From: "Beachy, Jennifer" Date: Tue, 25 Jan 2000 19:07:16 -0600 Subject: xfc: Wonder PG (post-Orison) Source: xfc From: "Beachy, Jennifer" Title: Wonder Author: Kaitlyne McLeod Rating: PG Category: post-Orison, V Distribution: anywhere as long as you let me know E-mail address: beachyj@briar-cliff.edu Spoilers: Orison, Tunguska/Terma Summary: A different take on the aftermath of the episode. Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine. They belong to CC, 1013, Fox, yadda, yadda, yadda... Wonder Kaitlyne McLeod I suppose I can't blame her for what she did. After all, I have done the same, or at least tried. I have felt rage and wanted revenge. I have held a homemade knife to a man's throat, wanting to see his blood spurt and the life drift away from him, the same way it drifted from those I loved. My father. I have never succeeded, but not for lack of will. In a way, that makes what I have done worse, because I know she did not feel the rage, did not need the revenge the way I have sometimes needed it. She did not have it in her eyes. In fact she had nothing in her eyes. Nothing at all, not anger or sadness or even hate. Just a blank stare, not even cold. That's why it surprised me, the murder, because I hadn't seen it in her eyes. Before I would have said that I could read those eyes at any time, now I wonder. What she did is legally wrong, and we both know it. On a moral level...I haven't figured that one out yet. I told her not to worry, that she did the only thing that she could, and I believe that. At least mostly. I have to admit to staying up at night and wondering what was going through her head, what made her pull the trigger. We haven't spoken about it, because there is nothing more to say. I took her home, to my home. She laid down on the couch under a twenty-year-old afghan my mother knitted while I was in college, mumbled a "Good night," and that was it. I left her there, knowing that if she needed me, she would come, and relieved when she didn't, not knowing what I would have said if she had. Because I have done the same. In Russia. And I am ashamed of it. I have tried to kill a man. Hate is a strong emotion, and a dangerous one. I am not ashamed of what Scully did, because I did not see the hate in her. I wonder if it was there at all. And now I'm beginning to question myself. I have never believed in God. Well, maybe once when I was a child. I stopped believing in God when my sister disappeared and my family broke apart. It wasn't a life changing decision, it was just an idea that no longer affected me. Like when I stopped believing in Santa Clause. I know that I am a hypocrite. I know that it is wrong for a person like me, who can accept so much on what amounts to little more than faith, to ridicule another persons beliefs. I try harder now to not tell Scully that her faith is only a waste of time. I try harder only because I know she does the same for me. She knows how I feel. We've discussed it before. She said that God was giving her a sign, trying to tell her something. I shunned her, ignored her. Yet I responded to a sign. I, the atheist, heard a song on the radio and called her. I drove to her apartment to check on her. Granted, I just wanted to see if she was okay, make sure the case wasn't getting to be too much for her, but had I not arrived, she would have been killed. Not only killed, but defiled and demoralized. A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about it. I have to admit that it is one hell of a coincidence to have had that song play and for me to respond just in time to save her life. And I have never believed in coincidences. I do not believe that God gave me that sign. I can't. But I wonder. And I wonder if the reason I didn't see the hate in her eyes is because none was there, if she was right and there really was something acting through her, possibly even God. At first I thought it was just a defense mechanism, a way for her to hide from what she had done without taking responsibility. But damn it I can read those eyes, better than anyone, and I saw no hate. Saw none of what I have seen in myself in similar moments. Had there been any emotion, just one little emotion, sadness, anger, fear, anything, I could accept the defense mechanism idea and just go on with my life. But instead there was nothing, and here I am at three in the morning, lying awake and wondering about things that I have been certain of for the better part of my life. I would talk to her if I could. Find out what she thinks, because she knows me better than anyone else, sometimes I'm convinced better than I know myself. Maybe I will one day be able to discuss it with her. For now I just can't figure out how to tell Scully that I wonder. end author's notes: This is my first story, please let me know what you think.