Delayed Receptions

Sara B. 10/06

Scully stands next to my bed and with my ears I hear her speaking but I ignore the words and concentrate on her thoughts.  Unlike the other’s, Scully’s thoughts are linear and even.  Even in her panicked state her thoughts are easily discernable.  I see the things she’s suffered through while she was away from me.  I see the ship at the shoreline, the bug swarm and Dr. Barnes wielding a machete.  I see her escape with Amina Ngebe and the vision of the primitive, ‘some truths are not for you,’ he’d said to her.

I see other things in her mind and I feel her emotions as if they were my own.  I see Diana and I in an intimate moment in the observation room as Gibson Praise wowed the psychologist with his parlor tricks.  My countenance is so soft, almost loving.  I never knew she’d witnessed that but for some reason it doesn’t surprise me.  What does surprise me is the intense ache it caused.  This explains so much of what happened later.

I see myself telling her, nearly yelling, how trustworthy Diana is thus implying she, Scully, is not.  The vision takes on a haze that at first I don’t understand but then realize it is the dullness of disappointment and abandonment.  Scully thought I had chosen Diana over her and, in a way, I have to admit she was right.  Diana was saying all the right things and being agreeable.  It didn’t matter that she’d replaced me as head of the X-Files or that she’d omitted vital information from her report. If Scully had done that I would have vilified her but with Diana I claimed she was defending the work.  Hypocrisy thy name is Mulder.

My mind cried out to Scully as my body couldn’t, “Scully, please forgive me!”  I willed her to hear me.

I probe deeper; Frohike was sitting next to Scully as she sobbed.  From the surroundings they had to have been in a hospital hallway.  “Scully, Dana, what happened?  What did Mulder say?”

“He said he loved me.”  She turned her head and looked away.  “I know this isn’t how you’d think I’d react but… God, how do I explain it?”  She paused to gather her thoughts, “months ago I would have welcomed that from him.  It’s what I’ve wanted for so long.  But now, now it is only an insult to what could have been.  You know the way he’s acted, the way he’s…”  Scully’s voice failed her.

“The way he defers to Diana Fowley at every opportunity?” Frohike supplied and she nodded violently.

The pain in my chest as I witness this moment nearly overwhelms me.  It is a mixture of Scully’s pain and my own.  I don’t have time to digest this information when the next scene assaults my mind.

I see us at Christmas; not the visions of carnage in the haunted house, but later, at my apartment.  We’d opened our presents and were indulging ourselves with a little Eggnog Frohike had given me and talking; but mostly we just enjoyed being together, or so I thought.  I feel her apprehension and how she fought her need to flee.  Scully was afraid of me that night.  She doesn’t know if I am playing with her, trying to draw her in only to assault her later with hurt.  She wonders if I’m successful will I toss her away again and go running to Diana.  I concentrate on her vision of me and see that I’ve changed in her mind.  My visage is not as sharp or as noble as in her earlier thoughts.  It takes me a moment to realize that with each slight, with every lie, half truth and omission her view of me dims and I become less of a man and more of a shadow to her as my substance fades.  I’ve never known such deep sadness as I get from this realization.  I need to know more!

Suddenly a feeling of calm and incredible warmth is flowing over me and I see my face.  Not the blurred nearly unrecognizable face from Christmas.  No, this face, my face is bright, the features are defined and I’m smiling.  The smile involves not just my mouth but my entire face, especially my eyes, which are vivid and very green.  The feelings I’m getting are so intense and I realize this is Scully’s joy at waking up to me after she was shot in New York.  I hear her thoughts at that moment and they fill me with utter happiness, ‘I love you, Mulder.’  She didn’t say them but this was almost as good; almost.

The feelings of happiness fades quickly replaced by despair and anxiety.  Scully knows that if what she suspects turns out to be true, but if she cannot convince me, she may lose everything, the X-Files, her credibility and me.

“Guys, I‘ve been doing some digging into the background of the smoking man and came up with some interesting and disturbing things.  He’s Agent Spender’s father.”

“This is unbelievable, Agent Scully,” Byers gushed as he read the file.

“This box contains everything I found on him but there are some other documents in there that I need you to follow up on.”  She pulled a thick file from the box, “this file contains some damning evidence against Diana Fowley.  I know this is unfair to ask but I need to have you verify what is in here.  I have to know that someone is not setting her up.”

So, Scully gave Diana the benefit of a doubt.  I am ashamed of my actions and accusations.  I should have known Scully would always do the just thing no matter what the cost or who was involved, she wouldn’t know how to do otherwise.

I hear the words she spoke to me that ill fated night.  Scully and the Gunmen are telling me about what they’d discovered about Diana and I see the figure she is speaking to and I’m horrified.  Before her is this blurred form with no definite features.  It is standing resolute in its position, completely unyielding and uncompromising; it is me, though not a version me I want to recognize.  This man’s features are dulled by his disinterest and disbelief.  He offers no encouragement but maintains an air of smug superiority and dismissal.  Could this disagreeable visage really be Fox Mulder, could it be me?  Obviously in Scully’s view it is.

While I maintained my steadfast refusal to even hear Scully’s concerns I was losing her.  Oh she stayed, physically, but the essence of Scully was dissolving away and I turned a blind eye to it.  I feel the seeds of hate joining her love and they fight for dominance.

Suddenly a particularly disturbing thought flashes through my mind.   ‘Why does this surprise you, Dana?  Mulder believes in every other implausible thing, of course he would believe Diana Fowley is innocent.  He KNOWS her, it is only you he doesn’t believe in.’

I feel a searing pain as we stand before the slaughter at the airfield. Cassandra Spender is gone and I feel Scully’s mind shut down as she tries to make sense of what her eyes see.  She almost gags from the smells and bile rose in her throat. 

Scully was talking to the pathologists who were to identify the victims.  “It is imperative we locate and identify this woman,” she held up a photo and handed out facts sheet.  “Her name is Diana Fowley.  If she was among the dead I need to know immediately.”

Later I feel her relief as someone tells her, “Dr. Scully, we’ve eliminated all possible victims and Agent Fowley is not one of them.  However, we did obtain these photos of her vehicle leaving the base.  You will notice that there is a passenger in the vehicle.  Can you identify this man?”

Mulder was overwhelmed by the ferocity of Scully’s emotions.  The photo shows Diana driving away from El Rico with CGB Spender in the passenger seat.

Scully’s mind raced trying to determine what to do with this knowledge.   ‘I’ll tell Skinner and he can tell Mulder that Fowley wasn’t here.  I’ll see if I can bury these pictures, maybe the guys can help, maybe Chuck Burk – THINK damnit, think, Dana!  Mulder cannot find out, it would kill him.’  Suddenly he felt her defeat, ‘not that he’d believe me anyway.’  His own mocking voice, ‘I know her, Scully. You don't.’

“I thought you knew me too, Mulder, obviously I was wrong and I was wrong when I thought I knew you.”