TITLE: And We'll Go On
BY Annabel Lee
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and its characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and FOX. No copyright infringement is intended; I'm just doing this for fun!
FEEDBACK: Please write a response after reading this; I love seeing what people think! Comments, suggestions, constructive criticism, and maybe even a little encouragement would be appreciated!
DISTRIBUTION: I don't know who would want this, but if you do, just be sure that you let me know, and keep my name attached.
SUMMARY: Scully, looking back on her situation during Roadrunner.'
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first fanfic... re-posted, but not re-edited.
And We'll Go On
They enveloped me in an instant, wrenched my arms behind me, and all I could do was mentally kick myself in the ass for handing my gun to the enemy earlier. My only means of protection now that Mulder was gone, and I had just forked it over to a man I knew nothing about. No, I was wrong. That gun wasn't my only means of protection; I had Doggett. I had a partner to watch my back, but I had chosen to ignore that fact. Instead, I foolishly went off to solve a case on my own, thinking that I could take care of everything just fine without him. I was so wrong...We are Agents with the FBI and we are now partners, no matter how much I would rather have Mulder beside me instead of him. Agent Doggett is not a bad partner. In fact, I feel as though I can trust him to protect me as much as any partner should. Of course, it's not the same. Mulder would die for me. Would Agent Doggett?
Well, whether or not he would be willing do die for me didn't make a huge difference at the moment. I had not brought him with me as I should have and so he was not there to at least shoot one of the bastards keeping me from running away from this ugly fate that was slowly becoming apparent to me. As I continued to struggle in vain against the arms that gripped mine behind my back, I finally realized fully what the sick, stooping man was saying. He had been going on about how I was about to be blessed with something greater than anything I could imagine...something like that. I was too overcome with mixed fear and anger to pay attention to exactly what was being said, but when his words finally arranged themselves into coherent sentences in my furious mind, it was unerringly clear. I was to be this parasite's next host. It was meant to be an honor, somehow. I did not see it that way at all. I was struck full on by nausea and would have doubled over if only my captor wasn't holding me so tightly. This feeling was definitely not helped by the sight of the large woman from Mr Milsap's house beating the current host to a pulp with a large stone. As the blood spat up onto her shirt and face, the bile rose up in my throat, stinging and somehow urging me to scream, to make her realize what she was doing. She couldn't possibly understand, I thought. She has just taken a man's life, does she not see that? Then I saw her rip the creature from the torn, bloody flesh, and I could only think of one thing.
My baby. No, this absolutely can't happen, they cannot do this to my baby. The past few hours had been full of worrisome thoughts about my baby; all I could concentrate on was how to find a phone, how to escape for the sake of my baby and the man in the house. That was, of course, before I found that he probably didn't want to be taken away at all. And so then all of my building worries about my baby came out in one split moment. I told them. I yelled it for the world to hear, praying that they might suddenly decide to care. If only it could make them stop for a moment and make them actually care for this life, this life inside of me that I thought more of than my own. I yelled so loud, pleaded until I thought my lungs would bust open. Kind of ironic, isn't it? This secret that I had kept so well from everyone, even from my family and coworkers and especially from Agent Doggett, was suddenly being shouted out to complete strangers, to an entire, uncaring cult. I hollered until the pleading turned to screams of agony, but not once did I actually think of the pain I felt as that thing entered my exposed back. Sure, I screamed, but it was all automatic and thoughtless. Just a reaction to physical pain that never quite registered fully because if the even greater mental pain that I was suffering at the same moment. One thought filled my mind, leaving me with nothing but its resounding awfulness: I have lost my baby. How could it survive through this ordeal? All hope drained from me. My baby would be lost; of course, I wouldn't live through this either, but that didn't matter one bit. It was my baby that mattered. Our baby. He would never know, would he? He would never know that I had loved him, loved him so much that it hurt every day. I had carried his child. I had fought to get him back, fought to find out what had happened. I had fought until there was no fight left in me. And this would be my end, our end. A parasite on my spine, sucking away my life, our life. We tried to go on without you, Mulder. We tried to find you, to bring you home, to be here for your return. I wanted to see you just one more time, wanted you to know that I finally had what I had dreamed of for so long. A baby. I was going to have a baby! Not only that, but your baby. I never dreamed that I could be so lucky. Well, I should have guessed that it wouldn't last. We wouldn't last, the two of us. And what an awful end, too. To die the host of an overgrown bug.
Before blacking out (courtesy of the intense pain), I saw his face. I swear it was him, lying in a funny chair somewhere, perhaps even his leather couch in his apartment, just looking at me, missing me. His eyes were tragic. They always had been, but it seemed so much more apparant at that moment. For a split second it was just him and me. His eyes came in to focus on me, his tragic look flew, and he was glad. And he knew. And I knew that he knew. We always were like that. I would live through this, the baby would live through this, and he (wherever he was) would live through it, too.
