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Distribution: Kimpa, Enigmatic Dr, Ephemeral and Gossamer;
anyone else, just ask me.
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Spoilers: Pusher
Keywords: MSR, UST
Classification: Vignette
Summary: The encounter with Robert Patrick Modell makes
both agents think about what might have happened.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. They mostly
belong to the actors who portray them, but Chris Carter
created them, and Ten Thirteen and Fox Broadcasting own
the rights. I mean no infringement, and I'm not making
any profit from them.
Notes: This is part of a larger multi-author work, "Oooh
Baby!" It's a collaboration of several fine authors in
honor of Char Chaffin's birthday, conceived and organized
by garrull. Look for it at atxc and Ephemeral!
=====
Out of Body, Out of Mind
by ML
I damn near killed Scully today.
I don't mean that I could have killed her, like I was pissed
at her or something. I sat with a gun trained on her, and I
almost pulled the trigger.
One lucky thing happened. One: the gun was pointed at Modell
when I pulled the trigger, not at her.
Not at her, thank God.
I'm sitting in the dark in my apartment, reliving the events
of the day in glorious Technicolor inside my head.
Scene One: the look on Scully's face as I suit up. She's
twisting her hands together, looking anywhere but at me. I
can't look at anything *but* her, even as I listen to the
instructions from Lieutenant Brophy.
I make a feeble joke. We all recognize it for the lame
thing it is, and that it's failing its purpose miserably.
I kneel in front of Scully and take her hands. I place my
gun in them, and look at her, trying to tell her with my
eyes the things that I haven't ever been able to express
out loud. I trust you. I'll come back to you. I love
you.
It's funny how often I imagine saying those words under
the most adverse circumstances, but when it comes right
down to it, I can't do it. I tell myself, wait until
later, tell her afterward, not in extremis like this.
And then I never do.
Here's what I wanted to do: Lay my head in her hands,
there in her lap. I wanted her to stroke my hair. I
wanted to say, "Baby, everything's going to be okay."
I call her Baby in my head. Never out loud, though. It's
another one of those things I tell myself I'll have the
right to do one day.
I wanted to kiss her. I admit it. It's not the first time
I've felt that way, and the feeling gets stronger all the
time. But I'm not so inclined to fight it off the way I
fought Modell. No, I think being under Scully's thrall
is something I could live with.
Next scene: the walk through the hospital, with Scully's
voice in my ear. It's comforting; almost like having her
with me. I feel like I'm in two places at once: watching
on the monitor in the van, and walking through the halls
in the hospital.
Then, last act. There's Modell, there's me ... and there's
Scully. Why did she come? Suddenly I'm very, very scared.
I'm feel like I'm trapped in tar. I will myself to move,
but I can't. I see the scene through my own eyes and from
somewhere outside my body: three puppet figures in a
hospital diorama, frozen in place. I can hear Scully's
voice, pleading with me, but as much as I want to obey her,
Modell has a hold on me. He's inside my head, and he's
strong. Part of me notes how different it is than having
Scully in my head. Her voice grounded me, guided me.
Modell's is pushing and pulling me, trying to make me bend
to his will. While I would willingly follow Scully's voice
anywhere, I'm fighting Modell with everything I've got.
And I'm afraid he's winning.
But he can't fight two of us at once. I might not be able
to do as Scully asks me, but I can refuse to do what Modell
asks me. Instead, as I see the tear trickle down Scully's
face, I struggle to turn the gun away from her. I tell her
to run. I hear her anguished cry as I pull the trigger.
The images shatter; with the sound of the alarm, Modell's
hold is broken, and for the next several seconds I don't
know what I'm doing. When I do, I can't face Scully. I
hand her the gun, but turn away from her.
I know we both went through debriefing but I either don't
remember it or I blocked it. I think I answered "I don't
know" to a lot of it. Finally, they let us go. Before I
leave the hospital, I pay a visit to Modell.
Scully's touch saves me as I stand there, contemplating the
man who nearly cost me Scully's life. She tried to get me
to leave with her.
I couldn't get away from her fast enough, as though my mere
presence was a danger to her. I'm not sure she understood,
and I sure couldn't tell her.
Now, I lean back and contemplate my sorry existence. What
does it say about me that I found it easier to face Modell
than to face her?
I wonder what Scully's doing right now? Part of me hopes
she's writing her request for transfer. Most of me wishes
she were here.
There are so many reasons why I shouldn't feel this way, and
why I should never even contemplate anything other than a
professional relationship with Scully. I just keep telling
myself that; maybe I'll convince myself one of these days.
I've got to get Modell and the day out of my head. I turn
on the TV and start clicking the remote, looking for any
distraction at all.
x-x-x-x
I almost lost Mulder today. It's not the first time I've
been faced with that possibility, but usually I'm facing
it after the fact. Usually when the danger is passed and
I'm hovering over his hospital bed, torn between anger at
him and relief that once again he's cheated death.
But this time, I had to let him walk right into it, and
there was nothing I could do about it.
I shouldn't be leaving Mulder alone right now. I probably
shouldn't have let him drive home, but he insisted he was
fine.
I'm not fine, though I certainly can't admit that to Mulder.
He already feels bad enough without me adding to his burden.
I still don't know how Modell did it, but he managed to get
to Mulder. But Mulder was too strong for Modell to control
him for long; he saved himself, and me.
I wonder if I could have prevented it, if I'd only spoken up.
If I'd had the courage to speak what was on my mind, Mulder
might have decided not to go in on his own. I couldn't do
it, though. Risks are part of the job. It's what we do.
It's why I'm alone right now. I'm having inappropriate
thoughts about my partner, and if I allow them free rein,
it could make working with him impossible.
Not because Mulder would be awkward or uncomfortable with
it, but because showing my feelings could endanger him. I
saw what it did today. The way Modell was able to use me
to get to him.
"You seem awfully close to your pretty partner," he'd
insinuated over the phone. You'd think I'd be used to
hearing stuff like that by now, but hearing it from him
was chilling. "Do you play well together?"
We *work* very well together, not that it's any of your
business. We certainly brought *you* down, Modell, though
I'm not finding that very comforting right now.
It was nearly impossible to let Mulder enter the hospital
on his own. I could barely look at him while he suited up.
I was having too hard a time struggling with myself, with
the feelings that were threatening to swamp me.
I've known for a while how strong my feelings are for Mulder,
and how easy it would be to let them turn into something more
than the deep respect and friendship I have for him. But this
was the first time I've had to face the helplessness of watching
him leave me, knowing he was putting himself in harm's way.
All I could do was look at him, and place my hand over his.
He didn't say a word, but his eyes spoke to me. I could see
his own determination, and something more. What I think I
saw was my own feelings reflected back. In the space of mere
seconds, something profound was admitted and acknowledged on
both our parts.
I'm not sure we will ever be able to speak it out loud.
It was an unreal experience, getting a Mulder's-eye-view
of the hospital corridors as he searched for Modell. I was
with Mulder, but not; it was intimate, though separated by
several hundred yards of space and concrete and brick.
I don't want to think about what happened next. As soon as
the shots were fired, I was out of my seat in the van. And
when the screen went blank, I knew I had to go in after Mulder,
no matter what.
Lieutenant Brophy was all for storming in there with his SWAT
team, but I made him see, reluctantly, that the only chance I
had to save Mulder was to go in there alone.
I'll never forget the way Mulder looked, rigid with the effort
of trying to fight off Modell.
I'll never forget the shock I felt, the instant of hurt, when
he turned the gun on me, until I saw the pain in his own eyes.
The fear that he was losing the battle with Modell. I couldn't
let him. I couldn't let Modell victimize either of us.
Everything happened so fast, I'm still not sure if I reached
for the alarm first, or if Mulder turned the gun on Modell
first. I think it happened in the same instant. I think we
saved each other.
It hurt to see Mulder so devastated by what happened. He tried
to keep away from me. I wasn't about to let that happen. I
took his hand in Modell's room; it was reassuring to feel his
fingers wrap around mine for a brief instant. Once again I
tried to convey an unspoken message to him. I'm here. I won't
leave you.
I said to Mulder in the hospital, "Let's not give him another
minute of our time," but it seems to me that's exactly what
I'm doing now. I'm letting Modell come between me and Mulder,
and I won't have it.
"You're stronger than this," I told Mulder as he struggled
against Modell. Well, so am I. I won't let anything interfere
with me and my partner.
I can't stand it any more. I have to call him and make sure
he's okay. I reach for the phone but at the last minute I
pause. What am I contemplating? Am I looking to give comfort,
get comfort, or something more?
Whatever it is, I'll deal with it when the time comes. Right
now, I need to talk to my partner.
x-x-x-x
The TV is on, but I don't see it. I'm thinking about Scully,
wishing she were here, willing the phone to ring. I'm too
chickenshit to call her myself. I tell myself she's better
off without me pestering her. It doesn't keep me from wishing,
though.
I close my eyes and think about how nice it would be if she
were here, leaning against me, my arm around her.
I hear the phone ring. At first, I'm sure I'm imagining it,
and I want to say, don't bother me, I'm about to kiss Scully,
just go away. Then it filters through my thick head that
Scully isn't really here, and I grab for the phone. Before
I even pick it up, I know who it is. "Are you okay?" I hear
her concerned voice.
Here's my chance. The truth, or a noble lie? There's a long
silence as I contemplate my next step.
"Mulder, are you okay?" Scully's voice repeats.
I clear my throat, and my voice comes out with a feeble tremor,
not at all contrived. I opt for the truth, but not the whole
truth. "I'm not so good, Scully."
Silence from her end as she contemplates the unexpected answer.
"Would it help if I came over and sat with you a while?"
Yesyesyesyesyes!
"Scully, I don't want to put you out," I start to say.
Nobility appears to be winning out.
"It's no trouble," she says. "I could use a little company
myself."
Of course she could. What a jerk I am. I'm sitting here,
wallowing in my misery, forgetting that Scully had an ordeal
today, too. It was of my making, and I can't for the life of
me think why she's not running in the opposite direction, but
I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
"If you're sure," I say, still trying to give her an out.
"I'm on my way," she says.
Oh, baby. Maybe I'll take the chance and tell her what I've
been thinking about.
end.
Happy Birthday again, dear Char!