The X-Files · Season 6
(pointing at a sign) Milepost 134. Two miles to go.
(dryly) I'm all a-tingle. (they share a look) So, Mulder, this supposed clandestine source who's contacted you how do we know that he's not just another crackpot whose encyclopedic knowledge of extraterrestrial life isn't derived exclusively from reruns of Star Trek?
Mulder, it's the dim hope of finding that proof that's kept us in this car, or one very much like it for more nights than I care to remember. (Mulder looks at her fondly) Driving hundreds if not thousands of miles through neighborhoods and cities and towns where people are raising families and buying homes and playing with their kids and their dogs, and... in short, living their lives. While we - we - we just keep driving.
What is your point?
Don't you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car? Settle down and live something approaching a normal life?
(defensive) This is a normal life. [Scully smiles to herself.]
Okay, well, uh... Everybody have a, uh... a good day at your various, uh... (realizes no one is paying attention) All right. (Turns to leave.)
Mom!
Morris! What about Chris?
Chris?
You said you'd give me an answer today.
Her nose. You said you'd give her an answer about her nose.
[Family waits in anticipation. This is obviously a very important decision.]
Um... I think... [Chris gives him a little girl look.] I think she's a little young for plastic surgery don't you think? [Chris cries again.]
Oh, for God's sake, Morris - a nose ring! She said she wants a nose ring!
(to Mulder) I hate you! I wish you were dead.
Well, my work here is done. Have a nice day.
[Looks into "his" closet, filled with black suits and white shirts.] Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Johnny Cash.
[Mulder is again asleep on the recliner; Joanne wakes him.]
This is not a marriage. It's a farce.
What?
You're not attracted to me anymore. I disgust you, don't i?
No. No. It's not... It's not that you're disgusting. I-i-it's just that...
It's just that you don't want to ever make love to me ever again, that's all. That and you mumble something about Scully in your sleep. Who is Scully, Morris? Is it another woman?
Does Scully sound like a woman's name to you?
Who is Scully? Tell me.
Oh, Joanne, I'm sure I've told you many times in the past that there are things about my work that unfortunately, I have to keep a secret.
Oh, no, buster. That's not going to fly this time.
My point is that there are a lot of things you don't know about me. And... I've just... I've been under a lot of pressure lately. I mean, up is down and black is white. I don't know where I stand anymore. I don't even know... who I am really anymore. I just... I know for sure that I am not the man you married. I'm just not. And I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry.
Oh, god, Morris. I didn't know. They have that pill now. (understanding laughter) We can work this out. There's other ways to be intimate.
[Mulder looks horrified; she hugs him. The doorbell rings.]
I'm sorry. Uh, Morris Fletcher?
(quietly) Scully, it's me. It's Mulder. [Mulder closes the door and pulls Scully into the driveway.]
(nervous) You're, uh... You're the man from the other night? From Area 51?
(yelling from inside the house) Liar!
You phoned me. Would you mind telling me what this is about?
I'm Mulder. I'm really Mulder. I switched bodies, places, identities with this man Morris Fletcher the man that you think is Mulder, but he's not. (sees his reflection in the car window - of Morris) Of course you don't believe me. Why was I expecting anything different? Your full name is Dana Katherine Scully. Your badge number is... Hell! I don't know your badge number. Your mother's name is Margaret. Your brother's name is Bill Jr. He's in the Navy and he hates me. (no response from Scully) Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt, plain yogurt, into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick even though I tell you you're a scientist and you should know better.
(opens the door and dumps all of Morris' black suits onto the front steps) Cheater!
Look... Any of that information could have been gathered by anyone.
Even that yogurt thing? That is so you. That is so Scully. Well, it's good to know you haven't changed. That's somewhat comforting.
(voiceover) Once upon a time, there was a guy with the improbable name of Fox Mulder. He started out life happily enough, as these things go. He had parents who loved him, a cute kid sister. He had a roof over his head, got all his flu shots, had all his fingers and toes and aside from being stuck with the name "Fox" which probably taught him how to fight - or not - he pretty much led a normal life. But the worst thing by far - the biggest kick in the slacks this kid Fox ever got - was what happened to his sister. One day, she just disappeared. Now, Fox buckled down and worked his butt off. Graduated top of his class at Oxford then top of his class at the FBI academy. None of that hard work made up for his sister, though. It was just a way of putting her out of his mind. Finally, the way I figure it, he went out of his mind and he's been that way ever since. Fox Mulder pissed away a brilliant career, lost the respect of supervisors and friends and now lives his life shaking his fist at the sky and muttering about conspiracies to anyone who will listen. If you ask me, he's one step away from pushing a baby carriage filled with tin cans down the street. But now, all that's going to change.
[Morris (as Mulder) enters with groceries; looks around the apartment.]
Uh-huh. (sets the bags down and gets out some candles) A little mood lighting for the bedroom. (looks around; pauses) No bedroom.
[Goes over to a closed door; tries to open it several times with no result; finally gets it open. Several boxes and porno magazines fall out; the room is shown to be filled with boxes, old furniture and papers.]
This guy hasn't been laid in ten years.
Joanne, listen to me. There's something I got to tell you.
I've heard enough from you for one lifetime, Morris. Go tell it to that tramp of yours, that Scully, whatshername.
Dana Scully. Special Agent Dana Scully.
Special Tramp Dana Scully.
She's my partner, Joanne.
I'm supposed to be your partner.
My name is not Morris Fletcher. It's Fox Mulder. Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. Dana Scully is my FBI partner. I am not your husband we are not married, we are complete strangers and I have a whole other life that I'm desperately trying to get back to.
You know, Morris, most men, when they have a mid-life crisis - they go out and buy themselves a sports car. They don't run around calling themselves Fox.
[Scully and Morris (as Mulder) pull up in their car next to Mulder (as Morris). Scully gets out to stand next to Mulder; Morris stays in the car.]
You don't look too happy. Don't tell me I'm going to have to put two kids through school.
(hesitantly) That is you in there, Mulder, isn't it? (Mulder nods; Scully folds her arms, hugging herself) I, uh... I just got off the phone with Frohike. They were able to download and analyze the crash data and, yes, there was an anomalous event that night.
And how do I get back?
(not easy for her to say) Well, that's just it. It's all about random moments in time... About a series of variables approaching an event horizon. And even if we... could recreate that moment if we could sabotage another craft... Mulder, if we were... If we were off... If the event were off by even one millisecond...
I might wind up with my head in a rock.
Something like that, yeah. (long pause)
(depressed) What about him? I mean, me. Whatever. Whoever he is.
Agent Mulder has become AD Kersh's new golden boy. He's been tasked with returning the flight data recorder that he and I stole. The son of a bitch confesses to Kersh even more than I do to my priest. I'm just tagging along for the ride.
What do you mean, "just tagging along?"
I'm out of the Bureau. I've been censured and relieved of my position.
No. You can explain it to them like you explained it to me. You have the data. You can make them understand. You can get your job back.
(can't help but smile; looks up at him fondly) I'd kiss you if you weren't so damn ugly. (Mulder smiles back)
(honking the horn; yelling out the window) Take a picture - it'll last longer!
[Mulder and Scully pause and look at the car.]
(through clenched teeth) If I... shoot him, is that murder or suicide?
Neither, if I do it first. (Squeezes his arm, then walks toward the car. He stops her.)
Hey, Scully...
[He holds out his closed hand to her; she holds out her palm. He drops a handful of sunflower seeds into her hand; takes one back and eats it. They look at each other. Mulder watches, depressed, as Scully drives away.]
(on phone) Mulder.
(on phone; in her office) Mulder, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that we slipped under Kersh's radar. Our little field trip to Nevada went unnoticed.
Oh, yeah?
Mulder, I'm sorry that your confidential source didn't pan out.
Well, I guess you were right, Scully. Just another crackpot who watches too much Star Trek.
Good night.
Hey, Scully? I, uh, know it's not your normal life, but... Thanks for coming out there with me.
(surprised, pleased) You're welcome.
Check out lines were worse than rush hour on the 95. If I heard "Silent Night" one more time, I was going to start taking hostages.
Let's hear it. Give me the details.
Look, if you've got Christmas stuff to do I don't want to... you know...
Mulder, I drove all the way out here. I might as well know why. Right?
I just thought you'd be more... curious.
Who lives in the house?
No one.
Then who are we staking out?
The former occupants.
They've come back?
That's the story.
I see. (dryly) The dark, gothic manor... the, uh, omnipresent low fog hugging the thicket of overgrowth... Wait- is that a hound I hear baying out on the moors?
No. Actually that was a left cheek sneak.
(mysteriously) Christmas, 1917. It was a time of dark, dark despair. American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe while at home, a deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike. Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with every man, woman and child. It was a time of dark, dark despair.
(unimpressed) You said that.
But here at 1501 Larkspur Lane for a pair of star-crossed lovers tragedy came not from war or pestilence - not by the boot heel or the bombardier - but by their own innocent hand.
Go on.
His name was Maurice. He was a... a brooding but heroic young man beloved of Lyda, a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went. They were likened to two angels descended from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, grey earth.
And what happened to them?
Driven by a tragic fear of separation they forged a lovers' pact so that they might spend eternity together and not spend one precious Christmas apart.
They killed themselves?
And their ghosts haunt this house every Christmas Eve. (Scully laughs) I just gave myself chills.
It's a good story, Mulder, and very well told, but I don't believe it.
[Mulder and Scully are searching a haunted house]
These are tricks that the mind plays. They are ingrained cliches from a thousand different horror films. When we hear a sound, we get a chill. We-we see a shadow and we allow ourselves to imagine something that an otherwise rational person would discount out of hand. The whole... the whole idea of a benevolent entity fits perfectly with what I'm saying. That a spirit would materialize or return for no other purpose than to show itself is silly and ridiculous. I mean, what it really shows is how silly and ridiculous we have become in believing such things. I mean, that... that we can ignore all natural laws about the corporeal body... that-that we witness these spirits clad in-in their own shabby outfits with the same old haircuts and hairstyles never aging, never... never in search of more comfortable surroundings-- it actually ends up saying more about the living than it does about the dead.
Mm-hmm.
I mean, Mulder, it doesn't take an advanced degree in psychology to understand the... the unconscious yearnings that these imaginings satisfy. You know, the-the longing for immortality the hope that there is something beyond this mortal coil... that-that we might never be long without our loved ones. I mean, these are powerful, powerful desires. I mean, they're the very essence of what make us human. The very essence of Christmas, actually.
[A door slightly opens by itself]
Tell me you're not afraid.
All right. I'm afraid... but it's an irrational fear.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's The X-Files pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
