by Justin Glasser
Disclaimers and Acknowledgments in section 00.
*****
When Scully first opened her eyes, I thought I was in heaven.
I was wrong.
*****
Somewhere in Antarctica
Day Two
0115 hours
He sat motionless in front of her bed for minutes at a time, hardly seeming to breathe. He might not have even been seeing her, he sat so still, holding onto her hand, running his fingers over it again and again and again.
There was no color in the room, only whiteness, and greyness, and the pale shocked flesh of their faces, his and hers. A matched set.
She'd only been awake twice since they were brought in seventy hours ago. Once she'd woken up screaming. Nightmares. Her partner had not heard her--although his room was right next door, it was soundproofed, as all the rooms were. No need for passers-by to know what was going on inside, the architect had said during the planning sessions. The architect might have changed his mind when he saw the inside of one of those rooms himself, afterwards. The architect's smile hadn't been the same since.
Hers wouldn't be either, if they ever got out.
*****
She is somewhere between sleeping and waking, a heavy and dim place that does not permit speech or movement. She is remembering.
It was cold, colder even than when they were out on the ice later, because that cold was only outside.
She had imagined rape, as all women did, after seeing certain movies, hearing certain stories. After one of the female agents she'd been in the Academy with had been attacked right outside the door to her apartment, after a nine-year-old black girl was found violated and murdered on a Metro train, after Melissa said that once, in college, some guy had pushed her legs apart and was tore down her panties before she cold-cocked him with a dictionary. After things.
This was different.
It had been inside her, a solid icy thickness that permitted no resistance, forced through her open mouth and down into her gullet. If she had been able to look down she would have expected to see it emerging from between her legs, a reverse violation, a skewer that pierced her through.
There was no pain, only a fullness, a feeling like one she had never felt, a feeling of something living inside her. In a way that horrified her now, she had almost enjoyed it, the slow bleeding of herself into something else, something that would bear her mark even after it had consumed her. She had felt it, even then, even when there was nothing but fluid coursing through the umbilical cord in her throat. It would kill her, she knew, but before it killed her it would need her, and that was something she hadn't had . . . the time before.
It only hurt afterwards, the prick of the needle, and then the blinding agony of withdrawal. Her veins had burned with it. For a second she had wanted to cry out against him, against Mulder, who had stolen from her the only chance she would even have to grow something of her own. Her baby. Her monstrous and icy alien. When she woke up to Mulder pounding on her chest, she was empty again. Empty of the parasite, empty of the hateful cord which gave it life, empty of the feeling of something besides herself within her skin.
Sometimes she wished it was still there.
*****
Report 4 of --
Operative 7477108N
1600 hours
M subject remains in attendance on F subject, observing her closely. This is congruent with data in file re: relationship.
M vital signs steadily improving, although subject appears listless and detached from surroundings. Both subjects slightly underweight due to recent strenuous activity and exposure. F vital signs unacceptable for onset of trial, although also improving. Estimated time of trial commencement:24-48 hours.
F subject remains in semi-conscious state, fluctuating between REM stage and second stage sleep, congruent with data re: previous subjects. Dreams appear to be violent or frightening in nature. (Confirm through survellance of room M and F. Do not, repeat DO NOT attempt to interview F subject.) No attempt has been made to restore F to conciousness. No attempt has been made to administer sedatives to F. M subject does not attempt to wake F subject, despite overt concern for F subject's well- being.
M subject fully conscious, but unresponsive to interrogation besides hostile demands to be returned to F subject. Anticipate M subject to remain uncooperative until F subject semi-recovery. Attachment level abnormally high for subjects not engaged in sexual relationship. Could result in an intitial negative cooperative response, but may be used as a persuasive device once F subject recovery has commenced.
Activity in F room negligible. This concludes report 4 of --. Next report filing due at 1800 hours.
Operative reporting: 7477108N
He leaned back from the computer and wiped one hand over his face, eclipsing for a moment the multiple screens projecting their faces, their bodies, obscure corners of their rooms. Sometimes he hated his job.
*****
Her eyes opened gradually, as if they were weighted down with tiny stones. They did not flutter. Scully's not the type of woman who flutters her lashes. It was strange. One moment, her eyes were entirely closed, and the next time I looked I could see tiny slices of cornea through her lashes. I know I was excited because her first words spoken a few moments later when her eyelids were at half-mast and she had the foriegn look of someone who has done too many drugs were "Mulder, you're hurting my hand."
I relaxed my grip, conscious of the feeling of my skin pulling away from hers, cell by cell.
"How do you feel?" I was grinning like an idiot, I knew, but I wouldn't stop. She was here, alive. More or less well.
She didn't answer for a second, but I knew what was coming.
"Fine, Mulder. I'm fine." She almost smiled as she said it. "Where are we?"
"Some military hospital, I think. The guys who bring in the food don't talk, but they look like grunts. I don't remember being transported anywhere, although the first couple of hours are pretty hazy."
"How long?"
"About two days. It's hard to tell." The lights in our rooms seemed to be set on timers, dimming and brightening in an imitation of daylight, but there were no clocks and no windows. I couldn't find any of my clothes, let alone my watch. "They're keeping us here under a fifteen day quarantine."
She nodded. We were old hands at the quarantine.
We sat in silence for a while. I rubbed my fingers over her hand, wanting to squeeze her, wanting to say something, but nothing came to mind. They had grabbed her right from under my nose, but I had grabbed her back. I was happy to see her. Scully. My partner. We could go back and tell everyone what we had seen, what had been done to her, where we had been. It wasn't exactly evidence, but it was more experience than we had ever had together. Scully and I were finally on the same page.
"Thank you," she said, her voice slicing through my reverie.
"For what?"
"For coming after me."
I looked at her, stunned. For coming after her? What else would I have done?
"All part of the job," I said, watching her fingers between mine. "You'd have done the same for me."
"I have done the same for you."
I grinned. Ducked my head to her hand.
"I missed you," I said into the bedclothes.
"I know," she said. "So what do you do for fun around here?"
I didn't tell her the thought that came to mind immediately, in part because she couldn't do it, and in part because "watch you sleep" seemed too pathetic to actually say out loud.
*****
Addendum to Report 4 of -- Operative 7477108N 1727 hours
F subject conscious. Commencing 24 hour surrveillance recording. Estimated time until trial onset: 18-24 hours.
*****end 1/10*****
say it with feedback
