Title - Crisis of Faith (1/1)
Author - Stacey Oziel
E-Mail address - CleverGrrl@aol.com
Rating - R (there's some swearing)
Category - SA
Spoilers -Patient "X"/The Red and the Black
Keywords - Mulder/Scully friendship, Mulder/Scully UST
Summary -In "The Red and the Black," Mulder and Scully's beliefs
were shaken to the core. In coming to terms with her own fears of
a terror too unspeakable to fathom, can Scully help Mulder regain
his faith in the truth? (Rated R)

--This story completed on 04/04/98--

[Author's Note - This story evolved over several weeks as
I tried to deal with my frusteration with Mulder after
the events in PX/RatB.

Thanks to Meg, Saresha and Shannon for their peerless
editing. And Shannon, thanks for the "Pusher" idea -
it was just what the story needed.

If you like my writing, I also write a series of stories
that I call my "Soul" series. Those stories are alternate
scenarios in which Mulder and Scully finally explore their
feelings for one another, taking their relationship to the
next level. Please feel free to email me if you'd like to
read them, and I would really appreciate any comments you
have on this story as well.]

----------------------------------
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
3:52 pm

Mulder glared at Scully, and loosened his red - or was it green?
- paisley tie. He was beginning to sweat profusely in the moist,
stifling Southern heat.

He'd had it with Scully today. She'd been impossible. He didn't
know what had started her off, but she'd been unbelievably
contentious and short-tempered. As he drove them to their
motel, he was trying to get his mind off of Scully and back
onto the case.

Unfortunately, the ridiculously humid Southern air was making
concentration nearly impossible. When he'd tried to turn the
air conditioning on in the latest in an endless line of
unremarkable rental cars, it had made several ominous
sputtering noises, and coughed out a cloud of dusty,
sweltering air. That air refused to cool, and so they'd simply
shut the blasted thing off, hoping that opening the windows
would be enough to alleviate the heat trapped inside the car.
No such luck - it seemed that the air outside the car was
stickier than the air inside.

Mulder sighed, and took a slug from a bottle of spring water
he'd mooched from the sheriff's station. He was sure the heat
wasn't helping Scully's foul mood.

They had just arrived in Louisiana to pursue some leads on
a case involving three prominent businessmen missing in
the area, who'd lived within eight square miles of each other.
The local law enforcement officials panicked after receiving
such a large number of missing reports in two days, and so
they called in the FBI. One of the sheriff's deputies at the
police station they'd just come from had told them about a
swindled Creole spirit that supposedly lived in the local
swampy areas, arising every ten years to feed on the greedy
and the avaricious members of the community. Scully, of
course, was more than a little hesitant to accept that
story, but even Mulder had his doubts.

They hadn't had much luck pursuing leads today, which
Mulder had to attribute to Scully's lack of enthusiasm
about the case. Her mind was elsewhere, and any attempt
to ground it in the present provoked an evil glare from
his normally unflappable partner.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder said, trying to affect a casual,
unconcerned tone, "did you know that 'Baton Rouge' means
'red stick' in French? Or maybe it's Creole. We are in the
Bye-you," he added, affecting an exaggerated Louisiana
drawl.

Scully rolled her eyes.

Wonderful, Mulder. Go ahead and pat yourself on the back
for having a razor-sharp wit. Except for one little detail:
She's not buying it.

Glancing at her again, he tried unsuccessfully to read her
expression, and wondered if something had happened that
she was keeping from him. Suddenly, his heart leapt in his
throat, and he swallowed reflexively. What if she were sick?
What if the cancer had come back, and she was just trying to
protect him? But then just as rapidly as the thought entered
his mind, it left. Scully would tell him if something like
that were wrong. Wouldn't she?

But then, he kept things from his partner occasionally, if it
was for her own good. Of course, that was a very subjective
concept. Maybe a bit TOO subjective. He hadn't told her
about finding her ova in the laboratory right after she'd been
diagnosed with her tumor. To this day, he regretted keeping
that from her. She deserved to know. He'd owed her more than
that. But then, Scully hadn't called Mulder to tell him about
Emily right away, and later told him that she'd hung up on
him when she tried.

Mulder sighed. She couldn't be keeping anything that
enormous from him. But, what then?

He had to risk incurring her wrath if it meant getting at
the truth. He cleared his throat, and swiped a hand across his
dripping brow.

"Uh, Scully," he began, but was silenced with a withering
glance from his partner.

"What, Mulder." It wasn't a question, it was a warning. Uh-oh.

"Scully," he said again, trying to build up the nerve to plow
forward, "Is there something up with you? I mean, you've been
acting a little... distracted... today. I just wanted to make
sure there isn't anything wrong."

She sighed, and slicked her damp hair back from her glistening
forehead. I might as well just tell him the truth, Scully thought
to herself. He's asking, so he deserves the truth. Even if he
thinks I'm being childish.

"It's my necklace," she admitted tensely. "I lost it somewhere
between here and D.C."

He stared at her, incredulous. "You mean you've been in a bad
mood all day because you can't find a necklace? I'm sure it's just
on the floor of your apartment, Scully. You'll find it when you
get back." If that was all...

Scully turned on Mulder, furious. "How could you say that,
Mulder?" she exploded, and Mulder abruptly stopped the
car, startled at her outburst.

"You of all people should know how much that necklace means
to me!  Mulder, after all that you and I have been through,
after the lengths you took to guard that necklace when I was..
gone..." A look of unguarded fear and uncertainly danced
across her face, making her seem fleetingly like a lost
little girl.

Instantly, Mulder realized the enormity of his error. Oh, my
god, THAT necklace. Her cross charm, the one her mother
gave her...

The color drained from his cheeks.

He knew that she valued that necklace far more than a mere
symbol or keepsake. It was, quite literally, the embodiment of
her faith - in the truth, in God, and, yes, in him. Over the years,
all of those had been tested in the harshest manner possible, but
her faith had somehow emerged unscathed. And so had the charm as
a symbol of that faith, ever-glistening at her neck like
a glossy sentinel presiding tirelessly over her well-being.

She needed her faith more than ever now, when a tiny chip in
her neck could either kill her if removed, or lead her to
slaughter like a mindless animal.

Sometimes, this reality was more than either could stand.

He himself had guarded the tiny charm as if Scully were
ensconced within it when she'd been abducted all those
years ago. It was the only link he had with her, and he
constantly prayed that she could somehow sense that link,
wherever she was. In his darkest moments of despair, that
necklace had kept him sane, and as long as he had it, he
couldn't believe she was gone. And then, she'd been
inexplicably and miraculously returned to him, and he
gave the necklace to her, saying only "I've been keeping
this for you." That simple statement hadn't been close to
adequate, yet it somehow said it all.

He wanted to kick himself when he realized how insensitive
he'd been. What a fucking jerk. Eat a humble sandwich, my
friend. And while you're at it, wash that down with some
guilt-flavored lemonade.

"Scully," was all he could say, and he dropped his gaze,
unwilling to meet her wounded eyes.

Scully immediately sensed her partner's struggle to contain the
wave of guilt that swept over him, and all anger towards him
vanished. He could always do a better job at punishing himself
than she ever could. Besides, it wasn't his fault she lost the
damn thing, she admitted to herself.

Scully took his hand, and Mulder stared at her in grateful
surprise.

She took a deep breath. "Mulder, it's just an object. A necklace.
I can get another one. The thing is, it always had sentimental
value, but it has meant more to me lately - spiritually, I mean -
than it did when I first got it. Lately, I've been thinking about...
well, about a lot of things. About my life, about my family,
and about... God."

She said the word tentatively, tasting it, her mouth shaping it
like something she had just mastered in an unfamiliar tongue.

Mulder looked at her in wonder. As he saw it, to Scully,
faith had never been about a god, or even about Catholicism
per se. It had been a secular combination of faith in her strong,
controlling father - even after he was gone - and in her work,
and in herself. God had always been a shadow overseeing the
events in her life, but not actually playing a part in controlling
or shaping them. This admission worried him a little, even if he
understood its catalyst.

"I've just been reevaluating some of my feelings about
everything in my life, Mulder. I think I just see things a little
differently now. I have more clarity," she explained, sounding
like she was trying to explain it both to Mulder and herself at
the same time.

"Scully, what things in your life do you think you need to
reevaluate?" His voice quavered, despite his best efforts to keep
it steady. His deepest fear was that she'd leave him, and the
X-Files. In that order. Oh, no, Scully. Don't say it.

When she heard his tone of voice, Scully knew exactly what
Mulder meant. Because his unspoken fear was what she had been
mulling over for days now.

What would happen if she willingly left the X-Files? She knew
it would have to end someday, possibly with one of their lives
being taken from them. But this wasn't the way it had to be.

She could just quit, simple as that. Scully was sure she could
find a job as a civilian forensic specialist. Maybe even teach
at a med school, or take up a new specialty.

But she'd grown used to having Mulder - her best friend,
she acknowledged grudgingly to herself, as well as trusted
partner - around her all the time. They weren't just partners,
they were a unit. In a way, his presence acted as a sort of drug,
always working his effect on her in his own way. It stimulated
her, made her the best person she could be. Something told her
that she had the same affect on him. But, like someone who was
used to taking a drug for a long period of time, withdrawal was
difficult. Maybe even unwise.

Why did she always have to think in medical metaphors? She
sighed. The plain fact was that she didn't know how to be
Scully without him.

And she knew what it felt like not to feel Mulder's presence,
physically or emotionally. It was more terrifying than she'd
ever even dreamed was possible.

Unbidden, her memory receded to the hazy surreality of
the events at Ruskin Dam in Pennsylvania. It wasn't even a
memory, per se - just a fragmented collage of fear and raw
emotion. While it had seemed clear-cut after her regression
hypnosis session with Dr. Werber, she'd later learned to doubt
those recovered memories, just as Mulder had learned to doubt
his. Scully hadn't known what to believe, and Mulder had been
as confused as she was after it was all over.

For once, Mulder didn't have blind faith to fall back on at
all, and consequently neither did she. He'd lost faith
completely. Not just in his quest, in his life's work, but
in himself.

She would never forget walking into Mulder's office after
he returned from meeting Cassandra Spender to see him
drawing a horrible face on his own newspaper picture. At
the time, Scully had made every effort to appear nonplussed.
But the truth was, this action had chilled her to the core,
truly making her fear for her partner. It was a casual,
almost thoughtless movement, but it told Scully that Mulder
had lost faith in himself entirely. Defiling your own picture
wasn't something you did if you had a shred of pride or
self-respect. That scene still haunted her, and to this
day, she would do anything for a chance to go back and
rip that picture out of his hands, as if this alone might
prevent her partner from being undermined by his own self-
doubt.

Scully had always prided herself in her strength. But
when they'd begun to investigate the mass-immolations and
Scully began to sense that she herself was beginning to
feel the "call" to gather with the other abductees, she'd
realized how much of that strength she derived from Mulder.
And then it was gone, and she had only her own shaky strength
to depend upon. By the time she began to feel the invasive
stirrings inside of her brain, Mulder had already shut
himself off to her. He'd abandoned her.

Her partner, the man she would trust with her life and
more, wouldn't even listen to what she had to say.

The unpleasant fact was that she now found herself
resenting her partner. Mulder'd been true-to-form,
not even once bringing up what had happened between
them, and so her initial resentment had compounded in
the days since then. Maybe he could forget seeing her
writhe in agony while in the throes of hypnosis, and
find it easy to just continue with his job as if
nothing had ever happened. But she sure couldn't.

They'd been tense with each other ever since. There
was an obvious distance between them that no attempts
at lightness or warmth seemed to be able to cross.
To Scully, Mulder seemed disturbingly aimless and
introverted, as if by withdrawing into himself he
could better sort out the storm of confusion and
chaos released by those events.

Lately, it had occurred to her that the only way she could
think of to save them both was to nurture her own faith.
His had supported them both for so long, kept them going
through good times and bad. Maybe it was her turn.

"Scully?" Mulder's hands waved in front of her eyes, and she
blinked distractedly.

"Oh, sorry. What were you saying?" Scully focused on Mulder's
face, which she noted absently was shiny with perspiration.
Suddenly, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his temple,
and she reached affectionately to wipe it from her partner's
cheek with her thumb.

This gesture broke the tension between them, and they both
grinned warily. Mulder couldn't help thinking that this rare
smile transformed her face like a rainbow breaking through
a dark horizon.

"Mulder, let's get out of here. There's a nice growth of trees over
there - why don't we take advantage of them instead of staying in
this sweltering car?"

"I couldn't agree more," Mulder nodded, and opened his door to
a cooling breeze. This was a good sign. Maybe she'd forget about
losing the necklace, and he could stop worrying about her.

That's just about all I've been doing lately, Mulder thought.

I need a vacation.

*          *            *

The agents strolled to the grove of tall, sturdy trees, and sat
down on a log bordering a pond. They sat quietly, listening to
some frogs - or was it crickets? - chirping contentedly in
harmony.

"Mulder, do you ever think about the reason all of this exists?
I mean, what the nature of life is, if it means anything at all.
Why we're so special that complete strangers make it their
mission in life to try to destroy us and the people we care
about." Her dry tone of voice told him that, despite the
dark subject matter, she wasn't being fully serious.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Scully, I never would have
pegged you as a Nihilist."

"If you mean that I think life has no purpose, that's not it. I
guess I'm more of an Existentialist - I feel that we are ultimately
entirely responsible for our lot in life. Because we make our
own choices, we're free; but at the same time, because we freely
choose, we are completely responsible for whatever happens
to us in our lifetime. It just makes me wonder if things could
have been... different."

Which things, Scully? Mulder was getting a sinking feeling in
the pit of his stomach from the direction this conversation was
taking, but he decided to not read too much into her musings
-for his own good. Mulder chewed on  his thumb, thinking.

"I know what you're getting at. I think it was Kierkegaard who
said, 'We are condemned to be free.' But that's a bleak attitude
for anyone - especially you - to have, Scully."

He sighed, and flicked off a leaf that had fallen on his leg.
The Existentialists also spoke about the difficulty or near
impossibility of maintaining satisfactory relationships with
others, and the alienation of the individual from society.
The irony was not lost on him.

Scully looked at him. "When I was little, I used to hate
Sunday school. All those teachers trying to tell me that
Adam used his rib to make Eve, that the world was
created in a week. I wanted to argue with the teachers
that this was impossible, and that to make Adam, there
had to have been a woman BEFORE Eve, in order to
give birth to him," she acknowledged, smiling at the
memory.

"Hmm. When you put it that way, maybe we should
consider the birth of Eve the first X-File ever," he
suggested mock-seriously. "Remind me to open a
file on it when we get back to D.C."

Scully shot him a look of exasperation. "But, seriously,
Mulder, there was part of Catholicism I loved - the part
where they tell you that we're all here for a reason. We
suffer in this lifetime, but if we do what we're supposed to
and love God, we'll go to heaven. And when our loved
ones pass on, they'll be in a better place than the one they
left. I really wanted to believe that," she recalled wistfully.

Mulder looked thoughtful. "Scully, have I ever told
you that I was born Jewish?"

Scully was surprised. "No. I had no idea." She was amused
that he hadn't told her this about himself, even after having
known her for five-years-and-counting. Especially when she
thought back to that case involving the Golem and the Hasidic
Jews in New York. Mulder hadn't said a thing to her or to the
scholar they'd consulted about his being Jewish. Maybe it
wasn't a huge part of his identity. But still... What else
could her partner be hiding from her after all this time? She
smirked, as she imagined someday finding out that Mulder had
had a sex-change operation before joining the FBI. Foxette
Mulder. She had to bite her lip to suppress a laugh at this
bizarre thought.

"Religion was never really a big part of my life, though,
even as I was growing up," Mulder mused. "I was mostly
raised as an agnostic, which is what my father became,
probably as a result of what he saw in his line of work,"
Mulder added without a trace of irony.

He paused to take a gulp from a bottle of spring water
they'd brought from the car, and passed it to Scully, who
gratefully took a drink.

"In a way," Mulder continued, "I envy you your Catholic
upbringing. At least you were raised with a rigorous,
structured framework of beliefs. I can imagine that it
would allow you to feel confident in your place in the
universe, maybe justifying all the suffering that occurs
in this world. The Jewish people suffer, but there's no
'why' involved. Our fates are taken out of our hands. You
either get inscribed in the 'Book of Life' each year, or you
don't, and then you die. It's hard for me to isolate an
objective meaning to life, at least in religion."

"But that's the difficulty for me, too, Mulder. Catholicism
does have a comfortable structure and rules. But there
were so many contradictions for me as a kid growing up
that I felt like abandoning my faith completely. In my
religion, you're warned that if you do certain things and
don't repent, you'll go to hell. But what about other sects
of Christianity that have different rules? Do they automatically
go to hell because they condone birth control and allow sex
out of wedlock? And then there's the ages-old paradox that I
could never figure out - A god who cares about his children,
but allows them to suffer?"

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?"  What good was religion at all if it
didn't explain why innocent people were killed everyday, while
their murderers went free? Christ, what a world.

"No, it doesn't seem fair at all. That contradiction led me to
wonder if the only real reason humanity exists is scientific:
organic molecules combining in a primordial soup, creating
the first single-cell organisms, which eons later evolved into
primates, then us.
You know, Mulder, I think that this paradox might have even
planted the seed for my wanting to become a scientist. That way,
I'd see if there were really any objective reason for all of
this...," she gestured broadly, indicating their surroundings,
"...to exist. I don't know. Maybe the rational answer IS the
correct one - we're here only as a by-product of the immutable
laws of nature at work."

Mulder shook his head, and made a "tsk tsk" sound with his
tongue. "Scully, you should know by now that the rational
answer isn't always the correct one."

Scully looked at him, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "True.
But that didn't stop me from wondering if anything really
happened for a reason."

Mulder frowned, a shadow passing over his face. "When
I was a little kid, after Samantha had been taken, I used to
wonder the same thing," he admitted, sounding suddenly
very far away. "Dad used to tell me that everything
happened for a reason. I found that very hard to believe."
How cruelly ironic that the 'reason' she'd been taken originated
with a complicated series of choices indirectly attributable to
Dear Old Dad.

God damn him for making me feel this way.

He turned away, but not before Scully could catch a glimpse
of the undiluted sadness in his eyes. She reached out to put
her hand over his, and to her surprise, he flinched.

"Scully, the same thoughts went through my head when you
were taken."

When Scully heard the unexpected hoarseness in his voice,
she could sense the effort it must have been for her partner
to admit this to her.

Mulder swallowed, trying not to lose control.

Oh, God, Scully. You could never understand. You didn't
see me collapse on the floor of my ransacked apartment,
crying like a baby while I watched the sun come up on what
I was sure was the last day of your life. At that moment,
life was utterly devoid of purpose. It was the Absolute Zero
of my existence.

He turned to her, his expression now stony and mask-like.
Scully marveled at the quickness of the change, but she knew
that Mulder kept his expression carefully neutral only when the
feelings inside of him were nearly out of his control. He didn't
want her to know how the experience had affected him, she
realized. Scully gave his hand a squeeze.

"I know," Scully said softly.

"Do you?" he returned bitterly. "I'm not so sure."

She stared at him, stung by his selfishness. Her face turned
milky-white, and her back stiffened.

Dammit, Mulder! Now is NOT the time to feel sorry for
yourself, not when there's so much we need to lay bare
between the two of us.

"Mulder, I lost my father. And my sister." Scully's voice shook
with barely-checked emotion. "Don't you think I began to
question the point of our lives? The reason we keep doing
this? To our families, and ourselves?"

She regretted saying this instantly, as she saw Mulder flinch.

"Scully, I... It's not the same thing." Mulder sighed, and shook
his head. "When you were abducted, I questioned the meaning
of my life and the reasons for my quest. Because, I realized...
I knew that there was no point to my life - to ANYTHING
- without you."

Time seemed to stop for Scully as she processed what
he had just said.

Scully swallowed, and held her breath, but couldn't stop the
tears from spilling down her cheeks. Suddenly, she understood.
His feelings towards her had nothing to do with the agonizing
futility of what had happened to their loved ones, nor the pain
of losing his sister.

Oh, my God, she thought, her head spinning. I have been
waiting for Mulder to admit how much I mean to him for I-
don't-know-how-long. But I thought I was fooling myself.
He can be so self-absorbed, and took me for granted, never
appreciating what I brought to the partnership. The way he
sometimes orders me around... but to hear him say it in his
own words... I can't believe it. Could he really feel the
same way about me that I feel about him? Will I be as candid
in admitting my own feelings when the moment comes?

When Scully felt that she had her emotions under control,
she turned to look at her partner, and was taken aback by
what she saw.

Mulder was crying, too.

Scully could count on one hand the number of times she'd
seen him cry, and they'd been at times of extreme emotional
stress and strain. She remembered hearing him cry brokenly
after his father was killed, and also when his mother was close
to dying from a stroke. Rarely, he cried if he was in some
altered state of consciousness, his defenses down and soul laid
bare. Needless to say, seeing Mulder blink tears from his eyes
at this moment was scaring her very badly.

Scully wondered, troubled, what exactly was going on inside
that head of his. She knew Mulder well enough to understand
that his hardened expression concealed a torrent of emotion,
even though the only outward indication of this was a lone
tear streaking down his cheek. He allowed it to fall, but
impatiently wiped it away with the back of his hand. The
muscles in his jaw worked mightily as he struggled not to
let her see him cry.

You may have seen me naked, Scully. You may know me
better, inside and out, than anyone else on this planet.
But I can't let you see me like this. It's a different sort
of nakedness, and I can't let you see it. I'm too afraid of
what you may discover.

I'm so scared, Scully.

They faced each other like this for some time, although
neither was able to look the other in the eye.

"Mulder, I..." Scully began, then turned away. How could she
communicate all of the conflicting emotions battling it out
inside of her? On one hand, she wanted to tell him how
much he meant to her. That he was her protector, her friend,
and her savior, all rolled into one. That she couldn't imagine
living without him either.

At the same time, she knew that for their relationship to
continue to grow and evolve, she had to tell him how much
his selfish denial had hurt her, just when she'd needed
him most. Which would it be? Did one admission necessarily
preclude the other?

"Mulder," she began haltingly, "when you decided that everything
you knew, everything you'd believed so eagerly and willingly,
was a lie, and when you gave up trying to find your sister, I
felt like I'd lost you, even though you were sitting right in
front of me. I lost a part of myself, Mulder. You didn't even
believe that the chip in my neck was a danger to me, even though
I felt it working constantly, telling me to leave... And no matter
what I did, no matter how hard I tried to resist... " She paused
to wipe away an errant tear. "I couldn't tell you what was happening
because you refused to believe..."

"Scully, I didn't know," he interrupted. "I had no idea... When
we found you in the woods outside of Ruskin Dam, and I thought
you might have been killed, I nearly went out of my mind. But
I still had no idea what had caused you to go there. Neither
did you! You couldn't remember anything about what had happened.
How, exactly, did I fail you?" He seemed gently puzzled,
as if something were blocking him from fully absorbing what
she was trying to communicate.

This isn't working, Scully thought frantically. He's not listening
to what I'm saying. He's not hearing me. I've got to try something
else. I've got to wound him in order to save him.

Now or never, Dana.

"Mulder," she said, her gaze immobilizing him with its intensity,
"you weren't there for me when I needed you. I'm asking you to
understand that. I was trying to tell you in the office, when that
informant of yours called you, but you weren't hearing me."

She could feel herself start to shake with terror as her memory
transplanted her back to that day. Scully could feel the inexplicable
urge to leave; She could see Mulder's expression of blithe denial
of her situation. She wanted to physically push him if that would
get him to see the experience for what it really was.

"Scully, you're stronger than that. If there's anyone that could
resist the effect that chip was having, it's you."

Scully stared at him. Suddenly, she saw the key to unlocking him
>from his cage of self-doubt and denial. It was the only way...

"When Robert Modell put that gun in your hand in the hospital,
played that God-damned game of Russian Roulette with you, could
you resist? Did you?" She didn't wait for a response. "No, Mulder.
You pulled the trigger. If the bullet had been in the chamber,
you would have killed yourself. And when Modell told you to
shoot me, you nearly did. I think it's safe to say that if I
hadn't pulled the fire alarm, you very well may have killed me."

Mulder flinched as if she'd slapped him, and paled.

Her voice grew in intensity as she saw her chance.

"I never blamed you, Mulder. You want to know why? Because
I understood that no human being could possibly resist Modell's
influence. He had the ability to kill people with a thought,
Mulder. A single thought. I understood that even the formidable Fox
Mulder couldn't withstand Modell's "push." And I supported you
when I could tell that you blamed yourself for nearly shooting me.
I was there for you."

Her voice broke, but she pushed on, moving in for the final blow.

"Well, Mulder, am I somehow less human than you are? Does not
being able to withstand a "push" from the chip in my neck
make me weak? A less-than-perfect person? Well, I am not perfect,
Mulder." Her lower lip started to tremble. Keep going, Dana.
You're almost there. "I needed you to support me. I needed you
to tell me that it was okay to be weak. But you weren't hearing
me."

Mulder started to back away from her in mute horror.

Scully's mind threatened to block access to the pain, but she forced
herself to relive it. "That chip, made by I-don't-care-who, was telling
me to go to... to that place, to get barbecued with the rest of them.
And I tried to tell you, Mulder, I tried..." She broke down in tears
as the desperation of that moment began to overtake her once more.
"Oh, God," she choked. The pain was well worth it if Mulder would
only hear her words...

At first, his defenses wouldn't allow Mulder to comprehend. But little
by little, the truth of what she was saying seeped through the cracks
of his denial. He just couldn't deny her words any longer. Deep inside
of himself, Mulder knew she was right. He'd failed her. He abandoned
her when she most needed him, fearing that his willingness to believe
so utterly had caused her cancer and the deaths of his father and her
sister. But when she was trying to tell him what was happening to her,
he'd tried to protect himself from the overpowering guilt by refusing
to believe the lie. As Krycek had told him when he'd broken into his
apartment, his head was stuck in the sand. He'd sacrificed Scully to
fear and denial.

Oh, Scully. After all that you've given up for me, after all we've
been through, how could I do that to you? You could have died at
Ruskin Dam. You almost did. And it would have been my fault,
and mine alone...

"Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. Scully... I don't... I..." Mulder sounded
utterly broken. He buried his head in his hands, unable to face her.

No, Scully told herself.  I am not going to let this happen.
Not while I'm standing here and can do something about it.

"Dammit, Mulder, I will not sit here and let you do this to yourself,"
she shouted, pulling his hands away from his face. "Why do you try
to take the whole world on your shoulders? Not everything is your
fault. Do you hear what I'm saying? It wasn't your fault that I got
cancer. Your father's death isn't your fault. Missy's death wasn't
your fault... or mine! And you didn't put this chip in my neck!"

With her hand under his chin, she turned his face towards her own,
trying futilely to control the shaking that was enveloping her small
frame. She had to get through to him.

"If there's one thing I've been trying to tell you in the last
hour, it's that we control our own destinies. God may look after
us, but we are the purveyors of our own souls. That's what I've
discovered, and it's helped me figure out a lot of things.
No matter which way you look at it, I came to join the X-Files
because that was the choice I made. And I stuck with it, again,
as a choice. I chose YOU, Mulder. I followed you - willingly -
as an act of faith. And I've never been sorry, Mulder. Do you
hear me? Not once. Not at Ruskin Dam, and not now."

Mulder wanted to believe her more than anything, but the heavy
burden of guilt he carried couldn't be cast off so easily. How did
she know? How could Scully know that was what he'd feared most
- that he'd endangered the life of the person that meant more to
him than anything else on earth? That, when Scully had been
assigned to him, he'd put her in danger for his own selfish
motives? That all this was happening to his best friend
because of him alone?

The enemy isn't some nameless face in the dark this time, Scully.
I am the enemy. I am a traitor to you every moment I am around
you.

Scully's voice broke into his self-destructive thoughts. "Look
at me, Mulder. Look at me! I want you to know how much you mean
to me. I'm here because I want to be, Mulder. YOU are why I'm
still here!"

Mulder forced himself to look into her eyes, to face his
ultimate fear. Was she telling the truth? He wanted to see
her hesitate, wanted to know that she was telling him
this out of pure selflessness, not because it was true.
Anything to protect her. Anything to keep her safe. But what
he saw was the pure, clear certainty that reaffirmed
everything Scully had just told him. Her eyes reached out to
him, strengthening him, reassuring him... and validating his
reason for being.

As he looked into her sea-green eyes, his face crumpled, the
mask of denial falling away entirely. Mulder began to sob,
and he threw himself into Scully's arms.

"You're more than my partner," Scully told him quietly
as she held him close to her. "You are the reason I am
who I am. I need you, Mulder. And I've never needed
anyone."

Do you know what it took for me to tell you this? Do
you understand how much you mean to me, you big,
adorable, insensitive, self-destructive son-of-a-bitch?

Scully tried desperately to be the rock of support he
needed at that moment. She tried so hard. But soon enough,
she found herself choking back tears, the tide of emotion
emanating from Mulder overwhelming her and provoking
a powerful reaction of her own.

He understood what she was saying. He believed her. She
was jubilantly aware that Mulder was back. For once, it
was HER faith that had guided them through the darkness
of fear, deflecting the anguish of self-defeat.

Mulder sobbed convulsively, gripping Scully as if she were
the only thing holding him upright. Scully, however, cried
silently, trying as best she could not to lose control
over her emotions for Mulder's sake. Stripping away his
defenses had left him more emotionally raw and vulnerable
than she'd ever seen him. With Mulder so vulnerable, it
would be a criminal self-indulgence for her to lose control
over her own emotions. He needed her strength right now
more than anything else to get him through this.

Soon, this emotional release began to sap their reserves.
Both were drenched with one another's tears, and they
started to laugh, partly from the intensity of the catharsis
and partly from giddy exhaustion. Neither had ever felt so
emotionally drained, but it was one of the more joyous
sensations either had experienced.

They sat on the log by the pond, watching the sun set over the
Louisiana bayou. Mulder put his arm around Scully, enveloping
her in his arms, and stroking Scully's hair. He thought fondly
that it was a shade that would make the sunset they were
watching burn with envy.

"We should come to Louisiana more often," Scully murmured,
and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder.

As Mulder sat watching her peaceful face glow with the fire of
the setting sun, he knew that no moment he'd ever lived through
could possibly rival this one.


-- THE END --
CleverGrrl@aol.com