Imbroglio (1 / 2)
By Anna Chait
paperheart@webtv.net
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Category: V, R, A (very angsty)
Spoilers: thru Emily
Keywords: MSR
Summary: Mulder deals with the loss of his "quest".  Without 
Samantha to guide his search for the truth, where will his life
go?

PLEASE POST TO GOSSAMER, AND ANY OTHER
 ARCHIVE OR MAILING LIST.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not my creations. They 
belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox.  No copyright 
infringement is intended. 

**********************************

Imbroglio (part 1 of 2)
By Anna Chait

He was doing it again.  Staring, glassy-eyed out the window
at something or nothing, it was hard to tell.  

Even harder to determine was when this had begun.  When 
had he started slipping away?  During those months when
 he knew she had the cancer he watched and waited and 
was quiet about his feelings, seldom questioning her beyond
 the random general state of her health.  He seemed to
 know that she wasn't prepared to talk about it and not just 
with him.  With anyone.

But when it seemed it was the end, after that fiasco with 
Kritchgau and the dead man in his apartment.   When they 
were certain her time was up, the cancer metastasizing in 
her blood stream, he came to her each time with his heart 
on his sleeve, his naked soul in his eyes.  

The final test of their trust for each other was when he 
presented her with the microchip from the vial he'd stolen 
from the secret room in the pentagon basement.  The 
symptoms of the cancer were diagnosed about the time she 
had it removed from her neck.  Perhaps if it were returned.  
He didn't tell her it was the only way.  If fact he encouraged 
her to do everything she could do.  They might never know 
exactly what caused the miraculous turnaround in her 
condition.

During those first few days after the remission news Mulder 
had been busy clearing himself of the charges that could be 
brought against him.  Cancerman was dead, or so it 
seemed.  Scully was on the road to recovery.  The future 
looked better for him now that any time since they had met.  
Yet he seemed to be slipping away.    

It was Mulder who came to check on her twice a day.  
Skinner had instructed him to take care of his partner, take 
some time and regroup.  He ran her errands, did her 
shopping, and even cooked for her from time to time, 
although his culinary talents didn't extend much beyond 
spaghetti and the occasional meatloaf.  But he made a 
mean meatloaf.  

When she had recovered enough of her strength to leave 
her apartment it was her partner who accompanied her on 
short walks through the neighborhood.    She began to gain 
weight, her color was back.  She was sounding hopeful 
again.  But as she progressed, Mulder regressed.

Then it was Christmas and she went to be with her family at 
her brother's new home in San Diego.  When she called him 
about Emily he came, no question.  He supported her once 
again, no questions asked.  He did what she wanted, 
responded to her needs as always.  But what did he need?  

It was after they returned from San Diego that she began to 
notice how quiet he was getting.  Maybe it was after the 
death of Emily that it began.   His investigations had begun 
to get sloppy, some cases remaining unsolved.  It was unlike 
him to admit defeat, to leave things undone, not even trying 
to stretch the facts to some impossible conclusion.  He 
wasn't trying.

But that wasn't when it began.  The more she thought about 
it, the more she was convinced that something happened 
while she was in the hospital.  Something that he hadn't 
shared with her. 

She had called him earlier in the day and asked if he would 
like to watch the video she rented.  He agreed, no questions 
asked.  And 15 minutes into the movie he was gone again.  
Mentally checked out.  Staring out the window at nothing.

She picked up the remote control and clicked off the TV.  He 
didn't even notice, never even flinched.

She put her hand on his arm.  "Mulder?"

His head slowly turned in her direction.  "Is it over?"

"No, it's not over, it's barely begun.  Is something bothering 
you?" she asked.  Maybe he would tell.  More likely she'd 
have to do a little more digging.

"I'm just tired."

She stood up and crossed the room to stand looking out the 
window.  "I don't think so, Agent Mulder.  Something is 
definitely bothering you.  I've never seen you like this 
before.  Perhaps I should have the building's water tested 
again."

The corners of his mouth turned up a little.  It was the 
closest thing to a smile she'd seen from him for weeks.

"I don't think there's anything in the water.  I'm just a little 
under the weather, that's all."  

He was trying to sound a little brighter, but Scully wasn't 
fooled.

"I want you to see a doctor.  It's been weeks now that you've 
been "under the weather" as you call it."  She went and sat 
down beside him.

He turned and raised his eyes to hers, searching for 
something.  When he didn't find it, he leaned back, 
defeated.

"You're right.  I will.  Now, I think I'm tired and I'd like to go to 
bed."

She was unable to think of anything else to say and sat 
staring at him.  All right, if he doesn't go to the doctor I'm 
going to have to take this up with Skinner.  His current 
mental state included a level of distraction that could get 
them killed.

She went to the VCR and pulled out her tape.  He followed 
her to the door where she stopped and turned to him.

"Listen to me.  I'm worried. Something is not right with you.  
I've seen you act weird before, but this is something else 
completely.  Promise me you'll make that doctor's 
appointment."

He could see how worried she was and he wished there 
were something he could say to relieve her fears.  But 
frankly, he was just as worried.   He patted her arm hoping 
to calm her a little.  

"I promise, Scully.  Now go on home.  I'm sure you have 
better things to do than fuss over me."

She stopped his hand on her arm with her own and raised 
her crystal blue gaze to his.

"It's my turn." She said softly.  

*************************

He was late to work Monday morning.  When he did show, 
he looked awful.  Unshaven and rumpled, he gulped down 
several aspirin with a cup of coffee before even trying to 
look at the stacks of paper on his desk.  Scully was away 
from the office and when she returned she was startled by 
his appearance.  His face was drawn and his eyes rimmed 
with dark circles.  

She didn't speak, but sat across the desk from him and 
folded her arms.  From the look on her face he could tell 
what the first words out of her mouth would be.  To save 
time he picked up the phone and punched in a number..

"I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Larkin.  Tomorrow 
if possible."    He spoke clearly, knowing his partner was 
hanging on his every word.  As he watched her, her face 
relaxed a little and she unfolded her arms.  Translated that
 meant, okay Mulder.  You've taken the first step, but I'm 
watching you.

**************************

His appointment was for 3pm, which meant she'd have to 
wait until the following day to talk to him about it.  Or, she 
could call him at home after work.  No, she didn't want to 
appear to be hovering.  She hated it when he did that to her.

So she waited.  She paced, tried to read; watched a movie.  
She waited for him to come in the next day, but he didn't.  
There was a message on the office machine that he wasn't 
coming in.

What did that mean?  Had the doctor told him to take some 
time off?  Had the doctor found something terrible and he 
was trying to find a way to tell her?  Dammit, Mulder.  During 
the workday her hand was on the phone five or six times, 
ready to call him and wheedle some information out of him.

She made it through that day, but on the way home her car 
headed to his apartment of it's own will.  She knocked; 
nothing.  She rang the bell, then heard his voice.

"Okay, Scully, don't kick the door in." the last word issued 
after the door was opened.

"Come in."

She stepped inside and waited for him to close the door.

"You see, I knew it would be you.  I expected you actually."

She looked him over quickly.  He looked every bit as bad as 
he had the day before.  She sat and waited.  Then she 
asked, point blank.

"So, are you okay?"

He chuckled.  "They threw everything technology has to 
offer at me.  Beyond a slightly elevated cholesterol level,  I 
appear to be fine, physically."

She ran through a mental checklist of his symptoms; 
depressed beyond what was readily explainable; loss of 
interest or pleasure in daily activities, loss of appetite and 
unexplained weight loss, problems of too much sleep, 
restlessness, fatigue, inability to think clearly and 
concentrate, persistent headaches with no pathological 
cause.

She looked at him, surprised.  Clinical depression?  

"Yeah.  They gave me a prescription.  Drugs, that was their 
answer."  Now he did sound depressed.  His normally 
searching hazel eyes appeared dull and lifeless.   What was 
going on in that amazing brain of his?

She turned, sitting cross-legged on the sofa beside him.

"Don't tell me again that there isn't anything wrong.  I know 
you.  There is, and I think you need to talk about it with 
someone."

He turned his eyes to hers and she was startled to find them 
filled with tears.  

"I want to tell someone, but not you.  Please, don't be hurt 
by that."

She felt as if he'd punched her in the stomach.  The air had 
fled her body and she seemed unable to breathe.

"How else should I interpret that?  You're usually so open 
about your feelings.  I thought I was your friend."  She said, 
hoping he didn't sound as devastated as she felt.

He exhaled, immediately sorry he'd said anything.

"You are my friend, Scully.  The very best friend I've ever 
had and I don't want to hurt you."

She struggled to come to grips with the inequity of what he 
was telling her.  She was the best friend he ever had, but he 
couldn't talk to her?  Fine.  But if not her, who?  Who else in 
this whole world was there for Fox Mulder?

Mulder watched her struggle with her emotions, watched as 
the feelings of confusion traveled across her beautiful face.  
Oh, Dana.  If only things were different.  Right now he 
desperately want to hold her, to be held by her.  He wanted 
to touch her so much it hurt him physically.  

He was unaware that the tears pooling around his lashes 
had begun to slip down his face.  But Dana watched, her 
heart breaking for him, for whatever it was that he was 
keeping inside and for whatever reason.  She reached out 
and put her hand behind his head, pulling him close to her.  
He laid his head in her lap and took comfort in the cool 
hands that smoothed his T-shirt over his shoulders; the 
gentle fingers that pushed his hair away from his face and 
the soothing voice that cooed to him about things being all 
right.  Later he wouldn't be able to recall the words, only the 
feelings.  What remained was the memory of  her hands 
and the pain they were able to soothe.

"If you can't talk to me, it's all right.  But we need to find 
someone you can talk to."

End of part 1 of 2
**************************



Imbroglio (2 / 2)
By Anna Chait
paperheart@webtv.net

He took the rest of the week off.  Discretely, Dana obtained 
the name of a therapist for him to talk to.  She even 
volunteered to take him there, but he shrugged her off 
saying he was still capable of driving safely.  

*************************

Day One -

"I know you're not going to appreciate this, but I'm a 
psychologist myself."

"I thought you were an FBI agent."

"I am.  But my degree is in psychology.  It's my specialty in 
the FBI, profiling.  My partner and I investigate the unusual 
cases, the stuff outside the ability of the mainstream FBI.
We call them X-Files."

"Partner?"

" Yes.  I've had a partner for the past five years.  She's a 
forensic pathologist.  Good at her job.  A little too dedicated 
to science.  She thinks everything can be explained with 
science."

"You don't agree."

"No, I don't.  Shit happens that defies science.  In our
 business, happens all the time.  But that's what makes our 
partnership work.  We balance each other out."

"Tell me about your partner."

He looked at him suspiciously.  He knew what the doctor 
was going after.  

"Yeah, she's gorgeous.  And brilliant as well.  Tried to 
rewrite Einstein..and yes, I am attracted to her.  In fact I 
think I've been in love with her for years.  But it's not a 
problem.  I don't think it's a problem."

He remembered her hands and the comfort they were able 
to deliver.

*****************************

Day 2

"My sister disappeared when I was a kid.  Just vanished out 
of our house.  We never found her, never found a trace.  I 
did some regression hypnotherapy to try and recall what 
happened that night."

"And what did you discover?"

"I remember seeing a bright light and not being able to 
move.  I could hear her calling to me and I was paralyzed.  
It's a persistent nightmare that I've had all my life.  It's what 
got me interested in the X-Files.  Alien abductions and
 unexplainable phenomenon."

"You believe that your sister was abducted by aliens?"

"I used to.  I really wanted to believe that.  It was the most 
rational explanation I could come up with.  Now I believe 
that perhaps my father and his "business associates" were 
involved in some sort of genetic experiments and as heinous 
as it sounds that they used my sister as a guinea pig."

And Scully too.

**************************

Day 3

"...And she was diagnosed with an inoperable 
nasopherengeal tumor.  Terminal.  But I wouldn't give up on 
her.  We were told that she had been given the cancer 
to control me.  If someone gave it her, they might be in 
possession of a way to cure her.  I was desperate."

"And did you find anyone to help you?"

"Yes.  The man I believe has been behind all of the terrible 
things that have happened to my family, to Scully and 
myself, came to me with an offer.  To sweeten the deal he 
offered me something that he knew meant more to me than 
almost anything else."

"Which was?"

"My sister.  He set up a meeting and brought a woman that 
he said was my sister.  She believed that we were all dead.  
And.and she didn't want to see me anymore.  She didn't 
want to talk to me, to hear what I believed had happened.  
She didn't want the lies exposed.  She didn't want..."

"What?"

"She didn't want me."

***********************

Day 4

"What do you see yourself doing in five years, Mr. Mulder?"

Long pause.  

"I suppose that's the problem."

************************

He'd been gone two weeks.  The FBI had put him on 
medical leave.  He'd called once or twice, but she'd been 
able to glean little from either his tone or conversation.  She 
wanted to know now.  It was heartbreaking to her that he felt 
he couldn't talk to her.  What had she done to close off that 
line of communication?

Get over it Dana.  It's not about you.  Not everything is about 
you.  God!  She'd said those very things to him and seen in 
his eyes the way it hurt him.  What's important now is 
Mulder.  Help him.  It's payback time.  Help him like he's 
helped you.

***************************

Day 5

"You realize that all you have talked about is your sister and 
Dana Scully."

"I know.  And I've lost my sister."

"Have you tried to contact her?"

"No.  I feel that the best way to proceed is to let her alone.  
The ball is in her court, she knows how to find me."

"Then it seems to me that you have been mourning that 
loss.  And you say you have not shared this with your 
partner?"

"I just feel that I can't, or shouldn't.  She's been through so 
much already.  She's just begun to recover.  Then there was 
Emily.  She's been on an emotional roller coaster.  She 
doesn't need my problems thrown in."

"From what you have told me about Miss Scully, it would 
seem that she is distressed over you anyway.  Why not tell 
her the truth?"

*************************

Just exactly what had he meant by that?  Damn shrinks, 
always cloaking what they wanted to say in questions.  

Why not tell her the truth?  Which truth?  The one where I've 
lost my way, I can't see where I'm going without the search 
for my sister?  I never gave any real thought to what I 
wanted from this life.  That truth?

Or the one where I'm in love with my partner and any future 
that didn't include her is so totally unacceptable to me that 
I'm finding it difficult to be in the same room with her?

You idiot!   Figure it out.  You're at a crossroad here.

Things needed to change and he was sure that the
future would be different and it scared the hell out of him.  
Without Samantha to consume his thoughts he must think 
about his life, make plans.  He was 36 years old.  Is this 
what he wanted for himself?

He walked a lot.  He was desperately trying to make a 
connection with the world again.  Not the world of shadows 
and conspiracies, but the world that other people lived in.  
Grocery stores and grade schools.  Life.

**************************

He had called her, knowing full well how late it was.   She 
assured him it was fine and encouraged him to come over 
and talk if he wanted to.  To her delight, he did.

"I hope I'm not keeping you up." He said, tossing his coat 
over the chair and sitting down.

She poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him.  "Of 
course you're not.  I've been waiting to talk to you."

"Listen, I know how much it hurt you when I said I couldn't 
talk to you.  I didn't mean that I thought you wouldn't 
understand.  I know that you will."

She was sitting forward on the sofa opposite him, her arms 
folded and resting across her knees.  The eyes that she 
raised to his were soft and full of understanding.

"I know why you didn't want to talk to me."

"You do?" he asked, his voice rising in pitch.  How could she 
know?  

"Of course.  You didn't want to burden me.  You were sure 
my plate was pretty full already."

"As it is.  But now I think that I've hurt you more by not 
talking about it."

She waited expectantly while he organized his thoughts.

"You remember in the hospital when I told you I had been 
offered a deal that would save me from the mess I was in, 
and I didn't tell you what it was or who offered?  I'm sure you 
figured it out.  Cancerman.  But what I didn't tell you was 
that he had two things to offer me that would seal the deal.  
Two things I wanted most in the world.  The only two things 
that he could possibly use as bargaining chips.  You and 
Samantha."

"Samantha?"

"I've seen her Scully." He said quietly lowering his eyes.  He 
stood up, scrubbed his hands through his hair before 
shoving them deep into the pockets of his jeans.

"He bought her to me.  He knew where she was all the time."  
He began to pace, back and forth in front of her.  "She told 
me that the only things she remembered were vague.  She 
remembered me, but she had been told that her mother was
dead and she believes that he..that lying son of a bitch is 
her father."

"Was it really her?  Do you believe her?"

"I can't explain it, exactly.  But yes, I feel it.  It's her.  All this 
time, he knew where she was.  He knew what happened to 
her.  She was there all the time."

"Have you seen her again?"

He stopped his pacing and went to sit beside her on the 
sofa.  "No." he said softly.  "She doesn't want to see me.  
She's very confused about it all."

"I don't know whether to be happy for you or miserable.  It 
must be a relief to know that she's not dead, to know what 
happened.  But."

He threw himself against the cushioned back.  "Yeah.  All 
this time I was feeling so miserable and wanting to know, 
endangering myself and you to find her, or news of her and 
she doesn't.she doesn't want me."

He stopped and tried to rein himself in.  Scully could feel it; 
He was at the edge, and there was more.  She hoped it 
wasn't as bad as Samantha.

"So where do I go from here?  This obsession has given 
purpose to my life.  I can't see a way to go.  It's like I'm lost."

There was a long pause.  Scully was pretty thrown by his 
admission.  Mulder, the one who was always so certain 
about who he was, even if everything around him was a 
mess.  Rarely had she seen him stumble this way.  Now is 
your chance, Dana.  Help him.

"I hope you know that you are more than your obsession.  
There is so much more to you than your search for 
Samantha.  Your spirit for the truth may have been borne of 
that obsession, but it's a wonderful pursuit.  Look at all the 
people you've helped.  In those situations that it is called for, 
you are always the first one to consider the feelings of the 
victim.  You are a wonderfully kind and sensitive man in 
those situations.  I've often envied your empathy for people."

She looked at him, his head still resting on the back of the 
couch.  She sincerely hoped some of what she was saying 
was trickling through his pain and into his conscious mind.  

 "And that's only one of your gifts.  You're loyal and 
generous, a terrific friend.  Those are the things that you 
are.  Not some man whose only purpose in life was a 
childhood obsession.  Where is that man whose heart and 
soul were here with me in the beginning?  Where is that 
person who could shine light into the shadows and things 
weren't so scary anymore."

He shook his head and sat up straight.  "You can't shine the 
light in the shadows when the batteries are dead."

Well, that was a good sign.  His sense of humor had kicked 
in again.  She rumpled her forehead, and reached out to 
touch his face, lightly running the backs of her fingers over 
his cheek.  "Well, he's in there somewhere.  You'll find your 
way, Mulder.  It might take some time, but you'll find it."

He swallowed, then proceeded knowing what he was risking 
with this next confession.   "Without my sister, you're the 
anchor in my life."

She smiled at him.  "I know, Fox."

End of Story
15 January 1998

Imbroglio - a confusing or complicated situation causing 
misunderstanding, and sometimes a fight.  


*********************
Notes from paperheart:  I know, as sure as I live and breathe 
the rain freshened California air, that I will receive mail to 
continue this story.  Let's do this instead.  You figure it out.  
It's one of the things I so enjoy about our favorite TV show.  
The things that are left unexplained give us all the 
opportunity to be creative.

Did you have a good time?  Did it make you laugh or cry?  
Did it make you think?  Comments are welcomed; 
constructive criticism is...noted.  

paperheart@webtv.net