The Other Scully

Author: TCS 1121
Email: TCS1121@hotmail.com
Classification: V
Rating: PG
Keywords: MSR (sort of), Alt U (sort of)
Spoilers: "Triangle"
Archive: sure
Disclaimer: 1013, not I, own these characters
Author’s Note: This is another thing I’ve wondered about.

Special thanks to Destiny’s Hand for being such a thorough and thoughtful beta.

Summary: How did Mulder’s one-day visit affect the "other" Scully’s life?

I have inoperable cancer.

It’s October 1963 and they say I won’t make it very far into 1964. That’s all right, dying is just the last of my life’s many adventures. As it comes to a close, I reflect on the most significant moments. The ones that changed my perceptions and, in essence made me who I am.

My name is Mary Katherine Malloy. I’m one of four children born of strict Irish Catholic parents. My sister’s name was also Mary, Mary Elizabeth, and both my brother’s names were Joseph, Joseph Daniel and Joseph Patrick. I’m the youngest and the last, so I should have quite a crowd waiting to walk me through the Pearly Gates.

I wonder if, among that crowd, a young gentleman will be there to meet me. A young man I met almost a lifetime ago and who most assuredly drowned after leaping from the bow of the S.S.Queen Anne.

During World War II, I worked for the Office of Strategic Services. The OSS was an office that conducted overt and covert intelligence gathering activities.

In other words, we were spies.

Working for the OSS was one of the few ways a woman could play a direct role in WWII. So there I was, playing the role of escort to a man whose knowledge could destroy both the Axis and Allied powers. I was there to protect him so we, the good guys, could win one for our side.

The Nazi’s had other ideas. They wanted Thor’s Hammer as much as we did, so the ship was lousy with German soldiers hoping to find him. Our cover was pretty secure as we posed as an older gentleman with his pretty, young girlfriend. Until this young man showed up.

A rumor that a man had been pulled from the water lit like fire throughout the ship. There were no other facts available so I basically ignored it and went on with my job. My job was dancing with a sought-after scientist in the grand ballroom of a beautiful British luxury liner that had just been taken over by the Germans.

While I was dancing, a tall Nazi officer bumped into me. A look of recognition flashed on his face, and he said, "Scully…?"

With my fist clenched, I believe I said something like, "I suggest you get your greasy Nazi paws off me. Unless you’d like one in the kisser." Or words to that effect.

He tipped his cap back to show his face clearly, and said, "Scully, it’s me…."

At that time, I didn’t realize how significant those words would turn out to be. Those words were the introduction to the biggest mystery of my life. And still, this mystery remains unsolved.

His eyes told me he knew me, but I swear he was a stranger to me. The urgency with which he held my eyes, the intensity of his voice and the gentle, firm clasping of my hand convinced me that he believed. He sincerely believed he knew me.

I thought he was a lunatic.

Not only a lunatic, but dangerous as well because he knew the identity of the secret scientist. But my fears of discovery were unfounded, for as the tragic events unfolded, this young man showed me the meaning of many words: patriotism, trust, love.

I know I’m much older now and I’m dying, but neither my age nor my infirmities have anything to do with the fact that I can’t remember his name. He became a specter or a dream shortly after the events transpired, so if he ever said his name, it never registered. But I’ve never once doubted that he was real, and I’ve never once doubted that he loved the woman he believed me to be.

In an attempt to get this intense American to divulge the identity of Thor’s Hammer, the Nazi’s began murdering the captive cruise members. Two innocent men were gunned down by the order of a Nazi officer who reeked of cigarette smoke; however, it was when a Nazi weasel pointed a gun at my head that the handsome stranger relented.

Spouting childish riddles, he was able to distract the Nazi’s momentarily. Soon, however, they had us both on our knees, heads bowed in the classic pose for execution. It was that exact moment that all Hell decided to break loose and we were able to escape.

He took my hand, and we ran through the ship until we came up to the top deck. It was there that he explained that *I* had to turn the ship around. I had to head it back to the future. It was up to me to change the course of history so children of this generation would have the opportunity to experience freedom. This stranger, in all his blind faith, said that I was the only one who could accomplish it.

Even more unbelievable, this stubborn young man said he belonged in another time and had to get back. He stated seriously that if these things weren’t done, then, "…in all likelihood I won’t exist. And neither will you. So in case we never meet again…"

He kissed me tenderly with love and trust. And maybe just a little fear.

So of course I hauled off and let him have it with my strong right hand. But he glittered as he smiled, then leapt overboard.

And suddenly, I believed. He made me believe---even though I would never see him again.

The rest of that voyage was absurdly simple once I’d trained an automatic weapon on the head of the ship’s navigator. The real mystery was whether my actions did anything to change --- or not change --- the way things were meant to be. Was this intense man simply misguided? Was he a self-absorbed maniac with delusions of grandeur? Or…? Or was he a hero? This brave man who saved me from a Nazi bullet, had so much faith in me that I can feel it even now. He trusted me with his future. And he trusted me with the future of the woman named Scully whom he loved.

Here was a man about to plunge into the unknown, and his last thoughts were of her. In that moment, and for only that one moment in my whole life, I knew what it must be like to be completely loved.

Isn’t it funny that I can remember her name? "Scully." Jealousy is a tough mentor.

I successfully delivered Thor’s Hammer into the hands of the Allies, and as a result of my achievement, was able to make a career out of the spy business. The OSS was the foundation of the CIA and I was able to get in on the ground floor of this fledgling organization. But never once, not for a day, did I stop looking in the crowds for a tall, handsome, quirky man.

I found myself haunted by him. Even now, his face, his voice and his touch come back with crystal clarity. I wonder if he ever got back to his own time. I like to imagine that he found the other Scully. In my mind I hear him discussing Einstein with her, dancing with her, taking her in his arms and kissing her gently.

Has he told her he loves her?

Did he even survive at all?

I prefer to think so, otherwise I’d have to believe he drowned in the waters under the Queen Anne.

He haunts me still.

He was the mystery and the adventure of my lifetime. In all the faces of all the men I have ever known, I have never seen one more passionate, courageous or endearing.

I can’t explain it, but I know that when my time comes to plunge into the unknown, my last thoughts will be of him.

END