Touch Me Once by Laura Castellano December 2, 2003 Rated PG Keywords: Vignette, Pilot-fic Feedback: laurita_castellano@yahoo.com Summary: Mulder's about to meet his new partner. He already knows he'll hate her. He hates what she stands for. Archive: Sure, if you want it. Ok, I really can't believe I wrote another X-Files story. I honestly didn't think I had it in me. Maybe there's hope for the future, after all. Actually, it's not really a story, it's just a thought piece, but it insisted on being written. I dunno if you will like it or not. It isn't as dark as my previous stuff. Touch Me Once Peace is not mine. I've tried to find calm and finally decided it isn't for me. Not that I don't desire it, but that it is unavailable for me. Like that old Star Trek episode where the woman would appear and say, "I am for you, James Kirk," and he knew if she touched him, he would die...anguish has approached me with the greeting, "I am for you, Fox Mulder." I'd like to tell you the last time I was happy was before Samantha was abducted, but that would be an over dramatization. I've had happy moments since then. My graduation from Oxford was certainly accomplished with a great sense of pride and joy, although there was no one there to share it with. Phoebe and I had parted, none-too-amicably, only the month before. I should credit her with my excellent marks...after she left me, I had nothing to do but throw myself into my studies to blot out the painful memories. Joining the FBI was another such episode, but what has it gained me? The first two years I nearly ran myself ragged working for Bill Patterson, and since then I've appeared bent upon destroying my own career from the inside out. Somehow I thought my access to these files would help me find my sister, but that was nothing but a hopeful delusion. I'll keep searching, because I must, but there is nothing here to help. I am gradually coming to accept that fact. I could stand before a mirror each morning and recite it to myself, but I doubt the acceptance would be any easier in coming if I did. So here I sit, alone in a crowded building--to paraphrase-- and as I listen for the slightest noise I lie to myself almost convincingly; I do not want company. Nonetheless, company in the form of a fresh young face sent to spy on me is imminent. She'll be here sometime today, I'm sure. The meeting was scheduled for this morning, where my new partner was to receive the happy news of her reassignment. Purely optional, of course, at least on the surface. From the little bit I've been able to learn about her, she'll accept it eagerly. She's young, eager, hoping to make a name for herself, something to rise above the fact that in our still-male-oriented society, she's a cut above. I could profile her just for fun, but why? Her motives aren't hidden. The only thing uncertain is the degree of enthusiasm with which she will accept their hidden agenda. I can almost hear Blevins now. He won't come out and tell her to spy on me, oh no. That wouldn't do at all. Subtlety is the watchword here. "Miss Scully, we'd like you to accept a rather unusual assignment," he'll say. "We've been following your career since you joined the Bureau, and feel your talents are being wasted." Flatter her up, feed the old ego, and if she's like most of the women I've known, she'll be eating out of the old dog's hand within a few minutes. "We'd like you to pay special attention to protocol in the X-files division," he'll tell her. "The Bureau is naturally suspicious of such an unusual department. I'll need your expert opinion on whether the cases are being handled appropriately, and if Agent Mulder is competent to manage a department. My superiors are concerned that the taxpayers' money is being wasted." It will go on in that vein for a while, until she's completely won over to Blevins' dubious charms. Who can tell--she might even end up sleeping with the old boy before all is said and done. It's happened before. When did I stop trusting? Who was the last person I allowed to hurt me, the straw that broke my camel's back and made me pull away from the land of the living? When did I die without ceasing to breathe? A lonely office, a lonely apartment, pizza with some odd friends every couple of weeks...and work. Lots and lots of work. Work is the only thing that keeps me as close to sane as I still am. How long can a man go on with a vacuum where his heart ought to be? I hear her footsteps in the corridor. It must be her, because it's too early for Trisha to be emptying my wastebasket. There's something resolute in the sound, something determined and firm, and yet I hear nothing of deceit in those steady footfalls. Did I mention I'm a whiz at guessing personality characteristics by the mere sound of a step? No? Well maybe that's because I'm full of crap. Nervous, that's what I am. Nervous at meeting her, and I can't imagine why. I'm willing to bet I know more about her than she does of me at this point. Her credentials are impeccable, I must give her that, but it doesn't change the fact that she's still nothing but a spy. But now I see that face, and there is nothing there but honesty and friendliness. That's not quite true. She's a bit taken aback by my collection of posters and clippings. Fair enough. "Agent Mulder? I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you." I didn't believe her. At least I didn't want to believe her. I made an appropriately snide response, but the moment I shook her hand, I had a feeling I had been wrong all along. I'd fight the feeling, I knew, because that's the way I am, but I have a sneaking suspicion already that in the end I'll succumb. Has Blevins already won? Or have I? end