Nowhere to Nowhere

by zara hemla :: x-files :: pg :: what can you do when you've done all you can? spender offers krycek his life.

Zara: I'd like to thank my brain for the bolt of inspiration.
Brain: You're welcome. Just don't expect it again for awhile.
Zara: Thanks a lot. You're so helpful.
Brain: Hmmmm...donuts....

I've had enough. I think I'm going to quit my job.

So, my father's grooming me for the big takeover, huh Alex? When the aliens come and chew out our insides, I'm gonna get to be saved. I saw that in your eyes. When you "enlightened" me about the Consortium's plans. I saw that glitter of jealousy, right behind the fake innocence. You hate it, don't you? Having to drive me around. I bet you sat in that car and almost, almost drove away. Almost left me to be throttled by a man whose face comes off. You're so jealous of me you could have put that nasty, pointed switchblade thing right into my neck. You could have left me to die. "Drive Jeffrey to the good doctor's house, Alex. Don't get lost. And don't kill him, because if you do, I swear you'll never get another one of those designer drugs you love so much. I'm grooming Jeffrey for the big takeover. I don't want anything to happen to him." You think my father must love me a lot, to give me the world and all its slaves. You wish you had someone to love you that way.

Yeah, well I've got some news for you. My father doesn't love me and never has. My father loved one woman and she wasn't my mother. My father is making do with me, because I'm all he has. Didn't you know? My father salivates at Fox Mulder's name, the original Pavlovian dog. That's who he wishes he could take over the world with.

Fox Mulder. What would his name be if he hadn't been Bill Mulder's son? Jason, maybe, or Odysseus. Because he's a hero. Always has been. Oh, you don't know the history? Well, let me enlighten you. You want to know why my folks broke up? Because my father couldn't quit moaning Teena Mulder's name, five years into marriage with Cassandra. He couldn't stop making weekend trips up to Martha's Vineyard, to see if she would run away with him. My mother told me this when I was sixteen, nine years after the divorce was final. He went up to see Teena, presuming on his friendship with Bill Mulder till the man finally told him to get off the property for good. When my mother told me this, I pictured him skulking around the winter-bare pines, just out of sight of the house. Waiting for her to come out and empty the trash can, maybe, so he could watch her bare arms as she pushed her hair back from her face. They tell me that Samantha Mulder is not Bill's daughter. That she bears a striking resemblance, in certain lights, to a man with the initials CS. I bet, when he was making love to her, that he finally got the name right. I don't know. All I know is that Fox Mulder was already born then, and my father looks at him now with fawning brilliance, like he's saying love me in spite of myself, Fox. Love me more than your own flesh and blood. Well, I love him. I love my father helplessly, no matter how many years I have spent ignoring him, denying him, and dreaming about him coming back to me. In spite of all the things he did to my mother, I cannot help but love him with a little boy's unquestionable, unquenchable fire. I cannot please him, but I try.

That's why I went into the FBI. Back then, I didn't know that my father was part of it, but since Fox Mulder went into the FBI, I did too. Oh yes, I kept tabs on him, tried to be like him. I took some of the same classes, watching him from behind a notebook. He was golden enough to make Midas go straight back to the fairies in a haze of greed. He was number one, I was number eighty-seven. He went straight to VC, I went to Records management. That means, I was a glorified clerk. He got the commendations as a brilliant if eccentric profiler. I got a very small paperweight that said "Five Years Valuable Service" on it. Do you see where I'm going? When I first saw my father in a parking lot for the first time in twenty years, all I could do was stammer and shake. He wanted something from me. So of course I took the assignments that he gave me. All of them. I went to the X-Files for him, even though I hate Diana Fowley and I hate the paranormal. It wasn't enough that my mother yammered about it all the time -- no, now I had to immerse myself in it. The only thing that I loved about it was, now Mulder was on the outside. I thought my father would want me now, would come to me and say, now you are better than Fox. Now you can join me. Well, he asked me to join him, but he still slobbers after Mulder, he still grasps and gasps for the moon. And I am stuck in the water, rippling, a reflection of Mulder, tracing a path from nowhere to nowhere.

Do you ever have days where you know you're never going to win, no matter what you do? I bet you had a day like that when they cut off your arm. Well, I feel the hot iron descending, only this time it's going to be my heart that he cuts out. I've tried it all. I've tried to kill for him. I almost jumped out of my skin when that needle popped out of the handle. I have never killed a person, or an alien, or a cockroach if I could help it. Yet I was willing to do it; I thought murderous things to myself all the way to the house. I thought of my father patting me on the back. And all the time that you were in the car, thinking of leaving, I was trying to be a hero. But it isn't going to work. You saved me from that alien. I can admit that. But hey, it's just another failure in a long line of them. I think I was cut out to be an accountant or a shoe salesman. Sometimes a woman will tell me she likes my smile, even before I've paid her.

I'm going to get out of here. I really am. I sit at my desk with a box, and I put my papers in, and then take them out again. I write notes of resignation weekly and rip them up without signing them. Once I even put my gun in my mouth, angled it up to try to reach through to my brain. But I can't even kill an errant spider, so I put my gun away after carefully cleaning all the spit off it.

You think you want my life? Wipe that jealousy from the corners of your mouth, and I'll give it to you. You can have the pleasure of feeling the weight of his disappointed gaze. "You can't even carry out the simplest tasks, Jeffrey." That's right. I'm not him, and I never will be.

I think I'm going to quit my job. Somehow. I don't think I want to be saved anymore.

The end.Finis.I'm done already.

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