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TITLE: WINNER TAKES ALL
AUTHOR: Squeak
RATING: PG 13
SPOILERS: FTF, One Son, CHARACTER DEATH
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and FOX. They
are borrowed without permission, and no profit
is being made from this little tale. No copyright infringement is intended.
FEEDBACK: squeak@quackquack.com
Homepage
NOTES: This is not a happy story. I was a
little p.o.'d after watching "One Son", and
decided to vent my frustrations by writing
out a possible outcome of the episode. Please don't flame me!
-------------------------------------------------------
The basement of the FBI building was crowded
with storage boxes, discarded office furniture
and remnants of janitorial equipment. Assistant
Director Kersh picked his way through the maze,
following a narrow path from the base of the
stairwell. At the far end of the dimly lit room
a rectangle of light guided him forward. Reaching
his goal, he raised his hand intending to knock
on the open door when a woman's voice made him
hesitate. He withdrew into the shadows, not
wanting to interrupt. The tone of the voice made
him pause, then decide to wait for a moment before retreating upstairs.
"I'm leaving the FBI, Mulder. My mind is made up."
Dana Scully resolutely raised her face to meet her
partner full on. Her chin lifted slightly,
challenging him to say something. Not getting a
reaction, she continued. "As I've said more than
once before, without you and our work the FBI doesn't
hold the interest it used to." Mulder opened his
mouth, closed it, opened it again, then ran a hand
through his already disheveled hair. There were new
streaks of grey interspersed through the brown. He sighed.
Scully nodded curtly. "Fine." She picked up her
briefcase in one hand and stuck the other out in
front of her. If this was the way he was going
to act, then so be it. "It was a pleasure working
with you, Agent Mulder," she said in a clipped, brisk
manner. She noticed how he flinched at the emphasis
on the word "agent". There was no hint of warmth or
coldness or even familiarity in her voice. She
purposely shut down her emotions in order to do this
one last thing. Her goodbye would have sounded to the
casual observer like the parting between two brief acquaintances.
A stranger is what Mulder had felt like in the
past two weeks. He had closed her out yet again
of his life and work- her work- their work- and
she was not going to stand for it anymore. He had
accused her of taking his blind infatuation with
that Fowley bitch personally. Damn right she took
it personally. Not only had he welcomed the woman
back with open arms; he let his emotions cloud
his judgement. That wasn't an unexpected thing
with Fox Mulder, granted; but when he closed his
mind off and told her and the Lone Gunman that
they were wrong and looking for excuses to turn
him against that snake-eyed little skenk it had been surprising and painful.
Yes, Scully was jealous. She admitted that honestly
to herself. Yes, she was furious at Mulder for letting
Fowley interfere in an investigation- more than
one investigation. Either of these issues she
could have dealt with on her own, and could have
continued to work quite peacefully with her moody
partner. She had learned over the past five and
a half years how to compromise with him. Things
might have changed between them in the future,
but they would have found a way to cope.
Staying together under the present circumstances
was impossible. Mulder had wounded her too deeply
this time. He had taken the only thing she had
given him wholeheartedly and thrown it back in
her face. Years and years of getting to know each
other, understanding each other, risking everything
for each other had created a bond between
the Federal agents, a rare if not completely unique
bond. They trusted each other completely. It hadn't
been decided in so many words that they were privy
to insights and feelings known to no other living
creature, but the trust was instinctual. Mulder
had told her again and again, "You're the only one I trust."
She had believed him. She had returned his faith.
She gave him free and open access to her very being,
letting him inside when others could only watch
from an arm's length. She had learned through him
not to let others get closer, because the chance
of betrayal was always there. People who know your
innermost secrets know how to hurt you the most.She
should have known better. He had taught her as much.
He had betrayed her. The only person she had ever
given herself completely to had turned on her and
essentially laughed mockingly in her face. All she
had asked him to do was to look closely at the woman
who was so obviously toying with him, using him for
God knows what ends. Fowley belonged to that Project
that they had fought to destroy for years, and he
turned his back on their quest and- Scully nearly
choked- the woman he said he'd loved. Empty words
coming from a duplicitous man.She should have known he
never cared for her in that way. It was just words to
keep her close. He needed her, he said. In his hallway,
the last time she tried to leave, he said he needed her.
She had fallen prey to his promises, had been swayed
by the look in his eyes. She had believed it was love.
Love. He had told her that he loved her. Scully had
reason to think, on many occasions, that Mulder
loved her. Until a couple of weeks ago, she had returned
his apparent feelings. She had whispered the phrase
out loud in the dark silence of her apartment.
I love you. She had mouthed it in the car as she drove
home from work in the dusky evening. I love you. He had
said it to her out loud, urgently, hungrily, searchingly.
I love you. He had lied to her. He didn't know what love
was, much less how to show it.
Scully had berated herself for days for thinking that
she had meant something to Mulder. His refusal to
believe in her had effectively destroyed all hopes
she had harbored about their ever becoming more
than friends, more than mere lovers. Partners. Friends.
He obviously didn't want her as that anymore, either.
She was bitterly, bitterly hurt
and disappointed. That afternoon in the office of
the Lone Gunman had crushed the light out of her
life. The future was grey and dismal, and she almost
looked forward to it. Grey and dismal and bleak.
Bleak meant she didn't have to feel anything. She
didn't have to nurse the pain any more. It would
be absorbed into the grey haze, and would wrap
around her. It would be out in the open, no longer
a burden. It would coat her body, shielding those who
tried to get in. Her pain would protect her. She would
have the constant dull ache that had lodged in her
chest as a reminder of what could happen.
Words rang in her ears. Words spoken in another
lifetime, perhaps. There was hope then, affection
and hope. "Go be a doctor while you still can".
She was going to do just that. Corpses didn't have
emotions. People who cut up those unfeeling sacs
of tissue and bone couldn't have the luxury of feeling anything either.
Bodies reminded Scully of how basic and fallible
humans were. Everyone died. It was just a matter of biding your time.
Mulder made to move to take her hand. His expression
was resigned, tired. Mulder had aged dramatically
in a short time; this afternoon in the office
had brought more lines to his face than the past
two weeks combined. He searched her eyes, looking
desperately for some sign of hope, of love, anything
that would give him reason to hang on with all his
power. But there was nothing. Her blue eyes were
shuttered shut against him, the key tossed away.
Scully had closed herself off to him forever. His
hand twitched, then dropped back to his side.
There was no going back. He didn't move.
Scully finally dropped her hand and walked to the
door with dignity. She paused in the doorway and
looked back over her shoulder, needing to say something.
She wanted to end this here, now. Once she was up
the stairs, she was stepping into the grey sunlight
outside and was never looking back. Mulder was still
staring at her from the same spot on the floor. He
seemed frozen in time. Struggling, she finally said
in a low voice, "I quit. They win." Scully left.
Mulder stood in that spot for a very long time. People
moved around upstairs, full of life. He stood in an
underground tomb that had lost its only source of
illumination. Dana Scully had walked into his office
all those years ago, and had pulled him out of the
cocoon he was protectively wrapped in. She had given
him so much. "I owe you everything, Scully, and you
owe me nothing." And look at how he had repaid her.
Of course she had left- he had driven her away. He had
driven everyone away. She had just stayed longer
than most. And now she was gone, gone out of the very
same door she had arrived from.
Mulder turned slowly. He looked at the shiny new file
cabinets that held restored files. His life. Scully
had pointed out to him that his life had become her
life too. They had grown intertwined around each other
over the years, their needs and desires merging into
one goal. He had been surprised to realize that he
was not alone any more. Trust Spooky Mulder to
ruthlessly sever the bonds that held them together.
"I can't do this alone, Scully," he said to the empty room.
Mulder lowered himself into the desk chair and reached
for his wallet. Pulling it out, he removed two pictures.
One wrinkled photograph was of his little sister. He
wished he could have seen her again. At least he knew
she was safe for now. He knew what had happened to her.
He gently laid the photograph on the desk and touched
his fingertips to Samantha's smiling face. His eyes
were drawn to the second photo.
It was a picture of him and Scully at a Christmas party
several seasons ago. She had talked him into attending,
saying her date had cancelled and she didn't want to
go alone. He wondered if she was lying, grasping at
straws. He wanted her to want to spend time with him.He had looked forward
to the rare chance to spend time socially with his
partner. A friend had snapped the picture of them
sitting on a chair, her in Mulder's lap. His arms were
protectively around her, and Scully had a beautifulsmile on her face.
An innocent smile. He had fallen in love with her
that night. The thought had been there for a long time,
lurking in the recesses of his mind, darting out at
inoppertune moments. He had refused to consider it,
had not wanted to admit it. Then, that night, when
she looked up at him with a small smile, he knew.
The creature standing before him, smiling in the
light from the chandeliers, hair glowing- he knew.
He loved Dana Scully more than he had ever loved
anything else in his entire life. The intensity
of the emotion has nearly toppled him over, right
there in the ballroom. Mulder found himself mourning
suddenly the fact that he couldn't see her hair.
He saw it swing when she walked, saw it catch the
sun's rays and glow just as intently as the ball
of fire mirrored in the sky. But he wanted to see
the colour of it. Red was a lost colour- shades
of grey, muted colours blended to replace reds.
Never before had he wanted to see the unattainable
hue as much as that instant. His very being ached
for the loss, craved to see the colour that spoke of
her soul. He imagined her hair to be as warm and
fiery as her personality. It was then the camera had
appeared, and he impulsively hugged Scully to himself
and had pulled her down into a nearby chair. She had
laughed out loud in surprise and joy, and had bestowed
a sparkling smile on him. He vowed to do everything in
his power to make her smile that way all the time.
It hadn't worked out that way. He hadn't appriciated
her. Now she was gone. He was utterly, completely alone.
His love was a poison, he decided. It
destroyed its recipients in various twisted ways.
He had choked away her innocence, smothering all
that he had cherished about Scully. His darkness
had seeped through into her life, blotting out
the smiles. He had made her into an image of himself.
A void. It was never his intention to change her; he
just asked her to believe. Like him. So, she had become
him. No hope, no light. He had overstepped his bounds, and he paid the price.
He kissed the photo, then placed it beside Samantha's
snapshot. Mulder pulled the gun from the holster and
weighted the cold steel in his hands. Putting he
barrel to his temple, he clicked off the safety. He
took one last look at the photos and closed his eyes. "They win."
Kersh was sitting contemplatively behind his desk
when the faint noise echoed through the heating
system. He sat back and let his gaze wander to
the window. Twilight had fallen, and the streetlights
were blinking on one by one. Kersh thought it
was a shame the Syndicate had been all but destroyed.
They would have enjoyed the irony. Mulder had
accomplished in a matter of days what they had
been trying to do for years. He had forsaken that
which he valued most, that with which he couldn'tlive without.
--------------
The End>
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Squeak!
e-mail: squeak@quackquack.com
or Squeak_Jackson@bc.sympatico.ca
http://www.angelfire.com/bc/squeakaxfileshipper/index.html
Damn Bee!
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