Author’s Notes: Circa 1999, beta-ed by my buddy Kat -- the usual kow-tows and CasualWear!Skinners.
Spoilers:
One Son, I guess
Classification:
V, A
Summary:
Scully’s had it. And hell hath no fury
like a Scully scorned.
Disclaimer:
Still not mine, oddly enough.
Scully
Scorned
By: Hayseed ([email protected])
It was Thursday.
An awful, horrible, terrible Thursday.
One of those Thursdays where everything goes wrong. When --
You
get the idea.
But
the crowning event of this particular Thursday-from-hell was the fact that it
was already 10 PM, Dana Scully was still at work, and she couldn’t see any sign
that she was leaving any time soon.
Not
only this, but she was mad. Furious.
Ready to shoot Mulder and hide his body where not even the little grey
men would find him.
She
was glad to have the X-Files back.
Honest.
Scully
loved her job... all of it, prison stays and frustrating lack of answers to her
growing number of questions notwithstanding.
It only made the search more challenging.
But
if Fox Mulder gave her that smug little “You were wrong” look and shoved
another report written by Diana Fowley in her face...
Let’s
just say she would no longer consider herself responsible for her actions and
that no court would convict her either.
It
wasn’t that she had anything against Fowley personally -- well, she did, but
Scully wasn’t going to be so unprofessional as to let personal feelings cloud
her judgment on this matter. It wasn’t
even Mulder’s opinion of Fowley that concerned her... well, that wasn’t
entirely true. It was definitely
Mulder’s opinion that was her primary concern.
It
was that every time he read one of Fowley’s reports to Scully, telling her how
wonderful an investigator Fowley was and how well she had explored the extreme
possibilities, he was all but saying, “I don’t trust you or your abilities, if
you even have them to begin with.”
Mulder’s apparent blindness to a woman that was obviously using him, and
only because Scully herself held him back to the point where he had to seek out
a fellow believer.
But
on a rational level, Scully knew Mulder had a lot of faith in her and her
work. But she had to wonder at faith
that seemed to fly out the window whenever someone—or something—else came on
the scene.
So
when Mulder fished out a twenty fifth, or sixth, report and prefaced his
summary with, “This is great. Diana
says --” something snapped.
“Dammit,
Mulder, I don’t care what your Diana
said. Let’s just finish this and go,
all right?” Scully said brusquely, not trusting herself to say much more.
Mulder
was somewhat taken aback. “Sure, fine,
whatever,” he mumbled in a slightly sarcastic tone. A voice whispered in the back of his mind, telling him that was
probably a very bad thing to say.
Scully’s
eyes widened. How dare he throw that back in her face? “Selfish bastard,” she muttered, so softly that he didn’t
hear. She said nothing else, preferring
instead just to finish her work and go home.
The
office was silent for a few moments, except for the rustling of paper as the
agents shuffled through files.
Then,
“I’m sorry,” was whispered very softly.
Scully
chose not to answer.
“I
am,” the small voice said, gaining volume.
“If I’d known that Diana bothered you so much, I wouldn’t have asked you
to help me sort through files. I’m
sorry.”
Scully
felt her mouth fall open in shock, shaking her head slowly. “Jesus, Mulder, you really don’t understand,
do you?”
Mulder
raised his head, meeting her eyes. And
sure enough, she could see genuine confusion in the depths. “No, I guess I don’t. I don’t understand what can bother you so
much about a woman you haven’t even taken the time to get to know. Instead, you choose to condemn her and dig
up evidence -- rather inconclusive, I might add -- to try to bring me
along. No, Scully, I don’t get
it.” Anger was slowly replacing the
confusion.
Throughout
Mulder’s speech, Scully’s fury had doubled, then trebled, and she could hold it
in no longer. “Dammit, how obtuse are
you?” she shouted. “It’s not
Diana! I don’t give a rat’s ass about
whether she lives or dies. She’s not my
concern. But you are.”
She
knew he had to be holding back no small degree of fury at her pronouncement on
her lack of regard toward Fowley’s life when he merely said, “Scully, what are
you talking about?” In a calm, rational
voice, even.
“It’s
you, Mulder! You’re the one who’s bothering me at the
moment.” She, however, was not in the
mood to hold back any fury. Or even to
sound particularly rational.
Mulder
was quiet for a moment. Then, “I’m
sorry to bother you, Scully,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “I’ll try to avoid it in the future.”
“No
you don’t,” Scully practically screamed.
“You’re not getting out of this.”
“Who
said I was –"
“Shut
up, Mulder. Listen to me, for once in
your life.”
Mulder
saw the predatory gleam in Scully’s eyes and nodded mutely.
“This
has been building for a very long time.
You know how I told you that you don’t trust me?”
He
opened his mouth as if to protest and then shut it abruptly.
“You
don’t. And this --“ she said, waving
her hand about the office in general, “this is proof. We’ve been here for over sixteen hours, and all you seem to be
able to talk about is how wonderfully Diana Fowley seems to have validated all
your theories and claims. What you’ve
implied, however, is how I don’t, and I’m getting really sick of it,
Mulder. Either you’re with me or you’re
not.”
“I
am!” he yelled suddenly. “Scully, I
trust you completely and totally. I’ve
told you that countless times.”
“Talk
is cheap, Mulder,” she answered tonelessly.
“And I think you just trust me because you think I’m faithful little
Scully, ready to bail you out and play Watson to your Holmes. And dammit, Mulder, I could be doing more
valuable things with my life if that’s how it’s going to be.”
Mulder
buried his face in his hands. “That’s
not what I meant it to be,” he whispered.
“I thought --“
“No
you didn’t, Mulder. You didn’t
think. All I’m asking you is to try to
find your trust in me and my abilities and to tell me if you can’t do
that. But I will find the truth in one
form or another, Mulder. And you don’t
have to be a part of that.” Scully’s
eyes were hard.
In
that moment, Mulder realized she was right.
She was fully capable of finding the truth without him.
To
be honest, that scared the hell out of him.
When
Scully saw her point had hit home, her eyes softened, and she put a soft hand
on Mulder’s shoulder. “Look, Mulder,
I’m sorry I said all that. I should
have found a better way to talk about it.”
“Don’t
apologize. You’re right,” he mumbled
into the crook of his arm. “I’m an
ass.”
“I
never said that. I just want you to
remember that we stand on equal footing here.
It’s my life, too.”
A
silence followed. One that was at once
uncomfortable for both of them, the adrenaline rush from Scully’s anger fading
and leaving her exhausted, and Mulder’s demons starting to poke their rusty
pitchforks into his brain yet again.
“Uh...
look,” Scully started awkwardly. “I’m
just gonna... uh...”
“Yeah,”
Mulder answered, knowing what she was going to say. “You need your sleep.
I’ve just got a few things to finish up here.”
“Yeah,”
Scully echoed. “I guess I’ll see you
tomorrow, then.”
“Of
course,” Mulder replied. “See you.”
“You
too.”
The
door closed softly behind Scully as both of them finally allowed the tears to
fall.