Title: Blue Girl VI
Classification: SA
Keywords: none
Rating: NC-17
Thanks: as always, to realb, Karri, and Liam
Feedback: please, to lil_gusty@hotmail.com
Distribution: not that you would, but you could.  Just let me 
              know.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they belong to 
            Mr. Chris Carter, lucky bastard.
Summary: "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live 
         it? - every, every minute?"  (From "Our Town" by 
         Thornton Wilder) Sequel to Blue Girl V.


There was a bright light, heavy footsteps, and a sudden chill.  
Reflexively, she scrambled up against the headboard of the bed, 
huddling and trying to disappear.  Her eyes were open wide, but 
she couldn't see anything except men and anger and fear.

"It's after ten, Dana," her brother told her, the shock on his 
face belying his stern tone.

She was cold she was cold.  She grabbed at the comforter and 
pulled it over herself protectively, still hiding as best as she 
could.

Her brother sighed and murmured, "Jesus," as he looked away, like 
the instructions for how to proceed were written on the walls.  
"Mom has some breakfast left over for you.  I have to go to a 
meeting.  Just..."

She was staring at him with dull, unfocused, vapid eyes.

He sighed again and walked out the door without finishing his 
sentence.

She listened to his footsteps down the stairs and into the living 
room.  Outside, his car started, then drove away.  She 
remembered...Mulder was gone back to his happy life and she was 
here with a family that she hardly recognized and didn't want 
her.  And she was exhausted, hungry, and dammit when was the last 
time she'd been warm...  She was still wearing his leather jacket - 
he'd forgotten it, or maybe he's left it with her with it on 
purpose for some reason - and the too-big clothes he'd brought 
her in the hotel.  But her necklace...he still had it.  So she'd 
have to see him again after all.  She'd have to give him his 
jacket back.

Her body ached, but she slid down into the softness of the bed 
and cocooned herself in sheets and blankets.  Bill had opened the 
blinds and cheery morning sun was spilling into the room.  She 
hadn't seen the sun the entire time she's been in that place.  It 
was always dark.  In a way, it was like the sun stopped rising 
when she left, and started again when she came back.  The earth 
had kept turning, though, people had kept living.  The sun rose 
for them, never once pausing because she wasn't there to see it.

It wasn't fair.

She pulled her cocoon closed over her head and relished the 
darkness.  She was darkness now, she thrived on it.  It consumed 
her when she was away, and now that she was back, she couldn't 
escape it, so she might as well learn to get used to it.

Bill hadn't closed the door to the room, and the happy sounds of 
domestic bliss floated up to her from downstairs.  A mother 
chattering to her children, the children responding in sounds and 
facial expressions rather than words.  A grandmother spoiling the 
children, asking the mother if the infant had has his bottle yet, 
should I give it to him now, or would you rather wait?  Yes, life 
continued while she lay and rotted in a child's bed.

It would be like this at Mulder's a few years from now.  He'd 
want lots of kids, probably, and Diana would be eager to supply 
theme.  His life was already too full for her, and after the 
baby, he'd probably scale back dramatically on work to stay home 
and watch his child grow and play and learn.  If Diana asked him, 
he'd probably quit his job entirely and be a stay-at-home dad; 
that's just the way she could see him.  Dedicated to the extreme, 
never doing anything half-way.

He'd do that for Diana.  He wouldn't do that for her.

She should hate him for giving up on her.  Hate him for refusing 
to keep looking for her because it might've hurt -him- too much.  
She thought she had been different, she had been the only one 
he'd trusted enough to share his secrets and fears with - he'd 
told her as much after Puerto Rico.  And not four months later 
and he's forgotten about her entirely while he chases his sister 
and his goddamn aliens and how could she have been so naive as to 
think she'd mattered to him?  She was nothing more than a 
sounding board, something to spur him into action.  And she had 
been so easily replaced.  How could she have thought any 
differently.

But she could see the hurt and guilt in his eyes when he looked 
at her.  She could see the sadness and regret when she was afraid 
to speak louder than a whisper and jumped at sudden noises.  
Still, it burned deep inside of her to think that he'd forgotten 
about her.  Nothing would ever put that out.

But he was the only person to welcome her back into her life, and 
she supposed she should be grateful.  She should accept his help, 
however charitable and guilt-driven she might have thought it.  
She should have been with him in DC, her home, not with her 
family of strangers in this strange place.

But Diana...his new life, one that didn't include government 
conspiracies and the suffering of innocents...that wasn't her 
Mulder.

There were lighter footsteps in the hallway, and someone paused 
at the door.  "Dana?"  Her mother asked, entering and sitting 
beside her on the bed.  "Are you awake?"

She didn't respond, only curled tighter in her ball of hurt.

"There's breakfast downstairs; you really should eat."

No, the last thing she wanted was anything heavy inside of her.

Her mother cleared her throat.  "Fox called earlier.  He said 
he'd landed and wanted to make sure you were all right.  I told 
him you were still sleeping and he didn't want me to wake you."

She opened her eyes inside her cocoon, staring out at the muted 
colors the sunlight made as it shined through the comforter.

"You can call him later, if you want...okay?"

Yes, she screamed inside her head.

"Why don't you get up, take a shower...I'll find you something to 
wear."

Yes, she whispered to herself.

Her mother, not getting any response to her attempts to draw her 
daughter out, rose and walked out of the room, closing the door 
behind her.

Yes, she'd get up and take a shower and call Mulder.  The she 
would feel better.  He still cared about her.  He was the only 
one, she couldn't push him away.  Then she would talk to her 
family and get better.  Yes.

<><><><><><>

It only lasted four days.

She'd called him: in the mornings, before she thought he'd be at 
work, at work, in the evenings after he should've been home, on 
his cell phone.  He had an answering machine, and she listened to 
Diana's cheery voice as she asked her to leave a message, but 
hung up after the beep.  She didn't know what to say.  Logically, 
she knew that he probably wasn't available.  He'd said he worked 
a lot.  She had just missed him every time.  Emotionally, she 
thought he was avoiding her, checking his caller ID and not 
answering when it came up her brother's name.

Meanwhile, her brother spoke to her in placating, simple 
sentences, her mother gave her pitying looks and repeated her 
mantra of "I don't know what to do," and Tara avoided her 
completely.  She'd overheard her brother and mother discussing 
long-term care facilities, out patient therapy programs, and how 
her presence was affecting the children.  Every night, she'd 
awaken the house with screams and sobs and pleas to let her go 
and not hurt her.  Every day, she would sit in Mathew's room 
alone, in silence, and watch the sunlight fade from the window.

Just four days.

They were all eating dinner one night while she stared at her 
plate, arms wrapped around her middle.  Bill threw down his fork 
and she jumped, ready to flee.

"Dammit, Dana, that's enough!"  He roared, sending a frightened 
James into his mother's arms.  "You either eat with us or go back 
upstairs!"

She snorted a laugh softly, stood, and returned to her room.

A few minutes later, Bill came after her, entering without 
knocking and pacing around the tiny room with his hands in his 
pockets, looking ready to unleash a cynical tirade at any moment.

"You know, I've been trying.  I really have, but I find it 
difficult to have a lot of sympathy for you when you've brought 
this on yourself," he said after a while, pausing at the window 
to look out.  "Your decision to go into the FBI after dad went 
into debt sending you to med school...you knew the risks, and yet 
you continued.  Now here you are, depending on us to bring you 
back from whatever happened to you.  It's not fair.  It's not 
fair to mom - Dana, if you had any idea how many nights Mom would 
cry, saying how much she missed you and how she just wanted to 
know what had happened to you, if you were alive...and it's not 
fair to the rest of us.  My kids are asking me how long you're 
gonna be here because they're uncomfortable around you; what am I 
supposed to tell them?  What am I supposed to say when they ask 
me why you're like this?"

"You could tell them the truth," she said softly, watching him as 
he began to pace again.  He made her nervous.

"Which is what?"

"I don't remember where I was, but it was some kind of medical 
facility, only the patients weren't there by choice.  They tested 
us and tortured us..." her voice faded, shaking.

He shook his head.  "Dana, doctors don't torture patients, and 
they certainly don't test them against their will.  Or have you 
forgotten that?"

"Well, these doctors did," she whispered.

"Look, as far as I'm concerned, you caught whatever Melissa had 
that made her want to abandon her family.  For all I know, you 
just got mixed up with the wrong group of people and now you 
can't get back on your feet."

"You think I'm lying?  Why would I lie about something like 
this?"

"Because you're ashamed of what you did - being a prostitute, 
using drugs...and you should be ashamed.  But making up stories 
that you were tortured in some secret hospital...that's ridiculous, 
like something that partner of yours would say!"

She looked away from him, her cheeks burning as hot tears slid 
down them.

"So here's the deal, Dana," he said, standing in front of her 
defiantly.  "Either you start being honest about what happened to 
you and quit this immature self-pity act, or you can go back to 
where ever you were before you turned up in that hospital.  
Okay?"

He waited for an answer, but she didn't give him one.  She 
counted to thirty-eight.

"Well, then I'm done with you."  He slammed the door behind him 
to emphasize his point, in case she'd missed it.

<><><><><><>

She tried Mulder one more time before she left.  He didn't 
answer.  Her next call was to get a taxi.

It was after eleven, and everyone in the house was asleep.  She 
was quiet anyway, not wanting to take any chances of waking 
anyone who might stop her.  Not that that was likely.  Bill was 
just like her father, so anxious to have control over everything 
that he frightened people into leaving him.  Their father had 
done it to Melissa, and now Bill was doing it to her.

"Where to?"  The driver asked her, pulling out of the driveway.

"I don't know yet," she told him.  "Just away from here."

<><><><><><>

He'd called his ASAC to tell him when he'd be returning to 
Washington, but the ASAC told him not to bother, just to meet the 
rest of the agents in Seattle.  Another child abductor, another 
case that called his name.  Diana was back in Europe, and his 
first thought was of hearing her voice after over a week of 
missing it.

His second thought was of checking on Scully.  Diana could wait, 
he figured, and she was probably out of her hotel room anyway.  
There were several messages on his machine, each of them little 
more than the sound of a phone hanging up, each corresponding 
with a call from Bill Scully's house.  That made him dial faster. 

Her mother answered the phone, sounding nervous and worried.  
"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Scully, it's Fox Mulder," he sighed wearily, rubbing 
his head and stretching his sore neck.

"Oh, Fox, thank God.  I've been trying to reach you..."

He sat straight again, on alert.  "What, what's the matter?"

"Have you heard from Dana?"

"No," he said slowly, dreading what was surely coming.

Her mother sighed exhaustedly.  "Fox, she's gone!  She left a few 
nights ago - just left!  All of her things are gone...she didn't 
leave a note or anything!"

"Okay, calm down.  Do you have any idea where she might've gone?"

"No.  Base security said they saw her leave in a cab late at 
night, but the driver couldn't remember where she'd asked to go 
to.  Fox, I'm so tired of this..."

He sat forward, elbows on his knees.  "Me, too."

"Are you going to look for her?"  She asked hopefully, probably 
thinking that he could fix everything, given enough time.

"I don't know...I don't know what to do.  She called, but she 
didn't leave any messages, which tells me she didn't have 
anything to say.  It's becoming clear that she doesn't really 
want me to keep dragging her back.  If she keeps running away 
every time we find her, she must not want our help.  If she wants 
to see me, she'll call again.  She's in control and she knows it.  
We'll just have to wait until then."

There was half a beat of silence.  "But she's been calling you 
everyday since you left- "

He sighed, frustrated and angry.  "I was out of town, and my cell 
was probably out of range.  I should've called her while I was 
away..."

She didn't disagree with him, and they sat in silence for a few 
minutes.

"Fox, I think we should be off the phone in case she tried to 
call either of us," her mother said after a while, suddenly eager 
to get rid of him.

"Yeah.  Call me if you hear anything and I'll...I'll call you."

"Okay.  Good-bye, Fox."

After she hung up, he sat with the phone pressed to his ear for a 
long while, thinking of a hundred different ways that he would 
redo things if he could.

But that was pointless.  He dialed Diana's hotel number and 
waited.

<><><><><><>

The bed always seemed so vast and empty when he was alone.  The 
apartment was quiet and still at just before midnight, and 
without anything else to do, he'd gone to bed.  He couldn't 
sleep, though.  He hadn't slept well since he knew Scully was 
missing again - just over a week - and he was exhausted, but he 
couldn't sleep.

He'd requested some time in DC in anticipation of Diana 
returning.  His ASAC had reluctantly let him off, resigning him 
to the almost constant pile of backed paperwork on his desk, but 
Diana had been detained in Poland longer than she'd imagined.  It 
would be another week, maybe two, before she'd get to come home.

And he was lonely.  He'd forgotten what it was like to miss 
someone when they were gone.

He turned onto his stomach, beating his pillow into a comfortable 
position, and buried his face in it.  He could always channel 
surf for a while - that never failed to put him to sleep - but 
tonight, he wanted to bask in the vastness and the emptiness, the 
quietness and the stillness while he could.

He was not brooding.  He was NOT brooding.

Maybe he should check the phone again, make sure the dial tone 
was still there.  He already knew it was; Scully just wasn't 
calling.  He slid his hand longingly over the impression that 
Diana had left in the bed and closed his eyes.

There was a noise: was it a knock on the door?

His eyes snapped open and he held his breath, listening.

Another noise, most definitely a knock on the door.

He got up, the chilly air making goosebumps rise on his bare arms 
and chest, working the locks slowly.

In the hall, bathed in harsh yellow light, was Scully.  Her right 
hand was clenched in a fist and she was shaking violently.  The 
air left his lungs and he took her by her shoulders and pulled 
her inside.

"What are you doing here?  Scully...how'd you get here?  Are you 
alright?"

He heard her teeth chattering.  "I didn't...I didn't know where 
to go..."

He led her into his bedroom, pushing back the warm covers.  "Your 
mom said you'd run away."

She nodded, her head still down.  She didn't let go of his arm as 
she sat down.

He switched on the bedside lamp.  "Did something happen?  With 
your brother?"

She let him move her head and arms to check for injuries.  "I'm 
sorry.  I didn't, I mean...I didn't.  Are you angry?"

"No.  I'm not angry.  Why would I be?"

"Because," she looked like she was starting to cry, but tears 
didn't come.  "I left mom's and then I come here without telling 
you..."

"It's okay, Scully.  Look at me," he tipped her chin up to his 
face.  "It's okay.  I'm just glad you're safe."

A chill ran up her spin as she nodded, and he bent to take off 
her shoes.  "Here," he picked the t-shirt that he'd discarded 
earlier up from the end of the bed.  "Put this on and get under 
the covers."

She did as he told her, the simple act taking more effort than it 
should have.  When her head hit his pillow, she whimpered and 
clutched her head in pain.

"What?  What's the matter?"  He asked her frantically.

"Dizzy," she murmured, relaxing into the bed.

He checked her pulse, which was rapid, and felt her forehead, 
which was warm.  "You're the doctor here, Scully.  Tell me what's 
wrong."

"Think I'm dehydrated."

"Do we need to go to the hospital?"

Her eyes opened wide.  "No!"

"Okay, okay.  I'll get you some water."

He should call her mother, too, let her know her daughter was 
safe.  But she may not want him to.  She needed liquids more, she 
needed to be taken care of.

He was glad Diana wasn't here.

"Here.  Small sips," he told her as she struggled to swallow.  
"Anything else?"

She shook her head, pulling the covers closer to her chin.

He didn't know what else to say, so he sat beside her and turned 
the water glass around and around in his hand, staring at the 
floor between his bare feet.

"I did it again," she whispered.

"What?"  He asked, looking back at her.

"I needed money, so..."

He closed his eyes.  "Why didn't you call me?  I would've come 
and got you."

"I didn't need you to."

He should've known.  She didn't need anything from anyone except 
desperation from lonely men.  "Why you'd leave your brother's?"  
He tried.

"Because I hate him."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do.  And he hates me.  He doesn't want me in his life."

He couldn't argue with her: more than likely, her brother didn't 
want to have anything to do with her.  She was a burden, a 
leftover obligation.  He couldn't much complain, though; he was 
glad to have her back with him.

"Well," he began awkwardly.  "I know he's worried about you.  You 
can call him in the morning and let him know you're okay."

Her head popped up suddenly and he thought he'd said something 
wrong.  "Where's Diana?"

"She's in Europe for work," he answered, pushing her head back 
down gently.

Her eyes got drowsy again, and she complied.  "Tired, Mulder."

"Okay.  Go to sleep," he told her.

Almost immediately, she did.  He longed to follow her, stretched 
out beside her on top of the covers, and counted her slightly too 
quick breaths until he gave into his heavy eyelids.

<><><>End<><><>

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