Title: The Quiet Things
Author: Aeschylus
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Emily episodes and Fowely stuff
Summary: Diana Fowely enters their lives. Scully faces her anguish of Emily's death and turns to other means of dealing with her pain.
Disclaimer: Nothing X Files is mine.
Feedback: email me at If you have seen the movie Thirteen a certain scene may be similar to a scene in my story. I wrote this before I saw the movie.
What a day.
She had experienced worse, but somehow today seemed like the equivalent of being slammed against a brick wall.
The end was near at least. Scully looked longingly up at the small window that offered little light into the basement office. The sky was dimming, leaking a dull gray color across a section of the office floor.
"Bye Mulder," she said softly, tossing her coat over her shoulder, not bothering to look back to see if he had heard her.
Her mind was already somewhere else. She was looking forward to the ride home. She liked the predictability of her route home, the things she saw season by season, year by year. With fall in full swing the trees would line the streets with golden brilliance as the sun sets its sharp rays upon the leaves. She liked the way they glowed a path to her home.
"Scully, wait." He called.
She stopped, drew in a deep breath, then turned slowly to face him. Her eyes dully met his.
But he said nothing, he just stared at her, his lips slightly parted and eyes narrowed, searching her own. She offered a short nod and then turned quickly on her heels, taking longer strides than usual.
On the way to her car, her mind raced. She thought in images. One meshing into the next like a fast paced slide show. The look on Mulder's face when he saw that woman, the awkward glances he shot anywhere but Scully's way, his hand enveloped in that woman's hand.
She really shouldn't be this upset. She felt silly and girlish. Then again, maybe she did have a right to react this way. She has been by this man's side for years. She has chosen to stand beside him even though the losses she suffered and would surely suffer were and are great.
Shaking the thoughts from her head when she reached her car she fumbled around for her keys that lay heavy in the bottom of her coat pocket.
"Ouch", she breathed, snatching her hand out of her pocket. She inspected her palm where a slightly deep scratch appeared. She watched as blood dotted to the surface. Using her other hand, she felt around her pocket only to find a large safety pin. She sighed, realizing she must have mindlessly handled it and then dropped it into her pocket at the office.
What a day.
The days that followed were about on the same awful scale as the first one that Diana Fowley entered her life and re-entered Mulder's. She began to see that he was choosing to ignore the glares and obvious pain she was in.
This woman must have meant the world to him at one point. She couldn't see why. She even found evidence that this woman is not who she says she is. He wouldn't hear of it.
She felt betrayed. Replaced. Used.
Now, it was time for the only thing that held her together. Her nightly routine which consisted of a nice tall glass of wine, a bubble bath, and Stravinsky.
As the bath water was running she brought in her little c.d. player and a vanilla scented candle. She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it on the floor. She pressed play on the c.d. player and 'Scherzo' filled the room. She breathed in the vanilla cloud rising from the candle as she stepped out of her skirt and peeled her panty hose off.
Once her undergarments were off, she tested out the water with her big toe. She then placed both feet in the water and with her hands gripping the sides of the tub; she lowered her body slowly into the bubbly water.
She sighed blissfully and slid lower, until she was neck deep and her head rested on the rim.
She sat for a long time just like that. Trying to let the music take over her emotions.
Her left hand stung and she lifted it to look at the pink line on her palm. It still wasn't healed. She lifted her other hand to finger the cut gently. It panged in response to the contact. Kind of like the emotional pain she has been in lately.
She rolled her eyes at the thought but knew it was true. Whenever Mulder looked at her in that certain way, it was like lightly brushing his fingers over a fresh cut. It was like he had a bandage in his hand but refused to lend it to her.
She dropped the cut hand back into the water, and used the other to grab her wine glass. She took a large gulp and licked at the tart layer of liquid that remained on her upper lip.
It didn't take her long to down the whole glass. She already felt light headed, but she knew that was because she hadn't eaten since noon. She didn't have the appetite anymore.
The water was too cold now. She lifted herself out of the tub, using her toes to lift the plug out of the drain.
Once she was dressed and in bed she found herself tracing the cut again. It was like a link to her heart. Every painful beat was in tune with every scrape of her nail across the cut.
She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, trying to shake the feeling of betrayal. She never knew how deeply this feeling could dig into one's heart.
The more she tried to forget, the more she felt the pain. She didn't know how to deal with it. It kept bubbling up. She needed it to go away.
Her hand hurt. It hurt so badly. She opened her eyes to find that she had reopened the wound. Not only that, but she had managed to dig deeper into the skin, causing it to be jagged and gash-like.
"Damn", she muttered, watching her blood seep out of the cut.
The pain in her heart was gone. All she felt was the throbbing, stinging sensation coming from that slender long cut.