Work Text:
Whisper
Fox Mulder walked over to the bed and regarded the woman sitting on it. He could see bruises blooming on her neck and face, and he knew that what he could see was only a very small reflection of the abuse Scully had endured this evening. He got on his knees in front of her and picked up one of her cold, limp hands and held it in his. The officers milling around her apartment made him fight against the urge to gather her in his arms.
Scully sat on the side of the bed, staring into space, not making eye contact with Mulder. Mulder reached up and tilted her chin so she had to look at him. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused.
“Hey Scully,” he said softly. “I talked to the SAC and he said you are free to go. They might have more questions tomorrow, but for now, we can get out of here.”
She nodded. “Your place?”
“Yea, unless you would be more comfortable somewhere else.” Mulder and Scully had been romantically involved for three months, but they usually spent the night at Scully’s apartment rather than his own. Scully argued that her place usually had food, fresh sheets, and was infinitely cleaner than his. Mulder didn’t mind, and took no offense. Spending the night with Scully was always amazing, and it didn’t matter where they were. Some of the best sex they had was in rundown motels while out on a case.
Scully shook her head. “It’s okay.” She went back to staring at the carpet.
Mulder sighed. He hadn’t seen Scully act like this since she was abducted by Gerald Schnauz. The stunned look on her face and the faraway gaze told a lot more about her state of mind than her practiced, “I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine then, and she wasn’t fine now. And it was impossible for him not to compare this nightmare to the first one she suffered at the hands of Donnie Pfaster five years earlier. He remembered her blank stare then too, and how relieved he felt when she broke down in tears. But after she stopped crying she closed off again, speaking to him in clipped sentences as she tried her best to act as normal as possible. After they got back home he was thrilled that Skinner mandated counselling for Scully, because she refused to talk to him about what Pfaster did to her, and how much the case overall affected her. Mulder hoped with all his heart that, because they were in an intimate relationship now, Scully would feel more comfortable opening up to him about her trauma than she was back then. Regarding her empty stare and the air of a wounded animal about her, Mulder worried that his hope of Scully confiding in him now might just be wishful thinking.
He put his hand on her arm, and she jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Why don’t you get dressed and pack a bag? It might take them a few days to release the crime scene so make sure to bring enough clothes.”
Scully grunted in agreement but didn’t move an inch. Mulder realized that Scully was truly in shock and not able to follow simple instructions. He stood up and shut the bedroom door then walked over to her dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a cotton tee shirt. He rummaged in her top drawers and grabbed a bra and underwear. He set those clothes aside and went to her closet and withdrew a large duffel bag. He proceeded to stuff in a couple pairs of pants and a few tops, adding a generous amount of underwear and several bras. He was proud of himself for remembering to pack one of her silk pajama sets, although she was fond of wearing his tee shirts to bed. He thought that, with all that had gone on, she might appreciate more modest sleepwear.
Mulder placed the duffel bag next to Scully and picked up the initial outfit he chose. “Come on, Scully, let’s get you changed so we can leave.” Scully nodded but didn’t move. Mulder reached down and took her hand, tugging it until she stood up, swaying slightly. “Can you take off your top for me?” he asked in a soft voice. Scully said nothing.
Mulder reached out, slowly unbuttoning Scully’s pajama top. “I’m here,” he said softly, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay.” He wasn’t sure what was okay, but Scully looked like she really needed to be reminded that it was all over. He slid her top down her arms and moved his hand under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, pulling down and helping her lift her legs to get the pants off. Standing in front of Mulder with nothing but underwear on, Scully’s cuts and bruises were on full display, and his stomach clenched in rage. It took all of Mulder’s strength to not react to the sight of her marred skin; instead, he forced himself to focus on her bra. “You know, I’ve gotten really good at removing these things, but I’m not sure I’ve ever put one on before,” he said. Scully didn’t react to his joke. He wasn’t kidding about being slightly flummoxed with how to get her into her bra. After some fumbling, he finally got it snapped and the straps pulled up onto her shoulders. He slid her shirt over her head and scooted on her jeans, then went looking for shoes. He found her running sneakers in her closet and figured they would do just fine. After a successful sock hunt, Mulder knelt down before her once again and put on her shoes. He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans and said, “all set, Scully. I’ll pop into the bathroom and grab your tooth brush on our way out.”
Scully continued to stare out into nothingness. Mulder’s heart broke looking at her. “Hey Scully,” he said softly, running a finger down her cheek. “Let’s get you to my place, okay? We need to get out of here.” Scully nodded, and Mulder was grateful for a reaction from her, no matter how small.
The drive back to his apartment was silent. Scully stared out the window as the car moved though the deserted DC streets. It was 4AM and he made it to his apartment in record time. After he turned off the car, he just sat for a second and watched her. Her gaze was focused on something far in the distance, and he was wondering how to bring her back to herself when she slowly turned her head and looked at him. “Are we going in or what?” she said flatly.
He was thrilled she talked. He grabbed her bag from the trunk then walked over to the passenger’s side and opened the door. Scully made no move to get out, so he reached down and once again he took her hand and pulled her up. The motion seemed to wake her up a bit, and without saying a word she slowly headed into his building, Mulder following closely behind.
The only light in his apartment was provided by the fish tank. He turned on the overhead and Scully blinked at the brightness, looking like a confused child. After a few seconds she walked over to the couch and sat down. Mulder was hoping to take her directly to bed, but it looked like she had other plans. He sat down the duffel bag and went into the kitchen, pulling out two glasses and an infrequently used bottle of bourbon. He brought the booze and glasses over to the couch and sat down next to her.
“I think a drink is in order,” he said, pouring her a generous serving and handing her a glass. “Hopefully this will help you get some sleep.” Mulder fixed a second drink for himself, and by the time he looked back at her, Scully had already emptied her glass. He quickly poured her another, hoping that the alcohol would help her take a step back from this evening’s horrors.
He took a drink and watched Scully gulped down her second serving. Mulder wasn’t much of a drinker and scrunched up his eyes as he felt the booze track a warm path from his mouth to his stomach. Taking a page from Scully’s playbook, he tilted his head back and swallowed the rest of the shot. “Holy shit,” he whispered as the bourbon threatened to choke him. “How do you drink this with a straight face?” Scully just shrugged her shoulders and poured another generous help of bourbon and tossed it back.
“Easy there,” Mulder said, picking up the bottle and screwing the top back on. “I don’t think a hangover on top of everything else is going to help.”
She turned to look at him, and he noticed a little more life in her eyes than he had seen all evening. The booze was a good idea, he told himself. He wondered if he could drink enough to chase away his own demons.
There was a single thought that screamed in his mind all evening. I should have known. He should have known Pfaster would go after her. Isn’t he supposed to be some genius profiler? He thought she was overreacting about repeatedly hearing the song, until he turned on his alarm and heard the same tune. It was that moment that he knew she was in danger. If only he had believed her initially, maybe she wouldn’t have coldly suggested that they sleep separately tonight. If only he had handled things better, she wouldn’t have been angry with him, and he would have been at her apartment when Pfaster broke in. He would have killed Pfaster without a second thought. But now, everything is different. Instead of saving her, he watched Scully shoot an unarmed man. His stomach twisted at the memory. He shook his head, noticing his brain was getting fuzzy from the bourbon.
He would write his report to state that Scully had no choice but to shoot Pfaster. But he knew better. He had his gun trained on Pfaster and the bastard didn’t look like he was going to try and move. Then Scully came out of her bedroom, gag around her neck, with a look in her eyes that he had never seen before, and shot him before he could stop her. He was glad someone put Pfaster down, but this isn’t how he wanted that to happen. Now Scully was going to face an inquiry at work for her use of force, and Mulder must infuse some creativity into his report to assure she doesn’t get in trouble. That’s all she needed after the trauma of being abducted.
There was a little part of him, one so small that he could almost extinguish it, that felt angry at her. She had acted in a manner that was very un-Scullylike. It would be far more like him to gun down someone in a fit of rage than his cool, collected partner. And now she’s going to be under suspicion despite the fact that she was a victim of a madman. If only she hadn’t drawn her gun. If only Mulder had spent the night at her place. If only, if only…
If only. Mulder acknowledged how useless those words were. He could spend all night marinating in all the possible scenarios that would create a different outcome, or he could focus on reality, which was a very traumatized woman on his sofa.
He turned to her and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. “How are you doing, Scully? Talk to me. Look at me, please.”
She slowly turned her head and met his eyes for the first time since coming to his apartment. “I shot him, Mulder,” she said flatly, no emotion in her voice. “I killed him.”
“And the world is a better place because of it.”
“Maybe.” Her speech was slow, as if each word she spoke was a result of a tremendous effort.
“Maybe?’ he echoed. “There’s no maybe about it. He would have killed again if given the chance. He’s scum of the earth, Scully. He deserved to die after all he did to those women. After all he did to you.”
She chewed on her thumbnail. “But I didn’t have to shoot him, Mulder. You had him. He wasn’t a threat to me in that moment.” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god, what did I do?” She took in a deep breath and released a sob.
He put his arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled her close to him, ignoring her slight wince. “I know this was a terrible night, Scully. He traumatized you, again, after causing you so much pain already. Don’t make all of this worse by blaming yourself. Just don’t. You have nothing to feel bad about.” He kissed her forehead.
Scully reached for the bottle of bourbon and poured herself another drink, albeit a smaller portion than her previous ones. She paused with the glass to her lips, then slowly drank down the booze. Mulder watched her, silently, feeling somewhat hopeful that she was actually going to talk this out with him this time. He didn’t want Pfaster’s death to be another tragedy in Scully’s life. The sack of crap didn’t deserve to live in her head.
“It was so weird, Mulder,” Scully said in a faraway voice, as she turned her head and resumed staring out into space. “It was as if I was outside my body. It’s like part of me was still tied up in the closet, and another part of me took over. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. I saw Pfaster and the rest of the world dropped away. I didn’t notice you holding him at gunpoint. I heard you yell but I couldn’t understand what you were saying. There was only me, my gun, and Pfaster. And there was this little voice in my head saying, ‘shoot him.’ It was the most natural thing to aim and pull the trigger. As natural as breathing. Easy. Too easy.”
“What do you mean, easy?”
Scully shook her head as if trying to clear it. “I had no conscious. I had no thought. I just went on autopilot. I pulled the trigger before I realized what I was doing. It was easy for me. And I never thought shooting someone would be easy.” Tears tracked down her cheeks and rolled off her chin.
“Scully,” Mulder said, pulling her closer, despite her stiff posture. “You had been terrorized by this monster and were afraid you were going to die. Of course your mind wasn’t working properly. You were in shock. You did nothing wrong.”
She snorted. “Let’s be honest for a minute, Mulder. It’s only you and me here. You had Pfaster. He wasn’t a threat any more. I was safe. But I shot him anyway. I shot him.” Scully took in a deep shuttering breath and pulled away from Mulder, closing her eyes. “I shot him in cold blood. I fucked up, Mulder.”
He shook his head violently. “Scully, no one in your position would have done any differently. Hell, I know I wouldn’t have.”
She sat, her eyes closed, in silence for several moments. Finally, she spoke, her voice low. “Mulder, do you believe in evil?”
“I see evil every day in this world, Scully. So do you.”
“No. What I mean is, do you believe in Satan? Do you believe he walks among us and makes people do dark, hateful things?” She paused. “I’m guessing you don’t.”
“I long ago rejected the principle tenants of all organized religions, Scully. So no, I don’t believe in the devil. Or that evil manifests into a sentient being.”
“How can you have seen the things you saw in VCU and not believe in the devil? As a profiler you saw his work up close every day.”
He ran his hand over his face. He really rather be in bed spooning Scully than having a theological conversation at 5 in the morning. “I see it differently than you. You were raised Catholic and taught that bad acts are the result of an evil entity like Satan influencing behavior. I think that’s a convenient thing to believe.”
Scully frowned. “Convenient?”
Mulder leaned against the back of the couch and stretched his legs out. “This is what I think, Scully. I think each human being is born with incredible potential. Potential for good, and potential for evil. We live in a world that birthed both Mother Teresa and Charles Manson. I believe that our childhood and early experiences foster the development of one side of this dichotomy or the other. For example, Charles Manson was raised by a teenage mother who was a prostitute and once traded him for a bucket of beer. He spent most of his youth being abused in institutions. I believe that if Charles Manson had been born into a stable, loving family, Helter Skelter never would have happened. I think the concept of evil being some type of force humans succumb to lets society off the hook for creating monsters.”
“So you believe in nurture over nature?”
He paused. “Yes, I guess I do. And further, I believe that the purpose of a society is to encourage the development of the decent side of humanity, and tamp down the evil side. Right now, racism and violence are rampant in our world. Women are treated like second class citizens. Children are abused, and many people are trapped in grinding poverty. All these things contribute to creating the Donny Pfasters of the world. Until society becomes more just, damaged people will continue to perpetuate cruelty and destruction.”
Scully was quiet for a moment. “I thought Donny Pfaster’s upbringing was pretty boring,” she said.
“We have no idea what went on behind the closed doors of his seemingly happy childhood home,” Mulder said. “But you do raise a really good point. There are sociopaths who live in the world, who don’t care about the lives of others, and are that way despite having a decent shot at life. I saw several of those when I was profiling. But the majority of monsters in our world were created, not born.”
“Hmmm,” Scully said. “I never really thought of things that way before.” Scully wrapped her arms around her chest and leaned over her knees. Mulder thought that she looked like a small child. “I was taught that Satan is real, and his goal is to tempt humans into doing terrible things. Humans are weak spiritually, so resisting the devil and all his seduction is very difficult to do.”
“You honestly believe that Satan causes people to behave in ways they wouldn’t normally?” he asked.
Scully slowly nodded. “I think that’s what happened to me tonight, Mulder. Satan saw an opening. I was so blinded by rage and fear that I let him in. His was the voice in my head that told me to shoot Pfaster. I was too weak not to obey.” More tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh Scully,” Mulder said, holding her closer and running his hand up and down her arm in a soothing manner. “You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. You have the purest heart. You’re compassionate and devoted to making a difference. You don’t have an evil cell in your body. I don’t believe for a second you shot Pfaster because Satan himself was whispering in your ear.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Mulder, I just don’t know. I just feel like I was touched by pure evil, and I can’t shake it.”
“You were touched by pure evil, Scully. Pfaster.”
“No no no, it was more than that. It goes beyond what happened at my apartment. I felt evil pressing around me even before I got your call about Pfaster escaping. Do you know what my alarm clock said when I woke up this morning? The display said 666. I’m not crazy and I’m not making that up. And the song…the song was a warning. It told me that something malevolent was nearby. Like I told you, I was listening to that song when I learned my Sunday School teacher had been murdered. That song was witness to my loss of innocence. It’s no wonder it became a warning that something dark was happening.” This was the most Scully had said since he broke into her apartment this evening. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, looking exhausted from the effort of saying so much.
Mulder chose his words carefully. “Maybe you were being warned that evil was near. But it wasn’t Satan whispering in your ear to shoot Pfaster. Pfaster is the evil that you were being warned about. Not Satan. He’s just a figment of the imagination of the people who wrote the Bible. I don’t want to think of yourself as some pawn or anything like that. You are a good person, Scully. A good person who attracted the interest of a very bad person. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t sit here and watch you torment yourself.”
She turned to look at him, the first eye contact in awhile. “Do you see me differently now, Mulder?” she asked. “Now that I’m a murderer?”
“Scully, stop it!” he said, harsher than he intended. “You killed Pfaster out of a sense of self preservation. You aren’t some cold-blooded killer. Don’t you ever think of yourself that way. Not ever. Like I said, you are the very best person I know. Nothing that happened tonight is going to change things, Scully. In fact, I admire you even more than I did before, and that’s saying something. You are a very tough person, but you’re also one of the people in the world who spreads light and compassion everywhere they go. That’s how I will always see you. What happened tonight won’t change that.”
She reached out for his hand and threaded her fingers through his. “So you still love me?” she said, so softly that Mulder barely heard it.
Mulder disengaged their hands and pulled Scully into his lap. She instantly buried her face in his neck as he gently rubbed circles on her lower back. “I’ll always love you, Scully. I’ll love you forever. I think what I have to process is that I almost lost you tonight. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.” He paused. “If the devil was whispering in your ear tonight, he whispered in mine too. He told me to pay no attention to the coincidence of the song. How else can I explain my ignoring a clue like that? It screams X-files.”
“Well, we are a pair. You don’t want me beating myself up for shooting Pfaster and I don’t want you beating yourself up for not figuring out what he had planned. Whether Pfaster was nurtured into being evil or Satan was talking to him, the outcome was the same. He was going to do what he did no matter what. Please, Mulder, don’t feel bad because you didn’t stop it.”
Mulder ran his fingers through her hair. “I can’t help it. My job is to protect you. And I failed tonight.”
Scully sat up in his lap and took his face in her hands. “Look at me, Mulder. I don’t need you going through life thinking you have to protect me. After all, I got myself out of the bindings by myself. I shot him without your help. I’d say I did a pretty good job taking care of myself tonight.” She jutted her chin out defiantly.
“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t. But the role of a partner is to protect the other. You’ve saved my ass a thousand times, Scully. You are an incredible agent. But you shouldn’t have gone through what you went through tonight. If I had figured out he was going to come after you, things would have turned out differently. I feel like I failed.”
“Mulder, who’s whispering in your ear right now? Who is telling you to blame yourself? Who?”
He closed his eyes. “That voice has been speaking to me since Samantha disappeared, Scully. Telling me I’m a failure. I know I shouldn’t listen to it, and most of the time I can block it out, but sometimes it’s loud. It’s making a lot of noise tonight.”
“And you don’t think that could be the devil speaking to you?”
He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. He moved an errant stand of hair off her forehead, careful of the large bruise on her cheek. “No Scully, I really don’t believe the devil gives a damn about me. I think my insecurities torment me more than any evil spirit ever could.”
“Well, tell them to shut the hell up.”
Mulder would have laughed if he wasn’t so tired and feeling slightly buzzed from the alcohol. He just wrapped his arms tighter around Scully and pulled her into his chest. “Let’s go to bed,” he said. “I want this day to be over.”
“I’m not sure I can sleep after what happened, Mulder.”
Mulder put hands on both her hips and scooted her off his lap until she was standing in front of him. “Let’s try,” said Mulder. “I want to feel my skin against yours. I want to whisper beautiful things in your ear as you drift to sleep. As much as I talk, I know I can drown Satan out.” He stood up next to her and slung an arm over her shoulder.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she grumbled, as he steered her down the hallway toward his bedroom. Outside the room, she turned and stopped him. “What’s going to happen to me, Mulder?” she asked, sounding more depressed than he ever heard her.
“This is what’s going to happen, Scully. My report will reflect that you had no choice but to shoot Pfaster. As far as I’m concerned, or as the FBI is concerned, that’s the truth. And after a few days off you will come back to the bureau, go through mandatory counselling as ordered, and you’ll deal with this. I know that there are tough days and nights ahead. But I will be there with you the whole way, through every rocky patch. And at some point this horror will have less of a hold over you. I know it will. It’s just going to take some time. But it will happen. This will be in your rear view mirror some day, I promise.”
Scully looked at him. “I wish I had your faith, Mulder. I’m scared this has changed me forever.”
“It hasn’t, Scully, I promise. You are still you. Bringing your light into this world. Bringing love into my world. This hasn’t broken you.”
She nodded silently, then pushed open the bedroom door. “Come to bed with me, Mulder,” she whispered. “Hold me and keep me safe from all the evils of the universe.”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. “I’ll always keep you safe, Dana,” he said, pulling her tightly against his chest. “I’ll do anything to keep evil at bay.”
“I want to believe so bad, Mulder. I want to believe that you can keep dark forces away.”
“Oh Scully, don’t you realize? For you, I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”
“I know,” she said, and then yawned. “Come protect me in the land of dreams, will you? I don’t want Pfaster to enter into my mind when I’m sleeping.”
“Scully, I’ve got your back. Let’s get into bed and bid this horrible day goodbye. Together.” He let her go and pushed open the bedroom door.
Ten minutes later, she was the little spoon to his big spoon, her breaths getting slower and deeper. Mulder put his lips over her ears. “It’s me, Scully. And I’m whispering words of comfort and joy to accompany you to sleep. Know that I love you always.” He hoped, with all the strength of his soul, that his love and gentle words would ward off Pfaster and all his darkness from visiting her in her sleep. She deserved some peace.