January 2, 2005
Title: The Nature of the Beast
Author: ML
Feedback: always welcome
Distribution: Gossamer, Ephemeral, yes; anyone else, just drop me a line. Thanks!
Spoilers: S6 up through Alpha
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mulder and Scully continue to work on their partnership in the aftermath of Two Fathers/One Son
Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. They mostly belong to the actors who portrayed them, but Chris Carter created them, and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I mean no infringement, and I’m not making any profit from them.
Thanks to Carol for beta and to Circe Invidiosa for giving my stories a beautiful home.
Notes: This is the next story in a series that started with “Sounding the Depths,” “Interval,” and “Do Overs.” I don’t blame you if you’ve forgotten them; the last one was written in 2003! If you need a refresher you can find the others here: http://www.invidiosa.com/ml/index.html You can still appreciate this story without having read the others, but I hope you will give them a look anyway.
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The Nature of the Beast
by ML
He is coming. I expected that he would. I won’t say hope. I deal in behavioral patterns and probabilities. I know his interests and I know that this is something that will pique them.
It’s good to know that although I am physically weak, my mental powers have strengthened in comparison. I can still observe though now I am forced to do so from afar.
I have always been alone. I have always walked the solitary way, and met life as I chose to meet it. When I could no longer do field work, I adapted. I know the ancient rule: adapt or die.
He is a loner, too. How rare it is to find a kindred spirit.
x-x-x-x
Flying to California is not what Scully had planned tonight. She almost sighs but catches herself just in time.
Mulder seems engrossed in the book on his lap, but he turns to her. “Did you say something?” he asks, his finger holding his place open.
“No,” she replies. She can’t express her frustration at being called out of town again so soon after the last case. They’d barely started settling back into the basement office after their recent re-assignment to the X-Files. That isn’t the only reason, of course. The other reason is personal and therefore she will not speak of it. It’s hard enough to admit it to herself.
Just the week before, not long after they’d returned from their undercover assignment in Arcadia, they’d actually gone out together. Just for dinner; Mulder had suggested casually that they celebrate getting the X-Files back. He wouldn’t have dared to call it a date, and even in her mind Scully didn’t like to use the word. But Mulder had offered to come by and pick her up at her place. He’d mentioned the name of the restaurant so that she’d know for sure it wasn’t a working dinner.
She smiles at the memory. He’d chosen just right. It was a cut above their usual type of place but not formal. Not wanting to appear too frilly or date-like, she’d changed into a silk blouse that was tailored but a bit low for work, and a softer skirt. When Mulder appeared at her door, he’d forsaken suit and tie for slacks and leather jacket over a nice sweater. He was freshly shaved and she thought she could detect a hint of cologne, very subtle, a secret shared only with her.
He’d smiled as she opened the door, a real smile that lit up his face and made him look unfamiliar for a split second. It was so unexpected, it made her wonder when they’d stopped smiling.
She’d smiled a lot that night, too. They’d shared a bottle of wine and a dessert, spinning out their time together, getting to know each other again. Mulder had seen her to her door at the end of the evening. Their hands brushed together as they walked up the steps of her building, and she caught at his fingers, glad when they curled around hers. Until that moment, she hadn’t thought about what might or might not come next.
They stood awkwardly at her door for a moment, reluctant to part but uncertain that they should stay together.
Finally, Mulder spoke. “Work day tomorrow,” he’d said softly, his eyes warm on her face.
She thought of their urgent kisses in her car a few weeks earlier, wondering if he was, too. She’d nodded, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her expression.
He’d stepped closer, still holding her hand. “So I should say goodnight.” There was just a hint of a question in his voice.
She could feel his breath on her cheek and his nose just brushing her temple. She felt his fingers tip her chin up and then his soft, soft lips were pressed against hers.
They’d kissed, and paused, and kissed some more. Soft, comforting kisses, simply touching lips to lips, over and over again. She hadn’t pushed for more, and he’d taken his cue from her. They stood cheek to cheek for several moments before Mulder gently slid his fingers from hers.
“See you in the morning,” he’d whispered in her ear, and left one last lingering kiss on her cheek before turning away.
She’d turned away to unlock her door, then turned back to see Mulder standing at the open door of the elevator, looking back at her.
If she’d said his name or made a move, he’d have stayed.
But she’d simply smiled at him and mouthed “goodnight” before turning to go inside. She’d heard the elevator door slide shut just as she’d closed her own door.
It is a delicate dance they are performing, each taking a turn leading, watching to make sure the other is following along, then changing directions again. It has its charm but it’s also unnerving. She’s sure they both know where they are heading, and both are willing to get there, but they are determined to draw it out.
She hopes for more of the same. A selfish part of her wants to be free to enjoy this without other distractions.
When she’d gone down to the basement earlier that evening, perhaps she’d been hoping for a repeat performance. She’d told herself she was just checking on Mulder. She’d been upstairs most of the day, working in her tiny cubby of an office. Except for one trip to bring a load of files down earlier, they’d had no contact. She’d kept herself away from him deliberately, wondering if he’d seek her out or if he’d comment on her absence. He’d surprised her by not calling her every few minutes, which she thinks now was a gambit to get her to go down to the office.
It’s a game and only we know the rules, she muses. We’re making them up as we go.
He’d discovered a case for them to investigate. Maybe that was another way of luring her back down to the basement. He dangled the bait in front of her, and she’d taken it.
x-x-x-x
I feel deceived. He presented himself very differently — or I perceived him very differently — from a distance. Perhaps I saw only what I wanted to see. I was attracted by his mind, by his questions and observations, so open to my unorthodox views. He expressed interest in my theories, and even shared some of his own. But I am thrown by Fox Mulder. His physical presence is more unnerving than I care to acknowledge.
I’m even more thrown by his partner. I didn’t expect the trappings of officialdom with his visit. I had no idea that the FBI investigated cases like this. I thought that his interest was personal.
If he and I were truly canids, it would be easier. Our actions would be dictated purely by instinct and heredity instead of our frail human sensibilities. My frail human sensibilities. He is not frail. I feel certain he would be the alpha male in any pack, human or canine.
He is one of the few males I would allow to dominate me.
x-x-x-x
Scully can see that she isn’t the only one who’s taken the bait.
“We met online,” Mulder said. Why is she surprised? He’s mentioned some of the oddball chat rooms he’s used as information sources in the past, but until now they had been just that — Mulder’s nameless, faceless sources, often dismissed by her for that reason. But now Karin Berquist is characterized as a colleague, and Mulder calls his contact with her “two professionals exchanging information.”
That isn’t Ms. Berquist’s view on the matter, Scully is pretty sure. Had Mulder not heard the disappointment in her voice when she asked if he’d come for any other reason? Does he attribute her attitude shift toward him as mere eccentricity?
Regardless, it doesn’t look as though they’ll be getting any cooperation from Ms. Berquist now, and Scully can’t bring herself to be sorry about it.
Mulder doesn’t seem to notice Scully’s silence as they drive to their motel. “We’re in luck,” he says. “There’s a diner next door.”
“Oh joy,” Scully says. Mulder seems not to notice the sarcasm. Is this the same Mulder that jumped on her every utterance in Arcadia? Is he so certain of her now that he can ignore her? Or is she the only one having adjustment problems?
x-x-x-x
Karin Berquist is more of a cipher in person than Mulder expected. Or, maybe he is now seeing her through Scully’s eyes. He shuts his laptop, rubbing his eyes. At Karin’s, he could feel Scully’s doubts even when he couldn’t see her face. No doubt Karin sensed them, too. He considers calling Scully on it, but isn’t it what he wants from her? Professionally, anyway.
She seemed open to coming to California for this. More, she’d seemed intrigued by the case. So why does he feel so defensive about Karin Berquist? He shouldn’t have to justify how he met her or what their relationship is.
Recent events have sensitized him to Scully’s moods. She is human, after all, and can also fall prey to human doubts and fears. Yet it seems beneath her to be jealous. Even mentioning the possibility to her is perilous. On the other hand, for them the lines between the personal and the professional blur more with each passing day. Before they got the X-Files back and things were going to hell all around them, he’d been dismissive of Scully’s concerns. She’d turned out to be right, up to a point. He has yet to truly acknowledge that to her.
Will it always be this hard? Will Scully question any and all females who cross his path, and how will he be able to tell if it’s a personal or professional concern?
Maybe they are both seeing this through the filter of the personal now. After their enforced togetherness in Arcadia, he’d made an effort to show Scully how much he cared about her not just as a colleague, but as the most important person in his life. Maybe that gives her the right to feel a little territorial about him, but not at the cost of the work. She has nothing to fear as far as Karin Berquist is concerned.
He decides that he’s making too much of it. He has to trust that Scully is behaving professionally, and if it’s something different, she’ll tell him. He does trust her.
x-x-x-x
“What’s next, Mulder?” Scully asks at breakfast the next day. She has decided to make the best of this. Karin or no Karin, there is a crime to be solved. Mulder probably has something up his sleeve.
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe talk to Detwiler a little more about the animal. What do you think about performing some additional work on the bodies?” Mulder is making an effort, too. He will not order Scully. He wants to engage her on this.
“It seems odd –” Scully begins, but doesn’t continue. She’s starting to go down a road she had resolved not to travel last night.
Mulder raises his eyebrows. “Out with it, Scully. Odd how? Odd is what we do, isn’t it?”
Thank goodness Mulder expects resistance from her about the case. It’s not too late to make the argument about the case’s merits rather than his would-be informant.
But how can she accuse him of holding things back if she is doing exactly the same thing? “I have to admit, Mulder, that I don’t always understand what motivates you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this case.”
“Is this where you ask me why I think it’s an X-File?” Mulder asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t disagree that there’s plenty unexplained here. I’m just curious about the selection process. It doesn’t seem connected in any way with anything we’ve investigated in the past.”
“I didn’t think that was part of our criteria for selecting a case. I find something worth investigating and I investigate it. Isn’t that the way it works?”
“I guess I’m wondering why this particular case,” Scully admits. “It’s a long way to travel for a case that’s already under investigation.”
“You don’t think it has merit?” Mulder asks mildly. This is a new variation on Scully’s usual “how is this an X-File?” argument.
“If we went by my standard of what merited investigation, there are a lot of cases we wouldn’t take,” she says.
“No kidding,” Mulder mutters before he can help himself, but adds in a more conciliatory tone, “Okay, I’ll bite. Give me your best shot as to why we shouldn’t be here.” He turns toward her with a half-smile, hands palm up as if to show his openness to her.
She doesn’t really want to argue about the case. She tells herself to stop being such a coward about what she really wants to say. She picks her way carefully. “It just seems, sometimes, that you are…persuaded into investigating by someone who has a vested interest in the outcome. That your sources know what it will take to get your attention.”
Mulder shrugs. “What can I say? My life’s an open book. But I don’t think that’s what you’re getting at here.” He raises his eyebrows at her. Will she take the opening or not? It’s probably not the best time to get into a personal discussion but their timing sucks most of the time anyway. He won’t rebuff her if she wants to talk.
Scully doesn’t answer.
After a minute, Mulder says, “Don’t worry,” with a small smile. “I may wear my heart on my sleeve, but that doesn’t mean just anyone can take it.”
Scully lets it drop. The last thing she wants is a repeat of the Diana debacle, and she’s afraid that if she continues in this vein, she will once again be accused of jealousy. It’s too late now anyway, they’re already here. And it’s not about jealousy.
<But it is, isn’t it? Not just concern for Mulder, but competition for his attention. You’ve always known that his work comes first. Why do you think things are different now? And why should they be?>
Mulder’s phone rings, calling them to the scene of another attack.
x-x-x-x
Despite common belief, wolves are not loners. Perhaps that is why I felt I should seek Fox out once more. I wasn’t prepared for our initial meeting. I couldn’t let down my barriers. Especially not in front of someone else.
I notice his partner glance up at me and step away as I approach. Is she so certain of him? I don’t try to fool myself into thinking that she is conceding territory.
Fox is more distant this morning. Am I the cause or is she? My small joke to him falls flat — the easy camaraderie we shared online can’t be recaptured in person. Strange that we would have a closer connection from farther away. But here there are too many distractions. Part of his attention seems focused on his partner, part on the other activities relative to the investigation. He introduces me to Detwiler — and our mutual dislike is immediate. If I had hackles, they would be raised. He is implicated, I know it. Fox thinks so, too, but not in the way I do.
Perhaps I have redeemed myself in Fox’s eyes a little. When I am able to show him the pawprints back at my place, he is completely engaged, oblivious to his partner’s sharp questions. It is only when she leaves the room that he is distracted. She is so protective of what she believes to be hers — and yet she doesn’t seem to value him or his ideas.
I watch him go to her. I don’t think he’ll be here much longer. She will find a way to lure him back.
x-x-x-x
The drive back to the motel is silent.
Maybe Scully really is jealous, Mulder thinks. All that talk about women being tricksters. She’s never had a very high opinion of her sex. And yet she has more integrity than anyone, male or female, that I’ve ever known.
I supposed I can’t blame her for being distrustful of some people’s motives, but she seemed to have it in for Karin from the first meeting. Why? What does she see that I don’t?
x-x-x-x
I’ve said all I can say on the subject, Scully thinks. I’ve been as plain as I can be without crossing the line.
What is it about men that they can’t see an obvious play for their attention? Even she could see Karin’s reaction when he touched her hand, and yet he remained unaware.
Except, of course, he hung on her every word. He couldn’t have flattered her more if he’d brought her flowers. To be listened to, to be believed, is the ultimate compliment.
Mulder rejected her assertion of Karin’s personal interest very gently, but it was still a rejection. Scully has done what she can. She will keep an eye on Karin, but she will not say anything more to Mulder about her.
x-x-x-x
The autographed picture on the wall at the vet’s office is the last straw. As she drives back to Karin’s alone, Scully reflects on what she will say. Other thoughts intrude and she tries to shake them away. She sees Diana’s smug face in a room full of agents, remembers her non-apology in the decontamination ward.
Karin Berquist is no Diana Fowley, Scully tells herself. She represents no danger to you, or to the X-Files. Maybe not even to Mulder, except that she can’t bear to see him disappointed or deceived once again by something or someone who is other than she seems.
The meeting is not successful in any way that Scully can justify. Karin doesn’t pretend to misunderstand Scully, but she will not admit to Scully’s assertions.
“You watch but you don’t see,” Karin told her. What the hell did she mean by that? Scully sees plenty. More than Mulder seems to, in this instance. Still, she can find it in her heart to feel compassion for the solitary woman who has stood so far outside the mainstream for so long that she mistakenly believes Scully to be a part of it.
I’m as alone as Karin is, Scully thinks. No matter that we’ve both chosen our own paths.
She will not pity herself.
x-x-x-x
I accused Agent Scully of not seeing, yet I’m as guilty. Lying to Fox has only disappointed him. And yet when I throw him another tidbit, he trustingly accepts it. I listen to his call to his partner, calling her off the surveillance of Detwiler. His stubbornness blinds him to the obvious.
I have deceived everyone here, including myself. Cyberspace is as seductive as the wild — you are your own creature there, beholden to nothing and no one. Civilization is what gets us into trouble: trying to maintain the veneer of what is considered acceptable behavior. No too-raw emotions, no following of one’s instincts.
My instincts about Fox may have been wrong. He may want to believe but he is more bound by society’s rules than I realized.
No matter. I can offer him one last bit of assistance, and in so doing, save myself from the trap of my own making.
x-x-x-x
Scully is displeased with him, and she makes it plain. She turns her back to him and it’s not until she dozes off that she relaxes her posture. He stays alert, though it is now evident that their quarry is hunting elsewhere tonight.
He can’t say that he blames Scully. He believed Karin over her objections. On the other hand, why would Karin lie to him? She seems to put a high value on the truth herself. She laid herself bare when she confessed earlier that she had perhaps pinned higher hopes on meeting him than he’d realized. Even in the face of Karin’s confession, he’d wanted to believe she was telling the truth about Detwiler. He’d told Scully very confidently that Detwiler would show up at the hospital to finish Officer Cahn off.
Now he wonders if his wanting to believe Karin was just a knee-jerk reaction to Scully’s distrust of her. He’d like to think he’s better than that.
Or maybe he’s just a jerk. He remembers the shocked look on Scully’s face when he refused to believe her about Diana Fowley. He has been less harsh on this case, but nonetheless just as reluctant to trust Scully’s judgment.
Time to make a confession of his own. He stands up and wakes Scully. “He’s not coming here tonight,” he says grimly. “Karin knew that. She lied to me.”
x-x-x-x
There is no joy in knowing that she was right and Mulder was wrong. The very thing she hoped to protect him from has happened anyway.
Her steps slow as she approaches the open door of the basement office. It’s well after office hours, but she knows he’s still there.
“Mulder?” she says softly. “Are you going home?”
He looks up at her, eyes bleary and defeated. There are still wounds to be closed here. It’s hard to be mad at Mulder when he’s so hard on himself. Instead, she tries to help him.
She asks, “Why wouldn’t you believe her?” Sometimes the wanting to believe is more seductive than the belief itself. They both know that.
Before she leaves, she hands him the package she used as her excuse to come down. She’s pretty sure she knows what it contains — she’d noticed its absence from Karin’s wall when they went up to her office after finding her.
x-x-x-x
He sits staring at the poster for some time. What does he want to believe? An easy phrase, a hard question. Easy to want, much harder to express that want.
He wanted the X-Files back and he got them. He wanted Scully back — this is a little less certain. Maybe that’s his fault, too.
He wants to believe that the work they do is important to both of them, and that it will make a difference somehow. His personal cause has become more than personal now, ironically. But at the same time, other wants and needs have become more personal. Scully is now essential in all ways, not just as part of his work.
Does she know this? Does she truly know this? He’s made a lot of assumptions but this is something that he should no longer take on faith, perhaps. They’d both gone through some pretty thorough shakeups of beliefs over the years, none more than in the past year.
It’s past time to say something about it.
Less than an hour later, there’s a knock on Scully’s door. She is unsurprised but nervous all the same. She opens the door and there he stands. He says nothing, just looks at her. She can’t read his expression. Panic? Sadness? There’s more to it than that.
She moves to stand aside, to let him in, and he steps up to her, crowding her.
Instead of stepping back, she moves forward. He places his hands on her shoulders and then up to cup her face. His thumbs caress her cheeks and lips. He smiles, just barely, eyes not leaving hers.
This time they move forward together.
…the end