^^ ________ _ ______ ________ _____ / ____ / // / ____ \ / ____ / / ___ \ / / / / / // __ / / \/ / / / / / / / \/ / /___/_/ / // /__ / /____ / /___/_/ / / / ______ / / / // /__ \_____ \ -=- / / / / / / _ /\ / / / /_/ / //____ / / / / /_/ / / /___/\ / / / \ / \ / /_/ / / / /_____/ ___/ / /_/ / / / \______// / \__/ / \/ /____/ (SLADE) RELUCTANCE by Paula Graves DISCLAIMER: The characters you recognize belong to CC, 10- 13, and FOX, and I mean no infringement. Any characters you don't recognize belong to me. The snippet from "Reluctance" by Robert Frost belongs to him. Although he's not alive to sue me. This is a result of way too much time iced-in at my apartment without heat or anything remotely appetizing (when you're down to fixing Chicken Helper without the chicken, you realize you just shoulda gone shopping before the ice storm hit). I spent a lot of time reading the news groups, especially the articles about THE RIFT (and I think you all know what rift I'm talking about). I understand the reasons behind the rift, but it's about to drive me crazy, so here I go, trying to resolve it until CC does it for me. One more warning--I'm ending it on a cliffhanger, because I believe that something of this sort is how CC is going to end season three. I know his cliffhanger isn't going to be anywhere near as emotional as mine, but hey! It makes me feel better, okay? And no, there's not going to be a sequel. Just trust that our intrepid heroes get out of trouble and get back together. After all, if they don't there's no show...and no X-Files syndication...and no nifty mugs... And when, to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season? - from "Reluctance" by Robert Frost * * * * * The argument was no longer about the Pitfield case, Fox Mulder realized, staring at his partner's rigid spine. He knew his next words would be like gasoline on a fire, but he said them anyway. "Why don't you just face the fact that it wasn't human beings who abducted you, either, Scully?" Dana Scully's head whipped around, her blue eyed gaze pinning him with fury. He almost staggered from the force of the impact. "Why can't YOU face the fact that human beings are capable of heinous things? Do you think that by blaming aliens you're somehow absolving the human race of depravity? There are enough monsters around us without having to go outside this world to find them!" "You're in denial Scully. You've been in denial since you showed up in the hospital after your abduction. You ignore everything you've seen, you scoff at things I know I've seen, you treat me like I'm crazy and it's somehow your pathetic lot in life to keep me from losing it!" He was shouting at her, months of pent up anger and hurt spewing to the surface. He saw her pale face blanch pure white, saw the sudden brightness of her eyes as the filled with tears, but he couldn't hold the rage inside anymore. It was like dry heaves, painful but unstoppable. "I don't need a babysitter, Scully, I need a partner, and you're doing a damned sorry job of it!" She flinched. Physically. She stared at him a second, her mouth moving wordlessly. Then she pressed her lips together, turned slowly to pick up her trench coat and her purse, and walked from the office. The door clicked shut behind her with a hollow ring. Mulder sank into his chair, his stomach aching and his head throbbing. Rage left as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold, shivering weakness. He leaned forward, lowering his head to his hands, and tried to drive the memory of the last few moments from his mind. It's not her fault, he thought. It's mine. But no, damn it, this time it wasn't his fault. Not all of it. Not even most of it. Scully had changed. He knew all the reasons why she'd changed, but knowing didn't really help. Nothing helped. The fact was, no matter how rough he'd been just now, he'd spoken only the truth. She wasn't his partner anymore. She'd been digging her heels in against him for months, fiercely determined not to even consider the possibilities he put forth. Not that he'd ever really expected her to believe his theories. Hell, he couldn't afford for her to believe his theories--her skepticism had always kept him honest, kept him on track and in focus. But now it wasn't just his theories she didn't believe in. She didn't believe in him. * * * * * Scully had no where to go to fall apart. She knew she was under constant scrutiny, by eyes both seen and unseen. They were waiting for something to happen, some chink in the X-Files armor, something to exploit. Her fellow agents would start a whole new round of "Spooky and the Ice Queen" jokes and rumors. And the Others.... "They" were looking for any reason to separate them and shut the X-Files down. And it would be her fault. No, damn it. Not her fault. Not all of it. Mulder had been shutting her out for months, ignoring her warnings, treating her like some bad date he couldn't wait to ditch. She leaned her head back against the elevator wall, fighting the hot tears burning at the backs of her eyes. No, not a bad date. That would denote some sort of romantic attachment, and God knew there was nothing like that between them. That was the one extreme possibility Mulder hadn't seemed inclined to explore. Of course, it would have been impossible anyway. Let "them" get wind of something like that and.... And what? They'd split you up and close the X-Files? That was inevitable, now. She couldn't go back, not after the things Mulder had just said. Not knowing that he no longer respected her or trusted her--if he ever had. She suspected that maybe he hadn't. He'd once told her that he trusted only her, but he'd long since stopped acting that way. He'd ditched her to chase the ghost of his sister all over the country--Alaska, Seattle, Iowa-- As if he were ever going to find her, Scully thought bitterly. She ought to go back down to the basement and let him in on a long-overdue little truth: he wasn't going to find Samantha because Samantha was dead. Somebody had taken her 23 years ago, killed her and hid her body so well nobody would ever find her. Maybe it had been part of the conspiracy or maybe not. Didn't make any difference, because she was dead, and he wasn't ever going to find her.... The sudden, racking sob that jolted through her took her completely by surprise. Oh, God, no, don't let Samantha be dead! Please, don't let her be dead, it would kill him.... * * * * * He missed her, Mulder realized, looking across the office at her small, tidy desk. They often went for hours without interacting, each involved in his own pursuits, but he'd always been aware of her presence. Even when she was out of the office, he'd felt her, sensed that invisible cord between them. He had never known a relationship as intense and intimate in his life--not with family, not with lovers, not even with other partners. He had trusted her with not just his life but his sanity. Had. He didn't trust her now. Oh, he still trusted her with his life. She'd throw herself in front of a speeding train to save him; he knew that. But he didn't trust her with the rest. She was too closed off, too wrapped up in her own rigid denial of the truth. He couldn't trust her to trust him. She DIDN'T trust him. When had she stopped? Was it when he hadn't stopped Duane Barry from taking her? When he'd run off to Alaska without her? No, Mulder, you know when it was. It was when she had to say goodbye to her sister in a hospital morgue. She thinks it's your fault Melissa died. Just like you think it's her fault that you haven't found Samantha yet. Because she tries to hold you back. Because she talked you into trading that digital tape for her safety. He heard a low keening sound that seemed to come from far off. It wasn't until his vision blurred that he realized he was hearing his own anguished sob. * * * * * Scully got out of the elevator at the first floor and headed straight for the stairs back down to the basement. It may be over, she thought, but it's not going to be because I was a coward. She forced herself to maintain a steady, normal pace, despite the rush of adrenaline that urged her to run down the steps, two at a time, and make Mulder realize what they were doing to themselves. It's not all me, but I'm part of it. I haven't told him the truth about what I'm thinking or feeling, and I haven't listened to the things he's been trying to tell me. But that stops here. Now. At least for me. She wasn't ready to bow her head and accept the end of her friendship and partnership with Mulder. Not without a fight. She half-expected to find the door locked, but it wasn't. The knob turned easily in her trembling hand, and she strode inside, steeling herself to face him and to make him hear what she had to say. But nothing prepared her for the sight of Fox Mulder sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, sobbing like a broken child. * * * * * Mulder turned and faced Scully, torn between relief at her return and shame that she'd caught him in the throes of a grief that he'd have preferred to keep private. Her lips trembled as she fought her own tears, and he had to look Away. She crossed to his side, her warmth moving across him like a shadow. He smelled the faintest hint of fragrance, something clean and light. He heard the whisper of linen on nylon as she crouched by his desk and looked up into his lowered face. "This is what they want, Mulder. To split us up again." "I thought that's what YOU wanted, Scully." She was always so careful of her expressions, hiding them behind a porcelain mask so that people couldn't figure out what she was thinking or feeling. But her eyes--they told him everything. Her fears, her anger, her pain. Right now, they told him she was deeply sorry. "It's not what I want, Mulder. But I'm afraid." He turned to her, meeting her fearful gaze. "What are you afraid of, Scully?" Her lower lip trembled wildly. "I'm afraid of what I'll find out. About what they did to me." He was afraid, too. He didn't want to know what she'd been through, what horrors they'd subjected her to. But he was more afraid of not knowing. "Whatever they did, Scully, we'll make them pay for it, somehow." She shook her head, the sadness in her eyes making her look centuries old. "We both know they'll never pay, Mulder. The best we can hope for is to stop it from happening to someone else. To make sure they don't hurt your mom or my mom the way they hurt your father and...." "And Melissa?" His stomach clenched into a painful knot. "You know how sorry I am about Melissa, don't you, Scully? You know that I would have done anything--" "I know," she said quickly, meeting his gaze. "I wanted to blame somebody I could get my hands on Mulder, and sometimes that somebody was you, but I know that's not fair. I know that you'd have stopped it at any cost, even if it meant giving up your search for Samantha. I know that." "I would, Scully. I wish I could turn back the clock--there are so many things I'd do differently." She shook her head. "Time's a universal invariant--at least in this zip code," she added with a faint hint of a smile. "I'd like to change some things too, but we both have to face the fact that we can't change the past. The best we can hope is to face it." He didn't want to ask the next question, but he had to. "What if you find out that your abduction wasn't what you think? What if we find evidence that it wasn't all the work of humans?" "What if I find out somebody's injected me with alien DNA to see what happened?" The words squeezed between clenched teeth. "Then I guess I'll have to deal with it, won't I?" God, she was made of steel, he thought. But even steel had a breaking point, and he knew she was close to hers. He wished he could find the words to comfort her, to take some of her burden on himself. But no matter how much he longed to save her the fear and grief, it was beyond his power. This was a place she had to go alone. All he could promise was to be there when she emerged on the other side. And he made a silent vow to himself then and there. He'd be there, no matter what. She searched his face, as if looking for answers to some unspoken question. "I'm sorry I've disappointed you, Mulder. I've tried to be a good partner, but--" He put his fingers to her lips, shushing her. The touch burned him, reminding him how long it had been since they'd touched each other with any sense of tenderness or affection. Too long. "I'm sorry I said that, Scully." She shook her head. "Don't apologize for saying what you believe." "I don't believe that, Scully. Not really. I just get so frustrated. Every day we put our lives on the line in search of something that's always just out of our grasp. And it has to be that much harder on you because you have so many doubts in the first place." "But I don't doubt you, Mulder. I know you must think I do, but I don't." Her trembling voice spilled over him, first burning him, then soothing where it burned. He wanted to crush her to him, somehow bring her inside him through his skin and his bones until she dwelt in a secret place within where he could always feel her. Within her simple declaration of trust he heard so much more, a depth of commitment and fidelity he'd never known from anyone else in his entire life. He felt as if they had emerged from darkness into a warm, healing light--bloodied but still bound together in their dangerous purpose. "I trust you, Scully." There were other words he could say, words about gratitude, remorse and love, but he sensed that these were the words she needed to hear right now. "I know that you want what I want, even if we've been trying to get there on separate paths recently." "I do want you to find your sister, Mulder." She closed her small, strong hand over his forearm. "Samantha is out there, and I'm going to help you find her." He searched her eyes for doubt. For the first time in a long time, he found nothing but fierce determination. A smile of relief tugged at the corners of his lips. "I need you with me, Scully." She smiled, just a little. It was enough. "I know." She squeezed his arm, then let him go and rose to her feet. "I had some thoughts about the autopsy results on the Pitfield case, Mulder. You know I couldn't figure out why the triglycerides were so high? Well, I just remembered something from another autopsy I did a couple of years ago. Remember the Oldham case?" She sat at her desk and turned on her computer. "Let me pull up the case file...." He watched as she put on her reading glasses and started pecking at the computer keyboard, already lost in the case. And she thinks I change gears suddenly, he thought. * * * * * They left the J. Edgar Hoover Building together that evening, walking close, arms and hands brushing from time to time as they navigated the corridors leading to the parking deck. Scully noted the looks and whispers of the agents they passed. Has it been that long since we walked out of here together, as a team? she wondered. If Mulder noticed, he didn't comment. In fact, neither of them spoke at all. But the silence was comforting, a reminder of days when words between them hardly seemed necessary. For the first time in a while, Scully believed those days were within reach again. Her car was closest. He waited while she unlocked the door. "What are you doing tonight?" She looked up, surprised. "I don't know. Probably cleaning out a closet or something." He grimaced. "Gotta get a life, Scully." "What's a life?" He smiled, an honest to goodness Mulder special. It gave her a warm, squishy feeling inside. "I'm thinking about ordering a pizza and watching the Baltimore-Texas game. Wanna go halves on the pizza and see if we can pull the Orioles out of their slump?" He wasn't ready to let her out of his sight, she realized. The recent renewal of their partnership was a little TOO new. She read his thoughts so clearly because they echoed her own. "Okay. But let's watch it at my place, all right? Around seven?" He nodded, watching until she was safely buckled behind the wheel of her car before he turned and walked to his car. * * * * * The phone was ringing when Scully walked into her apartment. She was surprised that her little Pomeranian wasn't yapping wildly; he hated the sound of the phone. Where was the little mutt, anyway? She grabbed the phone, kicking off her shoes and unbuttoning her trousers. "Hello?" "Dana?" Her mother's voice sounded strained. "Mom? What's wrong?" "I just had the most terrible feeling, Dana. Like something terrible's going to happen. I know you hate when I tell you things like that, but I didn't tell you the last time I had a feeling like this and--" Her mother's voice was cut off in the middle of the sentence. Scully jiggled the disconnect button on her phone. Nothing. She couldn't get a dial tone. The hairs on the back of her neck rippled, and she went for her gun. "Don't do it, Scully." She whirled to face the speaker, her eyes wide with fear and rage. His hair was longer, no longer slicked back, FBI neat. He wore a brown leather jacket, faded jeans, and the look of a hunted animal. "I have information I think you want, Scully," Alex Krycek said. "About your abduction--and about your sister." "You son of a bitch!" She almost took the risk and went for her gun. But his next words stopped her. "Melissa's alive." * * * * * Mulder reached Scully's apartment a few minutes early. Fact was, he'd been restless ever since he watched her drive away from the parking garage at FBI headquarters. He'd come so close to losing her today, and there was still so much room for them to lose their way again. He was just glad she wanted to fight for their partnership. A few hours ago, he thought he might have seen the last of Dana Scully. He tapped at the door, waiting expectantly for the answering yaps of Scully's carnivorous little fur ball. But only silence answered him. "Scully?" he called, tapping again. No answer. He tried the doorknob. It wasn't locked, and he entered the apartment. The lights were on, but he heard no sounds to indicate she was there. He walked through the small apartment, checking each room. When he opened the door to her bedroom, he heard a soft, muffled yipping sound. He opened the closet and the sound was a little louder, though still muted. He found a large shoe box in the back of the closet, tied shut with the sash from one of Scully's bathrobes. He untied the sash and the little Pomeranian burst out of the box, snarling and yapping. Mulder fell on his backside, staring as the dog raced out into the living room, barking as if the hounds of hell were at his tail. His stomach coiling into a hard, hot fist of pain, he knew that Dana Scully had been taken from him again.