A/N, Yes, I know there's a lot of sobbing in this chapter. Don't worry, in the next few chapters, there's actually something paranormal other than walking through walls. *g*
She sat there, sobbing. There was a moment when she could have sworn that she felt, a cold, comforting arm around her shoulders, but she chalked it up to just her imagination. The slight flickering of the lights she attributed to the wiring. She hadn't believed then, why should she start now?
Now, she had no reason to believe, not now that he was gone. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face. She adjusted the plastic cap on her head, making sure that all of her hair was safely secured in it, snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, and stepped up to the autopsy table yet again.
She pulled down the white sheet, exposing his bare chest. She fought to keep the tears back a second time. She did a preliminary examination, checking the body for any marks. She found none, not a single scratch, bruise or bump that was current. What she was really shocked at were just how many scars he had.
She knew of some, but now, going over him with her careful examiner's eye, she found many more than she thought. She picked up the scalpel, and made to make the long incision that would tell her all about what killed him on the inside, as it obviously wasn't something on the outside. But as she brought the knife to the base of his throat, she found that she couldn't stand to cut him open.
She took another deep breath, and paused, the scalpel resting in the hollow of his throat, gently denting the flesh, but not cutting through it. After two more tries, she gave up. It was all too fresh, too sudden. She had come from the funeral, and changed into her scrubs, and immediately began trying to find his cause of death.
She put the scalpel down, and looked down and the cold body before her. "In the morning. I can face this in the morning." She told herself. She draped the thin white sheet back over his chest, and walked out, turning off the light, and closing the door behind her.
***
He followed her through the building, trying anything he could to get her attention. He finally resorted to plucking a pen off of someone's desk and tossed it at the back of her head. He grinned as her hand went to her head, and she turned around, a curious look on her face.
She bent down to pick up the pen, and he jumped in front of her. her face grew even more curious. It was obvious she could sense him in some way, but she refused to accept that there was another person there, much less a ghost. "Scully" He said softly.
She didn't make any sort of sign that she acknowledged what he said. He said her name again, louder. And then he shouted it. That time she sort of noticed it. "Who's there?" She said, her voice slightly quavering. She shrugged, and turned around and started walking again.
"It's just my imagination. I just need some sleep." She told herself, and all but ran to her car. He followed, and decided to test to see if the 'ghosts can walk through walls" theory was a fact, and if it could work on cars as well. To his delight, it did, and he found himself waiting next to Scully, quiet as he could get on the ride to her home.
***
She sat in the car, and turned up the heat, despite it being a rather warm evening. It just felt cold in her car, the same cold feeling that she had earlier. And the cold seemed to be emanating from the passenger side of her car. She shivered slightly, and tried to talk herself out of it.
It was just her imagination acting up. She convinced herself of that. She was just paranoid, and depressed. He had just died a few days ago, the funeral had just been that morning. Of course her imagination was acting up. She found herself hoping in some way that Mulder was alive, that he would be waiting for her, that she could show up at his apartment and find him there, sprawled on a couch as he often was.
She felt the lump in her throat grow again, and her breath catch, stuck on the lump. She took a few deep breaths. "Not while I'm driving." She didn't want to get into an accident at the moment. Although when she thought of it, it did seem slightly appealing.
She quickly erased the thought from her mind. That was something he would do. He was the one who would do things because of emotion. She needed some provocation before she would do something reckless like that. She was his anchor.
And he had been hers. He had been the counterweight that she needed. His lighthearted humor always balanced out her seriousness. And now that he was gone, she felt oddly unbalanced. She found herself pulling up to not her apartment, but his.
She found herself outside the door to number 42. She was about to knock, out of force of habit. She then reached into her purse and dug out her key instead. She unlocked his door, and stepped inside. It was just as it had been the last time she was here. Back when he was still alive.
She walked over to his couch, and collapsed, sobbing.