Wer hätte es gedacht, dass die erste FF, die ich hier poste eine PG ist? Sicherlich niemand! *hehe* Ich würde nicht sagen, dass die FF gigantisch ist, aber es geht in ihr um mein berühmtes Lieblingsmulderzitat *ggggg*.Ich würde seinen Monolog zwar ganz anders interpretieren als das hier gemacht wird, aber Interpretationen sind ja verschieden und lustig fand ich die FF trotzdem .


Title: *NEW* "The Other Side of the Rock" by Anonymous and Jennifer
Maurer
Author: Jennifer Maurer <*new* email address: jenbird@earthlink.net>
Date: Tue, 09 Sep 1997 19:53:13 -0500~

The Other Side of the Rock
by Anonymous and Jennifer Maurer


Please Archive, but do not post to ATXC


DISCLAIMER: The following scene does not belong to
us, rather it belongs to David Duchovny and Gillian
Anderson for bringing it so wonderfully to life.
The following interpretations, do, however, belong
to us.


SPOILERS: Quagmire
SUMMARY: Every conversation has two sides...
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V, possibly A. Mulder/Scully
friendship
NOTES: This story is a result of what happens when
a MulderLover and a ScullyLover get together over
e-mail and clash...
FEEDBACK: Yes, definitely! Send comments to
*new* email address: jenbird@earthlink.net

"Is there ever enough space between us
To keep us both honest and true?"
--John Prine
*****


The March night was cool, and their impromptu swim
in Lake Huevelman had left Mulder shivering with
cold. He watched Scully, sitting close by the
fire, unable to resist teasing her about the
photographer hoping to make money off Big Blue, or
cannibalism, even. Perverse, yes, but sometime he
enjoyed getting a rise out of his partner, watching
her eyes flash as she defended her science and
logic.

Scully was in mood for light-heartedness, however,
and she stared glumly out into the dark. "Poor
Queequeg," she sighed.

He didn't know what to say--pets had not been
allowed in his household when he was growing up.
The endless string of goldfish that populated his
fish tank was the closest Mulder came to a pet. It
was hard to form attachments to fish. He preferred
it that way.

Obviously Scully didn't. He floundered for
something to say. "I'm sorry," sounded stupid,
insensitive. He decided to try to get her to talk
about it--take her mind off her pain. It was a
tactic that worked well for him.

"Why did you name the dog Queequeg?"

"It was the name of the harpoonist in _Moby Dick_,"
replied Scully. "My father used to read to me from
_Moby Dick_ when I was a little girl. I called him
Ahab and he called me Starbuck. So I named my dog
Queequeg."

Mulder nodded, intrigued by the picture her words
painted. She had never mentioned much about her
childhood. It was so different from his own barren
childhood. He could no more imagine his father
calling him by a pet name than he could imagine the
old man reading to him.

Abruptly, Scully looked up. "It's funny--I just
realized something."

Alarm bells went off in his head. The intent look
on her face could mean no good. He was going to have
to do some quick thinking if he wanted to avoid
an in-depth conversation. He fell back on the
foremost weapon in his arsenal: humor.

"It's a bizarre name for a dog, huh?"

"No. How much you're like Ahab."

He froze, his eyes silently pleading her not to
continue, to leave him alone. Close--they were too
close. Impossible to keep his barriers up if she
persisted in talking like this.

"You're so consumed with your personal vengeance
against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties
or its mysteries, that everything takes on a warped
significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology."

He tried to read her, get past her neutral
expression, miserably aware that his own feelings
were pasted on his face. With just a few words, she
had toppled his walls into a puff of dust. And yet,
he had to fight for a moment longer--it was
instinctive to his nature.

"Scully, are you coming on to me?"

It didn't work. He wasn't surprised.

"It's just--the truth or a white whale--what
difference does it make? I mean, both...both
obsessions are impossible to capture and trying to
do so will only leave you dead, and everybody else
you bring with you."

What did she mean by "everybody else you bring with
you"? Was she accusing him? Or was she just
oblivious, ignorant of how unknowingly she had
touched on his deepest fear? Suddenly he wanted to
talk, to give his emotions free rein to speak
without fear of rebuke or rejection. He could only
hope she would allow him to do just that.

Hesitantly, he began to speak. The words came from
his deepest place, the sheltered cove where his
innermost thoughts, feelings hid. He couldn't have
stopped if she had held a gun to his head.

"You know, it's interesting that you should say
that, because I've always wanted a peg leg. It's a
boyhood thing I never grew out of."

She made an exasperated gesture, looked away, and he
felt the stirrings of panic. He had to make her
see. He had a sudden memory of himself, sitting
in the huge library in Chilmark, rain beating on the
windows, postponing the inevitable moment when he
would have to return home, _Moby Dick_ laying open
on the table before him. Could he make her
understand?

"No, I'm not being flippant. I mean, I've given
this a lot of thought."

That was it--he had her attention now. Make her see
how serious he was. Gamely, he went on.

"If you have a peg leg or hooks for hands, maybe its
enough to simply carry on living..."

as much so as if I was confined to a wheelchair.
Can't you see?>

"...bravely facing life with your disabilities, it's
heroic just to survive. But without these things
you're actually expected to make something of your
life, achieve something, or at least wear a necktie.
So...so...so if anything I'm actually the antithesis
of Ahab..."

its price, but I can still cry late at night, I can
still mourn...>

"....because if I did have a peg leg I'd quite
possibly be more happy, and more content, and not
feel the need to chase after creatures of the
unknown."

Happiness. He had long ago accepted that he would
probably never be happy, never experience true
contentment with life and his place in it. His soul
had shriveled at the realization, but it was better
this way--better that he accept the way things were,
than to spend the rest of his days striving
hopelessly for something he could not attain.

Finished, he was expectant. He had bared his soul
to her, she held his emotional future in her hands.
Shaking with fear now as well as cold, he
finally looked up at her.

"And that's not flippant?"

With those four words, Mulder's heart broke. She
had not heard his plea for understanding, not seen
the desperate way he had leaned in, yearning for the
chance at intimacy.

"No..."

His body jerked painfully as the walls came
back up with a resounding crash.

"No, flippant is my favorite line from
_Moby Dick_."

At least he could prove to her he'd *read* the damn
book.
*****

Scully curled up as much as she could, shivering
from the cold. She was miserable, wanted to be any
place but where she was. Her mind kept going
back to Queequeg, and how he had been torn right out
of his collar. In shock, she had gone back to the
cabin, only to have Mulder jump all over her
about that stupid photographer. She was zoning out
right in front of him, for God's sake, and all he
cared about was renting a boat and finding some
mythical creature. Typical.

"Poor Queequeg," she said sadly.

She was surprised how much she missed the little
puff ball already. He'd been good company. Scully
didn't care that he'd eaten part of his former
mistress. He was just trying to survive, poor
little thing. Then Mulder had dragged them both off
on a nice trip to the lake. Now here she was, wet
and freezing on a rock in the middle of a lake where
a prehistoric man eating creature might or might not
live, and Mulder was making cannibal jokes.



She sighed again.

"Why did you name your dog Queequeg?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, wondering if he was going
to start making dead dog jokes. She wouldn't put it
past him. He'd only ever referred to Queequeg as
"that thing." She was prepared to toss him bodily
into the lake if he made so much as one wisecrack.

"It was the name of the harpoonist in _Moby Dick_.
My father used to read to me from _Moby Dick_ when I
was a little girl."

can't he understand that losing a pet, while not on
the same level, is still depressing? Especially
when said pet was the only being in your life who
always listened to you. Well, almost always.>

"I called him Ahab and he called me Starbuck. So I
named my dog Queequeg."

will slaughter him.>

"It's funny, I just realized something," she
continued.

wall.>

"It's a bizarre name for a dog, huh?"

She opened herself up to that one. She
barely restrained herself from saying bizarre than naming a boy Fox> but knew that would
be a low blow.

"No. How much you're like Ahab."

It was the first thing that popped into her head but
she found that it was quite apt for all that.

"You're so consumed by your personal vengeance
against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties
or its mysteries, that everything takes on a warped
significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology."

I'm not really angry. Just frustrated. And tired.
And cold.>

but in some ways this kind of thing is the worst
part of our rift. We're sitting right next to
each other yet Mulder is miles away from me.>

"Scully, are you coming on to me?"

She looked at him, exhausted. trying to have a serious conversation with someone
who only knows how to be flippant? I'm trying to
explain to him what I mean the best way I know how.
So much for literary analogies. Probably never read
the damn book anyway.>

"No..."



"...it's just, the truth, or a white whale--what
difference does it make? I mean, both...both
obsessions are impossible to capture, and trying to
do so will only leave you dead, along with everyone
else you bring with you. You know, Mulder, you
*are* Ahab."

many people have died. Do I blame him? Well, Deep
Throat and X knew the risks they were taking. They
knew what could happen if they were caught helping
Mulder. His father...he made his own choices. They
brought him to his own end, and they had nothing
to do with Mulder. But Melissa...oh, God, Melissa.
It should have been me. I was supposed to walk
through that door. But no one would have been after
either of us if...no. No, I won't think like that.
I made my own choices as well. I knew the risks.>

"You know, it's interesting you should say that,
because I've always wanted a peg leg. It's a
boyhood thing I never grew out of."

apart. We're talking different languages.> Scully
shot him *the* look, wondering where this train
of thought was going.

"No, I'm not being flippant--I mean, I've given this
a lot of thought. If you have a peg-leg or hooks
for hands, you know, maybe it's enough to simply
carry on living, bravely facing life with your
disabilities, heroic just to survive."

Scully pursed her lips, mulling over his words. talks about being handicapped as if it's some kind
of badge of suffering. People with disabilities are
capable of so much more than just surviving. I'm
surprised he would say something like that.>

"But without these things you're actually expected
to make something of your life, achieve something,
or at least wear a necktie."

fact that your sister is probably not coming back?>

"So...so...so if anything I'm actually the
antithesis of Ahab, because if I did have a peg leg,
I quite possibly would be more happy and more
content and not feel the need to chase after
creatures of the unknown."

able to work for the FBI, at least not as a field
agent. He couldn't go off on wild goose chases, and
he wouldn't have the resources he does now to look
for Samantha. He'd be even more miserable than he
already is.>

Scully arched one eyebrow when she realized he was
finally done his fanciful speech.

"And that's not flippant?"

"No--no. Flippant is my favorite line from Moby
Dick. 'Hell is an idea first born on an undigested apple
dumpling.'"

Scully pulled a face, allowing herself to be
impressed. Maybe, she thought,
he *has* read the book after all.
****

Scully seemed impressed by his quote--at least, it
was better than the barely concealed irritability
she had been evincing all night, and Mulder allowed
himself to laugh with her. A faint splashing
sounded off to his left, and he glanced briefly in
that direction.

Just another duck, and while Scully's look froze,
Mulder merely shook his head. Sadly, he thought of
what he'd learned here tonight. Scully claimed
he never learned from his mistakes, that he never
opened up to her, or talked about his feelings, but
tonight's conversation had taught him a harsh
lesson: Don't open up, don't talk about your
feelings, because in the end, it hadn't mattered--
she didn't want to hear them after all.

Another, louder splash sounded, and Scully turned
startled eyes toward him.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, but it ain't no duck."

Already he was reaching for his gun,
and as he got to his feet, Mulder wondered
fleetingly if maybe Ahab hadn't had it right, after
all.
*****

Scully glanced away after laughing with Mulder. Why
couldn't they have more moments like this, she
wondered.

She thought she heard something off to her right.
She didn't want to appear too nervous or jumpy after
catching Mulder's smirk when that duck swam by.
Relief flooding through her, she'd realized that she
was more than a little on edge. Mulder voiced her
very thought: "I'm tempted to shoot anyway."

Funny, she thought, the tangents he goes off on
sometimes. All that stuff about wanting a peg leg.
Probably got in trouble for it at school, too.> At
least he had gone easy with the Queequeg jokes,
although she hadn't appreciated his snide remark
about bizarre names for dogs. Scully sighed quietly
to herself. She never talked much about her private
life with Mulder for this very reason. Everyone has
their little in-jokes with their family that no one
else would understand. The kind of things that you
don't want other people making fun of. starts calling me Starbuck, I'm going to call him
Fox.>

Scully heard another splashing noise come from the
fog. This one was much louder. Something was out
there. Images of those dismembered bodies popped
into her mind and without thinking she reached for
her gun.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, but it ain't no duck," Mulder replied
as he pulled his own weapon.

Despite her irritation, Scully was glad that she had
Mulder with her. He may not be much for serious
conversation, she thought, but he's a good partner.

*****
END




xxxxxxxxxx

Scully to Mulder:"You said it yourself once, you said that a dream is the answer to a question we haven't learnt how to ask."