From: juliettt@aol.com (Juliettt) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: "Success" 1/1 by Juliettt Date: 24 Oct 1995 05:08:39 -0400 "Success" by Juliettt@aol.com (August 29, 1995, posted October 24, 1995) Here's another one that just kinda wrote itself, folks. It's a character study, and there's really nothing X-filey about it, unless . . . well, read it and decide for yourself. We've seen all kinds of stories about how much Mulder needs Scully; I thought it was about time to turn the tables. And, as always, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, et al, do NOT belong to me. Perish the thought! They and _The X-Files_ belong to Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen Productions and FOX Broadcasting, or some amalgamation of the three, as well as to the actors who play them, and I am using them very lovingly but without a smidge of permission and no offense of any sort is intended. . . . ************************** "Success" by Juliettt@aol.com ************************** The Assistant Director glanced at the clock, sighed, and tapped a sequence of keys on the computer to activate the password lock, then closed the day's last file and stood up. Ran a hand through thick hair just barely sprinkled with a bit of premature grey and crossed the office to the door, collecting briefcase and coat on the way. Paused with a hand on the doorknob. No reason to stay. No reason to go home, either. The A.D. frowned at this indecision and exited the office, pulled the door shut and locked it, then headed for the elevator bank, passing the secretary's empty desk on the way. she admonished herself. Still, it was only 6:30. In the old days she and Mulder -- if they happened to be in town -- would have been on the phone about now more often than not, ordering Chinese or Italian food delivered to their basement office, planning on putting in a full night's work. In the old days. She took the elevator down, smiled at the security guard, and walked to her car. A faint sound caught her attention and her hand instantly went to the Sig strapped at her hip. Nobody covers the Assistant Director of the FBI. With a sigh of relief she watched the squirrel scamper from between rows of parked cars, an acorn in its mouth. Yes. Another -- like all the winters these past few years. She got into her car -- a new, black Ford SHO -- and drove slowly home. Checked her mail, her answering machine. There was a message from Melissa inviting her to dinner with John and the children. She smiled a little at that. Her nieces and nephews always greeted her with great affection although after the first few minutes they had little to say to one another. Her smile faded. The next message was from her mother, and her tone was worried, as usual. Over the years Maggie Scully had gradually ceased to leave messages hinting that her daughter get a personal life and had settled for invitations to dinner and family gatherings. Lately the messages had become more plaintive, and with good reason. Dana had been ducking her family. It wasn't that she didn't love them -- quite the contrary. But she couldn't bear to spoil their pleasure with her own seeming inability to have a good time. Being A.D. of the FBI was a demanding job, and she had always suffered from the inability to leave work *at* work. And, too, she hated feeling that her family was disappointed in her. A part of her argued angrily that they shouldn't be. After all, she had risen to the second highest position in her chosen field and there was no conceivable reason she should not become Director when Hamilton retired in a few years. The other part rebuked her. She sighed. It was true. She had gambled and won in the high-stakes game of professional success. She was Assistant Director Dr. Scully. And she was alone except for a cat that was more interested in eating her plants than in being petted. Wasn't this what she had always wanted? To show her family and colleagues that she could succeed? To show her old classmates at Quantico? To show herself? Then why was she so unhappy? Finally she could admit it -- she *was* unhappy. When had it all fallen apart? She sat down on her couch and did something she almost *never* did deliberately. Thought about Fox Mulder. She had been assigned to work with him on the X-Files more than a decade ago now. To report back on the validity of his work. Essentially, to spy on him. It hadn't been easy. She had been even more impressed with him than she had expected -- with his obvious brilliance, even genius, with his seemingly irrational but uncanny knack for putting his finger right on the heart of the matter, this latter skill sometimes giving her chills when she watched his "spooky" abilities in action. Of course, she had disagreed with most of his theories -- the man believed in UFO's and EBE's, after all -- and he'd driven her nuts at times. *And* she had had to fight her attraction to him, as well. Gradually he had insinuated himself into her life and her heart until there was no room left for anyone or anything else. Except her career. She had written her reports carefully, dispassionately pointing out the gaps in his case solutions. Still, their solve rate was impressive -- impressive enough that she began hearing rumblings about the unfortunate hindrance of her pairing with Fox Mulder. So they saw him as a stumbling-block to her success? She would show them that she didn't need a stellar partner -- conventional or otherwise -- to make it to the top. And he had willingly abetted her attempts to keep her record clean even while systematically, it seemed at times, ensuring his own stagnation at the level of Field Agent. He had reminded her on several occasions to reconsider the fantastical solutions to cases she had had to accept because *she*, not he, ultimately had to submit them for analysis. He had only half- teasingly assured her that she would be head of the FBI one day. Indeed, as time went on it seemed that he was right in predicting this as he had been in so many other things. And, surprisingly, her unspoken acquiescence to authority seemed to have a protective effect; time and time again when they got too close to what Mulder insisted was the truth they were driven away, but no real harm ever came to her, and less harm came to him than one might reasonably expect. They had been good partners -- the best -- in spite of their differing goals. It seemed it had all come to a head in New Mexico when she had sent Mulder off on his own -- something she knew at the time she should not have done -- because she had missed a meeting with Skinner. At the time she had not questioned her motives for prioritizing things in this way, and by the time she had again had opportunity to do so it had been too late to reconsider. After his return she had stood by Mulder's side during the hearings regarding his attack on A.D. Skinner and the murder of his father, giving her testimony in a carefully controlled voice, her account objective. Mulder had been cleared, and rightly so, given the contents of the water filter she had found. But it was later said of her that her testimony would have allowed Dana Scully to come out on top in any case. Things had changed subtly after that. They were still partners and she still watched his back, still supported him and defended him to his detractors. But when talk of her advancement began this time it moved her along with it like a tide. She did nothing to encourage it, but when she was offered a more prestigious position she took it. She remembered that day vividly. She had been called into Skinner's office and had gone reluctantly, prepared to defend Mulder as always. Thus she had been stunned when he had read her the commendation letter and transfer offer. She had asked for -- and received -- some time to think it over. And then retreated once more to the stuffy, windowless office that housed the X-Files Division. Mulder had breezed in half an hour later as she sat mutely in her chair pondering what had become the less-than-extreme possibilities of her professional success. "Hey, Scully -- congratulations!" She looked up. "You heard." He nodded. "I did." She gazed at him for a moment. "So -- what do you think?" He hesitated. Then, "I think you should take it, Scully. Not that I won't miss you, of course, but you've got your career to think of." She bit her lip. "What about you?" "What, did Skinner offer *me* a promotion, too?" His laughter was only slightly bitter. "I'm serious, Mulder." "So am I, Scully." He took both of her hands in his and gazed intently into her eyes. "I've always said you'd be running this place one of these days." He suddenly grinned. "Don't prove me wrong in this too, okay?" She smiled back at him, faintly. "I just don't know. . . ." "Well, think about it, at least. You know I support you in whatever you decide to do." She nodded. She knew. In the end the reasons to go had seemed to outweigh the reasons to stay, and she had gone to Skinner's office the next week to hand-deliver her acceptance to the A.D. He had looked, she now reflected, unaccountably disappointed -- in her? And so she had settled into an airy fifth-floor office -- with windows. *And* heat. She and Mulder were still friends, of course -- always would have been had she had anything to say about it. Perhaps now they might even have a chance to date and explore other . . . extreme possibilities. But he had never asked her. Did he feel betrayed? Afraid of spoiling their now-tenuous friendship? Awed by the notion that she might one day be his boss? She would never know. Three months after her transfer -- three months of regular visits up and down the stairs between the basement and the fifth floor -- Mulder had been killed in the line of duty. His still-green partner had failed to protect him adequately. In the wake of Mulder's death Skinner had resigned. It seemed he had blamed himself for assigning Mulder the partner that had gotten him killed, even though the orders had come from higher up. Quite possibly the shadowy figures that haunted his office had gotten what they wanted at last. And now, with no Mulder to run it, the X-Files had been closed down permanently. Scully had grieved for Mulder -- her friend, her ex-partner. But too much sorrow would have been unseemly. After all, he had not been her husband or even her lover. No. He had only been the man who *might* have been her husband, the father of the never-to-be-born children she now saw in her nieces' and nephews' eyes. She had mourned and buried him in the ground and herself in her work, almost frenetically pursuing cases, especially murder investigations. His own murderer was killed fleeing a burglary several weeks later. Scully had not been the one to bring him down; she had not even been assigned to the case. She wished she had been. Perhaps them she could have eased some of the ache that had never really left her heart, lifted some of the darkness that had settled on her soul. And the guilt. She had had to learn to live with the guilt. But her energy had impressed her superiors and when, after a few years of interim A.D.'s and steady advancement on her part, the new head had been selected, she had been chosen and had accepted. There was essentially nothing she could do about the X-Files; Skinner's influence, as well as that of certain now-retired congressmen, had evidently been all that kept the division afloat. The most she could hope for now was to provide the best leadership possible to prevent further tragic losses to the Bureau. Which brought her to now. Here, in her immaculate, beautifully decorated and empty house. She was very tired. She went into the bedroom and climbed between the covers, alone as always. Her stomach hurt -- the anxiety and stress of unshed tears making her toss and turn fitfully in a vain attempt to sleep. . . . ***** She rolled onto her side. He was instantly awake as well. "Dana? You okay?" He pulled her back into his embrace. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said, almost without thinking. The familiar words brought tears of relief and joy to her eyes even while the vestiges of the dream still clung to her mind like cobwebs. "Hey. What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, one hand on her belly and the other brushing strands of bright red hair back from her face. "You were tossing and turning." She sighed. "Just a dream, Fox." He cradled her close and kissed her gently, lovingly. "Want to tell me about it?" "Just -- thinking about how things *could* have happened," she answered slowly. She lay in his arms as he caressed her, his hand sliding through her hair again and again in a soothing, loving motion. Her beloved Fox. When had it all come together? She had only been impressed with him at first. Later, she had liked him -- had had to fight her growing attraction to him. Of course, she had had to disagree with most of his bizarre, theories; the man *did* believe in UFO's and EBE's, after all. But time and again he put himself on the line for her, and she did the same for him. Even when they disagreed the most hotly they cared for and covered one another to an extent that no one else ever could. His goals had become her goals. Her gradual shift from assigned spy to voluntary partner had evidently angered those in authority, who had taken every opportunity to block their search for the truth. Some of their more dangerous assignments had even resulted in physical harm to both of them. But even that had only driven them closer together. In the wake of her abduction and return she had begun to realize that respect and affection had slowly deepened into love for this man who had brought her back from death. In the end, it was both. Just before the fiasco in New Mexico she had sent him off on his own. She had known she shouldn't have but she had had her reasons, although she did not fully understand them until much later. He had attacked Skinner. His father was dead. He had been acting irrationally due to the hallucinogens she had found in his water supply. All good reasons *not* to send him off on his own. But she had missed a meeting with A.D. Skinner. Mulder was already in far deeper trouble than he had ever been before -- perhaps on his way out of the Bureau. And if that weren't bad enough, there would undoubtedly be an inquiry into his father's death. She had taken his gun to Ballistics to clear him, but a frame-up was still possible -- the way things looked, even likely. He could go to prison. And she could do him no good by being ousted from the Bureau herself. She had already lied for him. Now she had to let him face whatever lay in the desert alone so that she could work within the system to clear him and save the X-Files. How she had blamed herself for that decision when he had disappeared! After his return she had stood by him as always, giving her testimony in a carefully controlled voice when she really wanted to scream and curse them all for fools. She didn't care about the consequences anymore. He had been cleared, of course, as he ought to have been. Of the attack on Skinner as well as on charges of his father's murder. And things had gone back to the way they had been -- more or less. She still watched his back as he watched hers, but their relationship had changed again. Their partnership was more important than even the work that made it necessary. Their devotion to one another was all-consuming. And so when, after years of careful self-denial and refusal to admit their feelings even to one another, their chance had come -- in the form of an absolutely brilliant decision on Skinner's part to split the X-Files into two departments, separating them and giving them the opportunity for a closer union at the same time -- they took it. All the way. They had been married immediately. Now they had adjoining offices on the third floor -- with windows. They would probably never advance any further, and now neither would Skinner. But that was okay. They had each other, and that was enough. More than enough -- it was everything. Which brought them to now. Here, in the antique bed in the middle of the bedroom they had shared for the past year. Scully was very tired. She placed her hand over Mulder's and pressed them both against the skin of her slightly rounded abdomen. Dana looked up at him. Fox favored her with a dazzling smile, his warm fingers softly stroking her stomach. "I'll tell you about it in the morning. Right now I just want you to hold me." She burrowed her head into the hollow of his neck, feeling the soft kiss against her hair. "I love you, Scully." She smiled and wrapped her arms around him -- her best friend, her partner. Her husband, her lover, the father of their unborn child. "I love you too, Mulder." The head of the Department of Unexplained Phenomena and the head of the Department of Extraterrestrial and Paranormal Pathologies would always have each other to watch their backs. She was grateful for her life, for the success it represented. Her drowsy mind drifted to the corner nursery that waited for a little dark-haired cousin for Melissa and John's children, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face. *END* This fits into the "Marriage" series just after "Life Changes." And you thought all the repercussions of Scully's abduction were negative. . . . ;-) The Marriage Stories "Epithalamion" "Wonders Wrought" (2 parts) "Waking" "On the Road" "Girls' Day Out" "Watching the Storm" "Life Changes" (2 parts) "Success" "Lullaby For a New Generation" Juliettt@mail.aol.com Troupe Leader, Dragon Posse, Lone Gunwoman #7, Eden Agent, Clan McBride, Wolfpack, WWtBJLSWWGU, TFOSG charter celebrant, SKKS co-founder, BBTG!