================================================= NOTICE: Deslea's URL is now http://www.deslea.com, or http://fiction.deslea.com. Email address is now deslea@deslea.com or drjudd@catholic.org. This information supercedes all other information in this file. ================================================= Borderline *R* Deslea R. Judd drjudd@primus.com.au/drjudd@catholic.org Copyright 1997 DISCLAIMER This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Margaret Scully, Sharon Skinner, Pendrell, and Ellen remain the intellectual property of those parties and are used without their consent and without commercial gain. Liam Mulder, Elena Hereford, Father Peter Herald, Susan Skinner, and Diana Coulsen are my creation and may not be used without my permission. Spoilers: Seasons 1-3; Season 4 to Paper Hearts. In particular: 3, One Breath, Colony/Endgame, Anasazi, Piper Maru/Apocrypha, Tunguska/Terma, and Paper Hearts. Time Frame: After Paper Hearts. Category: Story, Romance/Angst. Rating: R for a dirty word here and there and pretty low-key sex (no throbbing appendages, I promise!!!). Warning: MSR, but nothing too fluffy for the most part. Note: Not linked to my Offspring/On The Outside universe or Lyrics Of The Heart. Summary: A variation on the abusive-boyfriend fanfic challenge. Scully and Mulder are in a relationship, but the tragic legacy of his childhood is Borderline Personality Disorder - a disorder which leaves him with uncontrollable rages. Details the duo's struggle to avert a dometic violence situation. Does NOT glorify the struggles of domestic abusers. Be gentle with this one as some aspects of it are semi-autobiographical. The rest of this work will be posted, at least one part per week, over the next couple of months. The Story So Far: M&S are married with a five month old son, Liam. Scully finds Mulder in an uncontrollable rage in which he harms himself. It becomes clear this has happened before. Scully discusses Mulder's condition with her mother, making clear that he is in psychotherapy and that they fear the FBI might use his condition to shut down the X Files if they got wind of it. Later, Mulder agrees to get help for his immediate coping problems. Clarification: I usually use American language in my fanfics (on the basis that that's how Mulder and Scully speak); but I refuse to call a cot a crib. A crib, in my opinion, is a cradle...so Liam sleeps in a cot. Sorry!!! Fan mail is always appreciated!!! My e-mail is drjudd@tig.com.au. or drjudd@catholic.org. Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let me know. This and my other stories may be found at http://home.primus.com.au/drjudd (shameless plug). Borderline 2/? *R* Deslea R. Judd drjudd@primus.com.au/drjudd@catholic.org Copyright 1997 TWO "Dana Mulder?" Scully rose and extended her hand. "I'm Dana Scully Mulder." The woman took it, shaking it vigorously. "Diana Coulsen. Come on through." She pointed to a door down the corridor. They walked into a small office. "How did you find out about us, Mrs Mulder? Do you use Mrs Mulder?" Diana asked, shutting the door. She went to a small table where tea- and coffee-making implements lay waiting. "Coffee?" she added. "Dr Scully," Scully corrected mildly, "but Dana is fine. Our parish priest, Peter Herald, referred me." She took a plastic cup from the pile. "Tea, but I'll make it," she added. In her experience, coffee drinkers made horrible tea. "Annapolis North," Diana noted, stirring her drink. "You're a fair way from home. Take a seat," she added. "I work in DC," Scully explained, sitting in the offered chair. "What do you do?" Diana asked, picking up a file and notepad. "I'm a forensic scientist with the FBI," Scully replied. "I'm on maternity leave, but I'm hoping to go back soon." "You've recently had a child?" Scully nodded. "Liam. He's five months old." "Has Liam had any health problems?" "Gastric reflux, that's all." "Still breastfeeding?" "Yes." "He's sitting, vocalising, all those sorts of things?" Scully nodded. "Yes. He's within normal limits for height, weight, and development." Diana nodded, still writing. "Dana, why don't you tell me about the rest of the family?" Scully sipped her tea. "Well, my husband is also with the FBI. We've worked closely together for five years. We've been married for a little over a year." "They let you work together at the Bureau?" Diana asked, curiously. "Yes," Scully replied. "Our boss has been supportive - he was our best man, in fact. My husband had had a titular headship of our section, which consists of the two of us; and I was promoted to co-head. Our work and family policy allows for relationships among those of equal seniority." "Do you have any other family nearby?" Scully put down her cup. "Yes," she said. "My mother is in Maryland. She's been fairly involved with us. My husband's mother has a certain amount of contact - she lives in Massachussets - but frankly she can be more harm than good. She encourages my husband to be very dependent on her, but doesn't follow through by being dependable; leaving me to pick up the pieces." Diana nodded. "Okay. Let me start by telling you a little about our facility, Dana. Bethany House offers a number of services, the primary one a battered women's shelter. We also offer counselling and referral. I understand it's the latter you're interested in?" Scully said cautiously, unsure of her ground, "I understand from Father Herald that you work with couples wishing to avoid domestic violence and remain together." Diana regarded her for a moment. "Couples is the operative word, Dana. He has to work with us." "He will," she said, with more confidence than she felt. "I promised to find someone first." "Well, I think I'm probably the only one you'll find. Most workers in domestic violence advocate immediate removal of the offender from the household - as do I in all but a few instances." Diana paused. "Why don't you tell me about it, Dana?" "My husband suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder. He's prone to severe aggressive episodes," Scully explained. "He hasn't hurt myself or our son, but he has at times hurt himself as a strategy to avoid hurting us. He's in psychotherapy, but I - we - feel he needs help now to cope with these episodes. His psychiatrist is great at getting inside his head, but she hasn't been so great with providing coping strategies." Scully shrugged slightly. "A common problem with psychiatrists," Diana said wryly. She regarded Scully for some moments. Finally, she said gently, "Dana, I see a lot of women who have grand delusions that they can save their partners. They will cling to this belief in the face of extraordinary abuse. And I'm sad to say, it is delusion. Men who abuse, or have a tendency towards abuse, can't be cured by love alone." Unexpectedly, Scully bowed her head, her shoulders shaking. She put her hand to her mouth, holding back sudden wracking sobs. Startled, Diana put her hand on her shoulder. "Let me finish, Dana. I'm not giving you a death sentence here - or even necessarily one on your marriage. What I was going to say is that they have to want it, too - they have to understand that it's wrong for its own sake, not just because they might lose their wives over it. They have to be very motivated to not abuse. From what you've told me, your husband fits that description. You said he hurt himself to avoid hurting you - that's interesting, and not something I've come across before. That strikes me as very motivated." Scully took a breath, shocked by her own sudden reaction. The stress of the situation, the fears she held for her marriage, were far nearer the surface than she had realised. "It was," she agreed after a moment, "but it was probably also a cry for help in its own right - it's very common for borderlines to self-mutilate, both to let off steam and as a cry for help." Diana frowned, nodding. "I'll be honest with you, Dana - I don't have much experience with BPD. I'm a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. I'll have to do some reading. But with that proviso, I am happy to meet with your husband." She paused. "There is something I want you to think about over the next few weeks, though." "What's that?" Scully asked. "Dana, if your husband has BPD, this is going to be something you have to deal with for the rest of your life. It may get better - but there will probably never be a time that you can breathe out and say to yourself, 'This is never going to happen again.' There will never be a time when you can stop worrying or stop keeping watch for danger signs. You will always have this hanging over you. It will be stressful, sometimes frightening or heartbreaking. You have to be ready for that. So, with that in mind, I want you to think very carefully over the coming weeks; and to ask yourself: Is it worth it?" Slightly unnerved, Scully nodded. "All right. I'll think about it." She rose and left. When Scully arrived home, she went upstairs to the study, where she found Mulder working. She was just about to say something when she realised he was talking to the modem. "C'mon, c'mon, just hold out for two more minutes. PLEASE, just hold out for two more minutes...just ten more messages...please!" Scully looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. He was retrieving his e-mail, and there were ten messages left to go. Obviously the modem was playing up again. For the last week it had acquired a mind of its own, clicking off at the most inconvenient of times. Her brow furrowed. It was a very human thing to do, talking to a machine - hell, she did it frequently enough herself. And yet, there was something different about the way Mulder was doing it. There was a certain...desperation about it - as though he genuinely believed he could stay on- line by strength of will alone. She looked from the computer screen back to Mulder, and realised he'd turned around and seen her. There was a little grin on his face. "Go ahead, say it," he challenged mildly. "Say what?" she asked casually. "What I'd say if it were the other way around." "I don't understand," Scully lied. Mulder gave her a withering look. "Okay, Dana. I spy with my little eye, a neurotic behaviour beginning with M." Scully relented. "It did strike me as being a little like magical thinking." "Of course it did," he replied crisply. "That's what it was. You don't have to be embarrassed about noticing borderline behaviours, Dana. I know when I'm doing them. It doesn't bother me for you to know it, too." "You know sometimes," she corrected good- naturedly. "What do you mean? When have I not known?" Mulder replied, surprised. "Well, you don't usually know when you're being self-destructive. You put noble terms like seeking the truth or standing up for the truth onto it. Like when you went to Tunguska - the chances of you getting out alive were practically nil. And what about when you slept with Kristen? I mean, quite aside from the fact that she could very easily have killed you, she was a walking AIDS risk," she pointed out. Mulder's eyes widened. "How the hell did you know about that?" he demanded, too stunned to lie. Scully smiled faintly. "I was with you. It doesn't matter, Mulder; I understood." She turned away. "Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I went to Bethany House today. There's a woman there - Diana Coulsen - who wants to work with us. Will you let me make an appointment for the two of us with her?" Mulder nodded. "Sure. I spoke to Elena about it - she thinks it's a great idea." Seeing that his messages had arrived, he logged off. "See? It did work," he added with a laugh. Scully snorted. "Well, I'm glad your psych thinks it's a good idea - but what about you?" Mulder looked at her, perplexed. "Well, of course I do. We've had this discussion. I don't want to live like this. I don't want you to live like this." Scully smiled faintly. "I know this is hard on you, Mulder." "And I know it's hard on you. So I guess we're even." "I guess we are." She looked at him, a sudden glint in her eye. "How long do you think we have before Liam wakes up?" she asked casually. Mulder wheeled across to her, still sitting in the swivel chair. He put his arms around her. "Long enough," he replied, just as casually. Scully bent at the waist to kiss him, and he pulled her across his lap. "Have you ever made love on a swivel chair, Agent Scully?" he asked cheekily. "No," she replied, the corners of her mouth twitching. "It sounds most uncomfortable." Mulder nodded thoughtfully. "I'm inclined to agree, so I'm proposing we move to the desk." "Still sounds uncomfortable," Scully said, amused. "Whose desk were you proposing?" "Well, yours is already tidy. I'll admit, it lacks the romance of clearing the desk with a sweep of the arm, but since mine is taken up entirely by a computer, mine might get expensive." Mulder beamed at her. "Mulder?" she said. He looked at her questioningly. "Shut up and kiss me." "Yes, ma'am," he breathed, leaning forward and touching his lips to hers. Her mouth melded into his, their tongues dancing. He felt her suddenly laugh against him. "What?" he asked, pulling away. "How the hell are we going to get down?" she giggled. "Like this," he said, sliding off, her still in his arms. They landed with a crash on the carpet, the chair swivelling off to the other end of the room. "Easy," he added, looking up at her from his vantage point beneath her. "Real easy," he whispered, his hands in her hair. Scully leaned down and kissed him, first gently, then deeply, reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt. He was doing the same to her, and she shuddered when his fingertips brushed against her flesh. He pushed her shirt off her shoulders, then her jeans off her hips. He rolled her over so that she was beneath him, wriggling out of his jeans - an endeavour that was not without mishap. "Serves you right for spraypainting them on," she breathed in his ear. Mulder was ready with a retort when he felt her hands on him, on his back, his hips, his thighs. "You win that round," he muttered. "I have better things to do." "Like what, pray tell?" she wondered aloud, gasping slightly as his fingers drifted between her legs, touching her lazily through the fabric of her panties. "Like kiss you here," he breathed against her cheek, "...and here..." he went on, against her stomach, "...here," he said teasingly against her upper thighs. She reached down and led his hand, pulling off her panties. "Not here?" she asked, holding his hand over the tangle of red hair at the top of her legs. "Definitely here," he breathed, and Scully gave a small moan of pleasure at the warm breath against her. When she felt his warm, moist mouth over her, she reached down and cradled his head against her, shifting slightly beneath him. She took one of his hands in hers, squirming with pleasure - wanting to get away from its intensity, but never wanting him to stop licking and kissing and sucking her there as though they had all the time in the world. "Mulder," she whispered mindlessly. "Oh, God, Mulder, you feel so good." Mulder came up to kiss her, her taste and her scent on his lips. She kissed him deeply, savouring the sweetness as she felt him pushing against her. She waited, and then a moment later, she felt him deep inside her. She shivered against him, felt a joining which entranced her as it always did. And when finally his spasms and hers subsided, she held him when he collapsed against her with a contented sigh, and let him draw from that what reassurance he could. A familiar wailing filled the room. Reluctantly, Scully opened her eyes. Mulder was sitting once more at his desk, fully dressed. She quietly rose and pulled on her panties and jeans, and pulled her shirt around her shoulders. Buttoning it, she left the room and attended to Liam. Some thirty minutes later, she returned to the study and put her arms around Mulder's shoulders. "What are you doing?" she asked, looking over his shoulder at the screen. It was an entry pertaining to an old case, one where a woman had claimed to be Mulder's missing sister. She felt him tense under her hands. "I'm just going over some old files." "What's wrong?" she asked, frowning. "Nothing," Mulder said tersely, shrugging off her arms. "Don't." Hesitantly, she touched his arm. "Mulder?" He brought up his hands, clenched them, then with great self-restraint put them down again. "I said, don't!" he snapped. Scully put up her hands. "Okay, Mulder. It's fine," she said with gentleness she didn't feel, her expression concerned. Mulder swung around in his chair. "What?" he demanded. "What?!" Reluctantly, knowing there was no right thing she could say right now, she began, "Mulder, this seems a lot like -" Mulder cut her off. " 'I hate you, don't leave me' syndrome. Mulder doesn't know what he wants because he's got BPD, is that what you're going to say?" He got to his feet. "You know, I get so sick of the way you look at me like I'm some pathological specimen. Just because I'm ill, you can't see me as anything but a diagnosis and a set of symptoms. I'm sick of it! 'Mulder, this sounds a lot like insert symptom of choice.' Say it's BPD and it will go away. It doesn't work like that, Scully. If I don't want to be touched, I don't want to be touched, no matter what labels you put on it!" Scully made a sound of exasperation. "Bloody h- two hours ago, you said you didn't mind me noticing when your behaviour was borderline!" "Yeah, well, now I do." He opened his drawer and opened a packet of Tylenol. He took two and dry-swallowed them. "Another headache?" she asked, trying not to sound as fed up as she was. Her tone was rather less sympathetic than she'd intended. "Yes, another headache. You're so in my face I feel like my head's going to split open." His voice was dripping malice. Scully's features twisted with anger. "Fuck you, Mulder! All I did was put my arms around you. One of these days you're really gonna drive me away. Then what will you do?" Mulder snapped, "Probably shoot myself. Now get the fuck out of my face." She threw a cushion at him in frustration. He snarled, "Damn it, Scully, I'm not in the mood." Scully gave way to the fury that lay just beneath the surface then. Tears in her eyes, she shouted, "You think I'm playing? I hate what you do to me! I hate how you push me away! I hate how this has always got to be on your terms!" Mulder's voice became louder and more furious, if possible. "And I hate you acting like you can save me! I hate having to try to be good all the time! I hate having to work so damn hard just to be okay for you and Liam!" "Mulder-" "Just leave me alone," he snapped. Scully whirled around, stormed out, and slammed the door. "Agent Scully?" Scully looked up from her congealing coffee. Why had she ordered coffee? She didn't even drink coffee! "Sir! You're a bit far from home," she observed, her voice surprisingly normal. Walter Skinner smiled grimly. "Sharon lives in Annapolis. I just dropped Susan back from an access visit. I thought I'd stop for a coffee before I went home." "Would you like to join me?" Scully said politely, wishing to God he'd say no. She justed wanted to be alone to stew. Of course he didn't. "Thank you, I'd like that." Skinner sat down opposite her, and held out his hands. "Can I hold Liam?" Scully smiled and handed him over. Skinner won a smile from the child, who proceeded to tug at the Assistant Director's glasses. "Not to get into work matters on a weekend, Agent Scully, but I wanted to let you know the Bureau has agreed to allocate a small office for your nanny to use with Liam. That means you can have him on-site with you, so you don't need to wean to come back to work. I've also gotten approval for your nanny to travel with you at departmental expense whenever you need to leave Washington." Scully raised an eyebrow, curious. "How many favours did you have to call in to manage that?" she asked, impressed and touched at the trouble he had taken. Skinner grinned wryly. "Quite a few, I'll admit." Scully smiled at him, surprised to find that the smile was genuine. "Well, I'm honoured that you took the trouble. I'd like to come back sooner rather than later." "Good." They fell silent as Scully absentmindedly sipped her coffee, trying not to recoil with distaste. Skinner motioned to a waitress and gave his order, then turned back to her, watching her. Finally, he spoke. He asked gently, "Agent Scully, is everything all right at home?" Scully stared at him, thunderstruck. "Is it that obvious?" Skinner shrugged, shaking his head slightly in negation. He explained, "Well, it's no secret that Mulder's not the most stable of people. My guess is home life is usually pretty stormy." He gave her a questioning look that invited confirmation. "You're right," she admitted, her fingers clenched around the cup handle. It suddenly broke under her grasp, splashing her with the last few drops of coffee. There was blood on her hand. Skinner handed her a handkerchief. "Are you okay?" he asked solicitously. Scully nodded, holding the fabric tightly over her wounded finger. "I just - God, he shits me sometimes!" she exclaimed with sudden passion. Skinner nodded silently. She went on. "I just wish he'd grow up! He's a thirty five year old child!" He touched her hand. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked with a neutral tone of voice. Scully shook her head. "It was stupid. Mulder just doesn't know what the hell he wants sometimes." Her voice was deeply tired. Skinner smiled at her faintly. "Except you. Always you, Scully." Scully shook her head dubiously, red curls flying. "I'm beginning to doubt that." Skinner's voice became firm. "I don't. You don't know what he was like while you were missing, Scully. He adores you. He just isn't very good at showing it sometimes. And I think what he feels for you scares him. It always has." Scully smiled faintly, knowing what he said was true. "How the hell did you get him to the altar?" she wondered aloud. "Well, it wasn't easy," Skinner grinned, leaning back in his chair with Liam against his chest. "It all started with a yellow ribbon and a Paddington Bear." Scully groaned. "Oh, God, here we go," she said goodnaturedly, pushing away her cup. Skinner ignored this. "Once upon a time there was a Paddington Bear. He was the long-lost surrogate son of Samantha Mulder. One day, Samantha and her brother, Fox, were playing; and Fox, being the prankster that we know and love, crept up behind her and tied a bell to the ribbon in her hair. All day long, she heard bells ringing; and it wasn't until that night that she found the bell. She didn't tell her mother because he begged her not to, but she did write it in her diary, which she kept stuffed inside her Paddington Bear - and a very uncomfortable state of affairs that was for the bear, too," he added, this last statement apparently addressed to Liam. Scully groaned again. "Now, one day, a little girl named Susan Skinner found this bear, and she showed her Daddy the diary. And her Daddy, having found out Fox's deep, dark secret, used it to blackmail him into going ahead with his marriage to the sweetest woman on earth." Scully burst out laughing. "That's the most absurd story I've ever heard!" Skinner gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well, that's why I always got bedtime story duty." Her laughter subsiding, Scully reached out and touched his hand. "Thank you," she said quietly. Skinner looked at her, puzzled. "For what?" She beamed at him. "For making me smile. You're a wonderful man." "Tell it to Sharon," he grumbled; but he looked pleased nonetheless. "And," she added, "I'm most flattered to be the sweetest woman on earth." Skinner smiled faintly, shrugging slightly. Scully debated whether to say something she'd wanted to say for a while. Finally, she said tentatively, "You know, after you were shot - when you were in hospital - I had the feeling that you felt-" Skinner held up a hand, cutting her off. "You were right. I do care for you, but our chance, if we ever had one, has passed. Let's say no more about it." He shifted uncomfortably, and determinedly devoted all of his attention to Liam. She smiled faintly. "It's not my desire to embarrass you. I just wanted you to know that I knew, and I care, and I'm glad you're our friend." She took his hand. "I know," he replied quietly, rubbing her hand with his fingers for a long moment before breaking free. Scully nodded slowly. "I should go," she said, not wanting the moment to turn awkward. She rose, took Liam from Skinner's arms, and kissed his cheek, lingering there for a long moment. "Take care." "You, too. And Scully?" She turned, her face a question mark. "Tell Mulder if he doesn't make up with you I'll give him a week on surveillance detail." Laughing, she left. When she arrived home, the house was quiet. "Mulder?" she called. "Are you home?" "I'm home," he called from the living room. "After you've put Liam to bed, would you come here, please?" "Okay," she called, and took the baby upstairs. She quickly took off her jacket, unbuttoned her blouse, and settled down to feed the baby, all the time wondering what she would find when she went downstairs. His tone had seemed even enough... Fifteen minutes later, she had put the baby down in the cot and settled him to sleep. She kicked off her shoes, padded down the stairs and walked to the living room. And then she smiled. Mulder had lit candles and arranged a fire in the hearth. There was a picnic rug on the floor, two pizza boxes, and two glasses of red wine. He was sitting on the lounge, waiting. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Scully nodded. "I know. You're just hard to be with sometimes." "It's pretty hard to be with myself sometimes," he replied mildly. "I know," she said again. Mulder rose and went to meet her in the doorway, bringing the glasses with him. He gave her one. "I hate the way I keep doing this to you. I am trying," he insisted. "So am I," Scully said. She rose her glass. "To trying," she whispered. Mulder clinked his glass against hers. "One day at a time," he agreed. END OF PART 2 COMING IN PART 3: MULDER'S MEETING WITH DIANA