Disclaimer: Nope, these characters aren't mine. 

Category: VA
Classification: Mulder/Scully UST
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Orison 
Archive: Gossamer. Spookys. Others ask me. 
Feedback: Knock yourself out. 
Summary: Scully experiences a crisis of faith. 
Thanks to: Sara Lynn for beta duties. 

"Dark Page" (1/1)
by Lisa  
(haven599@msn.com) 

Scully's apartment
7:41 p.m. 


    Scully sat in front of her computer staring at the screen.  The 
report had to be completed.  Most of it was finished already, only 
the part pertaining to the actual attack remained incomplete.  

    The hardest part.  

    How was she supposed to type those words?  She would have
to re-live the attack all over again.  It had only been three days.  

    She took off her glasses and yawned, feeling very tired and 
numb.  If only her sleep would be free from nightmares, maybe 
she would feel better.  Maybe this task would be easier.  

    It had been put off long enough.  Sitting up straight in the 
chair, she began to type a few sentences before someone knocked
at her door.  

    Mulder.  She wasn't too surprised.  "Is this a bad time?" he 
asked.  

    "No. I guess not." She shook her head.  "Come in." 

    He sat down on the couch.  "How are you doing, Scully?  I haven't
seen you since . . ." 

    "Better now that I found a place that will repair the mirror 
above my bureau drawer.  I had to call three places before I found
someone.  The rest of the stuff is easy to replace, but that mirror 
is one of my favorites."  Scully explained.  "I just want everything
back to the way it was."  

    "Good," he replied before walking over to her computer.  "What
are you working on?"  

    "My report."  She joined him at the computer.  "I can't quite 
find the right words.  I needed a little break anyway."  

    "Do you want some help?" 

    "No, I'm fine.  It's my report and I need to put the time into 
getting it right.  I should have given it to Skinner already.  You've
got yours done, right?"  she asked.  "I'm almost done.  It shouldn't
be too hard to finish it."  Scully wished she really believed that
statement.  

    "Scully, I'm sure whatever you write will be fine, considering 
the circumstances,"  he said.  

    "No, it needs to be accurate and thorough. I just can't skim over
the details."  She sat back down at the desk, ready to type.  

    Mulder put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 
"Of course you can't," he said softly.  

    "You don't have to leave," Scully told him.  "I shouldn't be
too much longer.  You came all the way over here, why don't you 
get yourself something to eat or watch television."  

    "You sure I won't be distracting you?"  Mulder asked, already 
opening the refrigerator.  

    "No, of course not."   Scully began to type.  She felt a little 
more comfortable with Mulder here.  Her apartment didn't seem so
quiet and dark. It was easier to concentrate. After a half hour of 
typing, she had finished.  The section only turned out to be a 
page long.  She rubbed her eyes, trying not to see the images play
out in her mind again.  

    "Scully, you all right?"  

    She walked towards him.  "I think I need to rest for a minute." 

    "Let me get you something to drink."

    Scully plopped down on the couch, curling her legs underneath
her.  Mulder handed her a Diet Coke and she took a few sips before
setting it down on the table.  She closed her eyes, leaning back 
against the cushion.  

    By the time Mulder had cleaned up the kitchen, Scully had 
fallen asleep.  He picked her up carefully and carried her to the
bedroom.  

    Mulder was all set to leave, but his eyes kept wandering back
to her computer in the corner.  He scrolled up until he found the
part where she began the narrative about Pfaster's attack.  The 
first couple of paragraphs were difficult enough to read.  

    He turned away from the monitor and almost made it across the
room, but he was compelled to finish the rest.  Sitting down, Mulder
read the next paragraph.

    'He threw me against the mirror several times, shattering it to
pieces.  I fought him off as best as I could, even hitting him with
a shard of glass from the mirror. He finally fell to the floor and
I pulled over a bookcase on top of his body.  I ran for the telephone
to call for help, but he grabbed me, forcing me face down on the 
ground with my hands behind my back, tying them together with 
pantyhose. My feet were done in the same fashion.  I was also 
gagged and then dragged into my bedroom closet.'

    Mulder's mind was putting images together for the words he 
was reading.  He read on about how she was able to get her gun
and finally shoot Pfaster, the part where he came upon the scene.  

    Scully's scream startled him out of his reading.  Rushing into
her bedroom, he asked her what was wrong.  

    "It was just a nightmare, I'll be fine in a moment."  Scully 
wiped the tears from her face quickly.  

    Sitting on the edge of the bed, Mulder touched her shoulder
gently.  A couple of minutes passed before he added: "I'm so 
sorry." 

    "For what?" she asked. "You didn't do anything."  

    "That's the problem.  I should have had someone posted here 
at your apartment to protect you. Of course Pfaster would want to
come back . . ."

    "Mulder, I'm not blaming you.  Besides, do you really think a
police officer could have stopped Donnie Pfaster?  Nothing was 
going to stop him from trying to . . ." 

    "I know," he said softly.
    
    "But I was the one that killed -" her voice stopped on that
one word.

    "If you didn't kill him, I would have, Scully.  For all those 
women that suffered, but especially because he hurt you."  Mulder
told her, before continuing:  "I read your report.  I wanted to
know what happened and was afraid to ask you about it."

    "I'm not sorry I killed him, Mulder.  What kind of person does
that make me?  I'm glad he's dead."  she sobbed, turning her body
away from him.

    "I know you're having trouble reconciling your actions with
your faith, but perhaps God wanted him dead and used you to carry
out the task."  Mulder suggested.  

    "What do you mean?  Like a missionary of some kind?" Scully 
asked.  

    "Perhaps. You didn't succeed the first time, but this time 
you were stronger and He knew it."  Mulder replied.  

    "I don't know if I'm comfortable with that.  That I had no 
control, no will of my own and this was predestined to happen." 
she said.  "What your saying is that I was chosen, hand-picked
by God to do this." 

    Mulder shifted closer to her, bringing his arms around her.
Scully was able to relax into the embrace, resting her head against
his chest. "Why wouldn't God choose you?" he whispered into her 
hair.

++++

END (1/1)

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