AN: Ok there is mention to Mulder's autopsy in this
chapter. I have written I piece I hope
to incorporate into this story on what happened at this autopsy that we never
see. In case I can't and you are
interested it is entitled The Truth is Right Here. If you like this you should check it out along with my other X-files
fic The Truth we Both Knew which I am also trying to tie in.
When she left I gained the courage to look at what I'd
become. I felt different. My face felt tight, pulled like an animal
skin stretched to dry. My chest was
burning. Gathering every ounce I had I
sat up and pulled the gown away from my skin. What had they done to me?
There was the characteristic y-incision. How did I live through that? I've seen enough autopsies to know that
there wasn't anyway a person could actually live through that. A cold chill shot up my spine when I stopped
to wonder who had performed the autopsy. Scully had always done it before. Would she have stepped aside for this one? Or would her characteristic emotional detachment from everything
tell her that I was just another body? G— the woman infuriated me. Had
she been so easy to dismiss me? For I
was certain now that it was in fact her who had held the knife. She was always
so eager to do the slicing and dicing before. I could picture it in her perfectly sculpted fingers, slightly
hesitating then not… I allowed myself
that thought, that maybe she hesitated.
I wasn't just another body. I'd been trying to tell myself that now ever since I woke
up. To them I was another body,
another test subject, another guinea pig they could practice their experiments
on. To Scully I was just another casualty. I wonder if she referred to me in technical
terms. Maybe she was too busy to dice
me though. I wonder how long it took
her to get pregnant. I wonder how many
times she tried.
The thoughts sicken me. I don't want to lose that trust I had in her
but it seems that no matter how hard I try, I can't forgive her for trying to
be happy. I don't know why this irritates
me. She's never been romantically
involved with me. We are good friends,
she thought I was dead, she asked me first, these facts stare me straight in
the face and still all I can do is feel betrayed.
I ran my hands down my arms checking
them, trying to distract myself from thoughts of Scully, trying to forget how
peaceful she looked in my arms, trying to forget how her mouth curled in her
sleep and how her red hair had been such a comforting site. The roughness and dead dry appearance of my
skin reminds me why Scully's hair had meant so much to me.
I didn't remember what had happened to
me. Everything from the time I left
Scully and went into the Oregon woods up to the moment I woke up in this room
was gone. I remembered bits and pieces,
like a bright light, comforting voices, I even though I remembered hearing
Scully once and I was sure I felt her hand in mine. But I didn't remember what they did to me and that scared
me. Frankly it was easier to talk about
how betrayed I was then to remember that which I didn't remember.
Scully could help. Heck she knew exactly how I was
feeling. Well not exactly I hadn't
settled down and started a family in her absence. I hadn't fallen in love with my new partner. (To be fair I didn't
know if she really did have feelings for this man but the very idea that she
could have something that approached what we used to have made me want to throw
the bed I was sitting on through a window then hunt the guy down and show him a
thing or two.) I hadn't changed at
all. And now I'm sitting her berating
her for moving on. I had to be the most
egotistical, insensitive, jerk on the face of the planet. She couldn't help because I wasn't going to
let her close enough to.
The door to my room opened and Scully walked in. Pulling my gown back to me we exchanged an uncertain look. I laced my part with distrust. Seconds later seeing the hurt in her eyes I regretted it but I wasn't about to take it back. It was the first step in a battle I wasn't willing to lose. I was bound and determined to get Scully out of my life before that child was born. I owed it to both of them, for their own safety.