Compassion's Toll
by Barbara Barnett
(Barbara462@aol.com)

Summary:  A little post Oubliette vignette.
G, VA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After all the pats on the back were over, and jobs-well-done were pronounced.
It was then, and only then, did Mulder consider the more personal implications
of the case.  The implications for his partnership, his relationship with Dana
Scully.  And ultimately it was what hurt the most.

He was accustomed to Scully's rationalizations.  Her refusal against all
evidence to consider an extreme possibility.  But to have supported the theory
that Lucy Householder had been an accomplice to Wade was the...  He didn't
want to think about it.  He wanted to sleep.  Mulder was exhausted.  He always
found these cases emotionally exhausting.  Their eyes.  There was always
something about a victim's eyes that haunted him into the lonely nights of a
case.  He would forsake sleep when possible, not wanting to see them.  Their
eyes.

Other agents would distance themselves, divorce themselves from personal
connection to the victims and their loved ones.  But Mulder knew that with
that estrangement came a too-easy dismissal of nuance, feeling and insight
that could mean the difference between a quick solve or another unsolved case.
Mulder tried never to dismiss anything said by anyone involved in the case, no
matter how unlikely it seemed.  People mistook his tendency for brilliance.
He only understood it as compassion.  A compassion that eluded him in the days
following Samantha's disappearence.  A compassion that he vowed he would never
neglect to abandon -- no matter what the case.

It took a toll.  Cost him, each case, a little more.  Leaving Violent Crimes
had helped a little.  The X-files division had sparked an excitement in
Mulder.  A sense of wonder, the chase.  An exhileration when a new case was
solved.   Of course there were still the victims, but not the barrage that
accosted him in VCS.  So, the costs decreased.  He was alone in the X-files.
It suited him fine.   A loner in a lone-wolf assignment.  Then came Scully.

Mulder had become a nuisance to the powers that be, and they assigned him a
watchdog.  But the watchdog had begun to understand over the years that it was
not he who being watched that needed guarding, but the masters above.  And so
Scully chose to follow Mulder instead of pursue him, ruin him.  The loner
began to grow ucustomed to not being isolated and alone.

And it seemed to work out well, for Mulder, at least.  His solve rate improved
>from excellent to incredible.  And he had a foil to run interference when his
innate idealism threatened to overrule his keenly analytical mind.  Foil
became friend, protector, and guardian angel when the powers that be put him
in check.  Friend became undeclared love of his life, the center of his non-
work universe, when her disappearance pulled him under, threatening to drown
him, tearing his life apart.  It was when she was returned that he knew.

And that is why it hurt.  Hurt so very badly when he saw the edges of her
respect for him, her trust in him begin to fray.  The other agents assigned to
the kidnapping were easy to dismiss.  Field office agents, seeing only the
narrow path set before them.  Picking out the obvious, ignoring nuance,
details that didn't fit conventional wisdom.  But Scully, too easily, fell
onto the easy path with them.  Was that what she would be like assigned to
another division.  A well-educated technician looking only for the obvious?
Failing to read the unspoken facts clear as day in the eyes and body language
and tone of voice?  He tried hard to shake this unwelcome image of Scully.
Hating himself for his disparaging thoughts about her.

But it hurt, damn it.  Yes.  Amy's blood was on Lucy's clothing.  No one could
explain how or why.  They assumed it was because, somehow, she had been with
Amy and Carl Wade.  How could that have been when at the same moment she was
at her work and 20 witnesses saw it.

Mulder knew Lucy was a victim.  But he knew she was connected to the case.
Could help them find Amy and Wade.  But Mulder read her well.  She was not the
kind of person who could be badgered, coerced, or taunted.  She felt isolated.
Her word against what everyone thought.  It had always been that way for Lucy.
Mulder understood that.  Understood it with the understanding that could only
come from personal experience.

Scully didn't see it.  She didn't understand. She thought that Mulder saw
similarities between Lucy and Samantha.  No, not Samantha.  Similarities to
himself.  Scully had been cruel.  Blindsided him.  Attacked him and the
foundations of his case.  To attack strategy was fine.  Expected.  He did it
with equal emphasis to her theories often.  It was the process and a good
thing.  It made their solve rate unsurpassed.  But Scully had brought Samantha
into the picture, questioned his objectivity and judgement.  And once again he
was alone.  Isolated.  Fine.  As long as the case gets solved.

So he pursued it alone.  Following his best lead, Lucy.  He spoke with her
softly, trying desperately to get through to her, to break through the
fortress that surrounded her heart.  Lucy was Amy's last best hope.  She had
to care.  Why should she?  He made progress.  Helping her to talk, to open up
to him.  In a sense, Scully was right.  He couldn't help but think that
somehow, somewhere, this is how his sister wound up.  Desperate, fighting
substance abuse, alone, isolated.  They'd be about the same age.  He could
only hope that somewhere, if that was the case, that those around her would
treat her kindly and allow her some sort of dignity.

Each time he made progress, the local agents and Scully scared her off.  Sent
her running back for the hiding places in her heart.  In her soul.  He didn't
like this Scully.  He mourned her, this partner who was, above all, for the
victim.

But now the case was solved.  Wade was dead.  But so was Lucy.  And Mulder
felt responsible.  He had pushed Lucy.  Gently, but still pushed her.  But
ultimately it was, as he had told Scully, the only way to find peace.  And
tomorrow was the return to DC.  To facing Scully.  To ingoring the hurt,
repressing it and stomping upon it.  Mulder knew they should talk about it.
Deal with it.  But inwardly, he was afraid.  Afraid that the discussion would
lead to further revelations.  Further evidence that Scully no longer trusted
him.  No longer respected him, and by extension, the work.  And he wasn't
ready for it.

Mulder paced the motel room like a caged lion, glancing every so often at the
closed door seperating his room from Scully's.  On his third circuit around
the room he glanced up toward the door to see Scully standing in frame.  She
was watching him, a concerned look in her eyes.

"Mulder?  Are you OK?"
"Yeah, fine.  I'm fine."

She took the response as an invitation to enter the room.  She sat on a barrel
chair,  crossing her legs underneath her, holding Mulder's eyes with her own
as Mulder stood motionless at the opposite end of the room.

"Mulder, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry to have doubted you.  I had no right..."

"Scully, I don't care if you doubt me, my methods, my science, my
psychological technique.  It's part of the game, the chase.  It's how we solve
cases.  Its..."  Mulder looked away, not wanting to do this.  His emotions ran
a bit too close to the surface at the moment, his nerves frayed to raw.  He
scoured the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, seeking the energy, the
nerve.

"Please, Scully...I understand...I don't mind...no."  Mulder sat on the bed,
numbly looking at his hands.  He began again.  "I think I can understand when
you get concerned about my objectivity in some of our cases.  I don't even
always mind it.  I'm used to it by now.  But this case.  Scully.  It's what I
do.  What I've trained to do.  I'm a criminal psycholgist, for God's sake,
Scully.  I *do* know what the Hell I'm doing sometimes.  What you did...what
you helped them do...was to subvert...Scully, you can believe what you want to
believe.  Follow whomever you want to follow.  Give credibility to whosever
lead you wish to pursue.  But don't-ever-accuse-me-of..."  Mulder stopped.
Not wanting to say what he felt.  His eyes closed against the anger building
inside.  The frustration.  He knew she was trying to apologize.

"Mulder."  Her eyes were filled with tears, as she understood what she had
done.  How hurt he was at her lack of faith in him and in his abilities.  She
should have known better.  Shown more imagination.  Trusted him.  But she was
tired too.  She had lost too much, sacrificed too much.  She rose and walked
over to him, taking his hands in hers, kneeling in front of him, to capture
his eyes.  "I was wrong, Mulder.  Wrong to belittle you.  Wrong to accuse you
of failing to see what was happening when you were the only one who could see
the whole picture.  I should have supported you.  Had faith in your ability,
if not your approach.  I was wrong to make it personal.  It wasn't fighting
fair."

"Scully, I don't want to stop debating, arguing.  I want you to keep
challenging me as I challenge you.  Without that we're useless.  But I felt
isolated.  Alone on this.  Without backup.  I've never felt that from you in
the three years we've worked together.  I hope I never feel that way again.
I'm pretty tired, Scully.  So, if you don't mind.."

He rose from the bed, disengaging his hands from Scully's.  Scully remained
momentarily, feeling the sudden chill left by Mulder's absence.  "Goodnight,
Mulder."   She tried a weak grin.  He looked at her with sad eyes.

"Good night."

Healing would not come soon.


end.