Chapter Text
”I’m not asking you to do what Mulder would do. I’m asking you to love him more than he loves himself.”
Scully cannot believe the nerve of that venomous old bastard. For one thing, why would he bring up love of all things? What makes him think that she loves Mulder? Aside from every action she’s ever taken for the past six years, what would make anyone think that? She’s never said that to anyone, and Mulder only said the word in reference to her one time. He was also high on pain killers when he said it, completely invalidating the statement.
Scully knows she’s focusing on the wrong thing. Being indignant over semantics feels more comfortable than facing the bigger issue. If she understands the Smoking Man’s offer correctly, she’s been given two options that she knows will hurt Mulder deeply: return to being his partner at the FBI at the expense of losing his rediscovered sister or leave him to work for their enemies.
She wonders what he would be told. Would they say she was dead? Or that she had betrayed him? Would she be able to stay in contact with her mother if she joined the Syndicate? Could she ever truly work with the same men that had caused them so much pain and suffering? If so, could she take them down from the inside? Do something good with her access?
“Knock, knock,” a voice interrupts her thoughts. She looks up to see… one of the actors from her mom’s soap operas? Has she been drugged again?
“Are you from TV?” she asks, squinting at him.
“No, but I get that a lot,” the man says, his eyes shifting down modestly. “I’m Dr. James Reilly. I’ve been taking care of you.”
“You’re not wearing the hazmat suit,” she notes, raising an eyebrow. “No more contamination risk then?”
“There never was,” he confirms, a bit sheepishly. “I was protecting my identity, and I also wasn’t sure if I was going to have to keep pretending you had Hanahaki Disease. It seemed like a good way to keep my options open.”
Hanahaki Disease. Scully gets a flash of memory, blood covered rose petals on the bathroom floor. What exactly happened to me? She sizes up the doctor in front of her, quickly determining that she might be able to get some information out of him.
“What changed your mind?” she asks lightly, or some approximation of lightness that she’s pretty sure lands.
“I heard we’re going to be co-workers,” he answers with genuine enthusiasm.
“Oh,” she replies, mildly thrown off by his assertion.
“You’re going to love it,” he claims, using his fingers to count the upsides of Syndicate life. “Great pay, stellar benefits, a loan forgiveness program…”
Scully opens her mouth to respond, but the words catch in her throat. What?
“24/7 gym access in most of the facilities, and they’re never crowded,” he continues. “Generous vacation packages, time shares in six countries, I usually choose Switzerland…”
“I’m sorry,” she interrupts, still not quite processing what he's saying. “I… what?”
“I enjoy skiing,” he clarifies. “You can choose the Caymans if that’s more your vibe, but I thought, given your coloring, a ski chalet might be a better fit than the beach.”
“Look, Dr. Reilly, I don’t know who you think you work for, but that man who was in here earlier? The one with the cigarette? He’s a very dangerous person, and he is keeping me here against my will,” she explains, a bit of a desperate edge creeping in.
“I know my employers have been known to use some pretty aggressive tactics to acquire top talent,” he says, after a moment. “It’s not for everyone.”
“Is there someone else I can talk to?” Scully stretches her neck towards the door.
“You’re probably wondering about the retirement plan,” Dr. Reilly sighs. “I can’t blame you. You see all these old men still working, and you’re wondering why they can’t afford to retire.”
“Just undo these restraints,” she pleads. “I’m not a danger to myself or others. There’s no need for these.”
“They can afford to retire,” Dr. Reilly keeps talking without acknowledging her request. “It’s not about the money for those guys. They’re in it for the power. That’s not me.”
She studies him, trying to figure out if he’s as much of a shallow moron as he appears to be. His empty, earnest eyes look at her expectantly.
“I can tell,” she says slowly, “that you’re a good guy.”
“I am,” he agrees emphatically. She wonders how he made it through medical school.
“So you’ll take off the restraints?” she implores, carefully innocent.
He looks at her for a long moment, seemingly deciding something.
“I suppose I could give you a little break,” he agrees, reaching down to undo the straps. “After all, it’s not like they’re the only thing holding you here, right?”
She gives him a tight, small smile, encouraging him to move to the other side and release her completely. Her eyes search the small room for anything she can use to incapacitate him and make a run for it. There’s not much here, but at least she has the element of surprise on her side.
“There you go,” Dr. Reilly finishes releasing her bonds. “I bet it’ll feel really good to stretch.”
It really does. She smiles as she moves them around.
“Can I stretch my legs?” she asks, not entirely sure how well she can move.
“Just take it slow,” Dr. Reilly instructs. She gingerly pulls herself up into a standing position.
Oh thank God. She feels okay. She can get out of here.
“Is that my chart?” Scully sees a metal clipboard on the counter.
“Oh, uh, yes,” Dr. Reilly nods.
“May I read it?” Scully asks politely. He briefly pauses but hands it to her. She almost feels guilty for what she’s about to do, but she shakes the thought immediately.
Scully reads her chart for a few seconds before whipping it directly into Dr. Reilly’s unsuspecting face and scrambling towards the door.