From: "David Hearne" Date: Mon, 20 Mar 2000 12:54:35 -0500 Subject: xfc: Mask (1 of 1) Source: xfc From: "David Hearne" TITLE: MASK (1 of 1) AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: Post-ep for "En Ami" SPOILERS: En Ami, Orison ARCHIVE: Anybody who wants it has my permission to take it. Send feedback to ottercrk@sover.net My website is located at http://members.dencity.com/hearne AUTHOR'S NOTE: Last night's episode provided many angles to approach it from. This is the one I chose. By the way...in regards to that close-up of Gillian Anderson's chest...I don't know whether to thank Rob Bowman or slap him silly. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX "Truth is a mask made of lies." -- Butch Hancock XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I have manipulated people in many ways, but I have never pimped anyone before. Avarice, fear, pride, doubt, anger...I have twisted these emotions in other people to make them do my bidding. The human heart has been my tool. However, I have never used another man's loneliness before. Cobra was a lonely man. It wasn't just the secrecy of the job and the dangerous people around him that created his isolation. He was frustrated by the inability of others to comprehend his own mind. Who could? His thoughts were lost in the realm of DNA, viruses, life's own essence. In a drop of blood, an universe waits to be mapped and Cobra spent his life charting that inner space. Once you see into this world, it's very hard to made small talk about, say, the weather or the Oscars. He was also a shy man, finding it hard to talk with anyone except through the anonymity of e-mail. That's how I got the idea of baiting him with a woman. I needed someone of beauty and fine character who also possessed a strong mind and an appreciation of science. In other words, if there had been no Dana Scully, I would have had to invent her. Come to think of it, I had used her before. Didn't I partner her with Mulder for similiar reasons? Back then, I could see his withdrawl from others. I needed a means of access into his private world. Scully gave me a way in. Of course, it's a tricky game. Scully can be used against Mulder, but she also gives him strength and sanity. Is Mulder more dangerous with her or without her? And what about Scully when she comes to share his passion? Still, this latest round of the game went successfully for me. Now I'm looking at the aftermath on a video screen. Scully is sitting in her apartment, holding a cup of coffee in her hand but not drinking it. The television set is located ten feet away from her. That's where the camera is hidden. It doesn't work when the television set is on, but Scully doesn't watch much prime-time. She doesn't move. Her face is guarded as if she was afraid to show an emotion even to a mirror; perhaps, especially to a mirror. She sits. I watch. Someone knocks on the door. She closes her eyes for a brief moment. My goodness, I think. She even recognizes the sound of his knock. "Come in," she said. "Door's open." He walks in -- my unwilling student, the man whom I have taken to the cusp of accepting his destiny but only to see him turn away. He's angry now. He's also worried and afraid. He sits down on the sofa next to Scully. His body looks tight as a knot. In comparison, Scully seems almost passive. I wait for them to speak. "Well, Mulder," she says. "let me have it. Both barrels." "You think you deserve it?" She sighs and looks down at the cup. "Don't do that," she says but with no anger. "I'm just asking if you deserve to get chewed out in your opinion. Because if you believe so, then I don't see much point in stating the obvious." She lifts her head without looking at him. Instead, she looks at the television. The pain and self-recrimination in her eyes would be clear from a mile away. "I wanted to believe," she says. "I wanted to believe that there was some...goodness...or conscience...or...I don't know...something worth salvaging in him." Mulder leans back on the couch. His body relaxes and he lets out a breath that sounds almost relieved. "I can't blame you for that." She turns to him and their eyes meet. "You don't think I wish the same thing about my father?" he says. "Or...at least...the man who raised me?" "Mulder, he was never the monster C.B.G. Spender is." "You don't think?" I wait through another period of silence, taking small puffs off my cigarette. "Spender is not my father, though," she says. "He's the man who has brought harm to my family and to you. I should have never given him my trust." "Why did you then?" Mulder's tone is not accusatory. He wants to know, wants to learn, want to prevent this from happening again. She thinks about it, then a tiny smile rises on her lips and a laugh comes out in the form of a quick, toneless breath. "He said something to me. At the time, I just dismissed it as 'pop psychology.' Now I'm not so sure." "What did he say?" "He said that I'm drawn to powerful men, but I fear their power. I submit, then I resist and hold some part of myself back." Mulder shrugs. "You could say that about a lot of people." "Yeah, but in me, it's a conflict I've never resolved. I can walk for a long time along the lines people have drawn for me...people like my father, Skinner..." She gives Mulder a raised eyebrow. "...you." He looks away, embarrassed. "I walk for miles and then...I jump off the line." She laughs again in the same quick, toneless way. "Usually onto somebody else's line. With every act of rebellion, I'm looking for somebody else to control me. I don't feel safe otherwise." "Scully, I think you're being too hard on yourself. I've never see you trust anybody simply because you needed to feel secure." "Maybe you're seeing what I want you to see." They're back to looking at each other. I lean forward in my chair, my cigarette sticking out between my clenched hands. "You know, there's a little girl who lives in this building. She says that she wants to grow up to be just like me. The other tenants look at me like I'm a role model. A twenty-first-century gal, all independent and that crap." "You're not independent?" She hesitates, then says, "I'm no role model. None of them knows..." She places her cup on a low table and covers her face. "Spender knows. God, he knows." Mulder moves within a inch of her, a worry close to panic on his face, wanting to touch her but afraid to do so. "What are you talking about? What does he know..." Then he realizes. His face sinks and his hands drop to his knees. Yes, I know, Dana. I saw it happen. Through the hidden camera, I heard the gun's thunder and witnessed the man collapsing to the floor with his head burst open. I saw you experience the other side of power. Up until then, you had only believed in the giving of life. Yes, you had killed before to protect others and yourself. But now you had acted out of simple choice. Choice. That's the key word. I choose to wield this power. I choose to set myself above the inadequate laws of man. I choose to take on the role of God. In that moment, you understood what it was like to be me. A year ago, I would have never been able to manipulate you with talk of redemption. You would come to believe those words not just because it was possible that I was sincere. You were looking for your own redemption. "I'm no better than he is," she whispers. "I took a..." Mulder grabs her hands and yanks them from her face. Gasping, she looks up at him. I gasp as well. Mulder's actions are not angry, but they are violent in their suddenness and frightening in their intensity. "Don't think that," he says in a low voice. "Don't you dare." She's unable to speak. She just stares at him. "If I thought you were no better than him, do you think I would be here right now? Do you think I would still be able to trust you even after the mistakes you've made?" He presses her hands together with his own hands around them. They look like they're praying together. "I trust you with everything," he says. I can actually feel my heart beating a little faster. Ah, Fox, my boy...don't you know that I want to see you happy? And you, Dana...I wish for your happiness as much as his. If you only knew how long I've waited for this moment... Mulder becomes aware of how close he and Scully are. His eyes look away from her face and to their clasped hands. Disappointment bites into me as I see his hesitancy kick in. As gently as he can, he starts to pull his hands away. However, just as his fingertips brush over the edge of her hands, she grabs his hands back. This surprises Mulder as well as me. "There's something else he told me," she says, her voice now husky and her face hiding nothing. "What's that?" he responds, still a little afraid but daring to hope. I am daring to hope as well. The hope intensifies as she slides her hands up his arms and onto his shoulders. Once they reach there, Mulder touches her on the shoulders in return. Their faces are so close now. Nobody is backing away from this embrace. The cigarette trembles in my hand. They look at each other with so much love. Their lips begin to move through that final space between them. And then... ...they look at me. The warmth seen in their faces is gone. It is replaced by hard masks. Scully stands up and walks right up to the television. She kneels down, Mulder visible just over her shoulder. He has his arms spread over the back of the couch, his mouth forming a smug little smile. Scully is not smiling, but I can see it in her eyes. It's a smile as cold as the rest of her face, though. She lifts her hand. Her index finger is pointing up. She says -- "Show's over, you damn pervert." With her other hand, she touches a button and the next thing I know, Regis Philbin is asking if that's your final answer. The cigarette drops from my hand. I get to my feet and begin pacing around the room. I have no idea what to do. I don't know whether to laugh or to smash the video screen. I stop pacing when I notice the cigarette burning a black hole in the carpet. I pick it up and deposit in an ashtray. When I sit down, I decide to laugh. You still know how to keep me guessing, Agent Scully. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX