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RATING: PG
CATEGORY: Vignette. Missing scene. CSM/Scully of sorts (unreciprocated! Stop
wailing!) The title literally means 'false friends'. It is used to describe
similar words, which have different meanings in another language, which can
lead to some interesting misunderstandings. 'Propose' in French merely means
'suggest' and 'god' is slang for 'dildo'. (Guess why the French audience was
sniggering while watching 'The Red And The Black'?)
SPOILERS: En Ami (which by the way means 'as a friend' in French.)
SUMMARY: The missing scene everybody's been pondering about. CSM puts Scully
to bed.
DISCLAIMERS: One finger. Guess which one, Chris.
***
Always smell your coffee, Agent Scully. You should know better.
You're not the only one who can do magic tricks. And I'm thirty years ahead
of you.
But you were probably distracted.
Demanding the Truth.
You can't handle it, though, on the rare occasions I give it to you. I saw
it in your eyes, the only part of you you still can't teach to lie. You know
I'm right, about you and men. But it's far too simple an explanation for
your pride, isn'it Miss Scully? Pop-psychologist stuff as you call it.
You like it complicated.
Which is probably why you've been hanging with him for so long.
A twenty first century martyr. Skinner, your mom, your brother, that's what
they all think every time your battered body ends up in a hospital. How
brave you are. How loyal. How selfless.
But the truth is, you like it rough.
Your life I mean.
I wouldn't know for the rest.
Not because I would have qualms about spying on you in intimacy.
I haven't. I do.
Did you check that bible of yours lately?
I've heard every sound you've ever made in your bedroom.
I've heard you undress, I've heard you sleep, I've heard your nightmares and
God knows you've got a lot of them - - maybe you should see someone about
this, it can't be healthy -- I've heard you snore, I've heard you sob, I've
heard you come.
Alone.
Does he know you haven't gotten laid in seven years?
No. Of course not. He probably thinks you collect one-night-stands over the
weekend. Like he does.
Jackass.
Oh, let me reassure you, it doesn't happen often. Most of the time he's
happy enough with his porn collection. But occasionally he needs something
more, usually after a bad case, usually when something has happened to you.
He goes to this bar, gets drunk and picks up a girl.
No.
Not small redheads.
Never.
They're usually the complete opposite of you. Tall, blonde, long legged
creatures with no hips and silicon breasts.
But when you know how Mulder's mind works, this is actually quite telling.
You should have seen him, the day after he brought you back from New York.
The man sure has stamina for his age. He and his 'date' christened nearly
every household furniture that night, including the coat hanger.
Don't ask.
She was actually quite pretty.
And she was gone in the morning.
Just like all the others.
You might wonder why they never stay. It's probably because of what he tells
them afterward: "I've got someone."
And they despise him.
He doesn't give a damn.
Poor schmuck.
Oh, well. Let's go inside the house now, shall we?
Christ, your body weights nothing, you know that?
This is ironic when you think how much you weigh on our souls.
Mulder's, Skinner's, mine...well what's left of it.
Ah. Bedroom. There. Comfy?
Are these your pajamas? You'll probably never get round to use them if I
don't give you a hand.
Come here.
Don't worry, it's nothing I haven't seen before.
I saw you butt-naked three months in a row. Of course you can't remember.
I see... the past years have taken their toll, haven't they? You had lovely
curves back then, which you probably didn't like.
Women.
You're one skinny bunny now.
And a wired one, I see.
Good, I wouldn't have expected any less of you.
You can keep it.
It's part of the game.
So many scars. You should be more careful, you're going to look like a
pirate by the time you're fifty. If you ever reach fifty, that is.
Scoot over. That's it.
So this is your infamous tattoo, young lady? Photos of it have become hard
currency among the FBI lab assistants. You should be more cautious with your
files.
Way to ruin your Ice Queen reputation.
The boys down below would give their right hand for a date with you. Doctor
Scully is a bit of a legend, don't you know?
Of course such considerations never enter your mind.
For years now they have catalogued, analyzed and referenced every samples
you've sent their way, and Mulder and you did send them some weird shit,
admit it. I'm sorry I sometimes couldn't let them keep it.
When you came back from Philadelphia they'd never been so glad the laser
color printer had just been repaired.
I closed my eyes on it.
Boys will be boys and all that.
I think I'll stop at your underwear.
Despite what you think I'm a gentleman.
My, that is one ugly bra, Agent Scully.
But I guess sexy underwear hasn't been at the top of your shopping list for
a long time now.
Since nobody ever sees what you're wearing under your prim and proper
tailored suits.
Such a waste.
Even Krycek gets hard when your name is mentioned. And your kind is usually
not his brand of choice.
I think your partner knows that.
The members of the consortium, may their soul rot in hell, never took notice
of you. A sure sign they were living deads.
I did.
Ever since you walked in Blevin's office with your ugly suit and your cheap
shoes.
I knew you were going to be trouble.
I tried to break you. I really did.
I tried to crush you when you became Mulder's backbone.
The both of you were such a pain in the neck.
I abducted you, made you ill, created monsters with your eggs.
I could have killed you, but it wouldn't have been so much fun.
Killing you inside was.
It had style.
I was waiting for the day you'd put your gun between those luscious pouty
lips of yours and pull the trigger.
I wanted you insane. I wanted you rocking back and forth in a
straightjacket. I wanted to crush the delicate white bones of your pride
between my fingers like I did to that dove when I was six. I wanted to burn
down every last kernel of anything beautiful inside you, your love your
faith, your trust - there is poignancy about the destruction of beauty,
don't you think? I wanted to rob your soul of its irritating purity. I
wanted you to fight dirty. I wanted you to express this rage you keep so
well in control and ultimately, use it against yourself.
Any idea how arousing this is to destroy someone's beliefs one by one, until
he starts acting like what he hates the most, until he can't stand himself
anymore?
I've done it many times.
You could have been my ultimate masterpiece.
Mulder would have been crushed. A shell emptier than the husks he scatters
everywhere.
Two birds. One stone.
But you surprised me. You resisted.
And you're still here. Damaged but tougher than ever.
And I think, along the way, I fell in love.
Who wouldn't have?
Even your self-centered nuisance of a partner did, in his own twisted way.
I'm an old man but I'm still a man.
And, God, let me look at you before I put these on, you're one gorgeous
enemy.
I'm not stupid. I know perfectly well none of this is for me. Never will be.
Just indulge an old man's fantasy for a minute will you?
Not that you can really object at the moment.
You would probably bite my head off, if you were to wake up now.
And I would probably enjoy it.
Seeing you mad is more addictive than my Morleys.
Here. You're decent now. Let's tuck you in.
No. You'll never be mine.
Your heart is already taken. I know that. Had been for a while.
You're nothing if faithful.
So noble of you.
Too bad the poor bastard has got his head so far up his arse. He might want
to do something about it.
Fat chance.
And I know you won't.
Abnegation makes you feel strong, doesn't it? And you need all the strength
you can get these days, no matter where you draw it from.
Anyway, it's not your heart I'm interested in.
It's your mind.
Sounds like a bad pick-up line doesn't it?
No, really.
This sharp, inquisitive, scientific little mind of yours is going to get me
exactly what I want. I'm tempted to add 'naive' to the list of adjectives,
but it would be ungrateful of me.
And I'm not.
I've even got a present for you.
It's a dress.
I can't wait to see you in it.
I'll take you to dinner.
In a very nice restaurant.
We can just pretend we're old friends.
I know I can.
Pretending is what I do best.
The End.
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