The X-Files: Believer
From netnews.upenn.edu!msuinfo!agate!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!panix!ddsw1!a2i!kberry Wed Oct 5 09:47:43 1994
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From: kberry@starport.COM (Kirsten Berry)
Subject: Believer (PG - language)
Message-ID: <KBERRY.94Oct1215752@central.starport.COM>
Sender: news@rahul.net (Usenet News)
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Organization: Grand Central Starport
Date: Sun, 2 Oct 1994 04:57:52 GMT
Lines: 203
What follows is an introduction to a new character of my creation - Tracy
Jessup. Tracy is (very) loosely based upon myself, and she has now been
placed in Central Casting. If you're looking for a character for a story
you're working on, and she seems to fit the bill, you are welcome to her.
I have only two requests:
1) Send me a copy of the story (snail mail - I only have once-a-week
Net access, and can't always get to everything here) at:
Kirsten M Berry
35 Newell Rd #303
E Palo Alto, CA 94303-2728
USA
2) Don't kill her, whatever you do. Grievous injury is okay - just be
sure to mention she recovers.
And now, on with the show.
*****
All her life, Tracy Jessup had been a believer.
The things she had believed in throughout her 27 years had been numerous and
varied. She believed in the power of the human spirit - she didn't
necessarily *understand* it, but she believed in it. She believed in the
power inherent in the American justice system, and saw it as a source of
positive change in the country. And, above all else, she believed beyond a
shadow of a doubt in the power of the supernatural. She couldn't say why;
she didn't have first-hand experience; she didn't have anything that could
be considered "proof." It was just the way she felt.
The first two beliefs led Tracy to tackle what most people told her was an
insane double major - Behavioral Psych and Administration of Justice - at a
university thousands of miles from home (which in itself was a good thing:
It gave Tracy the opportunity to realize that she didn't have to be "Mama's
little junebug" anymore), which in turn led to the mythical "opportunity of a
lifetime" that people in Greenfield, Connecticut, just never got: An
opportunity to enter the Academy. The last item on that list, as she made
her way through the final weeks of study, was turning out to be a bigger
burden than Tracy could ever have imagined.
It had started out as a fairly straightforward class session, and when the
instructor opened the floor for questions, Tracy hadn't hesitated to raise
her hand. _That has got to be the best thing college did for me_, she
thought. _I don't think I could have survived being that shy much longer_.
Her question brought up several experimental theories, which the instructor
patiently explained had relatively little bearing on the situation they had
been discussing, although she _had_ seen cases which, if not for theory and a
willingness to consider it, would remain open to this day. The ensuing
clamor for details, which resulted only in cryptic answers, if any, took up
the rest of the time period, and with a solemn vow to herself to keep the
class on-topic next time, the instructor left.
Tracy was set to follow quickly, but stood transfixed as she heard the
comments from the back of the room, deliberately pitched just a little louder
than conversational tones would generally permit. "Well, there she goes,
ladies and gentleman - Deanna Troi," remarked one wag.
"How'd she get in the Academy, anyway?" asked another. "You'd think the
Agency would have enough on its plate with *one* Spooky Mulder."
"I guess we'll just have to call her 'Spacy'!" the first offender responded,
to be greeted with peals of laughter from the rest of his entourage.
_I will *not* rush out of the room_, Tracy chanted silently, a personal mantra
designed to retain as much of both her dignity and sanity as she could. For
the first time since freshman year, being "Mama's little junebug" again looked
very tempting. She made it as far as the door, then prepared to bolt - only
to run into her instructor. Notebooks poured onto the floor, and Tracy sank
into a heap alongside them, as much to try and clean up the mess she had made
as to avoid looking her in the eye.
"Hey, it's all right - I've got it." Agent Dana Scully dropped to one knee
next to her student, dividing papers up amongst their original owners.
Abruptly, she turned and brushed Tracy's hair out of her face. Despite the
negligible difference in their ages, Scully felt an almost maternal urge to
take care of her - to let her know it was all going to be okay. "I heard
everything, you know, and while I deplore their lack of tact in this
situation, I have to admit I've noticed the resemblance myself - I'd be
blind not to."
Tracy looked up at her and smiled ruefully. "You know, if I'd heard it from
you first, I'd have considered it the highest possible compliment."
Books in hand, the two stood. "See me in my office tonight at 6:30, Ms.
Jessup. You might be interested in what you find there." Leaving Tracy to
ponder one more cryptic statement for the afternoon, Scully departed.
Fox Mulder was *not* having a good day. Surveillance had never been one of
his favorite elements of field work, and knowing that he was there as
"punishment" was just one more twist of the knife. When Scully called,
reminding him once more of what he wanted to be doing - what he *should* be
doing - he rather resented it. "The Agency does not allow me time in this
fabulous schedule for a dinner date, Scully."
"It's not a date, Mulder - this is business. I'm asking you to come in for
a consultation with one of my students." The voice coming out of his cellular
phone was insistent - _just like she always is when she wants me to take her
side of a case. Damn_! Mulder shook his head, vainly trying to clear the
cobwebs - and the memories. "Just be at my office at six, okay?"
"I'll see if I can find one more favor to call in."
The relief in Scully's voice was almost visible. "Great. Oh, and Mulder?"
"What?"
"Try and shake the sunflower seeds out of your hair first."
Automatically, his hand went up to his head. She was right. "I think one of
your cadavers is calling you, Scully." Mulder hung up, resisting the urge to
throw the phone across the room. Looking at his watch, he started making
calls. If there was one thing he had learned working with Scully, it was
that she didn't push her ideas unless she was utterly convinced that she was
right. After all the wild hunches of his that she had followed - however
begrudgingly - he owed her this one.
It was difficult to determine which of the two people remaining in the room
was more uncomfortable - Tracy or Mulder. What was clear was that neither
one was likely to forgive Scully anytime soon for leaving them to their own
devices like this.
Figuring one of them had better say something before they both went crazy,
Mulder plunged blindly ahead. "I've heard a lot about you, Tracy -" she
looked at him, shocked - "and it was all from Scully in the last half hour.
She seems to think the world of you."
Tracy squirmed in her seat. "I have a lot of respect for her - for the both
of you, actually. Your reputation does, after all, precede you."
"What - that I'm dangerously insane and that the Agency plans to have me
burned at the stake by the end of the year?" Mulder lashed out, tormented by
the incessant references to his "reputation" that he'd had to endure in
recent months.
"That you're one of the best critical thinkers the Agency has ever seen, and
that to try and get rid of someone with your talent *would* be insane!"
Suddenly, Tracy was on fire. She leapt across the room, oblivious to the fact
that yelling at a superior could easily ruin the career she had worked so hard
to obtain and was not yet firmly within her grasp. "I'm still expendable. I
could let what happened today totally defeat me - walk out this door, off the
property, and back home to Mama - and nobody would give a good God damn one
way or the other. But I'm not going to do that. I refuse to give a handle of
people who think they're so much better than me the satisfaction of knowing
that they've won. You have so much more at stake here. Why is it so easy
for you to just sit there and let yourself implode? You and I may never have
met before, Agent Mulder, but I know a hell of a lot more about you than you
might think. I know that you've spent all your life dedicated to the thought
that you can make a difference in this Godforsaken world. I know that, at
least until recently, you still believed you could. And then the most
expedient way to do that is challenged, and you're just going to let them take
it away from you? I don't think so."
"And just what makes *you* the expert on what goes on in Fox Mulder's head?"
They were both on their feet now, inches from each other, yelling as if to be
heard over a blast furnace.
"It's going on in *my* head, too!!!" Tracy screamed. "They wanted to
humiliate me into leaving - into giving up everything in my life I thought
was worth living for. And...I...was...going...to...let them...." She sank
down, clutching the edge of the desk for support, tears streaming down her
face. Every last ounce of bravado had left her. "I *finally* get to a point
in my lifee where I am in total control of my own destiny, and *one* smart-
assed comment sends me spiralling back down where I started this crazy game.
But I deserve better than that, by Jesus - and so do you."
The two sat there for a long moment, Mulder perched on the end of Scully's
desk, Tracy on the floor at his feet. Neither one spoke. Suddenly, Tracy
looked up at Mulder. "Hey, wait a minute - just who was this pep talk
supposed to be for?" He stared at her blankly for a second, and then they
both began to laugh.
They were still laughing when Scully finally returned. "Well, this is
unexpected," she said, smiling. "I was half expecting to find one of you
dead when I came back."
"We were too busy plotting how we were going to kill you for ducking out like
that," Mulder said, shrugging back into his coat. "Tracy's still counting
her blessings that she doesn't have her gun yet." He reached a hand down to
her, helping her up off the floor.
"That's for sure - d'you know how bad killing your teacher *looks* on a
resume?" Tracy giggled, still a little overwhelmed by the events of the past
hour.
"The way *your* mind works, Ms. Jessup, you would have found a way out of it,"
Scully remarked, giving Mulder a look that wordlessly asked, _Just what
happened while I was gone_?
"Well, I've got to get back to work," Mulder said, avoiding the question.
"Scully, go buy Tracy a cup of coffee - I think she's going to be okay." The
three of them left the office. "And Scully?"
She turned, not knowing what to make of the tone in Mulder's voice. "Yes?"
"I think I will be, too."
*****
Any comments, questions, criticisms, will be readily responded to.
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Path: netnews.upenn.edu!msuinfo!agate!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!panix!ddsw1!a2i!kberry
From: kberry@starport.COM (Kirsten Berry)
Subject: Believer (PG - language)
Message-ID: <KBERRY.94Oct1215752@central.starport.COM>
Sender: news@rahul.net (Usenet News)
Nntp-Posting-Host: 111.rahul.net
Nntp-Posting-User: kberry
Organization: Grand Central Starport
Date: Sun, 2 Oct 1994 04:57:52 GMT
Lines: 203
What follows is an introduction to a new character of my creation - Tracy
Jessup. Tracy is (very) loosely based upon myself, and she has now been
placed in Central Casting. If you're looking for a character for a story
you're working on, and she seems to fit the bill, you are welcome to her.
I have only two requests:
1) Send me a copy of the story (snail mail - I only have once-a-week
Net access, and can't always get to everything here) at:
Kirsten M Berry
35 Newell Rd #303
E Palo Alto, CA 94303-2728
USA
2) Don't kill her, whatever you do. Grievous injury is okay - just be
sure to mention she recovers.
And now, on with the show.
*****
All her life, Tracy Jessup had been a believer.
The things she had believed in throughout her 27 years had been numerous and
varied. She believed in the power of the human spirit - she didn't
necessarily *understand* it, but she believed in it. She believed in the
power inherent in the American justice system, and saw it as a source of
positive change in the country. And, above all else, she believed beyond a
shadow of a doubt in the power of the supernatural. She couldn't say why;
she didn't have first-hand experience; she didn't have anything that could
be considered "proof." It was just the way she felt.
The first two beliefs led Tracy to tackle what most people told her was an
insane double major - Behavioral Psych and Administration of Justice - at a
university thousands of miles from home (which in itself was a good thing:
It gave Tracy the opportunity to realize that she didn't have to be "Mama's
little junebug" anymore), which in turn led to the mythical "opportunity of a
lifetime" that people in Greenfield, Connecticut, just never got: An
opportunity to enter the Academy. The last item on that list, as she made
her way through the final weeks of study, was turning out to be a bigger
burden than Tracy could ever have imagined.
It had started out as a fairly straightforward class session, and when the
instructor opened the floor for questions, Tracy hadn't hesitated to raise
her hand. _That has got to be the best thing college did for me_, she
thought. _I don't think I could have survived being that shy much longer_.
Her question brought up several experimental theories, which the instructor
patiently explained had relatively little bearing on the situation they had
been discussing, although she _had_ seen cases which, if not for theory and a
willingness to consider it, would remain open to this day. The ensuing
clamor for details, which resulted only in cryptic answers, if any, took up
the rest of the time period, and with a solemn vow to herself to keep the
class on-topic next time, the instructor left.
Tracy was set to follow quickly, but stood transfixed as she heard the
comments from the back of the room, deliberately pitched just a little louder
than conversational tones would generally permit. "Well, there she goes,
ladies and gentleman - Deanna Troi," remarked one wag.
"How'd she get in the Academy, anyway?" asked another. "You'd think the
Agency would have enough on its plate with *one* Spooky Mulder."
"I guess we'll just have to call her 'Spacy'!" the first offender responded,
to be greeted with peals of laughter from the rest of his entourage.
_I will *not* rush out of the room_, Tracy chanted silently, a personal mantra
designed to retain as much of both her dignity and sanity as she could. For
the first time since freshman year, being "Mama's little junebug" again looked
very tempting. She made it as far as the door, then prepared to bolt - only
to run into her instructor. Notebooks poured onto the floor, and Tracy sank
into a heap alongside them, as much to try and clean up the mess she had made
as to avoid looking her in the eye.
"Hey, it's all right - I've got it." Agent Dana Scully dropped to one knee
next to her student, dividing papers up amongst their original owners.
Abruptly, she turned and brushed Tracy's hair out of her face. Despite the
negligible difference in their ages, Scully felt an almost maternal urge to
take care of her - to let her know it was all going to be okay. "I heard
everything, you know, and while I deplore their lack of tact in this
situation, I have to admit I've noticed the resemblance myself - I'd be
blind not to."
Tracy looked up at her and smiled ruefully. "You know, if I'd heard it from
you first, I'd have considered it the highest possible compliment."
Books in hand, the two stood. "See me in my office tonight at 6:30, Ms.
Jessup. You might be interested in what you find there." Leaving Tracy to
ponder one more cryptic statement for the afternoon, Scully departed.
Fox Mulder was *not* having a good day. Surveillance had never been one of
his favorite elements of field work, and knowing that he was there as
"punishment" was just one more twist of the knife. When Scully called,
reminding him once more of what he wanted to be doing - what he *should* be
doing - he rather resented it. "The Agency does not allow me time in this
fabulous schedule for a dinner date, Scully."
"It's not a date, Mulder - this is business. I'm asking you to come in for
a consultation with one of my students." The voice coming out of his cellular
phone was insistent - _just like she always is when she wants me to take her
side of a case. Damn_! Mulder shook his head, vainly trying to clear the
cobwebs - and the memories. "Just be at my office at six, okay?"
"I'll see if I can find one more favor to call in."
The relief in Scully's voice was almost visible. "Great. Oh, and Mulder?"
"What?"
"Try and shake the sunflower seeds out of your hair first."
Automatically, his hand went up to his head. She was right. "I think one of
your cadavers is calling you, Scully." Mulder hung up, resisting the urge to
throw the phone across the room. Looking at his watch, he started making
calls. If there was one thing he had learned working with Scully, it was
that she didn't push her ideas unless she was utterly convinced that she was
right. After all the wild hunches of his that she had followed - however
begrudgingly - he owed her this one.
It was difficult to determine which of the two people remaining in the room
was more uncomfortable - Tracy or Mulder. What was clear was that neither
one was likely to forgive Scully anytime soon for leaving them to their own
devices like this.
Figuring one of them had better say something before they both went crazy,
Mulder plunged blindly ahead. "I've heard a lot about you, Tracy -" she
looked at him, shocked - "and it was all from Scully in the last half hour.
She seems to think the world of you."
Tracy squirmed in her seat. "I have a lot of respect for her - for the both
of you, actually. Your reputation does, after all, precede you."
"What - that I'm dangerously insane and that the Agency plans to have me
burned at the stake by the end of the year?" Mulder lashed out, tormented by
the incessant references to his "reputation" that he'd had to endure in
recent months.
"That you're one of the best critical thinkers the Agency has ever seen, and
that to try and get rid of someone with your talent *would* be insane!"
Suddenly, Tracy was on fire. She leapt across the room, oblivious to the fact
that yelling at a superior could easily ruin the career she had worked so hard
to obtain and was not yet firmly within her grasp. "I'm still expendable. I
could let what happened today totally defeat me - walk out this door, off the
property, and back home to Mama - and nobody would give a good God damn one
way or the other. But I'm not going to do that. I refuse to give a handle of
people who think they're so much better than me the satisfaction of knowing
that they've won. You have so much more at stake here. Why is it so easy
for you to just sit there and let yourself implode? You and I may never have
met before, Agent Mulder, but I know a hell of a lot more about you than you
might think. I know that you've spent all your life dedicated to the thought
that you can make a difference in this Godforsaken world. I know that, at
least until recently, you still believed you could. And then the most
expedient way to do that is challenged, and you're just going to let them take
it away from you? I don't think so."
"And just what makes *you* the expert on what goes on in Fox Mulder's head?"
They were both on their feet now, inches from each other, yelling as if to be
heard over a blast furnace.
"It's going on in *my* head, too!!!" Tracy screamed. "They wanted to
humiliate me into leaving - into giving up everything in my life I thought
was worth living for. And...I...was...going...to...let them...." She sank
down, clutching the edge of the desk for support, tears streaming down her
face. Every last ounce of bravado had left her. "I *finally* get to a point
in my lifee where I am in total control of my own destiny, and *one* smart-
assed comment sends me spiralling back down where I started this crazy game.
But I deserve better than that, by Jesus - and so do you."
The two sat there for a long moment, Mulder perched on the end of Scully's
desk, Tracy on the floor at his feet. Neither one spoke. Suddenly, Tracy
looked up at Mulder. "Hey, wait a minute - just who was this pep talk
supposed to be for?" He stared at her blankly for a second, and then they
both began to laugh.
They were still laughing when Scully finally returned. "Well, this is
unexpected," she said, smiling. "I was half expecting to find one of you
dead when I came back."
"We were too busy plotting how we were going to kill you for ducking out like
that," Mulder said, shrugging back into his coat. "Tracy's still counting
her blessings that she doesn't have her gun yet." He reached a hand down to
her, helping her up off the floor.
"That's for sure - d'you know how bad killing your teacher *looks* on a
resume?" Tracy giggled, still a little overwhelmed by the events of the past
hour.
"The way *your* mind works, Ms. Jessup, you would have found a way out of it,"
Scully remarked, giving Mulder a look that wordlessly asked, _Just what
happened while I was gone_?
"Well, I've got to get back to work," Mulder said, avoiding the question.
"Scully, go buy Tracy a cup of coffee - I think she's going to be okay." The
three of them left the office. "And Scully?"
She turned, not knowing what to make of the tone in Mulder's voice. "Yes?"
"I think I will be, too."
*****
Any comments, questions, criticisms, will be readily responded to.
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