***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.
"The Stranger" belongs to Billy Joel.

ARCHIVING: Link only, please!

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The Stranger
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Angst

Rated PG

Spoilers for "Demons"

Summary: Mulder and Scully consider her cancer, his demons,
and the darkness.

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The Stranger
by shannono

==========

Well we all have a face that we hide away forever
And we take them out and show ourselves when everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel, some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the stranger, but we love to try them on.

==========

Fox Mulder sat alone, again, in his apartment, contemplating life and
the darkness. To his mind, the two were inextricably intertwined. His
life was darkness. *He* was darkness. He threw his shadow like a
black hole around all who ventured close, absorbing their light and
life, sending back only blackness.

He closed his eyes against the dark, allowing his memory to replay
the faults and foibles he remembered all too well. He started at the
beginning, with the determining moment of his life. He found it
ironic that the moment that set him along his path of darkness was
defined by light, the brightness that paralyzed him as she was
dragged away.

Actually, now that he thought about it, so many of his darkest
moments were surrounded by light. Not the light of goodness and
truth, though; the light of fear and helplessness. An encounter in
the steam of Puerto Rico. On a hilltop in North Carolina. In the
arid desert of New Mexico.

In the glow of an X-ray display ...

He reopened his eyes to the deepening shadows surrounding him,
but the image was branded on his mind. Black and white film, stark
against the white lights. She explained what the film revealed, hiding
herself behind her scientific detachment, as she did all too well.
Cancer, she said. Inoperable. Probably incurable.

He closed his eyes again. Irony, again, in the small tumor indicated
by a small white line on the film. Darkness invading her body, yet it
shone bright from the X-ray film.

He believed she knew, or suspected, that the cancer was there, even
before the tests showed it to her. When she went to Philadelphia
without him. When she got that tattoo.

When she nearly got herself killed.

He didn't know *that* Scully, *that* Dana, the woman who picked up
some guy in a tattoo parlor, of all places, and slept in his apartment
that night. He hadn't asked if she actually slept *with* him. It was
possible, he guessed. Anything was possible with *that* Dana. The
stranger. The dark side of her.

The side of her that reflected him.

He doubted that part of her existed before she met him. She was all
brightness and light, good to the core, solid and strong. She wouldn't
let the darkness control her.

Until she got too close to him. She couldn't fight that darkness. It
took over from everyone, invaded all it touched, leaving only
blackness. A cancer of its own, living in him.

They were there now. A stranger within her. A stranger within him.

He didn't know himself anymore. He didn't know her anymore.

And he didn't know what to do about it.

==========

Well we all fall in love, but we disregard the danger
Though we share so many secrets, there are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised that you never saw the stranger?
Did you ever let your lover see the stranger in yourself?

==========

Dana Scully curled up again in her chair, wrapped in an old afghan,
her mug of cocoa cooling on the table beside her. The only light in
the room came through the cracks of the wooden blinds, a soft glow
from a streetlamp outside the window. She closed her eyes against
the light and let the darkness behind her eyes envelop her.

She could almost feel the tumor in her head, feel it pulsing like a
heartbeat, counting down the days remaining in her life. The
doctors had confirmed it just days before. The cancer was growing,
spreading. Her time was running out.

She couldn't tell him. This was a secret she couldn't tell. Not now.
Maybe not ever.

The invader, the stranger in her, was killing her slowly. But it was
killing him, too, maybe more quickly. He saw it as his responsibility,
his fault. Just as he blamed himself for his sister, he blamed himself
for Scully, for everything she'd been through.

She was tired, so tired of fighting his demons for him and with him.

She was still in shock at what he'd done this time to try to regain his
memories of his sister. He'd ditched her again, which didn't surprise
her so much. But he'd taken so many risks, and nearly gotten
himself killed in the process. Nearly gotten her killed, too.

Nearly killed her himself.

She shuddered and reopened her eyes to the darkness. The street
light must have gone out, she thought idly. Its glow was gone, and
she could see only shadows. A chair by the window. The television
across the room.

The couch.

She could hardly stand to sit on her couch anymore. Ever since
that night ... the night she'd nearly kissed him. Or what she
thought was him.

She'd been surprised when he'd shown up at the door, wine in
hand, ready to talk. They hadn't talked much, not since that very
first case, when he'd told her about his sister and his quest. That
discussion was an exploration, testing the waters of their brand-
new partnership, learning to start to trust.

They hadn't needed those discussions in a long time. They'd talked
more earlier in their partnership -- he told her about Phoebe, she
told him about Jack. But it hadn't been necessary since *they* shut
them down all those years ago. It was an attempt to drive them apart,
as was her abduction. But both had only served to bring them more
tightly together.

Lately, though, their bond seemed to be fraying around the edges.
She knew the cancer was part of it. At first, she had let it fall
between them, trying to put in some distance, trying to make it
easier for him if she didn't make it.

The trip to Philadelphia was part of that. She was rebelling a bit,
yes, as she'd explained to Ed in that bar. But after Leonard Betts
gave voice to her worst fears, she let the words consume her, let
the darkness overtake her. She lost a bit of her control, went a bit
too far. She didn't sleep with Ed; she managed to stop herself before
that.

But the tattoo. The fight with Mulder, over something as insignificant
in the long run as a desk. She had the marks, visible and invisible,
as proof that they'd become strangers.

She didn't know herself anymore. She didn't know him anymore.

And she didn't know what to do about it.
        
==========

Once I used to believe I was such a great romancer
Then I came home to a woman that I could not recognize
When I pressed her for a reason, she refused to even answer
It was then I felt the stranger kick me right between the eyes.

==========

Mulder still felt the wounds from their conflict. They'd argued over 
the case in Philadelphia, argued over her status, argued over the
importance of the X-Files.

Argued over their trust. The one thing they thought they could both
believe in.

But he hadn't trusted her to handle the case. Hadn't trusted her belief
that the case wasn't an X-File. He wasn't there to analyze it himself,
and he couldn't take her at her word.

He didn't consider her reaction.

Good God, why couldn't he have left it alone? The case wasn't that
important. But no, he *had* to cut short his forced vacation, *had* to
come running back to "clean up" after her. And she hated him for it.
He'd violated the trust they held so sacred.

He'd taken her for granted. He'd taken for granted that she was
happy, that the X-Files were as important to her as they were to him.

But he'd never bothered to ask her if she was happy. Never even
considered it. He thought he knew. Thought he had the answers

He was wrong.

He didn't even have the right questions.

==========

Don't be afraid to try again
Everyone goes south, every now and then
You've done it, why can't someone else?
You should know by now, you've been there yourself.

==========

Scully thought for a moment about what Mulder was doing right then.
Probably sitting on his couch in the dark, beating himself up, as
usual. Either that, or engrossed in some orgy being played on his
television screen.

She let out a sigh as her eyes closed again. This time, the memory
played back on the insides of her eyelids was a discussion in a
hospital hallway a few months before. They'd managed to bridge the
gap between them, the blackness of the cancer serving some good by
helping to restore their relationship. She'd made the choice to fight,
to rage against the night, against the darkness that was closing in
on them both. He'd welcomed her back, offered her his comfort and
support, and, for once, she took it. She knew they both needed that
moment, that embrace, to heal the wounds so they could move on.

It worked, at least for a while. But lately, she felt the darkness
creeping in again. She'd inadvertently jeopardized their bond
again, on the couch she could barely stand to consider, much less
use.

She'd caused the problems this time. She never should have
accepted the kiss Eddie/Mulder had offered. She should have
pulled away, should have done more than sit there as he moved in.
When the real Mulder burst in and saw the display before him, she
could feel him drawing back into himself. She'd tried to reach out,
but she couldn't get past her own embarrassment.

She had wanted to try again, but now, she was wondering if she
could. After his battle with himself and his memories, after he'd
pulled his gun on her again, she was so afraid he would lose his
tenuous grip on himself if she told him about the cancer. That's why
she was holding back from him. She didn't know if he could take it
right now.

But she felt she had to reach him somehow, had to break through
the blackness surrounding him, before it swallowed him whole. She
knew what he was going through. She'd been there. She'd come
so close to letting it swallow her.

She had to help him. But she didn't have any idea where to start.

So she sat alone, in the darkness, as her strength slowly ebbed away.

==========

You may never understand how the stranger is inspired
But he isn't always evil, and he is not always wrong.
Though you drown in good intentions, you will never quench the fire
You'll give in to your desire when the stranger comes along.

==========

Mulder actually thought his glimpse of the "dark" Dana, in other
circumstances, might have been good for them both. He'd seen
some of the cracks in her armor, whether she liked it or not. It
made him feel she was a little more human, a little closer to his
own level.

But not that close.

He felt the darkness brushing over him, invading him again, and
could not dispel it. It told him he wasn't worth it. He'd already
destroyed his own life, and he'd certainly done his part to destroy
hers. Hers, her mother's, her brothers' .... they had lost Melissa
because of his quest, lost her goodness and light to his darkness.

It wasn't a fair trade.

He tried, so hard, to protect Scully. He knew secrets he couldn't
tell her. He knew what they'd done during her abduction, but it
seemed so insignificant now. If the cancer took her, what
difference would it make if she was sterile? She might never live
to have children. Why burden her with the truth?

So he kept the truth from her, as the knowledge burned in him,
eating away at his soul like pure acid. His soul was already so
damaged, he could barely feel it now.

What he did feel was her. He felt her inside and outside, holding
him together.

He was dangerous to her, he knew. He'd almost killed her, again.
He still could not believe the stupid, stupid things he'd done in
his desperate, irrational drive to uncover his memories. He hated
himself even more, if that was possible. He was completely
worthless. He should end it now and put him out of everyone
else's misery.

But he couldn't do it. She was so intertwined with him that he
couldn't break free. No matter how much he thought he should,
for the sake of both of them. He didn't have the strength.

He couldn't even save her from himself.

So he sat alone, breathing in the darkness like a drug. It would
consume them both.

He was powerless to stop it.

==========END==========