From: shirlock Date: Tue, 12 Oct 99 16:58:42 +0800 Subject: The Nth degree by shirlock (1/1) Source: direct Title: The Nth degree Author: shirlock Rating: General Category:M/S Angstorama-- Take cover!! Spoilers: FTF/ The beginning/ Two Fathers/ One son/ general S6. Timeline: Sometime after Biogenesis but in my mind, Biogenesis never took place. Summary: You can mend a broken heart, but a severed bond of trust? Dark...Dark...Dark. Disclaimer: All characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. Mulder and Scully belong to Mr. D. Duchovny and Ms. G. Anderson. Author's notes: You can't wish that Two Fathers/ One Son never took place, and you can't ignore what was said. They wanted damage, so this is it-- the final straw that broke the camel's back. Dedication: This is for Dianna McCarty, an on-line friend and an all- round beautiful soul. Feedback: shirlock@pacific.net.sg ======================================================================= She is altogether too quiet. He had noticed her reticence for the past week. Though Scully is never chatty, her complete lack of communi- cation unnerves him now. Contrary to popular belief that women gossip, nag, henpeck, harangue, or rag mindlessly on any subject under the sun, his partner speaks only when she has some- thing to say. And when Scully speaks, he is all but fearful of each word she utters. Because each syllable bears weight, backed by her sound judgement and keen mind. Because each Scully syntax has its own point of reference. Because each declaration is steadfastedly buoyed up by her science, irrefutable facts and undeniable proof. He abhors science if only because he cannot contest it. It is his sworn enemy, but to Scully, it is her ally. It strikes him now that science believes in her. Science believes in this doctor, who relies on the natural order of life to explain life. The great order of the natural world is so vast and so elusive that it reveals bits of itself to those who seek it. A giant puzzle that can only be completed if one is to pursue it relentlessly. And if anyone were to gather enough puzzle pieces to see its entirety, it would be Dr. Dana Scully. And she *can* use science to prove that God exists, because her God created the world of science. If that is to be her next quest, he truly believes she will succeed putting God on a silver platter and present Him to an auditorium of snivelling agnostics. The atheists will be agog. The heretics, silent. The cults, chantless. Her faith is blinding to those who cannot believe in a loving God. To an extent, it is awe-inspiring. He knows not of the love of parents. How so of a God who knows him by name and fashioned him in his mother's womb? She believes in a loving creator, a sacrificing saviour because she understands Love. What of love? It's not for understanding. It's for feeling. And felt it, he has. In the irises of her eyes. The way they hold him close to her own cacooned emotions, cradling him when her arms fail to; comforting him with words which never spill from her softly parted lips. Science is her means not only to prove him right or wrong. But also to prove herself on, or off track. Here lies their dissonance. He takes science as the Judge Judy in a court of personal right and wrong. She takes science as a soccar referee to ascertain if she had scored or not. Science is a technique, a method, a weigher of consequence. Her science had also proven him on track 98.9% of the time. It is not biased. Science is a means to prove an end. He sees that the lack of scientific proof is the only way Scully will consider more extreme possibilities. But if we knew enough, learnt enough, yes, perhaps science might explain extraterrestrials. The black cancer will have a new scientific name, a chemical compound and a formula. Will there come a day when it'll be common knowledge that the black oil can be diluted with acetone? Or kill its virus with old-fashioned penicillin? Or maybe even dirty drain water? It was at this point in time that he started to question his own biasness. What are they based on? Very strong conjecture founded upon even stronger impulses? And what solid facts lie behind the true inquiry of his prejudices? ======================================================================= Scully had spent the whole morning at Quantico and was silently typing her report until he questioned her a minute ago. Her eyes are focused somewhere mid-point on the screen, the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose magnifies her doe-eyes. She is a model of stillness, statuesque in her ability to translate, configure the words so that a layman can understand her. Mulder is =that= layman, and he wants desperately to understand this silent war. She has heard his question. Her silence indicates as much. The air is pregnant with impenetrable doom. His words have started Armegge- don. In his heart of hearts, he knows what her answer is. But it is futile to hear his own ruminations spoken aloud when they haven't convinced him when they were summarised in his head. No. He wants her to tell him about *his* prejudices. He wants her to pinpoint where he had gone wrong. To spell it out. He wants her to care enough about them to continue having a partnership. He wants her back where she belongs. To go back to belonging to *her*. But as surely as it is difficult proving that aliens exist, he firmly believes that convincing her that he still cares is a thousand times harder. "Scully, nothing has changed between us." He goads her to start the argument. She lifts her eyes to meet his so briefly he wonders if she looked up at all. "You don't want to hear what I have to say." "That," he stresses, " is =all= I want to hear." He wills her to believe him by allowing traces of his longing for her honesty to seep into the pupils of his eyes. She sees it, and he knows she sees it. Her blue eyes are icy cold. But in a split second, they have became the hottestmost part of a flame. Leaping and licking at wherever her gaze settles on. His eyes, lips, and cheeks seered from the intensity of her fiery gaze. She braces herself on her desk standing up as she deftly pushes her chair away from her. She looks down at the keyboard and punches in Control in a Herculean effort to control her words half-formed in her mind. She loses her glasses and looks right into him. ======================================================================= Scully saw a little boy right then. She didn't know what to expect, but the lost and lonely child was certainly a surprise. The lamp behind her is casting her shadow across the table, onto the floor, onto his shoes, onto his pants, creeping up his torso. He is bathed in her shadow, the tip of her outline cutting across his tie. She swollows by reflex, nervousness a recessive trait in her family. Why don't you trust me? That was his question. And he has to know what my answer is. ======================================================================= "Agent Fowley." Scully pronounces. Every word is captive in his ears. Everything since that night at the Lone Gunman's lair is about Diana. Life is about him and his ex-partner- Diana Fowley. When did life become so parochial? He takes in a breath rather noisily. It is not lost on her that he is nervous too. She was right. He wants to mute the sound in her speech because he doesn't want to hear about what she has to say about Diana. He wants to be honest with Scully. Diana isn't even in the equation. ======================================================================= "Maybe you're not ready to listen to this." She offers as a means for him to back out."Or to me."she murmurs softly, knowing it =is= the truth. Mulder feels oddly caught by her meekness, his eyes traveling up and down her eyes to her hands on her lap. He feels he's caused her to doubt herself. In a way, he has. "Diana is not a topic in any of our discussions, Scully." he says in a low voice. Her head jerks up and her eyebrows knit together slowly. "But we are. In hers." she manages without malice. Those are the facts. ======================================================================= Mulder blinks back his earlier fears of hearing his partner talk. Especially now because she is about to tell him a truth he doesn't want to hear. Mulder the great truth seeker, double-dared by a slip of a woman who cannot lie to save her soul. It appears all she wants is to tell him the truth about Diana. In as tactful a way as she can be without being personal, vindictive or challenging. "What do you mean by that?" Mulder says evenly. "She has been watching us." Her mask of control is slipping. "And I might say =you= have been watching her as well." HIs defenses kick in from habit. Scully looks like she might give up the battle so that he can win the war. He only shakes his head. She remains deathly silent, using silence to set the stage. "There is only one way of explaining it to you right and a million ways you will interpret them wrongly. I have the proof, the evidence, the facts and the figures. But you will not hear me." "She doesn't work for anybody but the FBI." he says. "I know." "And I no longer work *with* anybody."She replies helplessly. Mulder's heart metaphysically drops to the basement of his soles. "Scully, you are going about this the wrong way..." ======================================================================= "I will not do this wrong." Scully pleads more to herself than to him. She picks up a small casette tape from her drawer and hands it to Mulder. He takes it and waves it about questioningly, "this is your proof?" She nods once. "Where did you get this?" The air is thick with the answer Mulder slices through intuitively. "The gunmen." Mulder's eyes slip shut. Her own unblinking eyes is her confirmation. "I can't believe you asked them to bug her apart-" "I didn't." He looks squarely at her. She doesn't move at all. "How long have you had this?" He inhales through his nose, tapping his long index finger on the rim of the cassette. "Over a week." Her answer surprises him greatly. His eyes widen only to narrow once more. "And you didn't think to share this with me until now?" The fierceness of his voice is raw with disbelief. "That,"Scully lets out honestly, "was =all= I thought of." His fingers wrap themselves around the tape, as if the gesture could prove its authenticity. "What's on it?" He flicks his gaze back to her face. He is surprised to find his partner's eyes on him. "A story. About aliens and abductions. About men who play god and the aliens who play with humans. It's about El Rico Airbase, about Cassandra Spender. Told by a man whose business is keeping secrets. Diana made a deal with him, to help him in his project both he and your father ran. It's about her assignment to break us up, to serve a greater purpose--" Mulder looks away, and she knows she has done nothing to convince him. "Mulder--until today, I dared not think I had lost everything." Her eyes are dry. Its dryness surprises him because in her voice, her words, he could hear they are flooded with loss and tears, sadness and grief and something else. Sudden awareness-- so acute he could feel its edge dig into his consciousness. She continues with her mother's voice of reason, "what good has my science been if not an arbiter to our discussions? You said I kept you honest, made you whole, but I am not the only person to have done that, am I?" ======================================================================= Scully knows. And she understands that Diana has been trustworthy. The expression of relief is almost too much to bear in Mulder's face. They slacken from having bottled up those emotions from her for too long. "No, you are not the only one." He admits. "You trust her." Not a question. She's just stating a fact. Two-plus- two equals four. Mulder trusts Diana. "I do. Like I said--I don't have a reason to distrust her." "And you trust me." It wasn't a question but a statement. Yet the very notion that it had to be stated caused him to flinch. He steps away from her shadow that hid his fears and sighs deeply. She's wearing a deep shade of blue, like a perennial cloak to shroud her from every evil, every hazard, every ill feeling. "You have not given me a reason to distrust you either." He says, politically correct, but he seems to have drawn blood with that remark. ======================================================================= Scully leans back into her seat, her face pales in a short time. "I had to earn that trust. I wasn't trusted by default. I gave you reasons to trust me, Mulder." The wariness in her voice has slipped into remorse. Mulder blinks back his need to go over because her face has grown ill. The foreboding feeling akin to the time she had her cancer strikes at his chest, making him ache from a bitterness that tears at his heart. And suddenly, she feels empty. Nothing left to lose because there's nothing more to gain. She folds her arms, drawing them into her chest. Seven years have no meaning for her. She watches him watch her. Letting him see there's nothing left of her. ======================================================================= "Scully..." Mulder begins no knowing where he will go. She yearns to believe him this time. To believe that he has good reasons to continue trusting Diana. She has no words. Her eyes are cloudy with tears that refuse to fall. "Just listen to the tape." She turns off her computer. "I believe you, Scully." "No. "Her word is a tight little exclaimation mark, angry punctuation, pre-empting a softer realisation, "you don't." She stands up once more, but her normal stature is hunched into the true size of her emotional being. Her hands move the folder, straightens out the work area. "Scully," Mulder stage-whispers, "if you ask me if I would ever stop trusting you one day-- the answer is no. If someone taped your voice implicating you in a plot to bring me down, I would never believe you could do that. " Scully stops but she doesn't raise her eyes to his. They settle on a paperclip at the edge of her blotter. But he knows what he has said has an effect on her. Slowly she understands that his trust in Diana had been the same all along. That he had always trusted in her. That his trust had never been broken, their bond never severed, their communication never disconnected. Even after their partnership dissolved. How was he able to compliment her and hurt her at the same time? Scully wondered wistfully. He sees her blink her realisation and is comforted by her lack of verbal affirmation. His emotional energy dips and he catches himself on the filing cabinet behind him. "Scully," he says in the gentlest voice, "what if you are wrong about Diana?" She looks up quickly at Mulder as if there was something she could have reacted to, but she tamps it down with a humility-laced voice, "I will withdraw." "Your accusations?" "And, from the FBI." Mulder seems to consider this carefully. He once called on her not to make this personal, and if being personal has caused her to waver in judgement, she will step aside for someone else who can do the job. Diana's words come back to me. "The X-Files is something I happen to have an interest in." He watches her turn, lift her briefcase and remove her coat from the coat rack. It is a darker shade of cobalt. Everything was blue on her. Except for the pearl white blouse which peaks from beneath the overlapping lapels of her suit jacket. With graceful strides, she extricates herself from the office as he leans on the edge of his desk in fitful bewilderment. Her face half turns to show her profile and that stubborn tear slips past its barrier. "I would rather be wrong than you, Mulder." was all she says before she leaves the office. He sees her for who she is, for all the times he felt more than casual affection for her-- those few carefully chosen words reveal words of deep love without ever mentioning that she loved him. Mulder stares at the door, his vision lacking the decisiveness in focusing on a subject, meanders to the empty desk, the vacant chair. Everything in its place and a place for everything. What if =I= am wrong? was his last echoing thought. ======================================================================= The moment she leaves, the room becomes a vacuum, noiseless and devoid of oxygen, thickened by a devastation that the storm of their discussion had left in tatters. He grips the tape in his hand. Scully's proof, all the words a muddle in his mind, the roiling emotions of anger, hate and sudden loss creating an endless puzzle to a very simple question. One he daren't to ask himself. He eavesdropped on the verbal parry of Mulder vs. Mulder. Since when had I needed Scully to show me hard evidence in order to believe her? Her word are more bankable than Microsoft's future. Her evidence is soundly weighed and critically pronounced. And now, with this evidence of Diana's duplicity, I see my own. My breathing goes shallow and the room dims as I watch the replay of the last five minutes' events. There is a look that Scully gave me when she glanced back. When she gave up the fight. It is a look that I didn't want to name but knew what it had meant. Goodbye. Sorry that this had to happen. Sorry, because either way, we both lose. Because trust isn't infallible. Just as I am not. I drop the tape into the trash without listening to a single sentence recorded on it. I believed Scully then. I believe Scully now. I think, I think I shall always believe her. Yes, because she has earned my trust, through thought, word and deed. Many deeds. Too many deeds. Hadn't I always trusted her? Because she always has me at the back of her mind. Because I've just been able to measure the length, size, breadth and depth of her trust. It is immense. It covers a multitude of sins. My sins. Why hadn't I figured this out the first time she called Diana's bluff? Even now, it is still difficult to see that Diana has betrayed me. Yes, it will crush me if I am wrong about this. I see now the sum of my prejudices. It is crystal clear now. I have always trusted Diana. I may even trust Diana in the same manner I trust Scully. If both Diana and Scully had cancer, who would I chose to save? Scully. I would save Scully. They would be on two beds. Scully to my right, Diana to my left. Both emaciated, dying. I would save Scully. Always Scully. It is Scully I love. And it is Scully I fear will be taken from me. I've loved, trusted, and feared for her, to every extreme. To the N-th degree. Yet, there's not enough love in me for Scully. For what she deserves, at least. I could never make it right for her. Be the right person for her. Allthe love contained in this world will not be enough for what she deserves. My mind flashes back to her holding me, cradling me on the frozen ends of the earth, encasing me in her shivering body. Willing every bit of her own warmth to leave her body to enter mine. I know how I survived. There is no greater love than sacrifice. I run out the office into the bleakness of the corridor and discover, without ever meaning to, that there's nothing left to fight for. End Feedback is very much appreciated. =======================================================================