Scully’s Confession
“Ignorance is not innocence, but sin.”
Robert Browning.
I had hoped that it wasn’t true. How could I have been so stupid? How am I ever going to tell Mulder about this? There are so many things he doesn’t know about, things I thought it best at the time to keep from him but it seems clear now that this could really be the end of everything. He’s going to hate me for keeping him in the dark about a case.
I’m sure that Skinner knows about it and his cigarette smoking friend certainly does but I am unclear as to why they haven’t made a move yet. The only thing I can suggest is that, with the situation being as it is, they feel that it is unnecessary to break us up any further.
They are well aware that I have not told Mulder about this and I expected them to take great pleasure in using my deception to create a situation between us which will make us totally unable to continue with our work, ever. They wont have a chance now because I have to tell him myself and I have no idea how he will react. Nearly all of his information about *that* case is lies created by me but he knew from the beginning that something wasn’t quite right.
XXXXXX
(Five Months Earlier)
I was late into the office that morning and when I arrived the basement was empty, although the desk bore unmistakable marks of Mulder’s presence there at some point that morning; papers and seeds. He tore into the office five minutes later and, with a low curse, slammed the door behind him. As always the sight of him made my breath catch in my throat, although I think I made a good show of hiding it. It didn’t really make a lot of difference as Mulder was too worked up to notice. He told me that Skinner had assigned us to a case in Washington state and that we were to leave at once.
I couldn’t understand why he was so agitated and he said it was just a feeling he had. I remember laughing and asking him if he’d become psychic. I was rewarded with a slow smile which managed to reach his eyes. However it died quickly and anxiety replaced it. Mulder seemed to believe that it was some sort of set up and said that Skinner had seemed really “on edge”. I thought that he was just being paranoid again, I was naive then and I knew no better. The last few months have taught me different.
We flew to Seattle later that day and from there we drove north. I glanced over the case files on the plane but I didn’t take much in. I hate flying and gave up on the files after only a few minutes. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about violent death in the twisted wreckage of a crashed plane. I made a list in my head of the people I would miss most if I died and was discouraged at it’s brevity: Mulder, my mom, Melissa and my brothers. I spent the rest of the flight questioning why Mulder would rank higher on my list than my mom. I was *that* angry at myself that I forgot to be scared.
I finally got around to reading the files while we were on the road. We were headed for a small town called Wilson located near the mountains about 30 miles from the Canadian border. Mulder informed me that it “smelt like an X-File”, which was very helpful to my initial judgements about the case. 12 deaths had occurred in the area of this small town in the last four years, all in similar circumstances. All of them were divorced or separated men and had shown signs of hyperactivity in the days prior to their deaths. They had nothing else in common, other than their deaths which had taken place after less than 24 hours of being comatose. Autopsies in each case showed massive neurological damage.
I couldn’t understand why they waited for a thirteenth body before they called us in. Mulder flashed me one of his 1000-watt smiles and told me that 13 was his lucky number. Despite his apparent good humour I knew that this case troubled him. He really believed that we were being set up for a fall and that we needed to watch ourselves. I didn’t say it but the reports for the case freaked me out too. I knew then that something strange was happening.
This was confirmed when we got to the hospital in Wilson and were told that the blood samples for the previous twelve victims had disappeared. Mulder left me to argue with the man but it was like trying to get blood from a stone – no pun intended. No, the man told me, we couldn’t exhume the bodies of the previous victims because they had all been cremated. Instead of strangling the man, as I wanted to, I asked for a room in which to perform an autopsy on the thirteenth body. I was there when Mulder returned.
I told him that I had found the same type of neurological damage in this patient as had been described in the other autopsy reports but I could find no cause for it. Mulder nodded thoughtfully for a moment and blinked my findings away. He seemed like a child with a new toy, he could barely stand still. He told me that he had discovered that all the deceased had been going to a relationship therapy clinic run by Dr. Thadius Narcote. Dr. Narcote, it turned out, was one of Mulder’s idols. He had been a psychologist in the VCS until he had left mysteriously a few years back. Mulder did not seem concerned about why a well respected psychologist would suddenly decide to become a relationship counsellor, he was too awe-struck. When I suggested that we go and ask him some questions Mulder was thrilled.
I hated Narcote from the moment I saw him, but he and Mulder embraced like old friends. It was the most open I have ever seen Mulder behave, he readily accepted a drink and the two met sat down to talk about old times for a few minutes. While I was conveniently forgotten I studied Narcote and his office. It kinda reminded me of Skinner’s office, lots of wood panelling and US flags. I noted the ‘No Smoking’ sign on the table. Skinner too had one of those although it did no good. Narcote was about 45 years old and both he and the office reeked of money.
When Narcote asked why we were there I stepped back into the conversation. Mulder seemed perfectly content to leave things up to me. Narcote told us that he had detected no unusual behaviour in any of the patients prior to their deaths. I didn’t believe him, so I pushed, and he did tell him that the couples had all seemed on the verge of reconciliation’s before the men’s untimely deaths. It did not strike me as important until much later.
I asked Narcote why he had given up working for the bureau and he told me that it was because he was disillusioned by the lack of heart in the work and that he wanted to help people. I didn’t believe that either. He knew a lot more about what was happening here but I was working on my own to find out just what, Mulder just sat there quietly grinning like an idiot.
We left learning nothing at all. I tried to stimulate Mulder into an argument about Narcote but he didn’t rise to the bait and even suggested that I drive to the motel because he was tired. That struck me as odd, Mulder would never admit to being tired and he certainly wouldn’t let me drive while he was still conscious and breathing. Things got even stranger when, after driving for several minutes, I looked over and found him to be fast asleep. Ignoring the shiver of dread which slid down my spine, I continued driving.
Mulder was still asleep when we got to the motel. I called his name to wake him, but it didn’t work. In the end I got out of the car and went to the passenger side. I opened the door and knelt down beside him. I touched his hand and said his name. He smiled, but his eyes stayed closed.
“Scully.” He sighed on an outward breath. The tone of his voice caused different kinds of shivers to snake over me.
“Wake up Mulder” I coaxed, my hand tightening on his. His eyes opened slowly and looked directly into mine. For a few seconds our eyes stayed locked together, then his eyes moved to look over me as if they had never seen me before. I felt uncomfortable in a way I had never felt with him before. Something had changed in that moment and I have never been the same since.
The next day we returned to the hospital. The trail was stone cold and Mulder was not himself at all. He went off at about 11 AM telling me to meet him at the diner across the street at 1 PM. I was glad when he left because his attention was making me nervous. He had been unusually attentive to me all morning. Every time I turned around I’d find him there watching me and he would smile his 1000-watt smile, making it impossible for me to reproach him.
I tried to concentrate on the case in order to distract me from these dangerous thoughts and feelings. I wanted to check the blood sample which had been taken from the last victim, the only blood sample which had not disappeared. I looked up at the clock and saw that it was nearly one so I got up to leave. I think by now I had caught Mulder’s paranoia because I picked up the sample and slipped it into my pocket.
When I arrived at the diner I saw that Mulder was already there. As I walked up to the table he stood up, offering me a huge grin and a red rose. I took both warily and sat down in the chair he pulled out for me. I tried to ask some questions about the case but he just waved them aside and told me that I looked beautiful. I didn’t know what to say but he didn’t give me a chance anyway. He continued straight on by saying that he had been back to see Dr. Narcote. I assumed from the excited expression on his face that he had found out something important about the case but instead he said that Narcote was lending him a cabin in the woods for a couple of weeks. I stared at him, speechless. Mulder didn’t seem perturbed by my lack of response he began talking about taking a holiday. It took a while before it sank in that he wanted us to take a holiday *together* and that he had already called Skinner to fix it up.
I tried to explain to him that we couldn’t take a holiday in the middle of a case but he just argued that the trial was dead anyway. I remarked that was usually when he took over a case. He didn’t appear to understand the joke and looked so hurt (I fell for that more than for anything else) that I suggested that we stay there but use it only as a base from which to pursue our investigation. He still looked hurt but he agreed.
The cabin turned out to be not so much isolated as totally cut off from civilisation. I was regretting this already. Over the last few hours I had become more and more aware of Mulder. I realised how he often went out of his way to touch me, nothing sexual just a light touch on the arm or shoulder. That is until now it had been nothing sexual. My flesh seemed to burn every time he came near and in the close proximity of the car I had to concentrate hard to appear relaxed.
Inside the cabin the only light was from a log fire and set out in the middle of the room was a fully made up table. Mulder smiled and led me over. As I sat down he lit the candle in the centre of the table. His every action was Mulder but it wasn’t Mulder. The feeling that things were horribly wrong coincided with the feeling that this was how it was meant to be. I watched him bring in dishes of food and place them before me. We both only picked at the food, I can’t even remember what we ate. Our eyes met over the candle flame and I knew that I loved him. After a short while we both gave up on the food and went to the couch. We sat together watching the flames of the fires in each others eyes. I told him that this was wrong but my heart didn’t believe me. He swallowed and told me that he loved me. I knew that something strange had happened to him but the evening had an inevitability about it and I gave in to it. I wish I could say that he kissed me first and thereby it was him that started it but I would be lying. I kissed him, a gentle kiss, on the lips. His lips were warm and sweet. My hands snaked up to cup his face and hold us together. I wanted that kiss never to end.
That night was ours and there was no talk of aliens or mutants or government conspiracies. We made love. I watched him sleep. We didn’t talk about the future, it had ceased to exist. All the next day we laughed and played around behaving like a couple of teenagers alone together for the first time. In the back of mind I knew that there was something wrong. I ignored it and took what happiness I could. I don’t regret a minute of that night and day.
I told Mulder once that time is a universal invariant, at that moment I wanted to be wrong. Time moved on despite my wishes. I left Mulder sleeping, got dressed and went onto the bedroom balcony. It was 4 AM. The night was cool and bright. Without the light pollution from the cities the stars were clear and sparkling. The sight of a figure in the woods startled me. I leaned over the rail but despite the bright moonlight I could not see clearly. I could however make out a figure standing at the edge of the woods. Wary now, reality had intruded, I went back into the cabin. Mulder was still fast asleep, I didn’t want to wake him. I glanced into the mirror as I walked out of the bedroom. My gun was with my coat in the main room. As I pulled it from the holster an object fell out of my coat pocket, with shock I realised that it was the blood sample from the thirteenth patient. I laughed at my own paranoia and placed the sample on the table. Then I remembered why I was getting my gun in the first place and it struck me that my paranoia may still be justified.
Outside the night was freezing and I wished that I had worn my coat. I held the gun by my side and cautiously walked towards the place where I had seen the figure. A man stepped out behind me and I spun around sharply, aiming my gun as I did so. I couldn’t make out his face in the shadows cast by the trees. I told to step into the light but he refused. He told me that he was a friend, that the gun wasn’t necessary and that I should put it down. I wasn’t going to do that so I asked him instead why he was there. He asked if Mulder and I were enjoying ourselves. The sexual implication of his words irritated me and I took better aim. He laughed at my response and asked if I’d checked out the blood sample I took from the thirteenth victim. He named a chemical and told me that it was a developmental drug and that the victims were all part of a test group. I was incredulous, I didn’t believe him but then he told me that I should get Mulder checked for the same chemical. I wanted to ask him what the drug does but I was distracted by Mulder’s voice calling my name “Dana”. He sounded angry. I turned in the direction of his voice trying to see him. When I turned back the man had gone.
I lowered the gun and walked back towards the cabin and Mulder. He was irrationally angry. He accused me of going out to meet a man and demanded to know who it was. This behaviour was definitely not Mulder and it confirmed the unknown man’s information for me. I tried to keep calm and told Mulder that of course I didn’t meet a man. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me so hard that my head started to spin. The gun fell out of my hand. Somehow I broke free and ran towards the cabin. He was like a wild animal, he chased me and grabbed me again. He didn’t look like Mulder anymore, he was savage. He made a kind of growling sound and struck me with the back of his hand. He knocked me so hard that I fell to the floor. I was incredulous by the change in him. I was scared. I tried to tell him that he was suffering from the effects of a drug but he was too far gone to listen. My body ached but I dragged myself away across the grass and found my gun. He caught up with me easily but I turned to point the gun at him. I ordered him to stop but he kept coming towards me. I couldn’t think straight and I was afraid that my aim would fail me. The gun slipped from my nerveless fingers and instead I picked up a rock. Mulder dragged me to my feet and shook me again. I clutched the rock, fearing that I would drop it. As soon as I had a chance I brought it up and smashed down on his skull. I watched his eyes go vacant and prayed that I hadn’t killed him. He fell into my arms and I staggered backwards. I tried to lay him down gently but he was too heavy and his body hit the ground with a dull thud. I checked that he was still breathing and ran back into the cabin to call an ambulance and grab my medical kit.
I can’t really remember what happened between then and finding myself sitting by his bedside in the hospital. Mulder had not woken since the blow on the head. He had lapsed into a coma, just like the other patients, a state which he had now been in for 3 hours. I knew from the files that all patients died within 24 hours of being comatose, but I didn’t know what to do. I analysed the blood sample and a sample from Mulder and found the chemical the unknown man had named. It effects the body in an odd way, stimulating pain and pleasure receptors in the brain. The chemical changes unbalance the brain, until it shuts down as a defence mechanism, from there the patient just deteriorates until they die.
I visited several of the wives of the deceased victims and found that their husbands had exhibited violent mood swings, ranging from great exhibitions of love to fierce outbursts of temper.
I returned to the hospital having learnt nothing that would actually help Mulder. It was ten hours since Mulder lapsed into coma. I watched him lying there, remembering watching him sleeping in the cabin. Then I heard Mulder’s voice in my head telling me that the cabin had been loaned to him by his good friend Dr. Narcote. I looked down at Mulder as I grabbed my coat.
“Trusting fool” I murmured, not knowing whether I meant Mulder or me.
I was shown quickly into Narcote’s office and demanded to know what they had given Mulder and why. I glanced down at his desk, next to the ‘No Smoking’ sign was an ashtray with a cigarette stub still smoking. I stormed over to it and picked it up. Waving it at Narcote, I demanded to know what *that man* had to do with it. Narcote told me that ‘they’ (I assumed that he meant the Government – although I can’t be sure) had been funding research into a drug which distracts the brain from rational thought, then kills quietly. It was intended as a way of getting rid of undesirables without having to resort to messy eventualities or traceable drugs. I’d completely missed the drug the first time on the toxicological, so I saw immediately what he meant. He explained that his job was to analyse how the drug effected people. They had chosen to work with divorcing couples because the interesting quirk of the drug is that it also acts as a “Love potion”. These tests had proved successful but the couples had been in love in the past and they had wanted to test on an outside couple. Since Mulder and I were among the undesirables that were dispensable they chose us. Using me as a control, they gave the drug to Mulder.
I sat down into the chair opposite Narcote. He smiled as he took in my expression of incredulity and disgust. He pulled open a desk drawer and removed a videotape. Laying it on the table, he pushed it towards me. I stared at it, the implications were obvious. I took the tape and held it cautiously, as if it were alive and might bite me. I looked up at Narcote, who smiled a nasty smile.
“The experiment surpassed our expectations”. He informed me with relish. That finally stirred me out of my fog and into anger. I demanded to know about the effects of the drug. Narcote smiled again and told me that Mulder would die, that it was inevitable now. I asked him how he could do it when Mulder considered him a friend. He told me to take the tape, that it was worth watching, that it would be all that was left of Mulder. He disgusted me and I told him so. He smiled that evil smile again and said that while Mulder was under the effects of the drug, I wasn’t. He said that it was my reactions which had proved more interesting than Mulder’s. I told him that I would stop at nothing to destroy him and I stormed out.
I went back to the motel. I threw the videotape onto the bed and sat down next to it, trying not to touch it. I half expected it to eat through the bed clothes. I couldn’t resist. I had to watch it. I just didn’t really want to touch it. I gingerly picked it up and put it into the VCR. It took all the courage I could summon up to push the play button. The camera had, unsurprisingly, been located behind the mirror in the bedroom – I remember looking into that mirror the night before. The tape seemed to have sucked all the romance and love out of the scene. It disgusted me but I could not turn it off.
After the tape ended I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t do anything. I had been a fool, now Mulder was dying and I couldn’t do anything to save him. I was angry more at myself than at the forces which had shaped this event. I had known that something was wrong, if I had caught it sooner I might have been able to do something. It was 13 hours since Mulder had become comatose. For something to do – anything to distract myself – I picked up my Dictaphone and rewound it to the last message, two days ago.
“Something is wrong with Mulder. He is somehow different.” More reinforcement of my own stupidity. I was about to stop the tape when I discovered another message. Mulder.
“I love you Dana. Whatever happens when we get back to DC, don’t forget that. Nothing will change that. [A wry Mulder-laugh] Believe me.” Just the drug talking. Just a hallucination brought on by a chemical introduced into his system. All the rationalisation in the world didn’t work. I couldn’t bear the sight of the machine. I threw it across the room, where it hit the wall and smashed into pieces.
I spent hours trying to come up with a solution. I studied the compound but found no answer, all the time I was aware that Mulder’s death was near. What would I do without him, I couldn’t go back to the way I was before. Dana Scully, the naive girl who believed that *everything* had a rational explanation had been altered by her contact with Fox Mulder. She was more open minded and that made her delve deeper to find the truth. She still didn’t believe most of his wild tales but she liked trying to find the truth about them, whatever that truth might be. She liked searching with him. Dammit. I enjoyed searching with him.
I fell asleep trying to figure it out but was disturbed nearly an hour later by a knock at the door. I had to push aside my computer and stacks of paper just to stand up. When I opened the door there was no one there. I stepped outside and saw a man walking around the corner. It was dark in the hallway but I am sure that it was the Cigarette Smoking Man. I can’t explain why he would help save Mulder, especially considering the traces of his presence in Narcote’s office. I was tired and strung out, but I know that it was him.
I was so shocked by his appearance that I didn’t notice the package on the floor for a few moment. I took it inside and unwrapped it. Inside was a small vial of a blue coloured fluid and one word in non-descript black writing. “Anti-dote”.
I rushed to the hospital. I had it checked out, of course. Although why anyone would want to kill him faster I can’t imagine. I just wasn’t thinking straight at that moment. We administered the anti-dote in his 18th hour of coma. I didn’t know if it would work, I couldn’t work out why it would do anything to help, but I had no other choice. I sat by the bedside and waited.
I sat there for 12 hours. Mulder was still alive and that was a good sign, no other patient had lasted this long. At 10 AM a nurse came to tell me that Skinner was on the phone for me (I had abandoned my mobile two nights ago). I told Skinner as little as possible. I still think that he knew already what was going on. I was very curt with him, which I don’t regret at all. I ended the call as quickly as I could, promising him a full report. I didn’t mean a truthful report, the truth depends on who’s telling it and I had the power at that moment.
I returned to Mulder’s bedside and sank into the chair letting my eyes close slowly. I may have fallen asleep, I’m not sure, but I was alerted by a sound from the bed. I saw that Mulder’s mouth had fallen open and he was breathing heavily.
“Scully . . . ?” He whispered. It tore at my heart. Scully, not Dana. I tried to hide the pain and talk comfortingly to him. It soon became obvious that he did not remember any of the events of the past few days. The last he remembered was being in the autopsy room with me, before we had ever gone to see Dr. Narcote. In those first minutes of wakefulness Mulder murmured something about a beautiful dream but since he has said nothing about it. I am assuming that whatever he does remember he believes to be nothing more than a dream.
I told Mulder that we had gone to see his friend, Dr. Thad Narcote, and that he offered to let us stay at his cabin in the woods during our investigation into these deaths. Later that day Mulder had come down with a unexplained illness (close enough to the truth) and so I had continued the investigation alone while he recuperated. I was late returning from town that night when, I assume since I wasn’t there and Mulder cannot now remember, an intruder tried to break in. Mulder chased him off but received a blow on the head from a rock which put him into hospital for a few days. As for the case of the thirteen dead men, I can only offer that they too succumbed to this mystery illness but were less fortunate than Mulder. The case is closed.
XXXXXX
Thankfully the report was accepted all around. I wanted to bury those men alive, particularly Narcote but I have no evidence. While I was at Mulder’s bedside both his blood sample and the sample from patient number thirteen disappeared. All medical files on Mulder too have disappeared. The only thing remaining is the videotape and I will never show that to anyone, but if I ever find any evidence with which to destroy Narcote I will do so.
My lies had the result that Mulder and I were able to resume our previous platonic working relationship. Anyone without knowledge of these events would be hard pressed to detect anything different. I wish that Mulder never had to know what happened. Right now, if he remembers it at all, it is nothing but a pleasant dream. I wish that it could remain so.
I think that I’ve known for months that I was pregnant, I am a doctor after all. I just didn’t want to believe that a child could be conceived as the result of such a diabolical experiment. I have no way of even theorising as to what effect the drug they gave Mulder might have on the child. I still have trouble accepting that I am really pregnant. I assumed, I wanted to believe, that I was putting on weight because of the junk food I have been eating lately. I told myself I was comfort eating to try and block out that short time Mulder and I had together, when the world was shut firmly outside the door. To my shame, I watch the video often. It’s not a sexual thrill, okay so it *is* a sexual thrill but it’s not *just* that. I think I understand now why Mulder watches his porn films. It has a lot to do with the sex, but it also helps to take away the pain of being alone. I know that it’s unhealthy but I can’t stop.
I’m really worried about Mulder. He’s been so strung out for the past few months and now I have to tell him that he was used as a guinea pig and that I kept it from him. I know that he can accept that the people in power would stoop low enough to use him that way, what worries me is that he might not forgive me for lying to him. I know that I have to tell him, despite the fact that it means I will have to account for my behaviour. I’m afraid to stand and face my own actions because of the feelings they betray. There is no way to tell the truth to Mulder without telling him how I feel.
It’s no use brooding on this and I have more pressing matters to deal with right now. If I don’t get this information to Mulder his life could be in danger. I’ll tell him the truth after this situation is resolved. Right now I have to tell him that Duane Barry is not what he thinks he is.
XXX
Postscript: Dana Scully never told her partner about these events. A few days later Agent Scully disappeared. Her partner, Fox Mulder, believes that she was kidnapped by aliens. She was returned 3 months later; all memory of these events had been erased. The videotape’s whereabouts are unknown. The existence and/or whereabouts of a child cannot be confirmed.
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