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sunflowerseedsandscience · 6 years

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D’Un Nouvel Oeil: Chapter Seven

ORADOUR-SUR-GLANE, HAUTE-VIENNE, FRANCE FEBRUARY 1944

"Is there anything else that you need right now?"

Walther Skinner is leaning against the butcher's block in the cafe kitchen, a rucksack resting at his feet, watching Scully work her way through all of the tasks that must be completed before she opens for business in an hour. He'd arrived at the back door first thing in the morning.

"I don't think so," Scully says, cutting cheese into thin slices for sandwiches. "Mulder's been able to get me the medicines I need, for now. And my other contacts have been helpful, as well." She sets the platter of cheese off to the side and checks the bread that's baking in the oven, filling the entire kitchen with its intoxicating aroma. She turns back to Skinner and dusts her hands off on her apron. "I'm as well-supplied as I've ever been." She thinks of the stash of condoms upstairs, secured for her by Byers, the only one she could have requested to procure them for her without incurring a great deal of innuendo and leering. She still can’t believe she’d let them slide and forgotten one, that first time. "Better supplied, really," she amends, hoping she's not blushing. Skinner nods.

"That's good to hear," he says. He bends to open his rucksack, and from within, he withdraws three bottles of very expensive wine, a bottle of brandy, and a bottle of cognac. "Can you use any of these? Serve them in the cafe?" Scully's eyes widen as she examines the wine labels.

"I definitely could," she says. "I could charge a premium for them, too." She picks up the brandy. "The extra money could go to getting more chloral... stitching up lacerations and setting bones would be much easier if I didn't need three people to hold each injured man down." She looks up at Skinner. "Thank you, Walther. These will help tremendously." Skinner shrugs off her gratitude.

"Think nothing of it," he says... then shifts his feet, suddenly uncomfortable. "You should put it about that Mulder got them for you, in exchange for your... arrangement." Scully frowns.

"Have the men at camp been asking questions?"

"There have been comments, here and there," says Skinner. He shrugs, doesn't meet her eyes. "They see the way he looks at you. We don’t want anyone thinking you’re in a position to influence him."

"He's not very good at hiding it," Scully concedes, blushing. Even though she knows it's not something she should be encouraging, she can't stop the small smile that creeps onto her face; Mulder's worshipful gaze has quickly become something of an addiction for her.

"Well, he'd better learn," says Skinner gruffly. "I can only do so much trying to spread rumors if he's disproving them every time his comrades see you together."

"I'll talk to him," Scully sighs. She transfers the bottles of alcohol to the cupboard under the stairs. "These will help, I'm sure." She takes down a bag of coffee and latches the cupboard, then brings the coffee to the counter and sets about measuring it out for the day's first pot. "He's not going to like it, though. I can promise you that. He'll hate even the idea that he could be using me... that people could think that of him."

"I know he will," says Skinner. "But he needs to remember it's also for your protection, not just for his. That ought to arouse his protective instincts." Scully nods. "He's been helpful, then? In getting you supplies?"

"Yes, he's been wonderful," Scully says. "And I think it's good for him, what he's doing." She sets the coffee pot on the stove. "He seems more at peace. Happier."

"I'm not entirely sure that's just from helping out," says Skinner, his eyes boring into her. "I think I'd be happy and at peace, were I in his situation right now." Scully blushes deeply and looks down.

"Walther," she murmurs, her voice soft. She doesn't know how to respond when he says things like this. Saying that she's sorry would be dishonest; she's completely certain, now more than ever, that Mulder is the only man for her, and she can't possibly regret being with him. Skinner, though, seems to understand. He waves his hand dismissively.

"You don't need to be sorry," he says, pulling the words right out of her mind. "You're good for each other. Never be sorry for finding happiness, especially not at a time like this."

"Why do you do it, Walther?" Scully asks him. He frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"My mother and I," says Scully, "we do this because it's our country that's been taken over, because it's my brothers who are at sea fighting the Germans. Mulder does it because of what the Nazis did to his sister, because this is the only way he knows to fight back. But what about you?" Skinner smiles wryly.

"Is it so hard to believe that I might be doing it simply because it's the right thing to do, Dana?" he asks.

"Frankly? Yes, it is," Scully says. "Otherwise, I think we'd have no trouble at all finding people to help." Skinner looks at her a moment longer, then drops his gaze.

"My brother took ill when I was a child," he says quietly. "We had no money to pay our usual doctor, and he refused to help. One of our neighbors, a Jew, was also a doctor... and he treated my brother for free. He saved his life." Skinner crosses to the kitchen door, slinging his rucksack over his back as he goes. "After that, my father wouldn't hear a word against the Jews. He didn't live long enough to see Hitler come to power, thank God... but I never forgot that doctor and what he did for our family. My mother and I used our family's book shop as a cover to aid refugees fleeing the country, and since I've been conscripted, I've done what little I can to keep on helping."

"You do a lot more than you realize, Walther," says Scully. Skinner shrugs.

"It's still the right thing to do," he says. "Not because a Jewish man once helped my family. Even if I'd never known a single Jew in my life, it would still be the right thing to do." Scully nods as he opens the door. "Talk to Mulder," he advises her. "Don't let him get himself in trouble." And with that, he's gone.

------------------------

Scully spends much of the next Saturday evening avoiding Mulder's gaze as she finishes with her final customers of the night. Skinner has not been exaggerating: Mulder's feelings are written all over his face for the world to see.

"You need to stop looking at me like that when there are still customers in the cafe, Mulder," she tells him firmly, as she finally closes and locks the door after the last customer has left. "Your face is practically shouting to the entire German army that we're lovers." He grins over at her from his usual table.

"Lovers?" He stands and crosses the dining room, standing behind her with his hands on her waist. "I like that. Lovers." She suddenly feels his lips on her neck, and twists away quickly, giggling.

"Mulder! Not in front of the windows, someone could see!" She gathers up an armload of dishes and heads for the kitchen. Behind her, she hears Mulder doing the same.

"You think there's anyone out there who doesn't know something's going on between us, Scully?" he asks, depositing the dirty dishes in the sink of soapy water. "You don't want to know the kinds of things I get asked about you whenever I'm at the camp." Scully decides not to point out that she doesn't need him to tell her- she's heard enough from the soldiers themselves, during the day. Safe in their assumption that she doesn't speak enough German to understand them, they don't hold back in their speculation of what they think that she and Mulder get up to in the evenings.

"They know you share my bed sometimes, yes," she tells Mulder, "but they don't know it's anything more than the same thing half the men in your regiment get up to with any woman who's willing." She puts her own dishes in the sink and starts up the stairs- she'll deal with them later.

"Or desperate," comes Mulder's voice from behind her as he follows her up the stairs. "Most of them are only doing it because the soldiers are offering them food and money. I don't want them thinking that of you, Scully." She heaves a sigh, turning to face him and putting her hands on his shoulders. She's going to have to spell it out for him, clearly.

"Mulder," she says, "we need them to think that of me. In fact, it's exactly the sort of rumor I've asked Hauptmann Skinner to spread." He looks every bit as horrified as she'd expected him to be.

"What?"

"I want them to think you're paying for food and supplies for the cafe," she explains. "That's the sort of relationship people like your commander can understand you having with me. It gives you power over me, leaves me at your mercy."

"I don't want power over you, Scully," Mulder says. "And doesn't it bother you? To be seen like that?" She winds her arms around his neck and shakes her head.

"I don't care what any of them think, Mulder," she tells him firmly. "I have no respect for any of them and I'm not wasting a single second worrying about their opinions of me. Men like that, who can see to it that a woman and her family starve, and then look down on her for doing what she has to in order to keep them alive?" She leans her forehead against his- standing a step above him, she's only a few inches shorter. "They can't know the truth. At best, they'll be suspicious and your friend Spender will never tell you anything his father says again. At worst, they could accuse you of treason. You know the truth, Mulder, and that's all I care about." Mulder looks mournful.

"I'll do my best, Scully," he concedes. "But I make no promises." She knows him well enough by now to know that that's the best she can hope for. Smiling in resignation, she takes him by the hand and leads him upstairs.

Hours later, they're settled naked on Scully's bed, their passions sated for the moment- though, in Mulder's case, not completely. She's trying to read to him as he lies with his head in her lap; he's trying, repeatedly, to direct his attention elsewhere. After she's thwarted his attempt to bury his face between her legs for what has to be the fourth time, he sighs and flops onto his back, looking up at her.

"Scully, can I ask you something?" She nods at him, waiting. "How many...." He trails off, frowning, and suddenly Scully knows exactly what he's going to ask. Her gut clenches. "How did you learn-"

"You want to know how many men I've been with before you," she says, cutting him off. She's not sure this is a conversation she wants to have. "I thought you said it didn't matter to you?"

"It doesn't," he reassures her. "I'm just... I'm just curious, that's all." For a moment, she doesn't speak. She'd like to think he won't care about her past, what she's done before they'd met, but she can't help but think back to her time in Paris, to Sebastien, to the things he had said.

"Men don't like a woman who's too forward, Dana," he'd told her, repeatedly, when she had tried to be vocal about what she'd thought would please her. "No man wants to be directed, to be told what to do in the bedroom. You need to learn to trust that I know what I'm doing."

As though sensing her insecurity, Mulder sits up and embraces her warmly. "Let's face it, Scully," he tells her, smiling, "you know your way around my body better than I do. I was just wondering if that's the sort of thing they teach in medical school these days." She feels the tension abate and she sinks against him, chuckling.

"I suppose you could say I did learn it at medical school, after a fashion," she says. "To answer your question... I was with one man before you." Mulder looks skeptical, and for a moment she feels guilty about the lie. She wants to trust him not to judge her, to not be disappointed in her, but she's never quite been able to shake her sense of shame over the two men she'd been with after leaving medical school. Not for having slept with them, not really... but for having used them for comfort when she'd felt nothing for them. Sebastien, at least, had been a long-term relationship. "It was for over a year though," she tells Mulder. "He was one of my instructors."

"A year?" She nods. "Who ended it?"

"I did," she says. "He wanted us to get married... and he insisted that if we did, I would have to give up school, give up on becoming a doctor. He said it was all right for unmarried women to pursue a career, but that as his wife, my place would be in the home." Mulder laughs, shaking his head. "I think you can imagine how well that idea went over with me."

"No wonder you ended it." He nuzzles into her hair, momentarily quiet. "Did you love him, Scully?" She leans her face into his neck, thinking.

"I thought I did at the time," she says at last, and it's the truth- Sebastien had seemed, then, to be everything she should want in a man. "But now... I think I must have been infatuated with him, maybe a little in awe of him, nothing more than that." She draws away just long enough to sit up and meet his eyes. "Because this, Mulder, what I feel for you, this is love, I know it is... and what I felt for him can't hold a candle to this."

The way Mulder's face relaxes tells her that he believes her, and even as she's straddling him, preparing to take him into her body for the second time tonight, she feels guilty for not being completely honest. She trusts him, doesn't she? Enough to know he won't think less of her? She stops kissing him and pulls back.

"You okay, Scully?" he asks, frowning in confusion. She nods.

"Mulder," she says quietly, "I wasn't completely honest with you just now." Mulder is immediately worried.

"Which part?" he asks.

"I've had two other men," she confesses, looking down. If he's disappointed in her, she doesn't want to see it in his face. "After I came back here, to take care of my mother. One was a man who helped on my mother's farm, while I was nursing her back to health. He went away to fight not long after. The other was a British soldier, passing through at the start of the war." She risks a glance at his face, but his expression is unreadable. "I didn't feel anything for either of them, I promise you. They didn't mean anything. I was just... I was lonely, Mulder, and worried about my mother, and my brothers, and trying to run the cafe and the farm on my own, and I had no one to turn to and-" Mulder stops her with a finger to her lips.

"Scully," he says gently, "it doesn't bother me. It doesn't make me think any differently of you." She's so relieved, she could almost cry.

"You don't?" He shakes his head, stroking her cheek.

"No," he says. "I wasn't a virgin, either, Scully. I've been with a few women before... and I can't honestly say I felt anything for any of them, either. I was lonely, and I needed comfort. Why would I think less of you for having the same needs as me?"

"I've been brought up to believe that I should be able to rise above that kind of weakness," she says.

"Needing someone isn't a weakness, Scully," Mulder says.

"Rationally, I know that," says Scully. "But in practice... I have a hard time remembering it." She smiles weakly. "I have a bit of an independent streak."

"You? I hadn't noticed," quips Mulder, and they laugh together until Mulder kisses her again, effectively ending the conversation.

--------------------------

They eat dinner with Maggie on Sunday night, as they do nearly every week, and after Scully has sent Mulder back to camp with a kiss and a promise to see him on Tuesday, since he's expected for cards on Monday, she returns to the kitchen to help her mother with the washing up. They work in a companionable silence for a time, Maggie washing and Scully drying.

"I feel like I spend every evening drying dishes these days," Scully remarks, and Maggie chuckles.

"Would you rather wash?" she asks.

"No, that's fine," laughs Scully. "Mulder usually does the washing, when I close the cafe at night." Maggie shakes her head, but she's smiling.

"I still don't think I'll believe that until I see it," she says. "A good-looking man who stands up to bullies, and does housework?"

"Did Papa never wash dishes, then?" asks Scully. She had been only eight when her father had passed away, and most of her few memories are of him doing the things typically reserved for fathers: presiding over family dinners, roughhousing with his sons, doling out discipline as directed by their mother, policing Melissa's wardrobe choices... and reading stories with his youngest daughter.

"Oh, he'd lend a hand if I asked, if I was really overwhelmed," Maggie concedes. "But it certainly wasn't a nightly occurrence. I think you've gotten more than a little bit lucky, my girl." They work in silence a bit longer.

"Maman," says Scully, as they're finishing, "do you think... if Papa hadn't...." Maggie quirks an eyebrow at her. "Do you think Papa would have liked him, Maman? If he'd gotten to meet Mulder? Do you think he would have approved? Even though he's a German soldier?" Maggie looks thoughtful.

"He would have been impressed with what Fox did the night that soldier had his hands all over you," she say, finally. "And he would be very impressed with Fox's decision to-" She stops herself and looks around. "With what he's been doing lately. But what I think your father would have liked the most, Dana, would have been the way that Fox treats you. No one, seeing the way he is with you, could ever doubt that he loves you and respects you. That all by itself would have been enough to win your father's approval." Scully fights back the tears that have begun to gather in her eyes and nods. Her mother reaches out and takes her hand. "Come on," she says gently. "Come and sit in the parlor with me for a bit before you go up to bed. I scarcely get to see you these days."

No sooner have they sat down before the fire, however, than they're startled to their feet by the sound of the front door being thrown open.

"Scully! Maggie!" She and Maggie leap to their feet at Mulder's call. His footsteps pound down the hallway, towards the kitchen, and the women hasten to follow. "Maggie!" "Mulder, what are you doing here?" asks Scully as she rushes into the kitchen. "What's going on?" Mulder's face is red and sweaty, in spite of the chill outside, as though he's been running hard. He's leaning heavily against the wall, panting, his eyes wild. Scully's stomach clenches in fear: whatever's happened, it's nothing short of catastrophic, if Mulder is this panicked.

"The father and son that left here last night, they were caught, they were questioned. The son told them where he and his father stayed." There's a roaring sound in Scully's ears, and for a moment, she thinks she might pass out. "They're coming, Maggie. You need to get ready to leave. The priest is sending someone to get you to safety." Her mind goes immediately to her emergency bag, full of clothing and forged documents obtained for her by Frohike... tucked in her armoire in her apartment across town.

"We have to take her to my apartment!" she says, grabbing her mother's arm, but Mulder shakes his head.

"That's the first place they'll look, you know they will," says Mulder. "You've got to leave town, Maggie." Scully opens her mouth to protest, but at the firm touch of her mother's hand on her arm, she stops.

"He's right, Dana," she says. "You know he is."

"Then I'm coming with you," Scully insists. Mulder will come with her if she asks, Scully knows she will, but there's no way she can leave her mother to fend for herself. But Maggie is shaking her head, laying gentle hands on Scully's shoulders.

"Dana, you need to stay. There are too many people counting on you. You need to help them." Scully knows her mother is right, that there are people here who need her, who won't be able to pass safely through without her assistance... but right now, at this moment, she doesn't care. They all come second to her mother.

"I need to help you, Maman," she insists.

"You've been helping me for years, my darling," says Maggie, taking Scully's face tenderly in her hands and kissing her forehead. "But when I leave here tonight, you'll be helping me most by staying with Fox and keeping safe. Right now, there's nothing to make them think you've been involved in any of this. We've been careful... that boy and his father never even saw you here, they couldn't have told the soldiers anything about you. But when I leave here tonight, I could be caught, and if you're with me... they'll know. Our being together will be all the proof they need that you're involved." She takes Scully's hands in her own and squeezes them, looking her directly in the eyes. "You must do this, Dana. For me." And Scully cannot refuse, no matter how much it feels as though her entire world is crashing down around her shoulders.

It's been just the two of them for so many years now. Scully doesn't know if she remembers how to get through each day without her mother there to turn to.

"Maman," she cries, embracing her mother, sobbing. Maggie holds her tightly, rubbing her shoulders.

"I am so, so proud of the woman you've grown into," she whispers. "And if your father could see you, he would be even prouder." She tries to draw back, but Scully clutches at her, unwilling and unable to let her go.

There's a loud pounding at the kitchen door, and Scully jumps back, her heart in her throat, until she recognizes Frohike's voice.

"Scully, open up, it's us!" Mulder rushes to open the door, and Frohike, Byers and Langly rush in. "Maggie, it's time to get you out of here. Are you ready?"

"Yes," says Maggie. "Just give me one moment, all right?" She turns back to Scully and cradles her face again. Her face is hard, set, though the tears are flowing freely down her cheeks. "You need to go with Fox now," she says. "Never forget I love you."

"I love you too, Maman," sobs Scully. "So much."

"I promise you, one day, we will see each other again," says Maggie, and she embraces Scully one last time before passing Scully's hand to Mulder's. "Take care of her, Fox," she says, and stretches up to kiss Mulder's cheek.

"I promise I will, Maggie," says Mulder. He looks to Frohike. "You'll keep us informed? Let us know when she's safe?"

"The moment we have her securely on her way, we'll be back to tell you," promises Frohike. The other two nod in agreement.

"Get moving," says Mulder. And before Scully has a chance to protest, before she can even look once more on her mother's face, Mulder has rushed her out of the kitchen door.

Later, Scully has almost no memory of the desperate flight back to her apartment. She's crying throughout, held tightly to Mulder's side, but she's barely conscious of the passing landscape as he rushes her through the deserted streets and through the cafe's back door. By the time she's once again aware of her surroundings, she's lying on her bed, crying so hard that her chest hurts, and Mulder is wrapped protectively around her. He looks as though he's about to speak... but before he gets the chance, there's a pounding on the front door to the cafe. Scully's sitting upright in less than a second, shaking with fear.

"They're here for me," she says. They're going to arrest her, question her, question Mulder, and send men out into the surrounding countryside until they find her mother... and then they will kill all three of them. Mulder, however, puts a calming hand on her arm.

"They're here to see if you've been home all night," he says. "I saw Skinner before I came to get you; he told me to do what it takes to make them think you've been in your apartment all evening, that you weren't with your mother tonight, that you don't know she's gone on the run."

"What if they think I was there last night, when that man and his son were hiding there?" she asks.

"They already know you weren't," Mulder reassures her. "There were soldiers in here when it was time for you to lock up the cafe, weren't there? And it was after curfew. They know where you were last night."

"And tonight?" she asks. Mulder bites his lip, thinking. "Do you trust me, Scully?" he asks. She nods, and he stands. "Then take off your blouse and get under the covers. When they come in, cover yourself with the blanket, but let them see your shoulders are bare. Let them think you're naked." Mulder unbuttons his uniform jacket, dropping it to the floor, and takes off his boots and socks. Standing, he unbuckles his belt, pulling his undershirt out of his pants to hang loose around his hips. He looks, Scully thinks, as though he's thrown his clothing back on in haste after being caught at a delicate moment... and suddenly, she realizes that that's exactly what he's going for. She loses no time obeying him, stripping off her blouse and camisole, dropping her boots to her bedroom floor. She pulls the duvet up to her shoulders.

"Won't you get in trouble, flaunting it like this?" she asks. Mulder shakes his head.

"Not much. Maybe night guard for a week again." He kisses her gently, then stands. Downstairs, the pounding on the door sounds yet again. "Don't worry about me right now. There's nothing, anywhere in here, that can implicate you, is there?" Scully shakes her head.

"Nothing. I never keep anything written down," she says. He nods.

"Stay here," he says. Before she can answer, he's gone, running through her flat and downstairs. Scully can just barely hear muffled voices- they're at the front door, and her bedroom is in the back of the house- but before long, there's the heavy sound of many boots tramping up the stairs, and she hears Mulder addressing someone in German. "But if you just wait a moment...." he's saying... and to Scully's immense relief, it's Walther Skinner's voice that answers him.

"Down that way?" Skinner is asking.

"Yes, but Sir, I really think that-" That's as far as Mulder gets before Skinner throws open the bedroom door. Scully has just enough time to jerk the duvet up to cover her chest and let out what she hopes is a convincingly frightened shriek. She comes within half of breath of turning the shriek into a laugh... because Skinner's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, lest he catch even a glimpse of her naked body.

Over Skinner's shoulder, Scully can see Mulder and another man, with a pinched, rat-like face. Mulder has pointed him out to her once before as Jeffrey Spender, his childhood acquaintance, the son of his commander.

"Fraulein Scully," barks Skinner, "please put on your clothes and join us in the parlor. We have some questions for you." He shuts the door, and letting out an enormous breath, Scully gets out of bed and pulls her clothing back on.

Skinner is in charge of the questioning, which the young Spender doesn't seem happy about. The entire affair takes twice as long as it should, because Mulder keeps having to translate each question from German to French, and each of Scully's answers back into German, to keep Spender in the dark about Scully's fluency. It's over an hour before Skinner is finished, and at the end of it, Scully is completely exhausted.

"We have no further questions at this time, Fraulein Scully," says Skinner, finally. "But we do ask, should your mother contact you, that you inform us immediately. For you to attempt to keep her whereabouts from us would be unwise." He looks to Mulder, who translates, and Scully nods. Skinner turns to Mulder. "Obersoldat Mulder, you'll see us out," he says. "Then you'll get yourself cleaned up and get back to camp. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," says Mulder. Skinner and Spender nod to Scully, then go back downstairs, Mulder behind them. The moment they're gone, Scully stands woodenly and makes her way slowly back into her bedroom, where she collapses onto her bed and curls in a ball. She feels drained, numb from the shock of the night's events, unable to take it all in. When Mulder comes back, he lies next to her on the bed, taking her in his arms and stroking her hair.

"You should get dressed and go back," she says finally, though it's the last thing she wants him to do. "They'll be looking for you."

"Not tonight, they won't," says Mulder. "Not in all the excitement. And I'm sure I can get Skinner to claim to have seen me in camp, if need be." He strokes her hair and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Speaking of Skinner, why were you trying not to laugh when he opened your bedroom door?" At the memory of Skinner's flushed, embarrassed face, Scully manages a tiny smile.

"Because he had his eyes closed," she says. "He was standing there, in my doorway, belting out orders at me with his eyes shut tight and his cheeks bright red." Mulder grins.

"Protecting your modesty. A real gentleman," he says. It's true, Skinner is a gentleman, and Scully can't help but chuckle a little. The lightness in her heart is short-lived, though, as the loss of her mother comes crashing down on her yet again... and in moments, she's sobbing.

Her mother is gone. If, by some miracle, she is not caught tonight, brought back and questioned, before being put to death, she'll be making her way through countryside that's crawling with German patrols... and even if she reaches safety, there's no guarantee Scully will ever see her again. And even if she does, it's likely to be years from now.

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