feedback: msnsc21[at]yahoo.com
01/19/03
Email: msnsc21@aol.com
Feedback: always welcome at above email addy
Distribution: Yes to Ephemeral, Gossamer, but if you haven't
archived my stories before, please drop me a line and let me
know, and leave headers, etc. attached. I thank you!
Spoilers: Fire
Rating: PG 13 (language)
Classification: Vignette
Keywords: Scully POV
Summary: "Mulder, you just keep unfolding like a flower."
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris
Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. I am using them only
for recreational purposes, I mean no infringement, I'm making no
money.
Author's notes: I realize it's been more than a year since I
last wrote one of these, but it is part of a series. You can
find the rest of them at my page on Kimpa's site:
http://www.kimpart.com/mlfic.html
Many thanks to the citizens of Beyond the Sea, who gave me
their opinions and encouragement freely.
Even though this is part of a series, you can read it as a
stand-alone. All it takes is a little knowledge of the
episode "Fire."
=====
SJ5: Once Burned
by ML
I'm finding I still don't know all that much about my partner.
That's not so surprising, really. We've only been working
together a couple of months, and he's not really the chatty
type. He's very focused on the work. He could be characterized
as obsessive, though that's approaching a clinical evaluation
that I'm not qualified to make. Others haven't been so
circumspect.
I've learned a few things in the past months. He eats sunflower
seeds incessantly. He likes junk food, the greasier the better,
which is pretty amazing considering what good shape he's in.
He's a runner, at least when we're on a case -- he says it's how
he thinks. He reads girlie magazines, though I sometimes think
he does it to try and get a rise out of me. He loves bad puns
and worse jokes. But other than these rather superficial things,
not all that much more than when we were first partnered.
I didn't have much time to check him out before my assignment
began, and afterward it seemed pointless. I couldn't make Fox
Mulder like me, respect me, or trust me. And by same token,
he couldn't expect my instant trust or respect either.
To my surprise, he began to earn it on our very first case
together. He was prickly and sarcastic, but when I came to
him in fear, he took me seriously. And even when my fears
proved unfounded, he didn't ridicule me. Another male agent
in that situation no doubt would have, or worse, might have
made a pass at me. Certainly Tom Colton in that situation
would have spread it all over the Bureau by the next day.
But I've never heard a whisper about it.
I think I earned some of Mulder's trust as well that night.
I saw a part of him that I suspect very few have ever seen.
I knew then that I hadn't made a mistake in agreeing to this
assignment.
Since then, we've been settling into our partnership. We
really do have each other's backs, as partners should. We
have meaningful discussions about the work. He argues with
me, but respects me. Still, we don't have the kind of
relationship where we trade stories about how we spent our
weekends. I already know that Mulder spends too much time
in the office; he's called me from there a few too many times
on a Saturday for it to be a casual stop by to pick up some
files. I got after him not long ago about taking some personal
time but it fell on deaf ears.
Evidently at one time he *did* have a personal life. Evidence
of it showed up unexpectedly just the other day, in a very
dramatic fashion.
My first impression of Inspector Phoebe Green of Scotland Yard
was not favorable. Her idea of good fun is trying to scare the
living daylights out of former friends and anyone else who happens
to be in his proximity.
Mulder certainly took the prank seriously. He went white as the
narrative unfolded on the tape, and we both jumped when Inspector
Green tapped on his window. He still looked like a deer caught
in the headlights as she greeted him rather intimately.
*My* fear, however, was replaced by anger almost immediately.
I don't like being played for a fool and a joke like that isn't
only irresponsible, it's dangerous.
Inspector Green obviously didn't care. She barely acknowledged
Mulder's introducing me and waved me off in a way that was as
near as dammit to giving me the finger.
I thought I heard her whisper "She hates me," to Mulder. That
was probably also calculated. Her specialty seems to be throwing
people off-balance.
Back in the office, I managed to suppress my feelings while she
related the supposed reason for her visit to Washington, totally
ignoring me. She wandered around the office as she spoke,
picking things up and putting them back again with the air that
touching them had soiled her fingers. She made eye contact with
Mulder, speaking only to him. I listened to the details of the
case, and watched while she blew Mulder a kiss and me off as she
left the office.
Mulder stared after her in a daze. He hadn't seemed all that
pleased to see her in the parking garage, but he offered to help
her. It was like watching a moth drawn closer to an open flame.
I did something I've seldom done in our partnership: I asked him
some personal questions. He told me as little as possible, but
what he said was enough. Despite his assertion that he was "over
her," Phoebe still has some hold over him. He gave me some line
about extending her a professional courtesy, and I just snapped.
He seemed confused by my attitude, but didn't stay around to
discuss it. He was too busy chasing after Phoebe.
Of course I followed. I will not let myself be unsettled by
Inspector Phoebe Green. It's bad enough that Mulder seems to be.
XxXxX
Phoebe Green is a bitch. There, I've admitted it, at least to
myself. I can't stand her smug expression, her easy assumption
of authority. She knows how I feel, too.
She's told Mulder I don't like her. Good call, Ms. Inspector
Green. Crack detective work.
It's mutual, without a doubt. For some reason, she seems to see
me as a threat to her. How am I a threat? Certainly not
professionally. I'm not likely to suddenly apply to Scotland
Yard, and she doesn't seem likely to renounce her British
citizenship and come work for the FBI.
She is simply, as we used to say in high school, a predatory
female. She can't seem to stand anyone getting near someone she
thinks of as hers. And she claims ownership of any male in her
sphere, it seems.
After I watched her wrap Agent Beatty around her finger in the
Arson Lab, Mulder told me that my services would not be required
for this case. Or, I was being let off the hook, as he called
it.
Why? Are Inspector Green's detective skills so much better than
mine? Is it because it's her case and she doesn't want me on it?
That seems likely, though Mulder's reason was Phoebe's tendency to
play head games. I've only known her a day, and I'm already well
aware of it. If she is half as good at detective work as she is
at fucking with people's heads, I can see how she's become an
Inspector.
And Mulder is playing right into her hands.
He spun me a story about a childhood trauma, which didn't quite
ring true. I don't doubt he has a fear of fire, but the most
shocking thing is that Phoebe knows it too and has exploited it
in the past, and now looks to be exploiting it again.
To what end? I can't see a reason except for the one I've already
mentioned: she's a manipulative bitch. Mulder acknowledges that
she's bad news, but seems to think it's his obligation to deal
with her. "Phoebe *is* fire," he tells me, and though he may fear
it, he's also fascinated by it, and the same thing goes for Ms.
Inspector Green.
My "moth to a flame" analogy is truer than I realized at the time.
XxXxX
I didn't actually promise Mulder I'd stay out of the case, though
I'm sure he's assumed that I'm honoring his wishes. But he left
the casefile Phoebe brought on his desk and I started to read it.
I've already made some notes on things that aren't in the file and
I'm going to check them out. If it turns out that I'm covering old
ground, at least it's good practice. I know very little about
arson, and this is an opportunity. If Mulder hasn't looked into
this already, I'll be saving him some time.
XxXxXx
I just called Mulder. He's in Boston, but he didn't say exactly
why. He also didn't seem too enthusiastic when I proposed meeting
him there to show him what I've found. He mumbled something about
having his hands full, but didn't specify with what.
He finally reluctantly agreed to meet me at the Venable Plaza.
My first reaction was to remark that this is certainly a cut above
the places we usually stay, but I kept that observation to myself.
Since this case involves Lord and Lady Marsden, it's probably
where they're staying, and...
I'm not kidding anyone, least of all myself. I'm butting in where
I'm obviously not wanted. But it isn't for personal reasons, and
I have to remind myself of that. I was reluctant to leave this
case to Mulder, and now I'm reluctant to get involved in it. But
I believe the information I have is vital to the case. I'm sure
of it.
I don't know why Scotland Yard hadn't done some of this basic
investigation already. The information wasn't that hard to find.
Maybe Ms. Inspector Green isn't the crack investigator Mulder seems
to think she is.
That may be an uncalled-for remark, and I sure wouldn't make it to
anyone else, least of all to Mulder. But sad to say, women who get
ahead in a man's world are often suspected of getting there not by
their hard work and intelligence, but because they slept around.
I should know; I've been accused at least indirectly of similar
things.
I can't say any of these things to Mulder; for one thing, it's
an unfounded accusation. For another, it just makes me look
jealous when I have no reason to feel that way, or threatened
professionally, which, ditto.
Reading over this last paragraph, I have to ask myself: am I
jealous?
Maybe. Maybe I'm jealous of Phoebe's background, that's given her
a sense of entitlement that must help when she's dealing with the
old-boy network.
Jealous of her relationship with Mulder? Not really. We are
partners, I think on the way to being friends, but nothing more.
I suspect that if I hadn't been assigned to him our paths would
never have crossed. We don't have a lot of common ground outside
the X Files. Perhaps I'm jealous only because she knows his past.
He's given me the defining moment of his past, but I know so little
about him otherwise.
I have to think long and hard about this because it could impact
our partnership. Regardless of the rumors (which, thanks to Tom
Colton, have gotten a boost), we're partners and that's it. We
*are* friends, at least we're becoming friends, and that's good,
because it can only increase the value of our working relationship.
He's trusted me with some things, and I'm grateful for that.
XxXxX
Well, now I know what Mulder had his hands full of, and it wasn't
strictly work. I have to say I was embarrassed and a little angry
at being put in an awkward position when I found Mulder and Phoebe
feeling each other up in a deserted anteroom. That sounds awful,
but there really is no other description for it. I might have just
turned around and left the files at the desk for him if the fire
alarm hadn't gone off.
Fortunately no one was seriously hurt. Mulder didn't exactly cover
himself with glory, though he really did try. He was overcome by
smoke in the hallway, and the rescue of the Marsden's children was
made by someone else.
I did feel sorry for him, gasping into the oxygen mask while Phoebe
took charge of everything else, barely sparing a glance Mulder's
way. I took charge of Mulder, taking him to his room -- definitely
a cut above our usual motels -- and making sure he wasn't suffering
further effects from smoke inhalation. He was barely able to walk.
I got him to his room, got rid of his smoky clothes, and made him
lie down and rest.
And when he woke up, the first words out of his mouth were,
"Where's Phoebe?" My sympathy turned to exasperation at that
point.
What's worse, Phoebe seems to have dropped him like a hot potato.
When she came to check on him a while ago, she would barely meet
his eyes. Does she think he disgraced her, or himself? Is he no
longer worthy or her attention, or is it just that she achieved
her aim by humiliating him?
Mulder seemed curiously shy around her, when he'd been parading
all over the room in nothing but his boxers before she got there.
He's not generally so self-conscious. I may be angry with Mulder,
but I want to strangle Phoebe. How dare she do this to him?
Mulder at least had the grace to look a little chastened when I
presented the evidence I'd found, but again, his first impulse was
to "warn Phoebe." To be fair, she was with the family -- doing
her job, for once -- and that meant she was where the suspect was
likely to be. So here I sit by the fax machine, waiting for the
sketch of our suspect to see if our suspicions are true.
I'm still worried about Mulder. It would be just like him to do
something rash because he feels he needs to prove himself. To
Phoebe, or to himself, or maybe even to me.
XxXxXx
Inspector Phoebe Green has gone back to London, and if we're lucky,
she'll never grace our shores again.
I can honestly say that the case was resolved with very little help
from her, though finally at the end she did something useful. I'm
not usually so unfair, but it galls me to think that she may have
saved my life, and Mulder's.
Cecil L'ively is still alive, though I can't understand how.
Mulder survived relatively unscathed, too, at least physically.
Things happened very quickly once I got the fax and saw who the
culprit was. I barely made it to Cape Cod in time. When I got
there, Mulder seemed terribly subdued. He didn't want to talk
about it, and I wondered if he and Phoebe had had some kind of
lover's spat when he arrived unannounced.
Shortly after that, all hell broke loose and there was no time
for pettiness. Somehow, L'ively was able to set the whole house
burning almost simultaneously. We suspect the accelerant was a
kind of rocket fuel, as some was found in the garage. We got Lord
and Lady Marsden out of the house, but the boys were still upstairs
-- trapped by Cecil L'ively. Mulder went after the boys and L'ively
tried to escape. I got him in my sights as he came down the stairs.
I'll never forget that moment of confrontation. His eyes were so
intense, and they seemed to get darker and harder as I watched. I
felt sweat trickle down my back and my finger tightened on the
trigger. He told me that shooting him would cause a chain reaction
and the whole house would explode, taking us all with it. He put
enough doubt in my mind to make me hesitate. Could I take him down
without exploding the house? Mulder and the boys were still
upstairs; I couldn't take that chance.
Then Phoebe came around the corner and threw something in his eyes.
It could have been accelerant, it could have been Scotch for all I
know, but it did the trick, and distracted him long enough for
Mulder to get safely downstairs with the boys. Somehow, he was
able to overcome his fears to rescue them, and this fire was much
worse than the one in the hotel.
And then we all watched in horror as Cecil L'ively burst into
flames, laughing and cursing the whole time.
He's still alive, in a hyperbaric chamber, under lock and key.
There are people lining up to study him, but how they'll be able
to keep him in custody is something no one has yet figured out.
As for Mulder? As I said, at least physically he's suffered no
ill effects. When I arrived at the office this morning, he was
sitting at his desk, brooding. I could guess over what. Some
mean little impulse overtook me and I said in my best British
accent, "Care to take me to lunch?"
Mulder looked up, startled, with much the same expression as when
we listened to Phoebe's original tape. He told me she'd gone back
to England, evidently without saying goodbye in person. He showed
me the tape she'd sent to him.
He said he hadn't listened to it, and implied that he wouldn't,
but I notice he didn't throw it away, either. I do hope that he
doesn't listen to it.
I tried not to let my dislike of Phoebe show to Mulder, and I think
I succeeded for the most part, though maybe only because Mulder
didn't want to see it. But I don't like the way I was around her.
She seemed to poison the atmosphere, and it was too easy for me to
take it out on Mulder. Yes, I'm a little mad at him, and I really
don't understand Phoebe's hold over him, but I don't want to make
him feel bad about it. He so obviously feels bad enough on his
own. I will not stoop to Phoebe's tactics; I will not play head
games with Mulder.
If I've learned anything about Mulder from this, it's served to
remind me that he's much more sensitive than he lets on. That
his emotions, once engaged, are not easily unengaged. He's not
an easy man to get to know; he guards his emotions carefully.
And I'm beginning to understand why he doesn't trust easily. He
wants to believe, as his poster says; experience has taught him
not to.
To make it up to him, I took him to his favorite greasy spoon and
let him order whatever he liked without criticism. It's an odd
way to apologize, but one that Mulder understands.
We are partners. We have each other's backs.
end.
feedback: msnsc21@aol.com