Value & Honor
by Forte
(Forte1354@aol.com)

Please see Chapter 1 for rating, summary, disclaimer, etc.


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- Chapter 3b -

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After several more minutes had passed, Scully was still eating in
silence, her full attention on her sandwich.  She gave no indication
that she planned to speak again during the meal.

Again, Mulder could wait no longer, and this time he wasn't going to
tap dance around the subject.

"Scully?"

She looked up at Mulder as she put her sandwich, on its way to her
mouth, back down on the plate.  "Hmm?"

He hesitated a moment, struck by how weary she looked.  Why hadn't
he noticed that before?  "What happened this morning with Diana?"

Scully's jaw tightened and she chewed on her bottom lip, but she
maintained her eye contact with him.  Mulder gave her credit for not
even trying to pretend that nothing was on her mind.

"I was just trying to decide how to ask you this."  She paused. 
"Mulder, have you spoken with Agent Fowley recently?  In the last
week or so?"

He wasn't sure where she was going with the question, but decided it
would be best to give her a straightforward answer, then ask her to
elaborate.  "No," he shrugged, "haven't had a reason to.  Why?"

Scully considered his answer.    She
pressed her lips together.   she assured
herself.  

"Something weird happened this morning, Mulder."

She proceeded to detail her conversation with Fowley for him,
describing the events in the most professional, detached, and
objective manner she could.

When she finished, she went back to studying the food on her plate,
waiting for his reaction.  Mulder slumped back in his chair and
stared at her, stunned.

  Maybe he was full of shit, grasping
at straws.  Scully, Queen of Skeptics, did not exaggerate.  Period. 
Yet he, King of Believers, could not reconcile what his partner had
just told him with what he knew about Diana Fowley.  Diana was
self-confident, determined; she knew what she wanted, and knew how
to get it.  But she wasn't cruel.  Never.  Not even when she'd left
him.

Finally he found his voice, but again he would immediately regret
his choice of words.

"I can't believe she would say those things, Scully."

She felt knots of frustration twist her stomach --  -- and snapped her eyes up to look at him.  "Are you
suggesting that I was hearing things, Mulder?"

"No, no," he hastened to reply.  "I just mean that... that's not
like Diana at all.  I've never known her to be..." he made a gesture
of resignation with his hands, "quite so bitchy."

"Well, maybe she's given up her kinder, gentler ways."  Scully
inhaled sharply, then poked at her sandwich without interest,
thinking.  "There's something I don't understand."

"What?"

"How could she have known about...."  She paused, then took another
quick breath.  "About =that=?  About =me=?"

Alarms went off in Mulder's head, and he blanched.   he assured himself.  But again, he had to be
certain.

"Scully... you don't think I told...."

Mulder was relieved by her small gasp.

"No, no, of course not, Mulder.  I know you would never tell anyone
unless it were absolutely necessary.  But doesn't that beg the
question?  Where would she have gotten that information, Mulder?  I
know I wasn't imagining things or overreacting.  She definitely
=knew=."

"I don't know.  I have no idea, Scully."

Silence.

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Mulder.  I'm not going to let
her get to me."



"Come on, Scully.  You can't tell me that what she said didn't
bother you."



The Fates tempted, Scully shrugged.  "I'm fine, Mulder."

Mulder's jaw clenched.  "You're =not= fine, Scully."

"Don't patronize me, Mulder!" she returned.

Now both of Mulder's fists clenched as well.  "Jesus, Scully, do I
need to get into a geography lesson here?  Give you a fucking
lecture on rivers in Egypt?"

Scully's eyes widened as her mouth formed an "O" and then closed
again without sound.  "What the hell does =that= mean?" she demanded.



"Do you expect me to believe that comments like that wouldn't hurt
you?  Or have you really convinced yourself that they don't?"

Scully tried to tamp down her hostility --  -- but at
the same time couldn't let Mulder's presumptuousness go
unchallenged.  "Don't do this, Mulder.  You have no idea what I
think or feel."



"I think I =do= know how you feel, Scully.  You've been wearing your
heart on your sleeve all day."

Scully gaped for an instant, then closed her mouth.  Mulder rarely
spoke to her in words that cut so close to the bone.  But he had a
point; the events of the prior week and of that morning in
particular had gone a long way toward shredding the stoic facade
that she tried to maintain at all times.  Still, even if he
recognized her lowered defenses, that didn't mean he knew the
sentiments behind them.  Nor did it mean that she could discuss it
with him; her emotions were a blur, racing through her psyche, her
soul, far too quickly for her to place them in any but the broadest
of categories.  If she couldn't make sense of it all, how could he?

She drew in a breath, then spoke slowly, enunciating each word. 
"You do not understand, Mulder.  You don't have any idea."



Mulder sat back and crossed his arms across his chest.  "Fine,
Scully.  So help me to understand.  Tell me what I need to know."

She shook her head, astounded by his lack of perceptiveness.  "You
still don't get it, Mulder.  There =are= no words.  No words at all.
Nothing even vaguely adequate."  She paused.  "Can you understand
that?"

Mulder waved a hand in frustration.  "Just try me, Scully.  Throw
out a word at me.  Anything."

Scully sucked in another breath.    Words and memories flew around in
her head, causing it to pound even harder.  She closed her eyes,
grasping the fleeting images: hearing Melissa's voice over the phone
saying 'She needs your help.'  Coloring on the floor with Emily. 
Lying next to her feverish body on a cold hospital bed.  A tiny
coffin, filled with sand.

Arms that would never again cradle a child of her own.

"Loss."  Scully paused as she started to feel the anger well up in
her again, willing herself to not lose complete control of that
emotion.



"Indescribable loss."

Maybe a =little= less control would be OK.

"Miserable, aching, gut-wrenching, goddamn =LOSS=."

She opened her eyes and glared at him, unblinking.  

Mulder glared back, unfolding his arms and leaning slightly forward.

"And you think I don't understand loss, Scully?  Don't you know I've
=felt= loss every fucking day since Samantha was taken?"

Scully softened, but only for a moment.  "I know that, Mulder, and
I'm sorry."  Then the glare returned.  "But you have something that
I will =never= have."

Scully paused and took in a breath.  Her eyes still reflected anger,
but not bitterness.

"You have =hope=."

Mulder stared, speechless, and Scully continued.

"You have hope, Mulder, and I don't have a damned thing.  I will
=never= have a damned thing, and there is nothing that you or I or
anybody else can do about that."

Mulder felt a physical pain in his chest and stomach as her words
echoed in his head.  He continued to stare at his partner.



At first, she returned his gaze without wavering.  Then she
recognized the swirl of pain, compassion, fear, and concern in his
eyes.  She had seen it before...


#-#-#-#-#-#

"Breathe!" he urged, terror obvious in his voice.  "Scully, can you
breathe?" 

Her naked body shivered uncontrollably.

"Cold," she mumbled.  "I'm cold..."

#-#-#-#-#-#


Her eyes stung at the memory of his face, her pain, the cold.  She
looked down at her food, feeling her jaw unclench and her shoulders
droop.   she told herself.    She absently pushed at her sandwich again with one
finger.   her voice echoed.  

"I know you want to help, Mulder, but I need to deal with this... my
own way.  Please don't push so hard.  I don't want to fight about
it."



Mulder swallowed and took a slow breath.  "Neither do I." He paused.
"I'm sorry, Scully."  He reached across the table, extending the
middle and index fingers of his hand, then wrapped them around the
finger she was using to poke at her lunch, and gave a gentle squeeze.

Scully closed her eyes.  

<"I want to believe."  =Tell= him...>

She curled her finger to return the gentle embrace, the corners of
her lips edging up in tandem.    She squeezed her eyes more
tightly, struck by the revelation, then opened them and withdrew her
hand, suddenly shy.  To cover her embarrassment, she used the same
hand to reach down to her coat pocket to retrieve the bottle of
pills she'd grabbed from her desk.

Mulder watched as she swallowed three more of the caplets, then he
released a layered sigh.  "So what are you going to do about
Diana?"

Scully returned the sigh.  "What =can= I do, Mulder?  Report her? 
For what, being immature and petty?  We're all big boys and girls,
and I know how to deal with a bully."

Although he hid it, Mulder bristled at the word "bully".  And then
he felt ashamed of that reaction.

"What about how she got her... information?" he asked.

Scully set her elbows on the table and once again closed her eyes
and massaged the muscles of her forehead, partially concealing her
face with her hands.  "I don't know, Mulder.  Right now I don't want
to think about it.  My head hurts enough already."

  Mulder reached across the table and gently
pulled back one of her hands.  "You okay?"

She raised her eyes to look at her partner and nodded.  "I will be,
when I have some answers."

"We'll get the answers, Scully," he said, his tone one of
determination.  "=I= can get them," he emphasized.

Scully squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, brow
furrowing.  "Mulder, in all the years we've been together -- have I
ever told you what an incredibly persistent pain in the ass you can
be?"

Mulder froze.    Their
conversation had been such a rollercoaster, he wasn't sure.  He
didn't like feeling uncertain, not where Scully was concerned, and
that had already happened too many times for one day.

 she thought, seeing his face tighten.    Remorseful, she
willed her face to soften, and his followed suit.

She shook her head slowly.  "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come
out harshly."  He nodded his acknowledgment.  "This is my problem
and I'll deal with it.  But I appreciate your loyalty, Mulder." 
  She rubbed her forehead one
more time, then sat back in her chair, determination etched in her
features.  

Mulder watched her, an apprehensive cast to his face, as though he
were trying to decide whether to speak.  But Scully didn't give him
a chance; she pushed her chair back and stood up.

  "I have an errand to run," she announced.  "I'll
see you back at the office?"

Mulder nodded, but the fleeting blank look on his face told her it
was only because she'd caught him off-guard.  Scully started to
reach into her pocket.

"That's okay, Scully.  Lunch is on me."

She nodded in return.  "Thanks.  I'll see you later."  She started
to turn away, then hesitated and looked back at her partner's
expectant face.



"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"You may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I still wouldn't change
a day."  She gave him a small smile.  "Except for that Flukeman
thing, of course."

Mulder blinked, then beamed, holding the smile until after she'd
left the restaurant.  Then his face drooped back into a neutral
expression as he replayed their conversation, one of the most
stunningly dense and heartfelt discussions he could ever recall
having with her.  Sweet and bitter and painful, like eating dark,
dark chocolate laced with broken glass.   he mused.

<"My loyalty is right where it should be.">

<"You have hope, and I don't have a damned thing.">

<"I don't want to fight about this.">

<"I still wouldn't change a day.>

So many things got in their way.  Their enemies, their demons, their
own stubbornness....

Mulder realized he was staring across the table at where Scully had
been sitting.



The empty chair gave him no answer.

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- end Chapter 3 -

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