Title: Moving Against the Tide
Author: C. Charlotte
E-mail: Mulder6758@aol.com
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and all other regularly
appearing characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013
Productions and FOX. I’m just borrowing them to weave
my twisted little web.
Category: MSR, Scully/other, angst
Keywords: switching POV, alternate universe, Pre-XF
Spoilers: none
Summary:
Author’s Note: This was a response to a challenge to
describe what Scully’s life would be like if she had
been recruited for the VCS rather than the X-Files.
I don’t usually write this type of thing but I hope
everyone likes it. Feedback would be lovely. Here’s
where I insert my thankyou list: Much thankyous to
Shelly for spending multiple late night emails on this
story, and of course to Ms. Jennifer for threatening to
maim me if I didn’t finish the story.
________________________________________________
The job haunts you. The crimes haunt you. The killers
haunt you. And the ability to lose yourself in one of
their minds haunts you the most of all.
I’ve been working in the VCS for years. I’m their golden
boy, their poster child. And so scary to boot that I’ve
earned the nickname Spooky. I don’t mind so much. My
intelligence and ability to track the thought processes
of killers earns me a certain respect from colleagues and
employers alike.
They seem to be awed, and at the edges of that awe is a
type of tangible fear. You can never quite see it, but
you can always feel it. It’s a presence in itself, just
as real as the victims, and the killers I track with a
vengeance.
People have always been standoffish with me. I’ve never
really had many close friends and my relationships more than
often self destruct.
I had this friend once though, a young woman. She was unlike
anyone I’d ever met. I still haven’t met anyone who rivals her.
Her hair was the color of cinnamon, the kind peeled freshly
from the trees, and not the type you find in bottles from the
grocery stores. And her eyes, her eyes were beautiful. They
were a kind of glassy blue, like water, that turned grey in
confrontations.
I had a few of those, myself, with her. I always lost.
She came to the VCS fresh and full of life. The vibrance that
she seemed to exude made her seem much younger than her years.
It also made her quite popular with other male agents.
We became partners, much to my chagrin. I was a loner and liked
to conduct my work privately, in my own confines. I resented
the idea of having to share my ideas, or work, with a partner.
I was a selfish git, I’ll admit that.
But I won’t, can’t, and refuse to admit that what happened was
my fault.
________________________________________________
The offices of the VCS were bustling one morning in September.
All the agents were aware of what today was. Today was the
day ‘Spooky’ would be saddled with a new partner.
And everyone knew just how annoyed and angry he was with the
prospect. Not an agent had been spared of hearing at least one
of his rants.
Every single head in the bullpen swiveled as the large double
doors, located at the end of the hallway, pulled apart with a
screech and revealed a short, pretty female dressed immaculately
in a pressed black suit.
Several agents murmured excitedly to friends as she passed
and continued on her way down the hall, pausing outside of the
door marked ‘Fox Mulder, Special Agent.’.
She hesitated only slightly before switching her briefcase to
a different hand and opening the door. Several of the more nosy
agents whined as the door clicked shut behind her.
On the other side of the glass partition, Special Agent Dana
Scully looked around the cramped and cluttered space as Fox Mulder
lifted his head from beneath his desk, several files lying open
on the floor.
"Oh." he said nonchalantly and went back to his filing. "I thought
it was someone important."
"Agent Mulder," Agent Scully said, stepping forward and placing
her briefcase on an empty chair, unfazed by his attitude. "I’m
Agent Scully."
"Yes, I’m aware of who you are." His head popped up again.
"However, don’t make yourself too comfortable, you won’t be
staying for much longer."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I’m ‘spooky’, remember?" he leered at her, challenge written
clearly in his voice.
She chose her words carefully, seeming to understand that this
one sentence could potentially make or break their future
partnership. "I think you’re just misunderstood.."
He stared at her for a second, surprised by her reaction, before
breaking out of his trance and throwing a case file onto his
desk. He pointed a finger at it. "We have to be in California
by tomorrow morning. I hope you don’t have a weak stomache,
Agent Scully."
She shook her head and flipped open the file, trying to keep a
quiver out of her voice when her eyes settled on the enlarged
photos. "Repeat murders?"
He ignored her question. "I read your file, you’re a doctor.
By default, you get to do the autopsies, Agent Scully."
________________________________________________
As is obvious, our partnership didn’t quite start out on the
smoothest path imaginable. For the first few weeks, we struggled
through our cases, Scully throwing in her theories only to have
them deleted from the final references by myself.
The first time she found out I had done that, she didn’t even
blink an eye. She just sat me down and quietly explained to
me the evidence to back up the very theory I had carelessly
marked as wrong.
Being the man I was, her theory still never made it into the
final report.
Eventually, I stopped deleting her theories. It wasn’t because
I saw them as right, I doubt I even saw them as important, but I
was tired of being presented evidence every time she discovered
her own thoughts were nonexistent in our case reports.
Over time, and through several cases that were unimaginable in
their horrific nature, Scully and I became closer. We weren’t
quite friends but we weren’t just working partners any longer...
Our partnership, however, wasn’t cemented until about a year
later-on one case that took a definite turn for the worst.
________________________________________________
The first bullet knocked him to the ground. The second took
his breath away, and the third brought pain. But by the third
bullet, Scully was already at his side, kneeling down and
frantically trying to remove his tie.
The two agents who came on the stakeout with them were down
the road, running at full speed to catch up with their
suspect. "Hold on Mulder..." Scully murmured, finally
getting the tie off and throwing it aside. His shirt
quickly followed, buttons flying in all directions.
He groaned lightly as she pressed her hands down over the most
severe of the three wounds. "This was a good shirt, Scully."
he managed to gasp out.
She smiled lightly down at him as she continued to apply pressure
to his wound, and continued to watch his blood flow over her
fingers. "Just relax Mulder. Try to concentrate on your
breathing."
By that time, his eyes had closed. She stayed hunched over him
for an additional five minutes before paramedics finally arrived
and took over for a very harried Agent Scully.
The ride to the ER was perilous, Mulder crashing twice before
they finally arrived at the small town hospital, where he was
immediately rushed off to surgery to repair the damage the
three bullets had caused.
Scully spent the next few hours filling out forms, calling
superiors, and trying to calm her own frazzled nerves. She
needed to keep her head straight if only to get her partner
through this.
At that thought, she stopped and reflected. She’d never been
this close to her partner before, thinking about how she’d
need to give him all her strength in the next few days. The
thought brought a small smile to her face, though one that
was quickly replaced with tears.
________________________________________________
I still have the tiny, squiggly scars from that particular
case. They form a zigzagging line across my chest, that if
you were to connect them with a felt-tip pen would create
something akin to a lightening bolt.
Dana Scully sparked a lightening bolt in my heart that day,
as well, although I wouldn’t recognize the full effects of
that until years later.
Years later when the damage was done, and we were both
counting our losses.
The years passed slowly, although while I was living
them they seemed like a whirlwind without an end. Scully
and I grew closer, and eventually inseparable.
We dated, secretly because of FBI regulations against
inter-partnership involvements, grew closer and were
involved in several more life and death situations.
Somewhere along the line we lost ourselves and eventually
each other. We agreed to stop dating, but remained close
friends.
I still remember the exact date that Scully came in with
the most devastating news I’d heard in the last
millenium.
________________________________________________
The door burst open, revealing a flushed and smiling Agent
Scully behind it. Looking up from his desk, Mulder shot her
a somewhat stressed smile.
"New case?" she asked, beaming, as she walked forward and
sat at her desk.
"Yeah." he nodded, removing his glasses and dropping them
onto his desk as he rubbed his temples. "Why are you so
happy? Macy’s have a sale?"
"I’ll allow that to pass due to your distress over the
case." she murmured, dropping her briefcase beside her
desk and collapsing into her seat, a smile still on her lips.
"Okay, spill Scully." Mulder said with a small grin. He
hadn’t seen her this happy for years. His smile quickly
faded, however, as she held out a slender hand so he could
see the glittering diamond on her ring finger.
His forced a smile on his face and looked up at her, somewhat
mesmerized by her blissful expression. "Congratulations. Who’s
the lucky man?"
Her eyes sparkled slightly as she talked to him about her
fiance. Happiness radiated throughout every part of her body
like electricity, and she barely sat still.
"His name’s Patrick Heller."
"Patrick Heller who works about three doors down from
us?!"
With a smile, she nodded.
________________________________________________
So Scully married one of the other VCS guys. Her wedding
was beautiful, she was beautiful in her wedding dress, and
I couldn’t help but fantasize that I was the G-man marrying
her.
The fantasies quickly wore off when she returned from her
honeymoon and we started working as partners again. I guess
the early part of her marriage was happy. Eight months
later, she was taking maternity leave.
Dana Heller returned in mid May after giving birth to a little
girl they named Julianna. She had strawberry blond hair and
startling green eyes.
The first year of marriage was bliss for Scully, or rather
Heller but that just didn’t sound as good as Scully, but her
world started falling apart around her shortly after.
Julianna was killed in a car accident from which Patrick was
hospitalized for three months with severe interal injuries
and a shattered femur.
Losing her only daughter dealt a painful blow to Dana’s
heart and she took nearly half a year off work to nurse
Patrick back to health, and to mourn the loss of Julianna.
When she returned she was a shell of her former personality.
She needed support more than anything, and Patrick wasn’t
willing to supply that, choosing instead to bury himself in
his own problems.
And so, tearfully and utterly lost, she turned to me instead.
________________________________________________
"Scully..." A vexed pause. "Dana..."
"I want to be ‘Scully’ again." she sniffled.
Mulder sighed again and kneeled down beside her, holding both
her hands within his much larger one. The woman in front of
him was not the woman he’d fallen in love with. Her eyes were
missing their sparkle, her confidence didn’t radiate around
her anymore.
"I’m sorry." she murmured, wiping her eyes. "I’m being
childish."
He shook his head, gently squeezing her hand. "You’re not
being childish. You’re very brave for even coming back to
work, sweetie."
She smiled slightly at his words. "You haven’t called me
sweetie for years."
"No...I guess I haven’t."
Whisper soft. "I wish you would." She shot him a tentative
glance, crystalline tears forming in the back of her eyes and
throat. "Patrick doesn’t."
Mulder felt apprehension wash over his body. She was
sitting across from him, vulnerable and more beautiful than
ever. And sending him mixed signals. More than anything
he wanted to draw her toward him but he was afraid of the
consequences. For himself. For her.
Desire won out over common sense.
________________________________________________
We thought we were so smart. We thought that no one was
aware of our actions, our transgressions, outside of work.
‘Hey?’ we told ourselves, ‘we hid our relationship once, we
can do it again.’
It didn’t matter that Dana was married. It didn’t matter that
we were risking our jobs, and ultimately our reputations and
self worth, for a couple of nights of passion and
companionship.
What mattered was Dana. For the first week after she
returned to work, we avoided touching each other any more
than was necessary.
When she finally turned to me, confided in me, any and all
of the barriers between us were torn down. There was no
denying the unspoken wants between us.
Someone was watching, must have been watching. Why I
ever thought we were safe, I *don’t* know. My whole life
I have lived by the principle of ‘trust no one’, by the belief
that enemies abound. Scully utters the magical words, and I
forget all my senses I guess.
Nevertheless, someone was watching. That same person
must have been friends with Dana’s husband, because a few
days later he was breaking down the door to our office and
demanding an excuse, an explanation, for our supposed
actions.
From Dana’s demeanor at work, her marriage was
irreparable, and neither of them seemed to want to repair
the damage that had been done. Patrick moved out of their
home within the next week, several days after that she
worked up the courage to file for divorce papers.
Being none too pleased with the current twist of events,
Patrick set out to look for the ultimate revenge.
And found it.
________________________________________________
She looked skittish, cornered. Trapped. She shut the door
behind her and leaned against the wooden frame as Mulder
took in her distress.
Her lips were pressed together, most of the lipstick removed
by what he assumed was her gnawing on her lip out of
nervousness. Her eyes were wider than usual, and darkened
with tinges of fear and possibly anger.
"What is it?" he asked softly, though he would have much
preferred to have not known. Swallowing, she walked over
to him and laid a sheath of papers onto his desk.
She said nothing, just stood before him as he raised
trembling hands to flip through the small collection of
papers.
Inked words jumped off the page at him and mixed with the
confusion already simmering in the back of his mind.
Questionable behavior...misconduct...blatant disregard of
work ethics...involvement with co-worker.
His eyes widened as he came to the final nail in the coffin.
His head snapped up and his own shocked eyes met with his
partner’s. "We’re being called before the Board of
Conduct."
"For our actions." she nodded. "Patrick raised the
complaint."
"They can’t." He searched for the words that seemed to be
alluding him. "No disciplinary action can be taken against
us when our actions never occurred in the workplace. We
were especially careful of that, Scully."
She shrugged, a soft sigh rising from the depths of her
person. "He’s angry, and his temper rivals that of your
own. Combine that with the friends he has in high places,
and you can understand why we’re being called to the
Disciplinary Offices."
She sounded like she was giving up, accepting the
inevitable, and it scared Mulder. He’d been brought up to
fight until the end, and at the very least he planned on doing
that.
________________________________________________
I tried to convince Dana to stay after we lost our case. I
begged her to marry me, I listed the reasons why I didn’t
think I’d survive without her, and in the end I allowed her
to walk away from myself, D.C. and the FBI.
At the very least she maintained the shreds of her dignity.
Rather than fight through a long, complicated hearing that
we’d lose in the end, she confessed to her involvement with
me. Because I refused to back her story up, I kept my job.
Dana was asked to hand her badge and gun in. I remember
watching her that day, tears in her blue eyes, her head held
high, as she handed her career over to the hands of those
who felt fit to judge us.
I talked to her the night before she placed the last of her
belongings into a moving van and disappeared into the
future. She held me in her arms while I cried to her that I
was sorry for not having the guts to take the punishment I
deserved.
She forgave me as the first rays of predawn light rose into the
sky.
My brief forays into the past are interrupted as the back
door slams open and ushers in my son, a gust of wind
ruffling his mop of sandy blond hair, sandy blond hair
complete with sprinklings of dirt mixed into the strands.
His green eyes sparkle with mischief and youthfulness as he
begs me to come outside and play a game of pickup ball
with him.
I catch the ball he throws with one hand, as I close the
photo album with the other.
E N D
------
C. Charlotte
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