aug 1997 11:40:41 +0800 From: Penny Daza Subject: Friends Even in Childhood II: Destiny Finds a Way (1/2) Title: Friends Even in Childhood II: Destiny Finds a Way (1/2) Author: Penny Daza (majick@webquest.com) DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, The X-Files and all its characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and Fox Network. We are NOT making any money out of this experience. In summary, No copyright infringiment is intended. These characters I've written about also belong to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who gave them life, who gave them soul. Rating: R for some sexual but not graphic scenes and language. Classification: Angst!!! Spoilers: Pilot episode, Gesthemane Summary : Sequel. What happens when they meet in their adult lives. If you didn't read part I, this will make about as much sense as the national budget. ARCHIVE anywhere. Retain author's e-mail addys. AUTHOR'S NOTES: I tried my best to make this believable. Sure hope it worked. ************************************************************************ 1992 Having hackers for friends could come in handy. You do, however, have to trust them enough to know they won't be screwing around with your own privacy when the inevitable and unavoidable exchange of information between acquaintances occurs. Mulder wanted to trust the Lone Gunmen. But he didn't. At least, not all that much. When he met them through a series of complex clues they used to test him before handing over some very confidential information, his guard went up all the more. But like Mulder, The Lone Gunmen were complex personalities who learned to develop a pseudo-friendship with him. If there was one thing they had in common, as warped as it sounded, it was paranoia. Mulder frequented their office, sometimes needing information, sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes out of sheer boredom. They had all shared a few meals together, some beers and a few stories, but if anyone could get into any of their heads and read their thoughts, it would be more like sitting around a campfire of thieves fresh from a haul than a group of friends. The latest tip Mulder donated to them gave him enough leeway to ask for a favor. Using the Bureau's resources would only make his complicated life all the more complicated. What he wanted was to contact one Dana Scully without having to hear her voice or speak to her. Mulder knew he was crazy, but certainly not stupid. Exposing himself to her voice would just kill him all over again. He needed closure on that last part of his life, and he wanted it bad. Perhaps, he thought, they could find her mailing address. In true Lone Gunmen form they went one step higher. They provided him with an e-mail address. Frohike had the widest smile on his face when he handed it to Mulder, who almost choked when he saw who her server was. @FBI.gov. Mulder thought one thing. < Washington DC The apartment was littered with moving boxes waiting to be unpacked. Furniture had just been moved in, but only the bare necessities. The bed, oven, microwave, TV and stereo had already been placed in the spots they would probably remain in till the duration of the new occupant's stay. For now however, these bare necessities were not being minded, the new occupant of the apartment somewhat excited with her new toy. The laptop bleeped as soon as it was turned on, but it wasn't the laptop that was the new toy. It was the modem attached to it that was. Teaching at Quantico had its benefits, she thought. E-mail for one, when not many people had it yet. She didn't really expect to have any letters yet, having been given her account just that morning, and not having had time to give anyone her address. To her surprise, there WAS one letter in the IN box. Being the e-mail virgin that she was, she clicked on the box without bothering to look who it was from. There were only three words in the message box. < Dana Scully sat back in her chair, a frown across her forehead. < She scrolled the screen up to see, and her breath caught in her throat just at the same moment her heart stopped for a beat. ________________________________________________________________________ TO: D_Scully@fbi.gov FROM: F_Mulder@fbi.gov Subject: Promise kept ________________________________________________________________________ Oh. My. God. Fox. Dana frowned. ************************************************************************ Oxford, 1982 It was yet another cold day at Oxford. His leather jacket barely able to keep the biting winds away, Fox Mulder sighed at the memory of his best friend. He missed her red hair, her red lips, her pale skin and pert cheeks. He missed her infectious laughter. He missed it badly. Since his arrival at Oxford two months ago, he had forgotten how to laugh, or smile. He had written to her everyday since he got there, and he had received many letters from her as well. His phone bills were catastrophic but he didn't care. His parents sent him a sizeable allowance, his mother encouraging him to buy as many clothes as he wanted, books he always craved for and to put some meat on his bones. Little did she know every pound he received was used to call Dana. Or did she? Massachusetts, 1982 William Mulder worked for the government. He was privy to information even the President didn't know about. He was always under a lot of stress, and his job inevitably caused his and his family's downfall. His guilt for his actions, all for the love of country and government pushed him to alcoholism. The alcoholism pushed his dark side to abuse his family. A vicious cycle that could not be broken. His son Fox, had a promising career. But in Bill's line of work, it had to be considered not only as an asset, but a liability and danger as well. Fox had always been a fantastic pupil. His grades from the first day of school were extraordinary, and his IQ level, when tested, always ranked him along with the top 8% of the population. Bill's psychologist friends were baffled at his son's brilliance. He had a photographic memory, but his comprehension skills were in no way affected, as is the case for most individuals with this gift. When Bill Mulder's connections, and he had many of them at Oxford, reported that Fox had been making overseas calls everyday since he arrived, he did not hesitate to have his son's phone bugged. Shortly after, one of his spies reported mail from a certain Dana Scully, and that Fox wrote to her everyday. The Consortium he was working with found out as well. Their paranoia increased ten fold when Fox's apartment was bugged as well without Bill's knowledge and they discovered that Dana Scully was the daughter of a Navy captain. From what they could pick up from his end of their conversations, the relationship was no where near platonic. Fox was number one on their list to recruit into the organization. He was the son of William Mulder for one thing, and his closely monitored progress convinced them he would fit well and bring their agendas to new and unimaginable levels of power. Last but not least, blood was always thicker than water. Drastic measures needed to be taken and whether or not Bill Mulder liked it, they were already hatching ideas left and right for Fox's future. On this particular night, Bill was sober for a change. He had come home from a long day at work, once again, in his mind, having saved the people of the United States and the rest of the world from mass hysteria. The only reason he was sober was because he needed all his faculties to analyze yet the newest problem that had risen. His wife breathed a sigh of relief after Bill had arrived, the scent of alcohol not on his breath or anywhere else on him. Under his arm was a large brown folder, fat from its contents. He laid them on the supper table and gestured for his wife to sit across from him. Opening it, a wave of letters poured out, all addressed to either Dana Scully or Fox Mulder. After a brief list of instructions to his wife, they started reading the letters. ************************************************************************ Dear Fox, Everyone over here misses you. I most of all. Charlie has made the team, Bill has a girlfriend, and Missy has a new beau. Neither Bill or she is worried. The repercussions of messing around with Scully women is still fresh in the minds of everyone at school. I guess the credit goes to you and Bill. We discussed Einstein in school today. I was bored out of my wits. It was much more interesting when you were telling me about his twin paradox. It was easier to understand, and you managed to hold my attention for a lot longer. I gave him a run for his money though, when I told him your interpretation. My mother always asks about you. It took her about a week to get back into cooking for five and not six, and I've caught her several times setting a place for you only to snatch it away when she realizes what she's doing. She sends you her love, and cookies if you want any. At night, I lie in bed and think of you. Something inside me hopes to hear the sound of pebbles hitting against my bedroom window and almost everyday when I come home from school, I still expect to find you in the kitchen helping mom out with dinner. I miss you. Love, Dana. ************************************************************************ Dear Dana, I hate Oxford. I hate the campus, I hate my classes. I hate my professors, I hate my books. I'm sorry for starting this letter on a negative note, but I can't seem to find it in myself to like anything knowing you're so far away from me. Intellectually, I am being stimulated. And whether or not I want to, everything I've been learning has been seeping into my head. Charlie made the team you say? That's excellent news. Bill has a girlfriend. Good for him. I hope he's happy and tell him not to do anything I would. Please tell Missy to enjoy her new beau's attentions. God knows she deserves to be treated right, especially after that run-in with Carl Litch. What I DO want to know is how YOU are doing. I have the same anxieties that you do, being separated from each other. At night, I hold your pillow and wish it were you. I miss our spot so much, but mostly, the spot on my shoulder where you used to lay misses you even more. I miss our talks, and the way you could make me feel better just by squeezing my hand. My sadness is boundless. I'll be calling you in a few minutes. Hope you're at home. I miss you too. Love, Fox. ************************************************************************ Dear Fox, I had a dream about you last night. We had just finished swimming in the lake and you and I spent the evening on the shore stargazing. I thought it was odd that we weren't at our spot, but it was short-lived. Somewhere at the back of my head, my conscious mind was still present, and it told me to just enjoy the time with you. It is only in my dreams that I can see, hear, and touch you all at the same time. I miss you. Love, Dana ************************************************************************ Dear Dana, It's been raining here for a week now, and it never lets up. I stand in front of the window of my apartment, listening to it, smelling it and end up missing you. I move to my bed then, looking for the pillow you gave me and hug it close. It still smells like you, and when I hug it tight enough and close my eyes, I can fool myself into thinking it's you in my arms. What makes the rain painful for me is the memory I have of you and I. Remember when we took out your sleeping bags and placed them outside on your patio? We read books listening to the rain beating on the roof, and ate grilled cheese sandwiches with just a touch of oregano your mom had cooked for us. You were lying on your back and I was lying down on your hip. If I pressed down hard enough, you would laugh and swat my head because you were getting tickled. I miss your laugh. We had fallen asleep to the sounds and smell of the rain, my fingers clutching at your shirt, and your hand in my hair. God, I miss you so much. Love, Fox. ************************************************************************ Letter after letter read the same way. They were only words on paper, but the emotions conveyed were that of two people who were bonded in body, mind, soul and spirit. Bill Mulder would have liked to attribute it to youthful fancy, perhaps even puppy love but he couldn't. This was not any of those things. Words spoke volumes, and he didn't like what he was reading, and hearing what his mind was telling him. Romance would distract his son from his destiny. Romance would lead to a family. Bill Mulder had a family. Sometimes he wished he didn't. The least thing he thought he could do was not allow his son to make the same mistake. Bill had power. Bill knew people who owed him a lot of favors. Phone calls and letters would not stand in the way. ************************************************************************ Oxford, 1983 Another test. Three hours to finish. Fox was done in 45 minutes. He turned his paper in to the no-longer-surprised professor, who gave him a smile. A smile that meant he was looking forward to checking his brilliant student's work. Fox didn't really care. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible to check his mailbox. Dana hadn't written back in over a week. Odd behavior. He walked over to campus administration and went straight to his mailbox. There was nothing there. He was starting to worry. Massachusetts, 1983 The last box had been packed. Dana sealed it with packing tape, a tear threatening to drop from her eye. She had written to Fox they were moving once again, and added that perhaps it was a good thing to get away from the place which reminded her of him everywhere she looked. She told him the memories she had of their places would always be in her heart, but visiting without him was just too painful. By moving, the only memories that she would have were the ones she could share with him and picture them in her mind. Her last letter to him contained her new address and phone number. To be sure he would receive it in spite of some postal mix-up, she had made a copy and sent them both out, just to make sure. Oxford, 1983 Professor Gillis, leading and respected psychologist had an amazed look on his face. His red pen was sweeping down sheet after sheet of test paper while making check after check. The name at the top of page one read Fox Mulder. He should've stopped being surprised, it wasn't the first time it happened. It was at the very least, twelfth. He had watched his prized pupil calmly open the test booklet, read it over once while chewing on his pen. And with the speed of a powerful race car, the scribbling began. It almost looked as if he didn't even bother reading the questions again. His colleague hadn't exaggerated about Fox Mulder's mind. It had been an understatement, if anything. He stood up, checking around the room for a student's wayward eyes and caught none. He would only be gone for two minutes. All he had to do was make a phone call. His students could cheat to their heart's content for those two minutes. Right now, the information he had was more important that any of them. Fox stormed into his apartment. This would make the ninth call to Dana, the previous eight having reaped only irritating busy signals. His fingers punched in the numbers, and as he listened to the soft clicking, he offered silent prayers that at the end of the monotonous drawl, a ring would be waiting. Busy signal. Again. Fox stood up, and let the rage take over. Dana stared at the phone. < Silence. The moving people were almost finished loading all the moving boxes. It was almost time to leave. Fox had stopped writing. He had stopped calling. No explanation in his previous letters why. Dana reached for the charms on her bracelet. Looked at each little inscription. My soul will find yours. She cried long and hard. ************************************************************************ Oxford, 1985 She had met him three months ago, drinking by himself in a spot where most of the went to, to have some illegal fun. It was a vast field off the Oxford campus, about a 15 minute walk, and drugs and grass were another staple of the rebellious students who went there, aside from sex for those either too horny or too cheap to do it somewhere that had four walls. Phoebe had seen him many times on campus. In fact, he was in a lot of the same classes as she. He was so brilliant she became wild with desire at the thought of what intellectual foreplay could be with him, and his trim and lithe figure and dangerous good looks were the cherry on the ice cream. The first time she had ever laid eyes on him, she knew he was going to be hers. She sat down beside him without an invitation, and with her thick British accent asked him if she could have a sip of whatever he was drinking. His answer was curt. "Go away." It made him all the more attractive, and she persisted. Had he not been so drunk he would have stood up and walked away for sure but some invisible force was on her side. Finally, he relented and passed her the bottle, and with her most seductive look, licked her lips before taking a swig. Vodka. She hated it, but kept herself as composed as possible. It would be tough to seduce him if she started spitting and sputtering. She lay down on the grass, making sure the short skirt she wore hitched up just enough for him to notice her long and silky legs. For good measure, she placed an arm behind her head, thereby stretching her blouse to its ultimate elasticity over her breast. She started making small talk with him, taking note of how much alcohol he was consuming. In another 20 minutes or so, she would make her first move, and her timing needed to be impeccable. If he was too inebriated, he would be useless to her sexually, and she didn't want to put all of her hard work at risk. His answers were always one worded. He never made eye contact. And his words were beginning to slur. Phoebe made her move. She grasped his shirt sleeve and pulled him down to lie beside her. Her hand reached for his face and pulled him to her waiting lips. His mouth opened, ready to protest but was effectively silenced as soon as she slipped her tongue in. Her hand grasped his and placed it invitingly under her blouse and over her breast. He moaned. She knew he was hers for the taking. Later, they ended up in his apartment. What a prize catch, she thought. He was housed in one of the most expensive compounds, and the clothes she saw littered around the living and bedroom were all expensive designer labels. Fox was still a little drunk, and still reeling from what Phoebe guessed, was his first taste of sexual power. They hadn't had full intercourse yet, she didn't want her first time with him to be in a damp field. Forcefully, she pushed him down into his bed. Her sexual appetite wetter than it had been in years at the knowledge this handsome and brilliant man was a virgin, hers to teach and mold into whatever she wanted him to be. He pushed her away from on top of him, depleted. She smiled sensuously, placing a kiss on his bare shoulder before rolling away. It was better than she had expected. He was intense in his lovemaking, fully concentrated on her and her wants. He was a fast pupil, Phoebe's first ever virgin since she had started becoming sexually active at fourteen. She had always wanted a virgin, and could have had her pick, but none of them seemed like worth the effort. Besides that, for her fantasy to finally be fulfilled and live up to all of her expectations from it, her chosen one had to be as perfect as possible. It would not be easy, but she was convinced his inexperience would come in handy. She would act like his girlfriend whether or not he liked it, and gradually become accustomed to the idea. Fox stared at the ceiling as Phoebe dozed off, her hand grasping his. She tried to place her head on his shoulder, but he pushed her away. The spot she wanted to occupy was sacred to him. It belonged only to Dana. Try as he might to enjoy the afterglow of his first sexual experience, Fox could not. He hated himself more than ever now, for what he had done. It was Dana's fault. When her letters had stopped altogether, and a stranger had picked up the phone number that used to be her family's, the last tethers he had to sanity collapsed. Not a letter to inform him she was moving away, not even a telegram. In the daytime, he became obsessed with his schooling, and at night, he drank. Sleep became a foreign word to him, and the extent of his body's need for rest were twenty minutes here and there throughout the day. < The voice in her head was familiar. Fox had said those words to her that night his father had beaten him and he had come to her house. She had treated his wounds lovingly, and cried in her mother's arms for her best friend's pain. Those same words replayed themselves over and over in her head during the last several years. The first time she heard it again was the day she sent her application out to medical school. Again, when she received the letter granting her application. Again, during her first test. And hundreds of times during her studies. When she got a good grade, at the lab, during study sessions, and when she was giving up hope she was ever going to be a doctor. When the letters stopped and so did the phone calls, a part of Dana died. She found herself slowly degenerating into nothingness, and realized she needed something to concentrate on to move on with her life. Something challenging, something that would keep her away from thoughts about Fox. Medical school. It was the perfect solution. Everyone knew what kind of dedication was entailed at taking on the career of a doctor. She would spend sleepless nights studying, and hours concentrating on her studies. No time to think about Fox. It sounded like an absolution. Dana didn't allow herself to think of what might have happened. The one time that she did, her heart felt as if it were going to explode from all the pain. A horrible thought that he was dead without her even knowing it surfaced in the form of a dream one night. Maybe he had fallen in love with someone else, maybe he had fallen out of love with her. Maybe he chalked up what he felt for her as a passing fancy. She had even written letters to his parents asking how their son was doing, but the letters always came back unopened. But there was that damn voice in her head that always spoke up, retrieving the memory of him. If in the beginning she hated it and herself for remembering, it actually came in handy. It gave her strength to move on. But the bracelet that he had given her was removed and placed in a little jewelry box and at the back of her bottom drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. It was painful to do. But she had to start somewhere. ************************************************************************ END of Part 1/2 Title: Friends Even in Childhood II: Destiny Finds a Way (2/2) Author: Penny Daza (majick@webquest.com) DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, The X-Files and all its characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and Fox Network. We are NOT making any money out of this experience. In summary, No copyright infringiment is intended. These characters I've written about also belong to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who gave them life, who gave them soul. Rating: R for some sexual but not graphic scenes and language. Classification: Angst!!! Spoilers: Pilot episode, Gesthemane Summary : Sequel. What happens when they meet in their adult lives. If you didn't read part I, this will make about as much sense as the national budget. ARCHIVE anywhere. Retain author's e-mail addys. AUTHOR'S NOTES: I tried my best to make this believable. Sure hope it worked. ************************************************************************ The yell woke Phoebe up. She had been snoring softly, having a delicious dream about Fox's hands roaming over her. Before she could open her eyes, the pillow she had been using was viciously torn out of her arms. She sat up in bed, absolutely enraged at the disturbance. Her new boy-toy had a habit of exaggerating emotions, but this was getting ridiculous. If he weren't so bloody good in bed and intelligent, and so bloody rich, she would have dropped him like a hot sack of potatoes a long time ago. She watched in confusion as he hugged the pillow into his arms, burying his nose in it and inhaling deeply. The look of rage in his eyes would forever be one of the most frightening things she would ever see in her life. Fox had just come home from his class, and she had wanted to surprise him by showing up in his bed, already naked and ready for the taking. Instead, he had woken her up with a vicious yell and yanked the pillow she was using out from under her head. "Get out!" he yelled. "THIS is all I have left of her, and you doused it with your fucking perfume! You've ruined it forever!" Phoebe stood up. No amount of fantastic sex or money was worth this. He had lost his head, plain and simple. She dressed with dignity, taking her sweet time. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he cried into that damn pillow. Pathetic cry-babies she could do without. He LOOKED dangerous, but deep inside, all he really was, was a pitiable male specimen. She walked to the door, then turned around. "Good-bye, Fox. Which one was she? Samantha or Dana?" she asked. Fox looked up from the pillow, his tears soaking it. "Where the hell did you get those names?" Phoebe laughed hysterically before answering. "Silly boy. The few times you get to sleep and I'm here, you talk. Yes, indeed. Samantha or Dana. That's all you ever say." With that, she turned and walked out, ending their affair with a loud slam of the door. Fox went back to weeping into Dana's pillow. ************************************************************************ Quantico Training Academy 1990 Thump. Dana Scully grinned at her opponent. He had a look of pain on his face, but it hadn't been come from being slammed into the floor. It was his pride that had been injured. A woman had managed to pin him down twice in three minutes. In spite of her 5'3 stature, she could pack a wallop like the best of them. He took her offered hand, and pulled himself up while dusting off his hands on his sweatpants. His last thought before the bell rang was that he really needed to hit the gym more often. This was getting embarrassing. As each student filtered out of the gym, Dana remained behind. She and Jack had agreed to meet up here at the end of her class. Jack. Tall, intense. Brilliant. Deep set eyes. Short, dark hair. Sounded like someone Dana knew. She shut her eyes and forced her mind to think of someone else. Or something else. Anyone, anything, but him. Oxford, 1986 He was sick of being drunk all the time. His grades had not suffered and that in itself was already a miracle. The fact that he was not lying in a ditch somewhere devoid of a heartbeat was another. His luck, just like everything, he thought bitterly, would run out soon enough. One night, after a particularly nasty drinking spree, he had to crawl his way to the toilet and empty the contents of his stomach. His mouth tasted as though a stegosaur had crawled into it and died there, and Fox reached for the bottle of mouthwash in his medicine cabinet. He gargled several times, spitting into the sink, his head bowed low as he waited for the rinse to have an effect. Once his mouth felt fairly normal again, he looked up and jerked at the reflection. He saw his father there. He had actually become his father. The pale, sallow, red-eyed face staring back at him was no longer his. It dawned on him that he had become everything he stood against, and it terrified him. Tomorrow, things were going to change. He would put his life back together again, and quit drinking. He developed a taste for iced tea, which didn't muddle his mind and tasted a lot better than vodka. Tomorrow, there would be no more Fox. Only a shadow of the memory, and nothing else. The pillow, tattered and skinny and once very well-loved, was thrown to the back of his closet. The change in him was sudden and pronounced. He no longer walked around like a zombie. His grades became even higher, if that was possible. With a calm voice, he asked his professors and the few friends that he had to stop calling him Fox. No explanations, and no one was stupid enough to ask for any. It was Mulder from now on, and he didn't offer any reasons. Simply putting it, no one would ever understand how painful it was to him to be called by that name. There were two people in this world he truly, truly cared about who called him Fox. One was taken from him, the other vanished from his life without a trace. After Samantha was taken, it was hard hearing his name. The last words she had spoken to him were cries of desperation, depending on him, her big brother, to help and save her. He had failed. But Dana had changed that. Unwittingly, she had become his salvation. He came to love his name again just by the way she said it, and she had healed many of his demons by doing so. Samantha hadn't abandoned him though. Dana did. She was gone. He needed to sever all ties from the past for him to keep his sanity and to keep him from becoming his father. Those were Mulder's plans. But not the Consortium's. ************************************************************************ Violent Crimes Section 1992 ________________________________________________________________________ TO: F_Mulder@FBI.gov FROM: D_Scully@FBI.gov SUBJECT: Re: Promise kept ________________________________________________________________________ You found me, but not my soul. ________________________________________________________________________ Mulder sat back and took his glasses off. What the hell did she mean by that? She was the one who had done the disappearing act. He had sent her that e-mail as closure. To remind her that unlike her, he kept his promises. It was revenge and an extortion of guilt on his part, but he hadn't anticipated such a curt reply. No "Dear Fox" or "Love, Dana." Mulder didn't care. The Fox she knew no longer existed. Mulder suspected so was the Dana that he once knew. ************************************************************************ Nowhere, USA. 1994 In a large room in a small building, a group of the most powerful men in the world gathered. There were no presidents among them, or prime ministers or even senators. The men in the room had no written or known positions, and it was this secrecy that made them all the more powerful and dangerous. The assembly decided the fates for entire nations, which made today's agenda seem rather shallow. Today, the only thing they needed to decide on was the fate of but two people. In the center of the room was a large oak table, and on it were a large stack of files. Every file was marked "TOP SECRET." Half of them were labeled "Fox Mulder". The other half were labeled "Dana Scully." The brief run in he had with a fellow classmate had worried them for awhile, and so was that alcoholic phase. But it seemed their recruit was only using her and the drinking as emotional battering rams. He had moved on, as hoped and anticipated. The men in the room reached a consensus. It was time to see if their golden boy was ready. It was time to see if he was worth all the effort, all the monitoring and the vigilance. They would give him Dana Scully. The spite they had masterfully orchestrated and cultivated between her and Mulder would be his final test. If he passed it, then it meant he belonged to them mind, spirit, body, and blood. FBI Headquarters Division Chief Blevins' Office 1994 Dana walked into the office, without a clue as to what was going to happen. She was informed she may or may not be assigned a partner, but her informant was vague and evasive about the subject. Special Agent Blevins was seated behind his massive desk when she entered after knocking. There were two other men in the room with him, although she didn't recognize them, and Blevins didn't bother introducing either of them. "Agent Scully, thank you for coming on such short notice. Sit down, please." Dana sat. "We see you've been with us just over two years." "Yes, sir." Blevins flipped through her file. "You went to medical school but you chose not to practice. How'd you come to work for the FBI?" "Well sir, I was recruited out of medical school. My parents still think it was an act of rebellion but I saw the FBI as a place where I could distinguish myself." < The other man seated next to Blevins spoke up. "Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?" < "Yes, I am." < "How so?" Dana inhaled just a little. Little enough for the men in the room not to notice. "By reputation." < "He's an Oxford educated psychologist who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped catch Monty Props in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section. He had a nickname at the academy. "Spooky" Mulder." < "What I'll also tell you us that Agent Mulder has developed a consuming devotion to an unassigned project outside the bureau mainstream. Are you familiar with the so-called x- files?" asked Blevins. "I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena." < "More or less. The reason you're here Agent Scully is we want you to assist Agent Mulder in these X-Files." Dana felt a tad nauseous. < "You will write field reports on your activities, along with your observations on the validity of the work." < "Am I to understand you want me to debunk the X- Files project, sir?" she asked. < "Agent Scully, we trust that you'll make the proper scientific analysis. You'll want to contact agent Mulder shortly. We look forward to seeing your reports." She had left the room then, and been given instructions by Blevins' secretary to Agent Mulder's office. Walking down the tiny corridors in the basement, Dana half-wished she had listened to her parents. She knocked in the door, expecting the usual reply of "Come in" or "enter". But this was Fox Mulder. So naturally, he had something entirely different to say. "Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted." < she thought. She walked in tentatively, eyeing the posters and pictures tacked to the wall. He was busy perusing slides. A flashback to her teen years. Fox Mulder was weird, weird, weird. His back was turned to her, but his hair color was still the same, although his shoulder had widened considerably. When he turned to face her, Dana was ready for some of the shock. "Agent Mulder, I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you." < For good measure, she smiled even if it was damn hard to do. He eyed her from head to foot, a small, small smile on his lips as though taunting her. "Well isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded." He shook her hand floppily, trying to bait her. "So who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, SCULLY?" < < "Actually, I'm looking forward to working with you. I've heard a lot about you." < Mulder went back to his slides. "Oh really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me." < < "If you have any doubts about my qualifications or credentials -" < "You're a medical doctor. < You teach at the Academy. << You hate licorice.> Did your undergraduate degree in Physics. << You still have a few of those freckles.> Einstein's Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation. Dana Scully senior thesis. << And a little of mine.> Now that's a credential - re-writing Einstein." << You re-wrote me too.> << I re-wrote you too.> "Did you bother to read it?" she asked. He stood up and loaded the slide carousel. "I did. I liked it." << Damn right you did. I debunked most of those lines you fed me when I was 14.> "It's just that in most of my work, the laws of Physics rarely seem to apply." He turned the lights off and started the slide show, but not before allowing himself to score one final point. "Maybe I can get your MEDICAL opinion on this, though." < ************************************************************************ The clock read 11:21. Scully stared at it, unable to sleep. It turned to 11:22. The phone rang. "Hello?" "Scully. It's me. I couldn't sleep. I talked to the DA's office in Oregon. There's no case file on Billy Miles. The paperwork we filed is gone." He paused for awhile. "We need to talk, Scully." "Yes, tomorrow." ************************************************************************ Thousands of tomorows came and went, but the talk never did. It was obvious what they were avoiding. Even in their maturity, the losses they had sustained in their childhood could not be healed. Throughout their search, they rekindled what it was like to lose the other on several occassions. No one with half a heart could go through that over and over again. Instead, their relationship moved from restrained spite to quiet tolerance to almost absolute dependency. Neither of them would ever be able to pinpoint when they started caring for each other so much again. The silent language they had cultivated when they were younger surfaced again, and this time, they got it perfected. A small frown, a little smile. A raised eyebrow. Eyes closing. This was how they talked to each other. Words were not needed. Scully got to play doctor to Mulder again. Mulder got to be protector to Scully again. It was just like old times, with a twist. They were both apprehensive of broaching the topic of their past. Neither wanted to take the first step into rehashing all the agony and anguish, and things were better this way. They learned to trust each other again with their lives, and the coexistence of their souls were harmonized once again. Fox Mulder had kept his promise. His soul had found Dana's. Not just Scully's. ************************************************************************ Washington DC, 1997 When Dana Scully was called in to identify a body that died from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound as one Fox Mulder, she went home and sat on her bed. Tears streamed down her face, and she stood up shakily, then walked to her bedroom dresser. She sat down and opened the bottom drawer and reached in, then took a small box out. Scully opened it and lifted the bracelet out. It was tarnished from age, but the inscription on the stars were still as vivid as the day when the man she loved completely had given it to her. My soul will find yours. She slipped it back onto her wrist. Fox, not Mulder had kept his promise once before. He would do it again. It was just a matter of time. This time, she would wait for him no matter how long it took. Fox would find a way. And Dana would be waiting. ************************************************************************ THE END
8080,0000,8080XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX "What a piece of work is man. How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty. In form and moving how express and admirable. In action how like an angel, in apprehension, how like a god." - William Shakespeare 0000,8080,0000xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "I want to believe." - Fox Mulder, 0000,8080,0000The X-Files 0000,8080,0000 0000,8080,0000xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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