From: FirePhile Date sent: Tue, 3 Mar 1998 16:23:26 EST Subject: New Story: Damaged Goods (1/1) Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, X-Files and the rest belong to 1013, CC&Co, and FOX Television Network, no copyright infringement is intended. Title: Damaged Goods Author: FirePhile Rating: PG/PG-13 Category: VA Spoilers: Up through Chinga Keywords: M/S Friendship Summary: Scully realizes her place in the game. Author's Thanks: To Kem for being a great editor and my friends for some great suggestions. Feedback: Send any and all comments to FirePhile@aol.com. I promise a quick response. Short Author's Note: This is the third in a series but can easily be read without the first two. Longer note after the story. *********** After weeks of back to back cases finally a respite. My nerves are frayed, my mind is spinning and all I really want to do is rest. This is my first weekend home in at least a month and if I spend one more minute in an airplane...well I won't be responsible for my actions. Mulder's always kept a fast pace, bouncing us from one case to another but this time I need a break. I realize how bitchy I have been lately. It does not take a genius to figure out that I have been going through the motions without caring about the outcome. On our last case, yet another ghost sighting in an abandoned house, I was tempted to pretend to be a ghost just so we could get the hell out of there. Of course, I did not do it and our findings were 'inconclusive'. Not that Mulder even noticed how I was feeling. We haven't communicated in weeks. The only thing worse than being alone with your thoughts is being alone with someone else. My last stab at getting away from work, from my life, from myself, failed miserably. After driving mindlessly for a few moments I saw the tell tale signs of crime and stumbled into a case. The last thing I was looking for was more work. That is the last time I report a crime in a small town. The local law man obviously mistook me for a roving have-badge-will-travel FBI agent. As a doctor and an agent my life has been dedicated to helping people. I cannot stand to see people in pain and try to bring all criminals to justice. So of course when Jack asked me for assistance, I could not refuse even though every inch of me wanted to say no. Besides, I never could have lived with myself if more people had died because I put my vacation above their lives. As it turns out, it did not matter what I did, the bodies kept piling up. Why is that whenever I get near a town people turn up dead? If I were a believer in voodoo I would say someone had put a curse on me. Sometimes I feel like Typhoid Mary walking into an unsuspecting village. Only people die quicker. It has happened many times before, Mulder and I ride into town in our Ford Taurus and the body count rises. A twisted version of the old west gunslinger. It would not be so bad if this only affected strangers, but even our family members and friends get in on the act. A few fellow agents refer to me as 'The Ice Queen' but I wonder if 'Angel of Death' would be more appropriate. Kevorkian could take lessons from me. I used to think Mulder's curse was exclusive to him. but it has spread to me now. I wonder why neither of us is dead yet, our curses must cancel each other out. There is a lot of evil in the world and even though I have seen a lot, there is even more to find. From serial killers who murder without a motive to angry little girls who want more popcorn, I've run the gammet. I have seen things that I would never have believed existed five years ago and still do not want to believe. But, the facts are inescapable. For months I have been more rigid than ever, trying to recapture my skepticism, to deny what I have seen and know to be true. With a single purchase I have crossed over the line between skeptic and believer and there is no turning back. A piece of paper, covered with writing, an impulsive and stupid purchase representing months of soul searching. I stashed it away in my closet and it probably will never see the light of day. I bought an "I Want To Believe" poster. I could have saved my money, Mulder would have gratefully handed his over if I had asked. After all, I know his feelings on the subject. If I had not been convinced of his skepticism before, the doll case proved it. I felt like I had slipped into bizzaro world. I thought Mulder had been unlike himself for a few months now, but this set a new prescedent for odd behavior. First of all, he is home on a weekend. Rare enough for him. I mean this is Mulder we're talking about, the man voted most likely to chase after tiny details and inconsequential cases. Of course, that was...before. Is it possible for one event to change someone so much? For one moment in time to make them doubt everything they once held as true? Perhaps that's why he has latched onto me lately. Because I am the only thing in his life he can trust. While he thinks of me as his rock, his unchanging partner, I have changed. He watches me but does not see what is happening. Claustrophobia is never far from me and Mulder's recent habit of smothering attentiveness is easily enough to drive me crazy. I have never actively sought closeness with another and I hate how he calls me constantly. I was tempted to turn my cell phone off, only I know who I am dealing with. The King of Worriers. If I were suddenly unreachable he would get it into his mind disaster had found me. The next thing I know he'd be on the next flight to Maine and then I might have had to shoot him again. So I leave my phone on and save my ammunition. I admit, I loved putting Mulder in his place. He doubted I'd be able to recognize witchcraft, hoping for me to say no, I need your help, I don't know how to find things without you, or some other expression of helplessness. He is under the impression I slept through the cases we've investigated involving witches. Is he aware I spent hours at the library gathering obscure facts and committing them to memory. So, now I drew in a breath and rattled off the results of my research. He was speechless for a few moments and from surprise fell back on reflex. When Mulder's impressed, in his shock, he falls back to sexual inneudeno. It took me a moment to realize he was giving me a compliment. He was too shocked to think of anything though, only managing a "marry me", tame by his standards. The smartass. If I told my mom I would need to know how to recognize signs of witchcraft when I became an FBI agent, she would have laughed. Not that I could have blamed her. I never could have believed it either. Now there is a good reason to keep that poster in the back of my closet away from the light of day: Mom might see it. I love Mom but she has an awful habit of telling people things I want to keep secret. Like this poster. I could easily see her mentioning it at a family gathering to amused grins. That would complete the image they have of me as "Maggie's crazy daughter." Still, it is an improvement over being referred to in hushed whispers as "Maggie's dying daughter". My thoughts always come to that these days, even though death is not imminent anymore. Sometimes I wonder what keeps me from dating, from finding someone, settling down, adopting the proverbial 2.5 children and living in a white colonial. The answer comes quickly with a finality I cannot deny. I can never have a normal life. I would be bringing more hostages into the equation and giving those nameless shadows too much hold over me. Even if I was left alone, there would always be an underlying fear. A moment of panic each time I would walk into the colonial, terrified of what might lie on the other side of the door. It's bad enough they have Emily over me, I'll be damned if I'll give them anyone else. I can see it already, one day my family would be gone and I would get a call or a note and be forced to do whatever they asked. That is why I'm still with the X-Files. I recognize it is the only chance I have of bringing these people to justice. I would not care if one of the consortium members knocked on my door right now and offered to tell me everything. The truth means little to me, all I want is for them to pay for their crimes. I'm tearing, it's hard to keep in the sobs. I've been able to put this behind me for so long, to repress it. I can't stop myself from this train of thought any longer... In this way, Mulder and I are different. He would be satisfied with the knowledge. I will only be happy when I can stop thinking of my family as bargaining chips against my soul. If I could suddenly stop worrying about what elaborate plots are trying to ensnare me. Sometimes it feels as if my role in this game is to be threatened. My feelings are manipulated, my body is taken, and all because they want to cause someone else pain and mental anguish. My feelings don't matter, my pain, my anguish. I'm used to keep Mulder in check. Or to break him, depending on their scheme. Maybe this is why Linda Bowman affected me so much. Mulder's gun was aimed at my chest. He was screaming at me, telling me I had killed her, I realized he thought I was dead. He was seeing me as Linda, the hatred and anger in his eyes shook me. I had no choice but to hold my gun on him, to try and reason with him. Not allowing myself to think about what would happen if I failed. I shot Linda and I wanted to shoot her again, and again, and again and use every gun I could find. At that moment, she was the consortium, the evil which presses in on me from all sides. The master manipulaters which have toyed with my body as a means to an end. The smoker, the englishman, the japanese doctors, the germans, the congressmen...everyone. Now I am sobbing, these memories, open wounds which haven't even started to heal. Deep breaths, deep breaths. In and out, in and out. Grab a tissue, wipe my eyes. Forget these thoughts, think of anything else. I wish QueeQueg were still around. That mobile, little ball of fur gave me something to do, someone to take care of, a listener, friend, confidant. Even his barking pulled me out of these introspective moods. QueeQueg was more helpful than Karen Kossef, at least he gave me warm, comforting licks to ease the discomfort of looking into myself. I turned off my cell phone and unplugged the cordless. Too quiet, I must turn them back on, talk to another person get away from my mind. The silence is strangling me. There's a knock at the door. I look through the peephole. It's Mulder and he's wearing a buisness suit and overcoat on the weekend. I know what this means. Repress all thoughts, calm down, calm down and answer the door. "Are you okay Scully?" "Yes, I'm fine, why?" "I was trying to get in touch with you but your cell phone was not working." "Oh, I forgot to recharge the batteries last night." The best lie I can think of at the moment. He's looking at me with concern, I must look awful. He doesn't comment. "Another case came in this morning. Three people were found dead last night at a ski resort." "That's not unusual. It's winter. People freeze all the time and it's common knowledge that there are a few cases of tree related deaths each season." "Yes, but these people were found dead from exposure to extreme heat." Damn, Mulder is starting to become blurry. I close my eyes. "Excuse me, I'll be ready in a few minutes." "Are you sure you're okay Scully?" "I got an eyelash in my eye." I blink quickly and change the subject. "Have autopsies been performed already?" Please don't push, I can't take it. He nods. "But I think it would be a good idea to go over the bodies again." I nod. "Where is the resort?" "Not far from here, in Virginia." Thank God. "I'll see you in a few minutes." I walk back to my bedroom and look in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, almost red and I throw in a few drops of Visine. Remember the promise you made to yourself Dana, stay strong. I swallow, nod to my reflection and start getting dressed. END ************** Longer Author's note: This is the third in a series of fifth season Scully stories. First is "It will Never Be the Same" and second is "Test Subject" which is also first person POV. The promise that Scully refers to is from "Test Subject", where she told herself she would keep fighting and stay strong, for her and for Mulder after the events of Emily. The stories in this series start with Mulder telling Scully about Samantha and show how Scully is reacting to both Mulder's loss of faith and the awful events that have occured in her life. All feedback is lovingly accepted at FirePhile@aol.com