A Question of Faith
Character: Dana Scully
Fandom: The X-Files
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Roy Fokker: It's never been a game, Claudia. Maybe someday you'll understand that. (Robotech) Vol 3. Week.24 on scifi_muses on LiveJournal
Setting: Season Five Episode: All Souls
He’ll never understand how God could forsake the life of an innocent girl….
Scully’s fingers pulled at the cross around her neck, twisting it around, up and down the slender, gold chain it rested on. Traffic back from Baltimore to DC was practically stopped on the highway between the two, and what was normally a forty-five minute jaunt between the two major metropolitan areas was turning into an hour at least, promising to be more.
What was worse, a spring shower was threatening in the sky above, gray, ominous clouds from off the Chesapeake Bay rolling into the Eastern seaboard. Wonderful. A Monday afternoon, stuck in her car in solid traffic, rain threatening, and Scully was alone with her thoughts. The glared gloomily at the bumper in front of her, thinking not of the fact the late model sedan needed a bath, but of the devastation in the eyes of Lance Kernof. The instant she saw it, she knew, had felt that pain intimately, felt that intimate connection of loss, of wondering why this happened.
She’d had to look away from the man. For his part he must have seen it in her eyes. He spent the better part of the interview staring out the window of his living room, unable even to look at the picture of the adopted daughter he had so adored. Dara Kernof wasn’t a girl that man prospective parents perhaps would have wanted. Her spinal deformities severely limited her, and her mother had mentioned that she had learning and speech limitations. But despite all the things wrong with her in this world, her parents loved her with everything in them. And now their hearts had been broken, shattered, and they were trying to comprehend the meaning behind it all.
The similarities to Emily could have made her weep if she wasn’t too tired for tears. Scully had wanted to reach out for the Kernof’s hands, to smile and tell them that she too had been there once with a little girl. She wanted to tell them about her Emily, about how she had been a sick little girl, one whose disease would have made it impossible for others to take care of her. But Scully had loved her, and wanted her, and desired her more than anything. But she couldn’t give them that sort of comfort. She couldn’t answer their questions about how God could forsake the life of someone so innocent because she had been asking that same question herself for months. It was the one prayer on her lips as she knelt in church with her mother, and thus far God had remained ominously silent on the subject. She didn’t understand why God would allow something like this to happen to Dara or to Emily.
Traffic inched along the highway, and fat, watery drops fell from the sky, landing on Scully’s windshield with plopping irregularity. She flicked on the windshield wipers carelessly, watching them swish by as she sat, foot on the brakes, staring into the red lights of the car ahead of her. Her heart ached as she thought of Lance Kernof, of the wall of paint hat shielded him. She had felt that in the days following Emily’s death. She had felt so…numb. She had stood by while Mulder and her mother made all of the arrangements, for once not taking charge like she normally did. She remembered that same hurt, the inability to even talk about Emily. She had been angry in those days, angry with God, angry with the men who had caused all of this, angry with herself for all her medical knowledge being unable to cure her own daughter.
If she were honest with herself she was still angry. She had never stopped being angry. She had done what she always had done, internalized her anger, focused it to her work. Except now there was no work. Mulder was floundering, that she knew, and it left her without even him to rely on in getting through this. And still that hurt and anger simmered, the rage against heaven for what had happened to her little girl, the only child of her body she would ever know.
Scully knew all too well how Lance Kernof felt. Why had God done this to Emily? What had God done this to her? Why had he allowed these people to do this to all of them, to all the people she had lost over the years? It hardly seemed that a justice, loving, caring, omnipotent deity would allow such horrendous things to happen to good people? And yet Scully couldn’t begin to fathom the answers to those questions.
She was not a theologian. Her thoughts did not go to those of God or his workings. She was a scientist, a creature of facts. Her faith for much of her life had been simple, there was a God, he loved her, he sent his Son to die for her and her sins, and through the sacraments she received the grace that provided for the atonement of her sins. It was simple enough. Before her work with Mulder she had never had to question why of God. She had never had to wonder about things like this. And now she was left at a loss. Her simple faith failed her and all she had at hand was her scientific reasoning that everything happens for a reason.
Everything happens for a reason.
She couldn’t give the Kernofs the comfort of faith and doctrine that was what Father McCue was good for. But she could give them the comfort of reason. Her thoughts turned that fact over, twisting it in her mind as she considered. Scully could give no insight into why God did this. She didn’t have that answer herself. But could find out why the girl had died and how, and perhaps through her science she could give explanation to a death that was otherwise meaningless. And while it perhaps would give them Kernof’s any measure of reassurance with God, it would at least give them a starting point to understanding how it happened. Perhaps there the Kernofs could begin to find a place to start healing.
If only it were that simple for Scully.
Reaching for her cell phone she dialed up Danny, she and Mulder’s most reliable resource at the Bureau. Despite the growing lateness of the hour she wasn’t surprised to hear him pick up at the other end, and wondered not for the first time if the man had a life away from the FBI. “Hi Danny, it’s Scully.”
“What’s Mulder got you doing now?”
She smiled. He always assumed it was for Mulder, as more often than not it was. “No, this time it’s for me again. I have another personal favor to ask.”
“You keep this up, Scully, you’ll owe me as big as Mulder does.”
“I doubt I’ll ever owe you that big.” Scully could only guess at how many Washington Redskin tickets Mulder owed to the man. “I’m doing a favor for some friends of my mother here in Baltimore. They had a daughter die recently, strange circumstances, name is Dara Kernof, do you think you can get all the information you can on her, including the autopsy report on her body?”
“Sure, shouldn’t be a problem. You want me to have it ready for you in the morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll come by and get it from you.”
“Don’t want Mulder turning this into an X-file, screaming about vampires again?”
Scully winced. Word had gotten around about Mulder and Chaney, Texas. “Yeah, I don’t think that this is an X-file, Danny, just grieving parents who want to know why their daughter died.”
Danny made a sympathetic noise over the phone line. “I’ll get it done before I head out.”
“Thanks, Danny, I owe you.”
“I’ll just add it to Mulder’s growing tab,” he replied cheerfully, before wishing her a good evening and hanging up. Scully stared at her phone thoughtfully, a thumbnail poised to press the speed dial for Mulder’s number. Out of habit she wanted to call him and bounce ideas and gain his perspective, even if it was crazy. Danny had sensed it right. She didn’t want Mulder trampling into something that wasn’t even really an X-file. She hesitated having him come in and begin making suppositions on what had happened to Dara Kernof, to turn this into one of his cases when in reality it was about people in pain, who wanted answers, just like she did.
Just like he did too, when it got down to it, but Scully wondered if Mulder thought about Samantha and her disappearance much anymore.
Tucking her cell back into her bag, Scully pursed her lips as traffic inched forward slowly on the highway in the ever-steadying downpour around her. This wasn’t just a case for she and Mulder to hash out, this was personal for Scully and for now she would keep it that way. If she needed Mulder down the line she would reach out to him, but for now she was just searching for facts, for answers, that was all. She doubted that any of this was anything more nefarious than a horrible, horrible accident. After all, why else would such a young, innocent life be taken if it weren’t a horrible accident? God wouldn’t allow this on purpose…would he?
Scully reached for the cross on it’s chain once again and absently lost herself in the play of the traffic lights in the raindrops on her car windshield.
Fandom: The X-Files
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Roy Fokker: It's never been a game, Claudia. Maybe someday you'll understand that. (Robotech) Vol 3. Week.24 on scifi_muses on LiveJournal
Setting: Season Five Episode: All Souls
He’ll never understand how God could forsake the life of an innocent girl….
Scully’s fingers pulled at the cross around her neck, twisting it around, up and down the slender, gold chain it rested on. Traffic back from Baltimore to DC was practically stopped on the highway between the two, and what was normally a forty-five minute jaunt between the two major metropolitan areas was turning into an hour at least, promising to be more.
What was worse, a spring shower was threatening in the sky above, gray, ominous clouds from off the Chesapeake Bay rolling into the Eastern seaboard. Wonderful. A Monday afternoon, stuck in her car in solid traffic, rain threatening, and Scully was alone with her thoughts. The glared gloomily at the bumper in front of her, thinking not of the fact the late model sedan needed a bath, but of the devastation in the eyes of Lance Kernof. The instant she saw it, she knew, had felt that pain intimately, felt that intimate connection of loss, of wondering why this happened.
She’d had to look away from the man. For his part he must have seen it in her eyes. He spent the better part of the interview staring out the window of his living room, unable even to look at the picture of the adopted daughter he had so adored. Dara Kernof wasn’t a girl that man prospective parents perhaps would have wanted. Her spinal deformities severely limited her, and her mother had mentioned that she had learning and speech limitations. But despite all the things wrong with her in this world, her parents loved her with everything in them. And now their hearts had been broken, shattered, and they were trying to comprehend the meaning behind it all.
The similarities to Emily could have made her weep if she wasn’t too tired for tears. Scully had wanted to reach out for the Kernof’s hands, to smile and tell them that she too had been there once with a little girl. She wanted to tell them about her Emily, about how she had been a sick little girl, one whose disease would have made it impossible for others to take care of her. But Scully had loved her, and wanted her, and desired her more than anything. But she couldn’t give them that sort of comfort. She couldn’t answer their questions about how God could forsake the life of someone so innocent because she had been asking that same question herself for months. It was the one prayer on her lips as she knelt in church with her mother, and thus far God had remained ominously silent on the subject. She didn’t understand why God would allow something like this to happen to Dara or to Emily.
Traffic inched along the highway, and fat, watery drops fell from the sky, landing on Scully’s windshield with plopping irregularity. She flicked on the windshield wipers carelessly, watching them swish by as she sat, foot on the brakes, staring into the red lights of the car ahead of her. Her heart ached as she thought of Lance Kernof, of the wall of paint hat shielded him. She had felt that in the days following Emily’s death. She had felt so…numb. She had stood by while Mulder and her mother made all of the arrangements, for once not taking charge like she normally did. She remembered that same hurt, the inability to even talk about Emily. She had been angry in those days, angry with God, angry with the men who had caused all of this, angry with herself for all her medical knowledge being unable to cure her own daughter.
If she were honest with herself she was still angry. She had never stopped being angry. She had done what she always had done, internalized her anger, focused it to her work. Except now there was no work. Mulder was floundering, that she knew, and it left her without even him to rely on in getting through this. And still that hurt and anger simmered, the rage against heaven for what had happened to her little girl, the only child of her body she would ever know.
Scully knew all too well how Lance Kernof felt. Why had God done this to Emily? What had God done this to her? Why had he allowed these people to do this to all of them, to all the people she had lost over the years? It hardly seemed that a justice, loving, caring, omnipotent deity would allow such horrendous things to happen to good people? And yet Scully couldn’t begin to fathom the answers to those questions.
She was not a theologian. Her thoughts did not go to those of God or his workings. She was a scientist, a creature of facts. Her faith for much of her life had been simple, there was a God, he loved her, he sent his Son to die for her and her sins, and through the sacraments she received the grace that provided for the atonement of her sins. It was simple enough. Before her work with Mulder she had never had to question why of God. She had never had to wonder about things like this. And now she was left at a loss. Her simple faith failed her and all she had at hand was her scientific reasoning that everything happens for a reason.
Everything happens for a reason.
She couldn’t give the Kernofs the comfort of faith and doctrine that was what Father McCue was good for. But she could give them the comfort of reason. Her thoughts turned that fact over, twisting it in her mind as she considered. Scully could give no insight into why God did this. She didn’t have that answer herself. But could find out why the girl had died and how, and perhaps through her science she could give explanation to a death that was otherwise meaningless. And while it perhaps would give them Kernof’s any measure of reassurance with God, it would at least give them a starting point to understanding how it happened. Perhaps there the Kernofs could begin to find a place to start healing.
If only it were that simple for Scully.
Reaching for her cell phone she dialed up Danny, she and Mulder’s most reliable resource at the Bureau. Despite the growing lateness of the hour she wasn’t surprised to hear him pick up at the other end, and wondered not for the first time if the man had a life away from the FBI. “Hi Danny, it’s Scully.”
“What’s Mulder got you doing now?”
She smiled. He always assumed it was for Mulder, as more often than not it was. “No, this time it’s for me again. I have another personal favor to ask.”
“You keep this up, Scully, you’ll owe me as big as Mulder does.”
“I doubt I’ll ever owe you that big.” Scully could only guess at how many Washington Redskin tickets Mulder owed to the man. “I’m doing a favor for some friends of my mother here in Baltimore. They had a daughter die recently, strange circumstances, name is Dara Kernof, do you think you can get all the information you can on her, including the autopsy report on her body?”
“Sure, shouldn’t be a problem. You want me to have it ready for you in the morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll come by and get it from you.”
“Don’t want Mulder turning this into an X-file, screaming about vampires again?”
Scully winced. Word had gotten around about Mulder and Chaney, Texas. “Yeah, I don’t think that this is an X-file, Danny, just grieving parents who want to know why their daughter died.”
Danny made a sympathetic noise over the phone line. “I’ll get it done before I head out.”
“Thanks, Danny, I owe you.”
“I’ll just add it to Mulder’s growing tab,” he replied cheerfully, before wishing her a good evening and hanging up. Scully stared at her phone thoughtfully, a thumbnail poised to press the speed dial for Mulder’s number. Out of habit she wanted to call him and bounce ideas and gain his perspective, even if it was crazy. Danny had sensed it right. She didn’t want Mulder trampling into something that wasn’t even really an X-file. She hesitated having him come in and begin making suppositions on what had happened to Dara Kernof, to turn this into one of his cases when in reality it was about people in pain, who wanted answers, just like she did.
Just like he did too, when it got down to it, but Scully wondered if Mulder thought about Samantha and her disappearance much anymore.
Tucking her cell back into her bag, Scully pursed her lips as traffic inched forward slowly on the highway in the ever-steadying downpour around her. This wasn’t just a case for she and Mulder to hash out, this was personal for Scully and for now she would keep it that way. If she needed Mulder down the line she would reach out to him, but for now she was just searching for facts, for answers, that was all. She doubted that any of this was anything more nefarious than a horrible, horrible accident. After all, why else would such a young, innocent life be taken if it weren’t a horrible accident? God wouldn’t allow this on purpose…would he?
Scully reached for the cross on it’s chain once again and absently lost herself in the play of the traffic lights in the raindrops on her car windshield.