RESIGNED

By: Lauriebds


Attitude. It's a part of her.  It's what gives her her strength;
but, Lord am I tired of it being directed at me.  Part of me wants
to defend myself, but I know there is no defense I could give her. 
When all is said and done, I've been compromised.  I should just
be glad she doesn't know anymore of it.  

One thing I would like her to know is that there is nothing they
could do to me to make me hurt her, or Mulder for that matter. 
Hurt Mulder's case? his work?  Maybe.  I'd like to be bigger than
that, but I'm not sure that I am.

It doesn't matter.  I'm standing outside of Mulder's apartment for
a reason.

"Billie LaPierre is asking for him.  She has something to say, and
she'll only talk to Mulder,"  I inform her, her attitude dispelling
my initial attempt at concern.

"It's not a good ti..." she starts.

Always.  It will always be him that she protects in this way.  Him
that she trusts against everyone and everything.  I am not
surprised she is answering his door this time of the morning, yet
I know their relationship is not romantic.

"What is it?" Mulder asks, hearing my voice and coming up behind
her.

"The case is heating up.  I've booked two flights for us," I say. 

He nods.  I knew there was no question he would come.  So did she,
but I am still the villain.

"Well then, you better make it three," she counters, throwing me
a glare to let me know she will be there to protect him.  From
what? I wonder. From me?

***

As we stand outside the LaPierre's home waiting for Mulder, we are
each in our own thoughts.  We have managed not to speak to each
other through the entire flight here.  The silence continues; there
is nothing to say.  There hasn't been since that day in my office
when I told her not to pursue the man that had infected me.  I
couldn't bear to look at her that day.  I couldn't stand to see
myself reflected in her eyes.

Mulder comes out looking half dead and hopeless.  I feel something
sink inside me; I know Amber Lynn is dead.  Mulder was the only
person with hope, and his despair is apparent.

When he asks whether he can "please" be let off the case, I know
how truly bad off he is.  Maybe Scully was right.  Regardless of
his pleas, I shouldn't have let him get involved in this case; and
I shouldn't have kept him involved after the death of his mother. 
While my responsibility is to that little girl, part of my
responsibility is for the welfare of my agents.  I used to know
that.

I don't even have to nod.  It is obvious he can barely stand, let
alone pursue a lead on this case.  We all get back in the car to
head back to the airport.  

Mulder looks like a zombie in the back seat.  I should have asked
Scully to sit in the back with him, but then I realize she is
protecting him once more.  She doesn't want to fawn over him in
front of me.  She wants to give him his dignity.  Even so, she
steals worried glances at him from time to time.

***

As I stand in this field, the mounds spreading off in all
directions, I think maybe I've seen enough.  You witness enough
evil, no matter what your intentions at fighting it, and it eats
away at you.  It is all too apparent with Mulder that this is the
case.  It's why I won't lend him out to VC anymore.

I hear myself taking charge; my autopilot taking over.  It's served
me well over the years,... maybe too well.  I'm on the cell phone
now, contacting the local field office.  We'll need equipment, and
lots of it, to exhume all the bodies.  

The time passes in stunned silence.  Given Mulder's frame of mind,
I should order him away.  I know he won't go, but I should maintain
some semblance of protocol.

When the first two bodies are exhumed, Scully informs me she is
leaving to start the autopsies.  I turn to her and tell her no,
there are plenty of qualified Forensic Scientists in California.
I order her to take Mulder and get some rooms in a motel.  Get some
rest.

The truth is, I don't want her to do the autopsies.  While the evil
that men do is an X-file in itself, this case doesn't technically
qualify as one.  It doesn't have to be her.  I want to spare her
this one time. 

Her eyes flash fire and I know my cause is lost.  Mulder's sister
may be among the bodies.  I will earn her absolute hatred if I
don't let her find the truth for him.  
  
***

Mulder has disappeared again.  He booked rooms at the Red Carriage
Inn like I ordered, but he is gone.  A knock on Scully's door
confirms she never arrived.

Midnight?  Surely she can't still be doing the autopsies?  I have
the rental car, but she could have taken a cab.  I suddenly know
she is still at the local coroner's office, apparently bent on some
kind of autopsy marathon.

When I arrive, she is in the middle of examining a small skeleton. 
She looks like death herself standing there in the harsh lights. 

"Scully, wrap this one up and I'll take you back to the motel," I
order.

She takes off her gloves and wipes her forehead with the back of
her hand.  "I just finished, but I'm not leaving just yet."

"Yes, you are," I brook no argument.  "I'll wait for you outside
while you clean up."

As I wait out in the hallway, I wonder how she'll respond.  My
authority over her and Mulder is something of a joke.  She takes
long enough that I start to wonder whether she's coming at all. 
Finally, the double doors open.  I can tell she is displeased, but
she's too exhausted to keep the mood going.

Once in the car, she starts to fill me in.  None of the children
were Amber Lynn.   As much as "Santa" refused to take
responsibility for her during interrogation, I am still surprised. 
You tend not to take the word of a man who DID take responsibility
for the death of 24 other children.

I clear my throat before I ask, "What about Samantha?"  

Scully's attention is suddenly riveted to me.  She is surprised I'd
know to ask the question.  After a moment, her gaze returns to the
scenery passing by her window. She tells me that, while she didn't
finish all the autopsies, the remaining children are too young to
be Samantha.

I let out a sigh, whether in relief or despair I do not know.  If
Mulder found his sister, even in this manner, it might finally end
it.  Mulder?  It reminds me I don't know his whereabouts.  

"Have you heard from him?" I ask.

She has the good grace to look chagrined as she answers.  "I spoke
to him a couple of hours ago.  He went back to Santa's Village to
go through the videotapes."

Santa's Village?  An image of all I've seen today comes back to me. 
I can only imagine the ghosts it's resurrecting for Mulder.  

"Does he know?" I wonder.

Scully shakes her head in the darkness of the car.  I am suddenly
aware of how much the last couple of days have taken out of her.

She suddenly turns to me.  "I want to tell him myself."

I nod.  Of course.

***

In spite of Scully's protests, I stop at a 24-hour mart to get us
some day-old sandwiches. So armed, we say goodnight to each other
at the motel and head into our respective rooms.

I eat my sandwich, but can't sleep.  Something changed today. 
Maybe it was seeing Mulder in such a state of despair.  Over the
last 7  years, I've come to believe in his quest for the truth. 
I've also come to trust that he is the one person true enough to
get at it.  

Today, I realized that there is much more to him then a noble
quest, both good and bad.  Maybe much of what he's encountered over
the years has been by accident.  Maybe the truth in Samantha's case
was never "out there."  Maybe the final irony is that good, solid
detective work, free of paranormal conjecture and speculation, was
the route to the truth after all.  I'm not sure I believe it;  but
Mulder did today, if only for a moment.
   
In my reaction to Mulder, I see my own confusion. I sit in the
wooden chair at the little table in a nameless motel, staring
vacantly into space.  I sit until I receive the Director's phone
call at 6 a.m.

The Director's shorts are in a twist over Mulder and Scully.  He
informs me that Scully's been a busy girl, performing an autopsy
on Mulder's mother on the strength of her FBI credentials.  He is
concerned about Mulder's involvement in the case, sure the press
will make much of his unorthodox methods and obviously unstable
frame of mind.  In short, he wants both of them off the case.  

I argue with him over this point. Mulder IS the case.  My room full
of the best and brightest agents made no headway at all.  I don't
know why, but I'm convinced Mulder is the key to finding Amber
Lynn.

The Director's having none of it.  The "ends do not justify the
means."  He's given me leeway in the past, but I've taken to
letting Mulder and Scully run roughshod over me.  What was Mulder
doing talking to the Press, anyway?  Wasn't that my job? As he
makes a veiled threat to my position, I want to laugh.  

"Mr. Director, Sir, you don't know what leverage is," I think.

I let him vent the rest of his opinions and orders, but I know I
will not obey.  I am sick of threats and games.

***

Scully is different this morning.  She is quiet, but she is not
radiating coolness.  I catch her sneaking glances at me over
breakfast, her expression inquisitive.  Maybe she is not the one
different this morning.  My decision is a relief to me, maybe it
shows.

"Scully, you don't have to finish the autopsies this morning.  I
can call someone else in," I offer.  She nods, smiling slightly at
my understanding.  

"I have a feeling that Santa's telling the truth about Amber Lynn. 
That doesn't leave us with a lot of avenues to Investigate.  Mulder
may be our only hope to find her," I warn her.  I look down at my
hands on the table as I continue, "but I don't want to find her at
the expense of him."  I look up again and meet her eye.  "I'll
defer to your judgement when to take him off the case."

She looks a little surprised, but nods.  Now it is her turn to look
down, fiddling with the tea bag in her cup.  As I watch her face,
her lips curl up in a smile.  When she looks up at me again, she
says by way of explanation, "Mulder must be rubbing off on you. 
It sounds like you're operating on intuition."
 
This time I smile.  "More like foreboding."

***

Mulder did stay on in California; but, he no longer was focused on
finding Amber Lynn.  His failure to find his sister among the
bodies only served to escalate his confusion and frustration over
her.  When Scully called to confide in me that she doubted his
emotional stability, I readily agreed to let him off the case.
Almost immediately, Mulder set off on a lead concerning his sister. 
I don't know any more of it.     

Since his sister was never part of the official investigation, I
don't even have the benefit of a report outlining his and Scully's
activities.  As usual, the true details of what happened in those
days following "Santa's" arrest remain a confidence between them,
and them alone.  

I am left only with the feeling that it is over; that Mulder
finally found an answer to the mystery.  I'd like to think he would
tell me about it if I asked, but I won't.  Not now.
  
My stance leaves me with a lot of questions, and no answers
concerning the Santa Claus killer.  There are no wild Mulder
theories on the table to explain away, at least to MY satisfaction,
what happened to Amber Lynn.  The investigation is at a deadend -
an unsatisfying way to end a career.  

I may ask Mulder his opinion about Amber Lynn when I say goodbye
to him tomorrow.  He took a leave of absence and will be back then. 
My carefully planned retirement starts the day after.

I'm staying in the office late tonight to pack some things and make
notes for my replacement.  It's funny how a picture can grace your
desk for years, yet you never take the time to look at it.  I sit
on the corner of my desk and look at it now before adding it to the
box.  It's my partner and I before my promotion.  He died a year
later during a drug raid.  

When the door opens, I tense.  It could be anyone from Krycek or
the Director, to a janitor; but it is Scully.  I haven't seen her
much since California.  While Mulder is on leave, she is teaching
at Quantico.

She closes the door and turns back to face me, standing there a
moment without speaking.  

"Agent Scully," I greet her.

In the meager light of the desk lamp, I can't read her expression;
so, I don't know what to expect.  Does she see my retirement as an
abandonment? a betrayal? Or does she simply wish to say goodbye?

She approaches slowly, almost hesitantly.  Even so, she doesn't
stop at the chairs in front of the desk as is her habit.  I start
to say something as she closes the distance between us, but the
words die in my mouth as her expression is revealed to me in the
halo of light by my desk.  She looks afraid and confused, but still
she keeps coming.  

As she walks right up to me, our eyes lock.  I feel her gaze reach
directly into my soul.  As she reaches out with shaking hands to
touch my face, her expression clears.  She kisses me with a
tenderness that I didn't think possible.  As we kiss, she leans
more fully against me, inviting me to draw her in further and let
her know just how I feel about her.  

I suddenly feel something I haven't felt in a long time... hope.

THE END