From: XPhile1919 Date: 20 Apr 1999 20:05:07 GMT Subject: NEW: "The Irony of Lies" by Brenna TITLE: The Irony of Lies AUTHOR: Brenna EMAIL ADDY: XPhile1919@aol.com ARCHIVE: Sure, as long as my name is attached. SPOILERS: Nothing major RATING: G CLASSIFICATION: VA DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. Never will be. SUMMARY: Mulder's thoughts as he learns that Scully has betrayed him all along. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This isn't a conventional fic. Ignore everything from "Two Fathers"/"One Son," because in this world, it never happened. Scully isn't very likable here, at least in my opinion, for much of the story. Consider yourself warned! "Man's mind is so formed that it is far more susceptible to falsehood than to truth." ~Desiderius Erasmus (1466-1536) I didn't believe it when they told me. I mean, how could I? I'd known her for five years. I knew her better than anyone. I I knew her better than anyone. But then I looked into her eyes. And I knew. I knew that everything I'd believed in those five years was false. The one person I trusted above all others--even above myself--was the person who had betrayed me the most. I knew it just by looking at her. Those eyes could never lie to me. Isn't that ironic. That's all they've ever done. Lies. The trust is gone. The connection, the friendship, the partnership--it's all disappeared. In its place, in the empty, hollow space that's left, there is only deception and betrayal. And lies. Believe the lie. That's what they told me. That's exactly what I did. I don't remember exactly what happened next. I started throwing things...she was pleading with me...I was yelling...she was crying...I was storming out of the room. I was numb. I didn't feel a thing. The tears that stung at my eyes refused to flow over. The fragments of thoughts invading my mind refused to materialize. The regrets and questions piercing my soul would not be acknowledged. I find myself on the sidewalk outside her apartment before I can even begin to comprehend what's happening. A million different theories and probabilities flood my mind, begging me to consider the facts--the evidence I've witnessed firsthand for the past five years. Loyalty. Respect. Trust. And then I find myself once more at the single piece of dissenting evidence--she didn't deny it. She had looked up, into my eyes, and had been absolutely silent... shocked... confused... afraid. Never once had she denied my accusations. That's what had finally convinced me. It wasn't like her to not argue with me. She would have laughed at the thought and rambled off some technical explanation as to why it wasn't even remotely plausible. Then she would get offended. Didn't I know her by now? Didn't I know that she would never--ever--betray me in that way? But she had betrayed me. In worse ways than I could have possibly imagined. I felt like I had been thrown off of a cliff and had fallen on a million pieces of glass, while a thousand video cameras captured the moment and spectators jeered at me. My entire world collapsed before my eyes. The person I had trusted the most... was one of... one of them. I couldn't even begin to understand the how's, let alone the why's. I glance up at the window of her apartment and see the silhouette of her form watching me. I quickly turn my head, unable to look at her anymore. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I find myself in my own apartment hours later, sprawled across my couch. I guess I had fallen asleep... I really don't remember anything after leaving Scully's place. I look at my watch. I should be at work. I lie back down again. I don't care. There's nothing left. My work doesn't matter anymore. I can't face Skinner or Kersch or anyone else at the office. And if Scully was there... I couldn't risk having to see her. I rub my temples. My head is killing me. It feels like there is a hundred-pound weight pushing down on me. I wish it would just crush me already. I've never felt this bad before. Not even when Samantha was taken. Not any time within the past five years. No one has ever hurt me like this. They had told me about twenty times before I had even considered believing it. It seemed impossible. Not only impossible to believe, but impossible to execute. How could they keep such a secret from me for so long? How could I be so close to someone and then find out that I don't know them at all? How could she do this to me? They told me plain and clear. She's lying to you. She's one of them. I told them it wasn't true. They told me that the entire last five years had been built on a base of lies. She was working with the men who had done so much harm to both of us. She had been in on it from the beginning. She was assigned to me--yes, to debunk my work--but also to eventually lead to my downfall. I hadn't believed one word of it. Until they showed me the pictures. A photograph. Scully sitting in a dark office. With him. He was smoking a cigarette, as usual. And they were reviewing a file. I still didn't fully believe it. I told myself that it was a scam. That the photo was altered. That she had been set up or forced to sit with him. I had been told so many lies in my life. I had trouble distinguishing between the truths and falsehoods. The things I believed were lies turned out to be true... the things I trusted were true became lies. I knew I couldn't handle it. If this was true... it would be one lie too many. The ultimate betrayal. Deception beyond belief. I knew I wouldn't be able to recover. That's why I immediately went to see her. I wanted comfort. Hope. I wanted the truth... but I wanted truth. The truth that I had believed in for the past five years. That's what I expected. The last thing I expected was that the lie would become true. It was the last thing I wanted. Now I shut my eyes tightly. All I want is for the outside world to just disappear, and leave me here in the pits of my sorrow. The darkness is soothing... but also troublesome. I close my eyes, and all I can picture is her. Her face. Her eyes. Her smile. I can't help myself. I ask myself over and over again how this can be possible... how she could do this to me... If I keep this up, I'm going to end up in a mental institution. I finally open my eyes and attempt to sit up. I don't know how long I've been lying there, but my head ache is slightly gone, and my eyes can take the light a little better now. I look out the window. The weather has changed from the night before. What had once been a perfectly clear blue sky was now covered with ominous gray clouds, which threaten to over flow at any moment. What a day to be depressed beyond belief. I still don't comprehend it. Even after they had described to me, step by step, what had been done... I don't understand at all. Why me? Why concentrate such a vast global conspiracy on me--an insignificant failure of an FBI Agent? Why ruin such an inspired, intelligent, ambitious woman like Scully by pulling her into a web of lies and deceit so complicated that the only way to get out is through more lies and deceit? Why waste five and a half years of manpower, supplies, and the risk of exposure? Why not just kill me right away if I'm such a threat? My thoughts turn to her again. I wonder how she did it. Was everything she ever said to me a lie? Does she even consider me a friend? Or has she just been pretending through it all? Pretending to care for me, pretending she was there for me, when all the time, she was plotting against me? God, she must be one hell of an actress. Then the thought enters my mind that... maybe... just maybe... she wasn't acting. It's a small glimmer of hope, the smallest idea that might get me through this. Maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe she tried to get out of it. Maybe she did genuinely care for me through it all. Not even the greatest actress in the world could fake that kind of dedication... and respect... and trust... The phone rings beside me. Once. Twice. I don't move to answer it. The answering machine picks up. Damn. It's Kersch. "Mulder," I say, grabbing the phone from its receiver. "Where the hell are you?" I try to think for a second. None of my world famous excuses come to mind. "I'm... I'm sick." "We had a meeting scheduled in my office over an hour ago." "I'm sick," I repeat. It's starting to become true. My head is still pounding, and I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach. "You will be in my office within the hour, or trust me, Agent Mulder-" I almost laugh. Doesn't he know that I can't possibly trust anyone right now? "-you will be terminated at the FBI." Click. He's gone. Terminated. The thought has no effect on me anymore. I don't care. I don't care about my job, my career, my life for that matter. All I care about right now is her. How she did this, why she did this. And it's funny... I still care about her. The person. My partner. My friend. Even though she has double-crossed me for five and a half years, I still think of her in almost the same way. I desperately want to run to her, so she can comfort me. She's the only one who ever can. But if I see her again, all I will see is lies. Betrayal. A prime example of why I rarely let myself get close to anyone. Now I start to wonder if it was so blatantly obvious that everyone saw it but me. Was I so blinded by my image of her that I missed every hint? Did I overlook clues that I would have easily found if it had been a case I was working on? I decide against that. I pick apart everything from the past years. Everything. And I can't find a single clue that would have alerted me to anything out of the ordinary. The rain is starting outside. First in occasional drops that trickle down the window pane. Then it grows in intensity. Now it's pouring down in sheets. The darkness is so great that only the occasional flashes of lightning give the illusion that it is, in fact, only midway through the afternoon. I sit and watch the rain for a few minutes. I don't know how long. Time has lost all meaning for me now. It could have been seconds; it could have been hours. I'm almost sure I've been "terminated" by now. Still, I just sit and watch the rain, in a state of shock that transcends anything I've ever felt before. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* It's been awhile. I think it's night now. I haven't moved from my couch all day. I haven't even eaten. I never felt the need to. I haven't watched television, or listened to music, or do anything. Except just sit. I hear a knock on my door. I don't want to answer--don't want to talk to anyone--but they are relentless, unceasing, and I am forced to give in. I find myself getting up and walking to the door, opening it, and seeing her standing there. Her. The one person in the world that could both comfort me and kill me. She is soaked to the bone from the pouring rain. Her hair is dripping down her face. She looks up at me, pleading with her eyes--God, those eyes--asking me silently for a sign of forgiveness. "Can I come in?" she asks, her voice cracking ever so slightly. I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. So I simply back away from the door and retreat back to my couch. My safe haven. For now, at least. I watch her survey the room quickly and then step inside. She slowly pushes the door shut behind her and takes off her coat. My eyes never leave her as she runs a hand through her hair, trying to untangle the wet mess. Then she stops and looks at me. She doesn't move, doesn't make an attempt to come any closer to me. She's probably afraid. I lower my eyes to the ground... I can't stand to look at her any more. It's too much. "I... I'm sorry," she finally says. I look up at her. I must have looked angry--or confused--or something, because she repeats it. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say." I shrug. "It's true, then?" I ask, looking out the window again. It's still raining. After a moment with no response, I look at her again. She nods. "I don't understand it." I stand up. "Why?" As I walk closer to her, I can see that there are tears filling her eyes. "I... I don't know..." "So from the beginning... from the very beginning... everything we've done has been fixed. It's all been a lie. Everything between the two of us." "No!" she says suddenly. "Not... not everything." She's having trouble speaking, as if a well of emotions inside her was about to burst. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. "Mulder, please... please say something." Say something? For once in my life, I'm at a loss for words. I don't know what I want to say to her... actually, I can think of hundreds of things I want to say to her, but I don't know how to phrase it or what to keep back. I take a deep breath. "I want to know one thing, Scully. One thing. That's all you have to tell me." I pause. "Did you ever..." Now I'm having trouble speaking. "Was it all a lie? Did you ever really care about me?" She gets a look on her face like she's been slapped by her best friend. A look of shock and disbelief. "Of course... Of course I cared for you. I still do." She takes a step closer to me. "Mulder, I swear to you, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I didn't expect to walk in that office and see you. I didn't expect to find a friend. I didn't expect to end up working on something that I completely believed in. You've got to trust me." "Trust you? Tell me, how can I trust someone who has done never done anything but lie to me?!" I finally explode. Everything I've held back since the day before comes pouring out. Her eyes grow wide and filled with tears. "Mulder, I can explain-" "Explain? I'd love to hear it. I'd love to hear you try to explain five and a half years of betrayal and lies and deception." By this point I'm screaming. She threatens to cry any minute. It kills me inside--absolutely kills me--to see her like this. I still care. I can't help it. In my mind, I haven't grasped the concept of it yet, that she isn't the person I've always thought she was. She isn't the person I've always admired. I'm still in denial. I look at her, and before I can stop myself, I see Scully. My partner. My friend. My soul mate. My kindred spirit. I see the woman who had never let me down... who I had always been able to count on... I can't get used to this new woman standing before me. "Go ahead..." I say, a little quieter this time. "Explain." "What do you want to know?" she asks. "I really don't care," I reply coldly. She nods. It is a nod of sadness, despondency, utter fear... the usual brightness in her eyes is gone. "They assigned me to be your partner to debunk your work. You know that. Shortly after my first case report, I received a call. I went to a meeting, where the group of men you have been fighting all along propositioned me. I basically had two choices. Either work with them... or die. And if I died, soon you would have too. I was to be paid a certain amount of money to make regular reports--not only on the cases we worked on but also on your behavior... your informants... and anything else that may have been of value to them. The money wasn't what kept me involved. It wasn't enough to hold any interest for anyone. But you know how powerful these men are. You don't double-cross them. I wasn't aware of this when I got involved. I didn't know how dangerous they were. I didn't know what they were capable of. Once I got in, I had no choice but to stay in." She stops and looks to me for a response. I don't give her one. She looks as if she's unsure of what to do next. "So you had the money. You had a secure job. All you had to do was make reports, and you had your life." I almost laugh. "It sounds like a great plan. No problems. So what happened? What was the glitch?" "What?" "Well, something made you question your position. It couldn't have been our wonderful job. It couldn't have been that you morally didn't want to be there, because you wouldn't have gotten involved in it in the first place. So what was it? What was the problem?" A single tear overflows and trickles down her cheek. Her eyes are full of sadness and loneliness and regret. She breathes deeply and speaks slowly. "I fell in love." My eyes are completely focused on her. I can't move. I can't look away. Part of me--a big part--wants to take her hand and wipe away the tear that has fallen... and the other that has just followed in its path. But I'm frozen. I don't know what to do. "Don't you think I tried to get out?" she suddenly asks. I stare at her, dumbfounded. "No. Not really," I snap at her. I don't know why I say it, but it's all that comes out. She closes her eyes tightly for a moment. Opening them again, she speaks softer. "Well, I did. I tried. But you know these men, Mulder. You know that you can't mess around. The only way I could've gotten out was if I had killed myself." She pauses. "And I know that would have killed you--if not physically, at least spiritually." She stops again. "I don't believe you," I say. More tears are now following the others. "Look at me!" she exclaims. "I am living proof of what these men do! Listen to me." She grabs my hand and holds it tightly. "Listen! I wasn't abducted because of . They didn't give me cancer to punish . And they sure as hell didn't give me Emily and then kill her to get to you!! Think about it! Everything from the past five years has happened to . Sure, they knew it would affect you, but they did it all to me. They wanted to make sure I wasn't going anywhere. The first time they shut down the X-Files? They did that because I was drifting away from them. They needed a ploy to separate us and get me back to where they wanted me! Mulder, you have been so close sometimes--closer than you can possibly imagine. I want more than anything to expose these men and what they do. But I can't help you do that. The only thing that is keeping us both alive is the simple fact that I have to cooperate with them." "And is that how you want to live?" I interrupt her. "You want to live at the mercy of men who kill for a living? Of men who could kill you at any time?" "How else am I supposed to live?! I can't get out now. It's been too long, and I know too much. If I leave, I'm dead tomorrow. It's as simple as that. I can't live any other way. I have no choice. I made a horrible mistake, and I would give anything--anything--to go back and change that." "But you can't." "But I can't," she repeats. She is still holding my hand, and I can't think of anything else to say. I find myself slipping my hand from hers and backing away. She nods subtly and clasps her hands together. We just look at each for what seems like an eternity. "I'm sorry," she says again. I cross my arms in front of my chest. "What am I supposed to say to that?" "I don't know." Her voice is barely a whisper. "What are we supposed to do now?" "I don't know that either." She wipes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. "I can't quit. You know that. We would never survive the night." Neither of us says anything. It's almost as if all of the words between us have disappeared. Our emotions have been let loose; now all we can do is sit back and watch the remaining pieces shatter on the ground. There is a coldness... a wall... This is a person who I have never had trouble speaking to, and now I can't find anything to say. She breaks the silence. "I had considered disappearing. Running away. Becoming someone else--having a different life--pretending that Dana Scully never existed." She would have never done that. Her eyes tell the truth. She could never leave. She confirms my unspoken thoughts. "But I couldn't. There was no way I could have disappeared. Not with them. They can find anyone. And I would have never been able to leave. Living an entire lifetime without the little things--without ever seeing you again--it would have been a torture greater than death." Life without the little things. I think of the possibility of never seeing her again. Never again hearing her voice on my cell phone. Never again arguing with her. Never again driving miles and miles in a rental car with her. It is a fate more frightening that anything I've ever experienced. "There is only one thing to do," she says. I watch numbly as she removes her gun from the holster around her waist. Slowly, my body unfreezes as she raises the gun... higher... higher... "Scully, put down the gun," I hear myself say... Higher... until it is pointed at her own temple... and my worst fear is standing right before me... "Scully, please," I plead with her. "Put down the gun." The tears that had, at one time, faded return again--this time with a fierceness that consumes her. "I can't..." she says, just barely making her voice audible. "I can't do anything else. I don't care about myself anymore... All I want to let you live..." "Please..." I walk slowly towards her and move my hand towards hers. I grasp it and gradually pull it away from her head. I push a few scattered strands of hair back and look deeply into her eyes. Her eyes never could lie to me. Something in her clicks on--she drops the gun to the floor and collapses into my arms, sobbing. Her body shakes with tears. I can't do anything but pull her close to me. I sink to the floor of my apartment, wrapping my arms around her and cradling her. I don't know how long we stay like that... just the two of us against the world... just like it always was... *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* They found her body the next day. Lying on the floor of her apartment. A single gunshot wound to the head. They ruled it suicide. I didn't believe it. I couldn't bring myself to go to the funeral. I didn't want to remember her that way. I just want to be able to close my eyes and picture her the way I saw her last. Looking up at me... her eyes showing the faintest sign of hope... and shining with the caring spirit she had always possessed. Her eyes could never lie to me. Isn't that ironic. *~*~ END *~*~