Title: Scully’s Journey 3: Having a Life
Author: ML
Originally posted 9/5/01
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, yes; if you’ve archived me before, yes; otherwise, please just let me know and leave headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: The Jersey Devil
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Vignette
Keywords: Scully POV
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. I mean no infringement, and I’m making no money.
Summary: Survival of the fittest.
——————–
Friday evening.
Mulder’s enthusiasm is hard to resist, and I’m finding his interest in the unusual and the abnormal catching. I find myself looking for interesting tidbits to tell him. Sometimes he’s dismissive: “Oh, Scully, I heard about that the other day.” I feel a sense of pride when I tell him something that makes him stop for a second. Even better is when I see that spark in his eyes that shows me what I’ve told him means something to him. Sometimes he pulls out an old X-File that deals with something similar. Other times, we’re off to the races. I try to keep up as best I can. His mind works so fast, and his long legs move even faster.
So far, most of the time I drop everything to follow him. But not always. I’m trying to have a life.
Today, I did a little of both. I went with Mulder to New Jersey to pursue a lead on, of all things, the Jersey Devil. Of course Mulder believes the Jersey Devil actually exists. I mentally kicked myself all the way to Atlantic City for even bringing it up. When I told him the story this morning, I thought he’d get a charge out of it, that’s all. He’d make some smartass comment, and then he’d go back to investigating the claims of Miss Anti-Gravity, as he was when I came in this morning. It just goes to show that I still haven’t figured out how my partner’s mind works, and what’s going to grab his interest.
It was a wasted trip in my opinion, and of course I tried to tell Mulder that, if he couldn’t see it for himself. The ME was cooperative, but the detective was not. He was being pretty territorial, in fact. He and Mulder circled each other like…I don’t know what, but I thought for a minute I could hear growling. I got Mulder to back down a little, but I have the feeling if I hadn’t been there, it might have escalated.
What is it about men and their pissing contests? The ME, Glenna, was willing to tell us whatever we wanted to know until Detective Thompson came in. It occurred to me that Mulder could have sent me there, and I would have gotten more information than he did, just from talking to the ME. Well, maybe I would have, anyway. I don’t make the associative leaps that Mulder does. Sometimes the questions he asks make no sense to me at all. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to ask them.
But frankly, all the leaps in the world won’t help him if he doesn’t learn to make nice with the local authorities. He’s patience itself with a witness, but hell on wheels where other law enforcement is concerned.
I just hope he stays clear of Detective Thompson while he pokes around. Despite my protests, Mulder insisted on staying in Atlantic City for the weekend, to check things out. He suggested I do the same — not at all like a come-on, it’s all strictly business with Mulder, even if sometimes what he says *sounds* like a come-on — but I had to decline.
He got the funniest expression on his face when I told him I had to be back home before 6:30. He asked if I had a date, in a kind of incredulous tone. I almost hated to admit that it wasn’t a date, just my godson’s birthday.
Why should I care if Mulder thinks I have a date? Though now that I actually *have* one, I may have to drop that bit of information casually just to see what Mulder’s reaction is.
Frankly, I’m as surprised as Mulder that I have a date. Not that I’ve actively avoided opportunities, but there haven’t been many lately. I’ve sworn off the idea of dating anyone from work — after Jack, I realized just what a bad idea that was — and where else am I likely to meet someone? I don’t do the club scene, I don’t have the energy any more. The Laundromat? Church? On the jogging trail? All likely places, but very hit or miss.
I complained a little about it to Ellen tonight while I was helping her at Trent’s party. She asked me point-blank about Mulder. Mulder, of all people. He’s my partner, for crying out loud. I told her once that I thought he was cute, and she latched on to that.
My initial response surprised me. I said, “He’s a jerk,” but immediately took it back. I didn’t really mean it, though I was still a little pissed off at him for behaving the way he did in Atlantic City. I didn’t want to take time to explain all the reasons why having anything personal to do with Mulder would be a very bad idea.
It’s funny, the thoughts and responses that can go racing through your head in the space of a few seconds. If Ellen was still single, and we were having a girl’s night out, I would have sat drinking wine and gleefully dissected Mulder with her and not thought twice about it. But there she was, in her pretty kitchen, pregnant again, with that slightly patronizing air that married women get around their single counterparts, and I couldn’t do it.
I said yes when Rob asked me out as a defense mechanism as much as anything else. I’m not really looking forward to it, but with Ellen urging me, I couldn’t say no … especially since I’d just been complaining about the lack of eligible men.
Well, the date’s not until Monday. With Mulder in Atlantic City for the weekend, I can pretty much count on having a little peace and quiet. Though I wouldn’t discount the idea that he might call and try to persuade me once again to join him. If he really, truly, uncovers something, I might just do that.
XxXxX
Sunday night.
It’s certainly been a quiet weekend, without any calls from Mulder. I got a lot done, but I’ve been wondering how he’s doing. Maybe he did just decide to enjoy a weekend in Atlantic City. That must be it, since I know if he’s found something, however improbable, he would call me right away, and try once again to get me to meet him there. I can’t really picture Mulder having a one-night stand, but I can’t say I know a lot about his private life. We just don’t talk about things like that.
It probably would do him some good to blow off some steam. I told Ellen that Mulder was obsessed with his work, and it’s true. I’m not sure he ever takes a full day off.
It occurs to me that I really know very little about Mulder’s interests outside of work — except he seems to like girlie magazines, as evidenced by the way he’s often looking at them when I enter the office. I suspect, however, that he does it for my benefit — sort of a hazing, or something. He certainly doesn’t hide them from me, and he makes jokes about them all the time. If he expects the sight of them to rattle me, they don’t. I have two brothers, after all.
Other than his selection of reading materials, I have no idea what he does for fun or what he likes to do in his off hours. The way he calls me all the time, I don’t think he has much of a life outside of work. I don’t know if he has a girlfriend, or even if he dates casually. Before I was partnered with Mulder, I used to hear a little gossip about him — mostly speculation, as he didn’t seem to have any interest in anyone at the Bureau. Though plenty seemed interested in him.
This is pointless. Mulder’s private life is none of my business. I just hope that whatever he’s doing, he’s enjoying himself. Maybe he’ll tell me about it on Monday morning. Or, if he doesn’t volunteer, maybe I’ll ask him.
XxXxX
Monday night.
Well, Mulder did uncover something in Atlantic City, but not what I expected him to find.
He called me from the drunk tank this morning — which is now all over the Hoover Building, thanks to my squawking it out in surprise. He’d been there since early Saturday morning. The local cops, courtesy of Detective Thompson, gave him the “tour.” Of course, I’ve heard of this: a detainee getting lost somewhere in “the system,” but I didn’t think that they’d do it to a fellow officer of the law. I guess I underestimated Mulder’s ability to piss people off.
He didn’t seem particularly humiliated when I picked him up, though he smelled pretty bad, and he looked bad, too — he told me he’d slept in a dumpster Friday night, then in the holding cell, with no access to soap or water, and no change of clothes. I took him to a diner, and he ate enough for about three people, talking nonstop all the while about what he thought he saw, and trying once again to convince me I needed to stay in Atlantic City with him to investigate further.
Once again, I had to turn him down, and this time I did tell him I had a date.
He actually stopped shoveling food into his mouth and looked at me for a few seconds. I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but “Can you cancel?” wasn’t it.
It stung me a little, and I got snippy with him. I told him that unlike him, I was trying to have a life.
“I have a life,” he said defensively, and I didn’t even have to say anything, I just looked at him. He knows the truth as well as I do. He just sort of shrugged.
I was beginning to wonder if he was going to chuck everything and make the search for the Jersey Devil his life’s work. I played my trump card to get him to come back to Washington with me. I’d called my former anthropology professor, Dr. Diamond, and I took Mulder to see him.
They really hit it off. I think that Dr. Diamond was as excited by the prospect of some kind of “missing link” as Mulder seemed to be. I had a bad moment when Dr. Diamond said something about “alien life forms” but Mulder was so intent on his own theory — having nothing to do with extraterrestrials, for a change — that he didn’t respond.
All the same, my attempt to introduce scientific theory, to counter Mulder’s wild conclusions, didn’t work out quite the way I envisioned it. I certainly didn’t count on Dr. Diamond giving any credence at all to Mulder’s ideas. It’s fascinating to watch Mulder in full cry. He believes so fully in what he’s saying. I think he swept Dr. Diamond right along with him. He just kept trying to get Dr. Diamond to admit that what he, Mulder, was positing was “within the realm of extreme possibility.” Finally, Dr. Diamond gave in and said “it would be an amazing discovery.” He made Mulder promise to keep him abreast of any discoveries he made. Maybe Dr. Diamond was succumbing to the old “publish or perish” syndrome. If nothing else, he could write a paper offering proof that there is, in fact, no such thing as the Jersey Devil.
But at least I did get Mulder back to Washington.
Naturally, he reverted to his usual pattern back on his home turf. He paged me in the middle of my date to let me know the latest development in the case.
I was annoyed at first — no, strike that. I’m not sure that I was annoyed at all. Not that I have anything against Rob. He’s a very nice man, and he took me to a nice place for dinner — and spent the whole time talking about his ex-wife and her new husband, and his feeling that he needed to compete with them for his son’s affection. Talk about being territorial! But it was either that, or the finer points of estate planning.
I could just put it down to first date nervousness. He *was* very nice. But I found him … well, dull.
This is not to say I’m comparing him to Mulder. Not as date material, certainly. I’ve already said Mulder’s not in the running, and never will be. But for interesting conversation, Mulder’s got just about everyone I know beat. Sometimes I just can’t wait to hear what he’s going to come up with next. Somehow, talking about ordinary subjects seems … ordinary now.
At any rate, we’re going back to Atlantic City tomorrow. The ranger Mulder befriended says another body has been found. Mulder is now convinced that the person, or creature, he’s looking for, is female, forced out of hiding by the death of her mate. Mulder called Dr. Diamond, too, and he’s coming with us.
XxXxX
Tuesday evening.
Except for a few loose ends, I guess we can consider the case of the “Jersey Devil” closed. Mulder is terribly disappointed, and I’m angry on his behalf for the way it went down. Not that I’m entirely pleased with the way Mulder handled himself, either, but I feel a little territorial about others chastising him. They do it out of ignorance, and I do it out of concern for him.
Mulder was determined to take this creature alive, if he could, and just about got himself killed in the process. It didn’t help that Detective Thompson deployed a SWAT team to the site where we were. Talk about using an atom bomb to destroy a butterfly! Not to mention, some trigger happy idiot could have killed one of us. They, and we, were swarming all over the building, and it’s amazing no one got hurt. No one but Mulder, that is. He was attacked by the beast woman.
I don’t really like calling her that, but I guess it’s marginally better than the Jersey Devil. I didn’t really get a good look at her until she was captured in the forest, and then it was too late.
Anyway, amid all the confusion, Mulder was the only one to encounter the woman. I found him lying dazed on the dirty floor, and she’d already escaped. I don’t know if I scared her off before she could do more harm to Mulder, or if she spared him for some other, unknown reason.
The first words out of Mulder’s mouth when I reached him: “You shoulda seen her, Scully. She’s beautiful.” Maybe he was a little delirious; after all, the woman had taken quite a gouge out of him. But he said it with such a sense of wonder. For all his smart-ass talk, Mulder has a depth of feeling and compassion I didn’t expect to find in him. He holds people at arm’s length, but it’s very evident that he has feelings. He just doesn’t show them easily. I must remember that.
While Mulder’s wounds were being tended to, I did my best to get us jurisdiction over the case, and stop Thompson and his mob from shooting the woman in cold blood.
While this was happening the woman escaped into the woods. We sighted her again, and Ranger Bouillet managed to get the tranquilizer dart into her, but it didn’t seem to have any effect.
What it did was slow her down enough to be trapped by Thompson’s men. She attacked one of them, and they shot her. Not to wound, but to kill.
Mulder was just about beside himself. When Thompson called her a rabid animal, I thought Mulder was going to deck him. They started the hackles-raised circling routine again, and I had to step in, though I would have cheerfully hit Thompson myself.
I regret that I didn’t take the case more seriously from the outset. It just seemed so farfetched, and even Dr. Diamond’s interest didn’t clue me in that there might be more to it than meets the eye. Mulder hasn’t said anything, and I don’t guess he will, but I feel like I’ve let him down, somehow.
I treated him the same way the others did, and it was wrong. It’s one thing to insist on scientific fact, and it’s another to dismiss a theory, however outrageous, without some investigation into it.
XxXxX
Friday night, one week after Atlantic City.
Mulder has been moping around all week. His wound was severe enough to get him restricted duty, so we’ve been in the office, doing paperwork. He hasn’t said anything, but I know he’s still obsessing over the Jersey Devil case.
The autopsy reports finally came through today. Dr. Diamond lobbied hard to get permission to do the autopsy, and he promised to give me a full report. I gave the results to Mulder this morning.
Predictably, he got very excited, and managed to adapt his theory to fit the new facts of the case. That’s when I lost it. I suggested in the strongest possible terms that he needed to take a break — even if it was only to go have a beer. He barely paused to consider what I said, already intent on his new “lead.” He’d evidently been doing some research, and he told me that now that he had the results, he was going to talk to an ethno-biologist he’d contacted at the Smithsonian.
The phone rang just as he was leaving. With that faint look of surprise he gets when it’s for me, he handed over the phone, and without waiting for me, he left the office.
It was Rob, asking for another date. I had another of those moments where so many thoughts and feelings raced through my brain. Did I really want to pursue this? Was Rob someone I could see myself with?
I let him down gently and went to join Mulder. He seemed at once both a little surprised and pleased to see me at his elbow.
I had to take a little good-natured teasing about having a life, but that was okay with me. It meant that Mulder was himself again, and all was well in our strange little corner of the world. Besides, I can dish it out right back to him. “Keep it up, Mulder,” I told him, “and I’ll hurt you like that beast woman.”
At the risk of sounding like Mulder, I do have a life. And I’m enjoying it, in all its weirdness. It’s not the life I thought I would have at this age, and certainly not anything I envisioned doing even a year ago, but it certainly isn’t dull.
I’m noting a pattern in these informal reports. I seem to spend a lot of time thinking about, and analyzing, my partner. He holds my attention the same way the beast woman seems to have held his. He’s certainly someone out of the ordinary, differently evolved than most men I know. To understand him requires observation and study.
At least now I know what his taste in women is.
end.
Author’s notes: I tried to approximate the timeline of the ep as best I could. There were lots of discrepancies in the ep itself, but it made sense to me that Mulder could have spent the weekend lost in the police bureaucracy, if they were mad enough at him. More sense than to have Scully walking through the FBI filled with people on a *Saturday* to take the call from Mulder.
next up: “Ice”