Author: Skinner Box
Title: Nature vs. Nurture
Archive: Please ask first, thanks.
Rating: PG-13 for Language
Spoilers: Through Requiem
Summary: Alex rants, Jeffrey reflects.
Notes: Thank you to drovar and the fine folks at the Spenderfic list.
Disclaimer: The X-files and these characters belong to Chris Carter and Fox Broadcasting. I play with them out of love and for no profit.
Nature Versus Nurture
by Skinner Box
I have the nature versus nurture question all wrapped up, thank you.
I've done a case study.
Case one. Mama and Papa loved me so damn much, even when I was just an idea, that they waited nearly twenty years to have me. No kids till they got themselves safely out of Mother Russia. And then I come along eleven months after- they must have gotten started the night their plane touched down on American soil. And I know what the state of birth control was in Soviet Russia. They either kept their hands to themselves or Mama had to have had abortions. Mama who put a jar over spiders and took them outside when I was scared of them.
And they loved each other. I know that. I saw that every Friday night when Papa read Esht Chayil to her, slowly and carefully sounding out the Hebrew. And then recited the Russian translation by heart: 'a woman of valor who can find? Her value is above rubies...."
Don't get me started on Cassandra Spender. If I weren't pretty sure she's dead I'd have to hunt her down and kill her. She left that boy alone. Weeks at a time. He'd ride to the grocery store on his bike, this shrimpy little twelve year old. Folks thought he was so cute, running errands for his mama. But mama was gone. Repeat abductions and she never arranged for a baby sitter? No back up plan, no, "if Mom doesn't come home I go to Mrs. So-and-so's." He taught himself to cook with a library book. A 'Fun With Your Kids in the Kitchen' book.
At least I took care of his dad. The guy who shot him.
So I'm the cold, amoral, ends justify the means, gotta die sometime-might as well be my bullet son of a bitch. And Jeff, case two, who really is the son of a narcissistic fucked up bitch by the coldest Machiavellian devil ever to slither out of hell, he's going back to school to become a children's librarian.
Where's the sense in that?
He's very, very smart, but his intellect runs to strategy and tactics. Personal insight is just not his long suit.
To anyone who knows him well- and that would be me, it's obvious why he does the things he does. I have a list: his father died when he was ten. He left Orthodoxy, and skipped right past junior high and into high school when he was twelve. Cervical cancer took his mom the spring before he started college- university, I should say, this is Canada.
Of course the green young fibbie was ripe for dear old Dad's picking. He just wanted somewhere to belong.
That explains the whole rescue thing as well. Alex knew damn well I'd lost whatever strategic value I once had the minute Dad pulled the trigger. But he was there, Alex was, and means and opportunity are good enough for him, even if he's a little fuzzy on motive sometimes.
So. I'll give you motive. Nearly dead man. Already owes him his life. Within the parameters of what he finds attractive. And face it, easily controlled. Fucking gullible even when not recovering from major bullet trauma.
I really don't think he saw it coming. As far as I can tell he woke up one day, months later, looked around and saw he had a house and a, well, a partner. A life. But while I was lying there, bleeding out in what should have been Mulder and Scully's office, some deep buried need in the back of my Alex's head sat up, looked around, and thought, "hello! instant family."
I'd stake my life on it.
Oh. And the other half of it: why do I stay?
Well, the same answer, really. My mother wanted to be a prophet more than she wanted to be my mom. And my father, such as he was, wanted a successor. A great man.
Alex just wants me.
Archived: May 18, 2001