Three
Shannon's torch illuminated Scully and Skinner watched as she fell back in shock. She did not move and he hurried forward, afraid she had passed out. He hadn't seen her in so long but it looked like her, though her hair was long and orange, much longer and lighter than he remembered.
Was it really her, he wondered, or somebody who looked a lot like her? He fell to his knees by her body, desperate to identify her as one of his more favoured ex-colleagues. He had been stunned to recognise the house from which he had heard her cries. He had been stunned it was the Scully house. He had fantasised briefly then of finding Maggie or Dana, but he had never expected a petite, middle-aged woman with orange hair and fair skin to really be there.
"Shannon, more light," he ordered, and she quickly covered the distance to him, keeping the light not on the woman's face but on her torso. Blood-stained glass was beside one hand, and the wrist of the other was cut and bleeding. Blood had pooled on the carpet, red and wet, making it soggy. "It's deep but I don't think she hit the vein," Skinner sighed, hugely relieved. The wound was seeping steadily, but it was not pulsing uncontrollably. His large hand wrapped tightly around the tiny, pale wrist, and her blood was hot beneath his fingers. Her pulse was still strong, and he felt it quicken under his firm touch.
Reassured she was not dying, he looked towards her face. He was met with a profile he would never have forgotten. The nose, the chin, the lips were all the same.
It was her. Special Agent Dana Scully, illuminated in the perimeter of Shannon's torch.
"She's passed out," Shannon declared. Skinner knew the woman, she realised. That much was obvious. The woman's breathing was deep and steady but her face was badly flushed. A film of sweat and tears covered her cheeks and upper lip. Shannon frowned as she followed Skinner's gaze and really looked at the woman on the floor. "I think I know her too," she announced suddenly, in a surprised whisper. Skinner turned his head around and looked upwards. "She examined me once. She's a medical doctor. Uh...Scully."
"Yes," he answered, his voice gravelly and his eyes filled with tears of despair. "Dana."
Shannon nodded, her memory better than average since her participation in the supersoldier program.
"She worked with John Doggett," she recalled easily.
"This is her mother's house," he whispered. "I came with her to a Christmas party one year, four, maybe five years ago when she was pregnant. Can you go upstairs and check?" Shannon nodded, and the torch went with her, shrouding the living room again in darkness. Skinner kept his hand wrapped around Scully's wrist as he leant forward and pressed his lips to her temple. "It's okay," he assured her. "You're safe now."
"Mulder," she whispered. Skinner's heart broke. He knew now why she had broken down, and what sane person wouldn't have? Her mother was probably dead upstairs, Skinner had paid enough attention upon entering via the kitchen to notice the large backpack to assume Scully had not been there the whole time, and for some reason she was without Fox Mulder. She was all alone. Skinner could only imagine it was because he was dead.
But why wasn't she?
"Dana," he urged softly. "Agent Scully, wake up now." She whimpered and pressed her lips together, as though in resolute defiance of his orders. "Dana, it's Skinner."
"Let me go," she wept.
"Oh honey," he whispered, just as Shannon returned, again giving him light. "Dana I've got you now. You're not hurt badly. It's all in your mind, beautiful. Can you open your eyes for me? Do you know where you are?"
"Don't go Fox," she mumbled in sleep, her eyelashes fluttering encouragingly. "It hurts." Skinner sighed sadly, reaching up with his free hand to again caress her puffy cheek.
"Wake up Dana," he urged. "You're not well. Mulder's not here. We'll look after you." She opened her eyes, and they were as blue as he remembered. He saw her life in them, and his part in that life, and he knew, beyond a doubt, that it really was her. Skinner saw confusion in her face, but he also saw recognition and pain. She gave her head a little shake and raised it. Her eyes went straight to her wrist and her old boss' bloody hand clamped around it, and she groaned and tilted her head back to the safety of the carpet.
"What did I do?" she asked vaguely.
"You don't remember?" Skinner asked. She shook her head, whimpering freely in pain as he pressed more firmly against her cuts. He was surprised how instantly lucid she was.
"There's a...a medical kit in my backpack in the kitchen," she hissed. "Is it bleeding?"
"Yeah," he whispered. "But it's not gushing. I don't think you hit the vein."
"Need some water, will be able to see for myself," she sighed. "Can you get me...on my feet Skinner I need to...dress it."
"Shannon," he called, not needing to look behind him. He could sense her, and she did not need further instructions. She had the strength of one hundred men, and she wrapped an arm under Scully's shoulders and helped pull her upright, allowing Skinner to concentrate solely on keeping pressure on her wrist. Scully leant into them both heavily as they walked her to the kitchen. Skinner propped Scully up by the sink as Shannon dug through the backpack for first aid and something to wash away the blood. She produced a half-full bottle of water and stood beside Skinner and Scully, pouring it in a slow, steady stream over the wound. Skinner's hand was no longer clasped over it, but his fingers were pressing her wrist together, holding the deep cut closed like a vice.
Scully felt her blood pressure drop as she looked at the cut on her wrist she could not really remember doing. She knew she had, and she had a memory as though she had been there, but not as though she had been 'in' herself at the time. Stupid, she cursed herself. Stupid, stupid, how could you be so stupid Dana? You had pills you idiot! So much pain for no reason; you didn't even get close to the vein.
Even Skinner could see the stark blue of the veins in her wrist under the light and water. The cut was left. Not very far left, but left.
"Need a thick gauze pad and a compression bandage," Scully whispered, looking to the left when she heard somebody open the top of her first aid box. "Gonna need more."
"We have shitloads of first aid back at base," Shannon assured her, watching the way one of Skinner's thick, long arms snaked around Scully's petite torso, holding her upright.
The other was grasping both her hands, holding her fingers towards the ceiling to alleviate the flow of blood. Busy with the bandages, Shannon took a moment to observe Scully. The woman probably needed a drink. She looked unfocussed and her head was lolling into Skinner's shoulder as though she was about to faint again. Her body was shaking. She had not been sleeping, judging by the dark circles under her eyes and her drawn expression. However, she seemed to know what she was doing about her wound, which displayed a consciousness Shannon had not expected. Although perhaps as a doctor she had worked under stress before. Some people were good at dissociating.
xxx
Once the wound was dressed, Skinner carried Scully back to the living room and laid her out on the couch, covering her with the blanket there and sitting with her. In the kitchen Shannon went through Scully's backpack, not to take anything but merely to inventory. She was curious about how and why Scully had been in her mother's house, how she had survived and what she had with her. Inside the bag Shannon found clothes, food and water, toiletries, photos and medical supplies for abrasions and infections. She had packed a bit of everything, and even had a pair of enclosed shoes tied to the bottom. In preparation for winter, perhaps.
The backpack looked mostly packed, as though she had been preparing to leave, but now Shannon knew she was going nowhere but back with them to base camp.
xxx
"Is it really you?" Scully asked as she stared up through slit eyes at Skinner. He was leaning over her, stroking her hair and holding her hand. He squeezed her good hand and nodded, before lifting the injured arm and laying it up and along the back of the couch.
"Better keep that up there until the bleeding stops," he whispered. She nodded in agreement but her arm started shaking as soon as he released his grip, so he returned it, letting his hand cup around her elbow and supporting her as she tried to relax. "How long have you been here?" he asked.
"A bit over a week," she answered. "I only meant to stay a day. I thought...I thought you were dead."
"Ditto," he teased, watching her manage a tired smile. "Dana we're going to get you back to where we've been staying. Where have you been sleeping here?"
"Here," she whispered. "Can't...go upstairs. Mom's there I...Can you go up and get me...Actually no in my bag, I think I have sedatives. I think I would like one now."
"You want a sedative?" Walter asked, stunned. The Dana Scully he remembered never would have taken a sedative. She certainly would have put up a big fight had anyone ever suggested it. Let alone volunteering? Then again, she had just attempted to take her life, so perhaps he should listen to her as she prescribed her own treatment. "Am I looking for a sedative or a sleeping pill?" he asked, unsure of which she meant.
"Anything," she wept, tears again stinging her eyes. "I just want to pass out."
"Okay, wait here, don't move Dana okay? Don't move." She nodded and whimpered and Skinner stood, hurrying to the kitchen and reaching for the backpack.
"Are we nearly ready to move?" Shannon asked. "Can she walk or am I carrying her?"
"I'll carry her far as I can," Skinner offered. "She's lost a lot of weight. It won't be a problem. She wants a sleeping pill-" He opened the first aid kit for himself and began to survey the packets of pills. "Jesus what did she do, raid a pharmacy?" he asked.
"I'd say so," Shannon replied. "But she's running low on lots of stuff in there, all her creams and bandaids."
"It's all probably on her," Skinner stated obviously, looking through her small but ample collection of prescription-only medications. They all looked mostly untouched, which he was somewhat grateful for. He identified a sleeping pill he was familiar with and looked around for some liquid. "Any water left?" he asked. Shannon reached into Scully's backpack and withdrew a bottle.
"The pantry in here is filled with boxes of the stuff," she informed them. "Looks like she nicked it from somewhere else, but if we can get it all back with us eventually we'll be set. You want me to go and get the supplies from up the road?"
"Ah shit," Skinner sighed. "We've got too much stuff, this won't work."
"We'll take Dana and her pack and whatever else we can carry with us, and we can come back for the rest of the water tomorrow once she's resting."
"I can't leave her," Skinner stated. "She's...She was a friend. She's lost her partner."
"I know," Shannon whispered. "I won't make you. I can come alone." He nodded his thanks and took the water and pills back into the living room.
"Here," he whispered as he perched on the side of the couch. Scully opened her eyes in the dark and stared up at him. "Take this." He helped her sit up and she stared vaguely at the two pills he popped from the foil onto his palm. She reached for them and he was surprised to see her swallow without water, but he held the bottle out anyway. She gripped it with her good though shaking hand and took the tiniest sip he had ever seen. "It's okay," he assured her gently. "Take a longer drink Dana. We have plenty of water."
"Sure?" she asked, drowsy. He nodded, watching her. His heart swelled at her obvious trust in him as she nearly emptied the bottle. Although perhaps she thought she was dreaming and was humouring him and indulging herself simultaneously.
"Good girl," he whispered, unable to help himself as she collapsed back onto the cushions and held the bottle out to him. "I'm going to carry you out of here okay?"
"My pack-"
"Is coming with us. Is everything in it?"
"Um...make sure...my photos. I just want my photos. Mulder-"
"I'll double check and come back for you." She nodded, shutting her eyes and relaxing into the couch as he again stood. His mouth opened slightly when he came face to face of photos on Scully's mother's mantelpiece, of Scully and Mulder, and even one of Scully and William. He lifted them both off the wooden shelf and returned to the kitchen. "She said she had photos," he stated.
"Yes," Shannon answered, handing him the album and frame. "They were right on the top. First thing she unpacks, last thing she packs by the looks of it." Skinner flicked through quickly, making sure the two photographs Margaret Scully had presented in her living room were also in the possession of her daughter. They were, and Skinner handed Scully's copies back, watching Shannon as she safely stored them at the top of the bag, zipping it back up.
"Okay," Skinner announced after a minute's quiet thought. "We're ready. Her mother-"
"Same as the others," Shannon answered quickly. Skinner's face fell but he nodded. He had expected no less. Scully was asleep when he went back to her, and he lifted her easily into his strong arms. He might have been getting on in his fifties, but he had kept in shape and Scully was light. He knew she was dangerously thin, but if they could get her better she could be a great asset to them. Shannon knew that too. Just to have a doctor with them. Helping them. Helping Sarah.
She had to get better.
xxx
Scully was aware of somebody holding her hand before she opened her eyes. It was a man, she realised. The hand was large and warm, and his thumb was stroking across the thin skin, circling around...tape, she determined. Tape? Her other hand was numb and felt heavy. It was propped up on something soft, maybe a pillow. She was in a bed, on her back, and she got the distinct impression of déjà vu. How many times had she woken up in hospitals all over the country? Often with Mulder or her mother holding her hand.
But this isn't Mulder or mom, she told herself instantly. Mulder is dead. Maggie is dead.
She struggled to open her eyes, suddenly anxious to see where she was and who was with her. She felt safe, but she also knew she had not seen or spoken to actual living people in so long. She could not remember leaving her mother's home. Had she really found-
Scully stopped that train of thought as soon as her blue eyes caught a glimpse of the concerned face staring down at her, and then it all came back.
Skinner. I hate you, I hate you. The glass, the blood. It's coming. Mulder, He left me. It hurts. Deeper. It's okay Dana. Plenty of water. Honey. Wake up. Skinner. Skinner?
"Skinner?" she voiced, her memories bombarding her head, though a part of her realised it did not hurt as badly as she was used to. The throbbing behind her eyes was gone. She felt drugged and she remembered swallowing pills in the dark from his hand.
"I'm here Dana," he assured her gently, squeezing her fingers. "How are you feeling?"
"Where am I?" she asked, trying to move her eyes to look around. She turned her head away from Skinner and gasped when she saw an IV hanging beside her head. It was nearly empty and when she looked back at Skinner he was smiling kindly.
"It's in this hand," he told her, again squeezing her fingers. "The cord's stretched across you. We didn't want to put anything in your other with the wrist elevated like it is."
"How'd you get an IV?" she asked. "Hospital?"
"We stole it from a hospital," he told her. "We've got a cupboard of medical supplies for emergencies. Shannon put it in. Not half bad either. Does it feel okay?" Scully hummed.
"Feels okay," she assured him. "How long-"
"You've been asleep a good twelve hours. Are you in any pain?"
"Head's fuzzy but doesn't really hurt," she mumbled. "Wrist is throbbing. Kinda numb."
"I'll get you some painkillers," he offered. "Sit tight."
Scully took the opportunity once he had left to look around. She was in an ordinary bedroom. It was dim because the thick curtains opposite the bed were closed. Sunlight peeked around the edges. The bed itself was large, a double at least. The floral quilt was pulled back and she was covered only in a sheet and thin blanket, but she was neither cold nor hot. There were no photos in the room that she could see, but there was a mirror atop a sparse duchess beside the bed. Skinner had been sitting on a chair covered in his jacket, and her pack was beside him. It comforted her to see it there.
She turned her head to stare at her bandaged wrist, propped up on a mountain of throw pillows. Her whole arm felt heavy, and she let it rotate so she could see the inside of her wrist. No blood had seeped through, and she wondered if it was because the bleeding had stopped not long after she had been bandaged, or if this was the second or third bandage. Perhaps she had even been stitched?
By someone called Shannon. She thought it was a woman, if her memories of the previous night served her correctly, but it might have been a man. Potentially he or she had no medical background and the IV insertion had been a lucky guess.
Heaven help her.
"Here we go," Skinner declared, returning with two tablets and a glass of water. He put a steadying hand on her back as she sat up.
"What are these?" she asked bluntly, not used to having medication fed to her by hand. She liked to know exactly what she was being given.
"Paracetamol with codeine," he stated. She nodded, polishing off the pills and the water quickly and lying back down. Skinner sat back down in the chair and they stared at each other for several minutes in silence. Scully suddenly looked up at the ceiling and sighed.
"I'm an idiot, aren't I," she whispered softly.
"No," he insisted quickly, leaning forward and sliding his palm under hers, linking their fingers. Scully shut her eyes. It felt so good to connect with someone, anyone, and for it to be Walter Skinner... She fought back the tears and listened to his familiar voice. "No you're not an idiot Scully," he promised. "You'll be okay. I understand. Trust me; I understand the loss, what you're feeling. You're entitled to your grief, Dana. We're all grieving here, but we're doing what we can. I can't believe...I can't believe you're alive."
"How did you find me?" she asked, turning back to stare at him curiously.
"We've been systematically searching the houses to stockpile food and other property of use," he replied. "Yesterday we came across your mother's block, and all the houses had been broken into already, all the bodies had been covered with sheets... Did you do that?" Scully nodded. "We realised there must be another survivor and stayed out later than we usually would. We heard you throw what must have been a bottle of wine into the wall. I heard you crying. I knew I remembered the street from somewhere but I didn't put it together until the last minute. I went with you to your mom's Christmas party one year."
"Thank you," Scully whispered, sighing and shaking her head. "How much blood did I lose? I feel really weak. I don't have any energy to move."
"I'm afraid I have no idea," Skinner admitted. "I'm sure it looked worse than what it was, because the bleeding has mostly stopped now. Shannon's changed the dressing and I've seen it; it looks deep but not life threatening. It's weeping; your body's healing slowly."
"You didn't let him stitch it did you?" she asked sceptically. Skinner chuckled.
"Shannon is a woman, Dana. And no, neither of us was game to stitch your wrist. It's wrapped very tightly though, taped and padded and bandaged. If you want to stitch it when you're feeling stronger, go right ahead. You're the doctor here. We don't really know what we're doing. Last night we were only relying on some military training."
"I'm sorry," she apologised, ignoring the urgent shake of his head. "I scared you."
"Well you did that," he conceded with a smile. "I'm just glad it wasn't more serious."
"Who is Shannon?" she asked warily. "A nurse?"
"Shannon McMahon. Do you recognise the name?" Scully frowned and shook her head. "She was part of Bravo Company with John Doggett. She said you examined her once. She's a supersoldier."
"The...the supersoldier?" Scully asked incredulously, remembering the woman, the deformity on the back of her neck, remembering the way she had been following Scully and Monica Reyes one night, remembering the distrust, the disbelief. "Why? How did you survive? What's she doing here?"
"There are three of us here besides you," Skinner explained. "Shannon and my niece Sarah were both with me when the invasion happened. Shannon came to warn me and Sarah had been unexpectedly over for dinner. We stayed underground in the cellar. I was prepared, I knew it was coming." Scully nodded. "What about you?"
"I was practising medicine in Virginia," she whispered. "Mulder and I had a stupid little argument and he stormed out. He didn't come back all the next day, and the next night I was awake worrying about where he might be when it happened. The noise, the light. I…I got underground after rescuing some photos. The pack was already in the bunker. I lived there for I think five weeks before venturing out. Everyone was dead. I decided...to come here to see for myself...I had to see the people I cared about most before I died as well."
"You had been planning to kill yourself?" Skinner asked, his voice soft but probing.
"Without Mulder or my family yes, but not like this," Scully scoffed. "I...I...Mulder and I we had planned ahead in case...so I had some pills. It would be a sleep death. I would just go to sleep. I didn't want to be alone anymore. But I couldn't figure out where I wanted to do it, or how long I should wait, and I guess I kept procrastinating because I really am weak and I...I just couldn't do it. I mean look at this; I should know where my veins are even in the dark! I remember wanting to, but I don't remember, I can't remember what..."
"You were in a state of panic last night," Skinner replied. "You were in the grip of what I can only guess was a severe anxiety attack. You would not have been able to find your veins if they were lit up in neon lights, and I am so very thankful for that, because if we had found you...too late..."
"I know," she whispered, shutting her eyes against the emotions his words conjured. "I'm sorry, again, I...I haven't spoken, or seen, anyone in so, so long. I don't know my voice."
"Well we're here now," he promised her, reaching over to touch her pale cheek. "We're not going to leave you, Dana. We're trying to get in a fit state to move, but it's taking some time, so there's no rush. You're very safe here. We won't go until you're better."
"People are hurt?" she asked, feeling herself drifting back to sleep under the gentle caress of his fingers and voice. "Can I help?"
"When you're feeling stronger," he insisted. "You need to rest. You're very thin and you've lost some blood. Can you tell me how much you weigh, Dana?" She shook her head, blushing. "Well we know you took off with a lot of food, because Shannon has gone back to get what we had to leave behind, but have you been eating any of it?"
"I tried." Her voice was weak as she opened her eyes to stare at him. "I couldn't keep much down," she admitted, blushing with shame and turning her eyes away. "I drove him away, Skinner. He saved me and I killed him." She looked and sounded so young and vulnerable, Skinner realised in tender shock. She had made herself sick with grief, and he could see how emotionally and physically drained she was. He was so sad for her.
"I'm sorry," Skinner whispered, aware she was speaking of Mulder. "We'll all do what we can. You're safe here. Shannon remembers you. She respects you."
"Supersoldier."
"She's on our side," he assured her. "Tired?" Scully nodded, shutting her eyes. "Try and rest. You won't take those pills?" She shook her head. "Good, because we need you here, you understand?" She hummed, nodding. Her top teeth caught on her bottom lip in surprise when he leant over and kissed her temple, again urging her to rest. She slept.
xxx
In her dream she was lying in bed beside Mulder. They were both young, in their early twenties and on a small bed in what looked like a college dorm. Old grey paint, faded basketball posters, a little desk stacked high with dusty books. It was a dream that had never happened because they had not known each other at that time in their lives, but Scully enjoyed it. Maybe they had known each other that young in another life, or maybe she was foreseeing the next. She rolled towards him fully clothed on the bed, her hair long, wavy and red. She propped herself up on the mattress and smiled down at him, and he reached up to touch her cheek.
'I like your freckles,' he mumbled, his eyes and voice sleepy. She hummed and leant down over his chest for a kiss, allowing him to pull her against his warm body as it moved beneath hers. Their lips met and he allowed her tongue entrance to his mouth. One of her legs edged over his hips and he reached down with one hand, wrapping his fingers around her thigh to pull her across him.
Then it all fell away. She was enveloped not by Mulder but by sand and it was drawing her in just as he had been. His tongue became sand and it began to fill her. It was alive underneath her and its pulse drove the hot, dry grains deeper into her nose and mouth. It was suffocating. Her lungs ached and she started to black out. She struggled in an effort to escape but it held her, her thigh, her back, and then she stopped breathing.
Scully sat up in the dark with a start, choking though nothing was really inside her. She doubled over and coughed loudly a few times, forcing her throat to clear. Somewhere in her mind she realised her IV had been removed. Tears trickled down her flushed cheeks as she pulled her legs up under the blankets and curled in on herself. She held her body close, making sure nobody and nothing else touched it.
Mulder had turned into the sand, she analysed. He had betrayed her. He had left her.
There were three soft knocks on her closed door and Scully attempted to compose herself quickly, though she did not look up as it opened.
"Doctor Scully, are you all right?" Shannon asked. "Walter's asleep, do you want me to-"
"No, no, let him sleep," she insisted quickly against her knees. "What time is it?"
"I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to sit with you for a bit." Scully looked up in shock, her mouth open. Shannon had a weak torch in her hands and directed it towards the bed, though thankfully not in her face. "Sleep is a luxury for me, not a biological necessity. I wouldn't mind the company, and it's midnight. You slept all day."
"O-okay," Scully stammered. Shannon smiled and stepped into the room, shutting the door.
"So our voices don't carry," she whispered, noticing the hesitation in Scully's eyes. "You look different to what I remember," she began, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Scully pushed herself back to sit against the headboard, her knees still pulled up defensively. She had only met Shannon once, but Scully knew she had saved John's life. Shannon had come to help them then, but she was still a relative stranger to Scully.
"You look the same," she replied. "Can I ask something?"
"If it helps distract you from your nightmare, sure," Shannon agreed.
"What are you doing here? What happened to all the other supersoldiers and why did you help Skinner?"
"The supersoldiers you remember, those that are what I am, have become the footmen of the aliens which have invaded this world. I'm here because I'm not like the others. I'm here because I care about Walter, and that's also why I helped him. After you and Mulder ran, I approached him and kept him informed. He had hoped to warn you someday, but there was no time. I found out only soon enough to get to him, to make sure he was safe."
"And his niece? Who is she?"
"Her name is Sarah. She's asleep down the hall. She's twenty-five. I arrived late and I hadn't expected anybody else to be there. I only shielded Walter from the light. She's blind. How are you not blind?"
"I don't know," Scully whispered. "I didn't know people had gone blind. I remember closing my eyes and seeing my room even though they were closed, as though everything was lit up and my eyelids were just gone, and afterwards the image stayed with me even though it was dark. I thought for a second I was blind, but then my vision cleared and I grabbed what I could and got underground. Where I stayed for about a month before I first went outside."
"How did you know to stay down that long?"
"I don't know," Scully shrugged. "I just felt I had to be cautious. That was how long I decided. It was instinct. Why, was that okay?"
"If you were exposed to the virus you would be ash by now," Shannon pointed out.
"Are there any other survivors?" Scully asked curiously, unable to hide the hope in her voice.
"Yes, but not anywhere near here. We are collecting resources to help us move south. Only some countries have been mined like this. I do know that south of the border there are places where you, Walter and Sarah will be able to survive."
"What if I don't want to?" she asked, biting her bottom lip and staring at Shannon. "What if I don't want to have to start over? What if I don't want to live the rest of my life as a slave?"
"I don't know if that's what will happen," Shannon assured Scully. "And I think if you really did not want to survive you would have killed yourself long ago and not stolen enough water to keep you, Walter and Sarah alive for many months."
"What about you?"
"A sip goes a long way for me," she pointed out gently. "So what were you dreaming about?"
"The sand," Scully sighed. "Mulder. Do you dream?"
"Yes I do. The new ones don't, but as you know, as one of the prototypes they never got me quite right. I dream human dreams, mostly about things from my past. But I don't have nightmares. I have no fear. I don't remember what bad dreams are like."
"You're lucky," Scully whispered.
"I'm sorry about Mulder," Shannon mumbled. "I really am. You might think I can feel nothing but I do still hate them for what they did to me, and I do still feel the need to protect my friends, and warn them, and I feel sadness at what has been done here."
"I believe you. Are, are you and Skinner together?" she asked suddenly. Shannon smirked. "You don't have to elaborate it's just that when he mentioned you-"
"It's okay," she promised. "We're not together in the traditional sense. I mean we were, for a while, but since this...I don't know. I don't think I can feel love anymore. I honestly hadn't tried until a few years ago when Walter and I...I don't know. He understands. I care about him, I can still feel pleasure but love I...It's not like that. It never can be."
"Does he love you?" Scully asked softly.
"I think so," Shannon replied with a serious frown. "It's complicated. I wish it wasn't. If I was still a normal person I think I would love him, I think that's the residual emotion I do feel, but uh, we're discreet. Out here we're just companions."
"I understand," Scully whispered. "Thank you."
"No need," Shannon assured her. "How is your wrist?"
"Sore. I haven't looked at it yet but it feels secure. Thank you for bandaging it so well."
"Have you been eating?" Scully shook her head and Shannon chuckled. "Well that's going to change in the morning. We're not going anywhere until everyone is fit for a long journey. We've been at this food collecting business for a couple of weeks, and you should see the carriage we've managed to construct to carry it all."
"How?" Scully asked. "Won't it be heavy?" Shannon smirked.
"Heavy for humans, perhaps. No problem for me. Walter cares about you a lot, you know. He sat with you all day today."
"I know he cares," Scully whispered. "He's done a lot of good things for Mulder and I over the years. He was our ally, and a good boss."
"We won't force you to come with us," Shannon told her. "But we would like it. I know Walter would feel better about Sarah if he knew there was a doctor there. We're not sure about the extent or permanency of her blindness, and if there is trouble, well... We would all like you to join us. He would be devastated if you stayed."
"There's nothing left for me here," Scully replied seriously. "I'll come. I just...I'm not strong enough yet." Her voice quivered with the strength it took to admit to such vulnerability, but Shannon's calm expression did not waver.
"Like I said," she repeated. "There's no rush. If you ever want to talk, everyone here has lost something they cannot get back. We all need a rest. Personally as long as you all are healthy and safe I'm not in a hurry. We have plenty of supplies."
"Why don't you want to get there sooner?" Scully asked curiously.
"Because I don't know what they will do to me or what they will make me do when we get there," Shannon whispered reluctantly, standing to leave. "But that's not so important right now. I'll let you get back to sleep Dana. Goodnight."