It's strange, hearing her opinions said back to her. She can't think of anyone who agrees with her in a meaningful way, or the things they agree on are so deeply impressed into the backbone of the relationship it doesn't get said. But she wants to hear it. She wants to know.
She wants to feel something.
"So, you're... you're helping us with the suit?" Against the airline company. "They FBI are on that?"
Mulder shakes his head, already aware that it'll likely be a disappointment. A civil lawsuit could bring in good money for all the survivors, and judging by her surroundings, Natalie could use it more than most. "My partner, Agent Scully, and I - we investigate cases that other departments would call 'unsolvable.' A lot of them involve extreme possibilities: aliens, psychic phenomena, ghosts, things like that."
He lets the idea sit there between them, waiting for her reaction. Pushing Natalie too hard will only throw up more walls between them.
It sounds like bullshit. Sober, Natalie would say so. But she's coming into the calm part of the high, where everything is a little detached, and nothing really matters all that much. What she'll do tomorrow, the next day, with the rest of her empty, crooked life doesn't really matter. This conversation can't mean that much.
"Nah, I think critical engine failure crashed the plane." That's the boring part, and it's the reason the girls probably won't need the FBI's help to shake some cash out of the airline. "I think the story really starts after you landed."
Nat curls a bit up on herself, too high to realize these obvious tells. She pulls away, rocking back in her chair. "Yeah," she says, "I wanna see the badge."
It occurs to Nat only belatedly that she doesn't actually know the difference between a real FBI badge and a fake one. She'd have thought, once, there was no point in fooling someone as unimportant as her with something as elaborate as a badge, but the world is now incalculably strange, painfully alien, and there's nothing she can do about it.
And then she sees the name Fox, and has to stifle a laugh. It's embarrassing, so she covers her face with her whole hand for a second, before she realizes she's doing it. "I, uh," she sucks in a breath. Natalie forgets to regret being high, and instead regrets this strange man isn't high with her.
"So, you think ghosts were in the cabin?" She paws at her face again. "I mean, we did too. But we got over it when winter happened."
When everything ended.
"The police- FBI... guys, they checked it. We showed 'em the freaky corpse in the back." (But not the bonepit.)
He doesn't answer her question. Right now, it doesn't matter what he thinks - not when she's so close to telling him something true. If he really has to, maybe they can get into the details of his current theory, but Mulder has the feeling it won't help them build trust. Not with how little he knows.
"Why'd you change your mind?" he asks instead, his hands folding together in the air between his knees.
There's a reason she can disappear into this coat. There's a reason she's been smoking so much more than she used to. It makes it easier to eat, because she's still skin and fucking bone. "According to the shitty doctor your colleagues made me see, I'm malnourished. I'm missing-" She sticks a finger in her mouth, digs back to missing molars. "I'm missing fucking teeth, man. What do you think?"
He doesn't look away from her open mouth, but he doesn't squint into it, either. Privately, he wonders just how bad this doctor was, if he can ask Scully to look the kid over. Maybe Scully'd do better with this one. It sure seems like he's striking out.
"I think that you experienced something that the people around you can't understand," he says. Calm, even-toned - she might respond if he rises to the bait, but she won't respect him. "But I might."
She'd smack him if he wasn't a weird cop or whatever. "Stop fucking fishing! Jesus Christ. Say what you think. I'm so fucking sick of reporters giving me this shit, I'm not gonna take if from you. You don't even have a camera!"
"Okay. I think you could tell me more about what happened out there - a lot more. But something's holding you back." It's a big swing, one he's not convinced will work - but if Natalie won't offer them anything, maybe she'll say something that'll connect to whatever Scully's learning from Taissa Turner. "What is it? What's keeping you from talking about what happened, Natalie?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She wants to feel something.
"So, you're... you're helping us with the suit?" Against the airline company. "They FBI are on that?"
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He lets the idea sit there between them, waiting for her reaction. Pushing Natalie too hard will only throw up more walls between them.
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"Sooo... you think ghosts crashed the plane."
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She can flip it open herself and look at the metal badge, the ID photo, and the cursive signature that quite clearly reads Fox Mulder.
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And then she sees the name Fox, and has to stifle a laugh. It's embarrassing, so she covers her face with her whole hand for a second, before she realizes she's doing it. "I, uh," she sucks in a breath. Natalie forgets to regret being high, and instead regrets this strange man isn't high with her.
"So, you think ghosts were in the cabin?" She paws at her face again. "I mean, we did too. But we got over it when winter happened."
When everything ended.
"The police- FBI... guys, they checked it. We showed 'em the freaky corpse in the back." (But not the bonepit.)
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"Why'd you change your mind?" he asks instead, his hands folding together in the air between his knees.
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"I think that you experienced something that the people around you can't understand," he says. Calm, even-toned - she might respond if he rises to the bait, but she won't respect him. "But I might."
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