Anger
by Leyla Harrison

Date sent: Fri, 27 Jun 1997 10:11:07 -0500

From: Jennifer & Leyla Mail

Subject: *NEW* "Anger" by Jennifer Maurer and Leyla Harrison

Okay, I know I said my next coma story was going to be "Awake." My muse didn't agree. I don't suppose the order really matters anyway, these can all stand alone. --Jennifer

GRUMPY DISCLAIMER: Disclaimers? We don't need no stinkin' disclaimers! Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 can bite us, especially if these rumors we're hearing about CC leaving X-Files is true...well, who needs him anyway, right, guys? We can write the series ourselves! Yeah! Who's with us? Hello? UberVince?

SPOILER: The abduction trilogy.

RATING: R. There are some scenes in here which are hard to put a label on...not violent, exactly, but definitely upsetting and graphic.

CLASSIFICATION: S/A

SUMMARY: Scully deals with the trauma of her missing time.

CLOSING REMARKS: Comments to [email protected] (Jennifer) or [email protected] (Leyla). Flames will be returned to sender, and trust us, it won't be pretty. This is a topic Jennifer's wanted to address for awhile, and if some people think it's out of character for Scully...well, tough. Hope all the little "{}" and "[]" marks aren't too confusing, it's hard to punctuate someone silently arguing with herself.

Jennifer's dedication: This one's dedicated to Chris, who's not only my trauma consultant, but my friend who stood by me when I was living this story. Thank you:)

Leyla's dedication: a great big thank you to MP, for keeping me sane and forcing me to do nothing but, and I quote, "write!!"



"A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it until I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife." --Sylvia Plath, "The Bell Jar"



ANGER 1/1
by: Jennifer Maurer and Leyla Harrison

It started innocently enough, I suppose, if such a thing can be said in the wake of my abduction. Abduction. God, I hate the word. I wouldn't care if I never heard it again. And every time I *do* hear the word, or similar words like "kidnapped," my mind will always fly back to the same thought: they took me. Against my will. Took me, hid me, did things to me. For three months.

Three months! The concept is mind boggling. I may not have a photographic memory like Mulder, but to have that much time torn away from me...it enrages me. If I let it. Somewhere inside me is a furious, screaming Dana Scully begging to be let out and wreak havoc. Doesn't matter what kind, this Dana Scully only wants to destroy things, hurt people, anything to make the anger go away. She claws at my insides, but still I will not release her. If I did, who knows what would happen. Sometimes it seems I could howl my rage until I die and still not be satisfied. But to do so would be... unprofessional. And God knows, Dana Scully has to be professional, no matter what the cost.

I never dreamed it would be such a high price to pay.

I was still fuzzy from my coma when Mulder broke the news to me. He came back into my room after Mom and Missy had left, to tell me himself. He was afraid I would see a magazine or news show and find out the date that way. He was so worried about how I'd handle it, poor guy---I think he was most afraid that I'd blame him. I assured him that I never would, even as a tiny, evil voice in the back of my head whispered {But if he'd been home when you called...} I resolutely shoved that thought away--- along with the first poison drop of anger. {THREE MONTHS!} my tired mind screamed, {THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!} But it was. No, Mulder had done the best he could. He shouldn't be expected to watch me every minute. I had the same training he did, I should be able to take care of myself. And I usually can. But not that time. *Should.* It was a word we'd both beaten ourselves up with.

I wasn't angry all the time, not at first. I was relieved to be alive, basked in the attention from everyone. It was flattering to find out I'd been so sorely missed. Of course, logically I'd always known that there were people who would miss me should I disappear...but actually being shown that is something different. Mom, Missy and Mulder (I came to think of them as "The 3 M's") hovered over me like a flock of mother hens, which was nice...until I started to get my strength back and wanted to be treated like an adult again.

I'm sorry to say that Mulder exasperated me the most. Mothers are supposed to coddle you when you're sick, and Missy had always been the bossy kind of older sister. But Mulder had always treated me as an equal---a somewhat close-minded equal, in his opinion, but an equal nonetheless. Those scales tipped way off balance after I got back, and soon I began to despair of things ever getting back to normal between us.

That was another pebble to add to my pile. I started keeping score, you see. The whole concept of my abduction was just too much for me to process...so I focused on smaller things instead. Or tried to, anyway. For the most part I succeeded. At least when I was awake.

The need for control...that had always been there. I wasn't obsessed or anything, but I don't mind admitting that I liked things in order. Coming back to the land of the living, trying to cope with missing time...that sent my defenses spiraling out of control.

I had lost weight while I was gone. I'd obviously been nourished somehow, most likely intravenously, although they could have sat me down at a banquet, for all I remember. Missy made some inane remark about getting some meat back on my bones...really, she sounded like someone's grandmother. Holding my hand at one point, Mulder softly commented that he'd never noticed before how small I was. He meant it in a nice way, I suppose, but I only wanted to smack him. Another part of me was comforted by the thought. If I was small then maybe they wouldn't find me to take me away again. Of course, being small also meant being weak and defenseless if they did come back. So it was a no-win situation.

By the time I was released from the hospital, I was ready to pick up my life right where I'd left off. Yeah, right. Three months had gone by, months Mulder had spent searching for me, although he'd also investigated a case on his own. Without me. I almost cried when I saw the file. A beautiful vampire, no less. He'd really lucked out, I thought bitterly. I shredded the file, tearing it apart with my hands and teeth, surprised at my own strength. If Mulder noticed it was missing, he never mentioned it. Which, of course, enraged me even more. In the old days...I used that phrase a lot after I got back. In the old days, Mulder would have ripped me up one side and down the other for doing something like that. Of course, in the old days I would never have done something like that in the first place.

I walked differently. My posture, straight to begin with, became ramrod. My spine was a steel rod, even when my legs were sometimes shaking too badly to support me. I only relaxed at night, when I went to bed, and often not even then.

I had no appetite to speak of. I just didn't feel the need for food. When it was placed in front of me I usually got nauseous. As a doctor, I knew that my stomach had probably shrunk. Mostly, I was just too tired to care. Everyone thought it would improve in time, myself included. Mom brought over my favorite things. Mulder tried to treat me to lunch just about every day---Chinese, burgers, pizza. I turned it all away. Or I took tiny mouthfuls and chewed them into mush. Food was too rich for me, no matter what it was. The smells overwhelmed me. I wanted things sterile, like the hospital, like...where I was before? It was white, and brightly lit...I stomped the flashes of memory down the way I stomped my anger. None of that.

They had kept me clean, whatever else they had done with me. Why? To get rid of evidence? Mulder had wanted me examined, only to be told someone had cleaned me prior to my mysterious hospital admittance. That bothered me particularly. Had they bathed me? Seen me naked? What else had they done with my body? The ideas my tormented imagination thought up drove me into frenzies of anger, followed by crying jags so intense I choked. I narrowed my energies to one fine point to keep my mind from overloading: I was clean. They had bathed me, without my knowledge or consent. In retrospect, it seems a ridiculous thing to be angry about, in light of all the other things that had been done to me. But oddly enough, it was my salvation, this selective wrath.

I flattered myself that no one was noticing the turbulence within me. I jumped right back into work as soon as I could get away with it. Mulder tried to get me to slow down but I calmly informed him that I'd lost enough time already. Inside, I wanted to claw his eyes out for making the suggestion. It's never easy to be angry at the people we love. I knew Mulder had the best of intentions, but I chose to focus on his overprotective attitude and take offense instead. He expected me to fight him but not as harshly as I did. There were times I couldn't speak to him without being caustic. Later, at home, I would feel bad for being so mean. I'd cry and resolve to be nicer to him the next day. The anger always rose up and got the best of me, however.

Mom was easier to handle because she was so afraid of me. She tiptoed around me like a bomb squad which only made me treat her worse. Part of me wanted someone to knock some sense into my head, to take the upper hand and tell me I was out of control. Oddly enough, however, when Melissa did just that I threw a screaming fit. I ranted and raved until I was red-faced and hoarse, asking her just who she thought she was, trying to run my life. She'd never bothered to keep in touch before, why the sudden interest in me now? Just because I'd been abducted, because I almost died? I didn't need her pity or her pearls of wisdom, she could shove them both up her ass. Melissa responded to my tirade in a way that shocked me: she did not fight. She only cried. My guilt was swept aside in a heady rush of power. I had mastered this confrontation, I had shown Melissa that Dana Scully was no weakling. I stormed ahead, determined to do the same everywhere.

I was at the office almost 24 hours a day, outlasting even Mulder. I knew if I sat still long enough I would start thinking about things I'd rather forget. I was in constant motion, running between Mulder's office and my own rarely-used one upstairs. Running from home to work and back again. Running around the track in the FBI academy gym in what little spare time I allowed myself. Just getting my strength back, I told myself. But there was more to it than that.

It took me by surprise.

My clothes told me first. One morning I noticed my skirt wasn't just a *little* big on me, I was *swimming* in it. I could stick both hands inside the waistband easily. The skirt floated around my middle, held up only by my hipbones. I grabbed a safety pin and adjusted the waistband. It bunched but with my blazer on no one would notice. In truth, I was more than a little pleased. Looked like all my hard work was paying off. {You needed to lose some weight anyway.}

I came into work that morning with a rare smile on my face. That tipped Mulder off right away. He treated it casually at first, asking me to share the joke. The more he prodded, however, the more defensive I got. It ceased to be friendly banter and rapidly escalated into a full-scale confrontation. Mulder wanted to know what the hell I thought I was doing to myself. I told him to mind his own business. He informed me, through clenched teeth, that as my partner my well-being *was* his business. I insisted I was fine and that's when his anger really skyrocketed.

"You're not fully recovered, Scully," he yelled, "You're pushing too hard, you need to take some time for yourself."

"I had three months to myself," I screamed back, "And a lot of good it did me!"

His face went white and I knew I'd gone too far. Up until now we had avoided the subject but I knew Mulder blamed himself for not reaching me in time. I had heard about his desperate chase up the mountain after Duane Barry. I can only imagine his guilt upon finding only an empty trunk and a raving lunatic. I wanted to reach out to him, assure him that it wasn't his fault. Something always stopped me. It was like being encased in glass. I could see my life but I couldn't touch it.

"Scully, I'm sorry..." he whispered.

"Don't be," I spat out, "Your pity doesn't do me any good."

His eyes widened. "I don't pity you, Scully, I only meant..."

"I know what you meant, Mulder," I sighed, sinking into my chair, "I know you're sorry. But it doesn't matter now. It happened, we can't change it. Let's just forget about it."

That was the wrong thing to say. Mulder immediately leapt on his repressed memory soapbox and starting singing the praises of hypnotherapy until I lost my temper again. The silence following my outburst was thick. When had I ever raised my voice at Mulder like that? In all our disagreements, we'd always acted like rational adults. Now we had fallen into new roles: I blew my stack, and Mulder slunk into a corner to be silently repentant. I wondered when he was going to crack and let me have it.

It only took him a few more weeks.

He fought back when I least expected it. Again, I walked into the office with a smile on my face. I'd treated myself to a new suit---one two sizes smaller than what I usually wore. It was black, and not unlike a thousand other outfits Mulder had seen me wear. Truth be told, I was hoping for a compliment. I got something else entirely.

"Going to a funeral?" he asked me sarcastically as soon as I walked into the office. I set my briefcase down on my desk with slow, deliberate movements, determined not to lose my temper this time. I was going to stay in control and be the winner of *this* confrontation. I turned around to face him.

"No," I said pleasantly, "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're dressed for one," he snapped, "No, even better: you look like you're dressed for your *own* funeral. Which won't be long in coming, at the rate you're going."

I bit the inside of my cheek to hard I tasted blood. My stomach clenched as the salty taste dripped down my throat, and I had to concentrate in order to keep from gagging. Why is he doing this? He was so kind when I was in the hospital. Why couldn't he be that way now? Or better yet, just back off and leave me alone. I set my jaw and delivered my retort.

"I didn't come back from the dead to be treated like this, Mulder," I said, hoping a reminder of how grave my condition had been would shock him into silence. I was ashamed of myself for manipulating him like that, but this conversation had to end. My instincts were flashing danger signs and I knew this, too, would soon erupt into another battle. My rage was getting more and more difficult to control these days. My outbursts were more frequent and violent. I was reaching some kind of breaking point, I secretly suspected. The last thing I needed was for Mulder to send me over the edge.

"They why *did* you come back, Scully?" he asked me, rising from behind his desk to tower over me. "So you could finish the job for them, kill yourself on your own terms this time?"

I slapped him across the face, hard. "How dare you!" I hissed.

Mulder rubbed his cheek. "No, Scully, how dare *you.* How dare you throw away your life after almost losing it."

I sat down in my chair, hard. I wasn't throwing away my life, was I? I only wanted to keep things in check, make sure I was safe. And if I lost a few pounds in the process, got into shape, what harm was there?

"Mulder, I'm sorry."

{No, you're not! Stop apologizing! You haven't done anything wrong! Stand up for yourself and don't let him treat you like an invalid! You don't have to take this!}

The beseeching look on Mulder's face stopped me from vocalizing my rage.

"Are you, Scully?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes."

{Bullshit!)

"Then would you do something for me?"

{No, fuck him! You've done enough for him already! You followed him on his wild goose chases and look what happened! Why should you do *anything* for him?}

"Wh-what is it, Mulder?"

{Pull yourself together! Stop sounding so scared!}

"Eat something," he pleaded with me, "Let me take you out to lunch, anywhere you want. Please, Scully. You're so thin..."

{No, you're not. You still have a ways to go.}

"Okay," I squeaked out.

{What?! What are you doing! You can't have anything!}

His whole face lit up. I almost cried. I must have been a real bitch lately if the prospect of taking me to lunch could elate him so.

"Really?"

I managed a wan smile. "Yes, really. You pick."

"No, Scully, you decide. What's your favorite place

to eat out?" I clenched my jaw to keep my patience.

{You don't want to eat with him!}
[Shut up, yes I do. I'm hungry.]
(No, you're not! You don't need his pity!}

"Ummm...Harry's Pub, on E street?"

"Good choice. Nice day for an open air cafe."

I managed a tight-lipped smile. Actually, I was freezing. I was cold all the time now. Every muscle in my body was pulled taut from the cold and the tension.

We walked in silence. I was too nervous to talk. As we neared the pub and the smells of cooking washed over us, I fought the increasing urge to turn and flee. Mulder lifted his face and sniffed.

"Mmm, something smells good," he commented.

{What kind of a lame remark is that? He's Oxford- educated, can't he come up with something better?}
[Shut up, leave him alone. He's probably as scared as I am.]

I barely managed to stop myself from shrugging off Mulder's light touch on the small of my back as we walked in the door. The clink of silverware and clatter of dishes seemed overly loud to my ears. I could feel a fine line of sweat forming along my hairline.

{Just what the hell do you think you're doing here?}
[Having lunch with my partner. Leave me alone.]

We were seated and handed menus. I stared blankly at the words in front of me, dazzled by such a selection. Something small and light, I thought. A breeze blew in through the open window and I reached up to tuck my hair back behind my ear. I jumped at Mulder's startled gasp.

"What?"

He reached across the table and took my hand in his, studied it.

"Scully...your fingernails are blue."

I yanked my cold hand from his warm grip and studied them. Instead of a healthy pink, the skin beneath my nails was a delicate purple from the cold. Only it wasn't cold, it was a beautiful spring day. *I* was cold.

"Your lips, too...Jesus Christ, Scully, are you *that* cold?"

"No, Mulder, I'm fine." Before I finished the sentence he was flagging down the waitress. I wanted to dive across the table and strangle him with my bare hands.

"Could we move to another table away from the windows? My friend is a little chilly."

{He won't be your friend for long after this, drawing attention to you this way.}
[Fuck off! He's concerned about me. Maybe he has a reason to be.]
{No, he doesn't. You can take care of yourself.}

I followed the waitress across the restaurant, silently seething. People were staring at us, I could feel it. I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, ignoring the stares and Mulder's eyes boring holes in my back. She re-seated us in a dark corner booth and I gratefully slid in the side against the wall. Okay, maybe this was better. Away from the polluted, crowded street. Who wanted to eat lunch with that in your face, anyway?

"Two cups of coffee, please," Mulder said before the waitress left. He met my inquiring look.

"You need something to warm you up," he said, his voice flat. I knew he was trying to keep his tone neutral to avoid another argument.

"Thanks, but I'm---"

"*Don't* tell me you're fine, Scully, because you're obviously not. People who are *fine* don't turn blue from sitting by an open window on a warm spring day. Come to think of it, I'm getting a little warm, myself."

Glaring at me defiantly, Mulder took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his cuffs. I kept my blazer on, crossing my arms in front of me.

"What's your point, Mulder?"

"My *point,* Scully, is that you're dangerously underweight. You haven't gained any weight back since you woke up, you just keep losing. I'm worried about you, I want you to see a doctor."

Relief flooded me. Mulder didn't have a clue. He thought this was something beyond my control, a physical symptom leftover from my...time away. He had no idea how hard I worked to stick to my routine, keep my life in order.

"I *am* a doctor," I said, a tad patronizingly.

"I know that," he snapped, "I meant a doctor who can be objective about your condition. Which you, obviously, cannot be."

{Piece of cake! Just tell him you saw a doctor, you're fine, he can stop worrying!}
[I can't *lie* to Mulder!]
{Why not, if it gets him off your back?}
[No, he trusts me. I'm the *only* one he trusts, I can't shatter that by lying to him.]

"Scully?"

"I zoned out, Mulder, I'm sorry. I'll think about it, okay? That's the best I can offer right now."

He sat back, unsatisfied but knowing he couldn't push anymore.

"I'll settle for a maybe...for now," he said ominously, picking up his menu again.

{Eat something. That'll shut him up quick. We can fix it later.}

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asked, setting down our coffee cups.

"Uh, yeah," Mulder said, "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries, and a Coke."

"I'll have the same," I said, shutting the menu with a snap.

Mulder had the manners to wait until the waitress left before he pounced on me.

"Dana Scully, goddess of the salads, queen of sensible eating, swimming with me in the cholesterol gutter?"

I shrugged good-naturedly.

"Even a goddess needs to treat herself now and then."

"Yeah, but your idea of a treat is low-fat frozen yogurt," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"I'm in the mood for grease, Mulder, let's leave it at that, okay?"

"Like I always say, it keeps the system running smooth."

I rolled my eyes and said nothing. The silence drew out between us. We'd spent hardly any down time together since I came back to work. This lunch would have been an unusual event for us in normal circumstances. The recent stress of my return made it all the more awkward. We never talked about any of it. I stopped Mulder every time he tried to get started. I knew he wanted answers, but I just wasn't prepared to go looking for them. I sighed quietly and curled my hands around my coffee cup. The warmth did feel good.

"Scully?"

I looked up from my coffee to meet his concerned gaze. "Yes?"

"Are you really okay?"

The question stopped me dead. The opposite camps in my head instantly started warring to provide the answer.

{Yes! You're just fine!}
[No, I'm not.]
{What's wrong with you?}
[Look at me! I look like a...]
{What? You look great. You're getting in shape, you're regaining control...}
[I don't want this kind of control.]
{Oh, so you want to be completely powerless, like you were when they abducted you?}
[SHUT UP!]

"Scully?" Mulder reached out to get my attention, and I jumped a mile, spilling coffee all over my hands.

"God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, wiping the coffee off my hands gently.

"It's okay, I was just day-dreaming," I muttered, snatching the napkin from him and scrubbing my hands with it.

"You do that a lot lately," he observed.

I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. "The answer is still no, Mulder, I don't remember anything."

I waited for his usual reassurance that it didn't matter, the one that always pissed me off because I knew it did.

I didn't get it.

"How does that make you feel?" he asked, leaning so close to me I could smell his aftershave. My eyes widened in shock.

"What did you just say?"

"I said, how does not remembering make you feel? It's a simple question, Scully."

I was saved from answering by the arrival of our food. Bypass surgery on a plate, I thought sourly. Still, it smelled wonderful. It looked delicious. Mulder splattered ketchup over everything and dug in enthusiastically. I started more slowly, but after the first few bites my appetite was reawakened. I had to pace myself or I would have started gobbling faster than Mulder. The burger was juicy and pink inside, just the way I liked them. The fries were greasy and salty...my tastebuds, bored with fruit and diet sodas, luxuriated in the forbidden pleasure. I swallowed, feeling my stomach stretch with the food. I had never enjoyed a meal so much, it seemed. I had never been so disappointed in myself, either. Even as I was popping the last fry and licking my fingers, I knew I was going to have to get rid of this food. I knew exactly how I was going to do it, too.

{A quick trip to the ladies room, and you're set.}
[No! No way. I'm a doctor, I know what purging does to the body.]
{Oh, yeah? So I guess you also know what *fat* does to the body, too. Get rid of it.}
[But it tasted so good...]
{I agree. But it can't stay, you can't break the rules now!}

Mulder interrupted my inner battle by sitting back with a contented sigh.

"That was great," he said, lazily sipping his Coke. "You look like you enjoyed yourself, too," he continued, eyeing my empty plate.

I felt my face start to burn. I looked down, suddenly disgusted. I had made a pig of myself. Just because I had lunch with Mulder was no reason to eat like him. I forced my face into more relaxed lines, not wanting him to sense my anxiety.

{Go now!}
[No, Mulder will guess what I'm doing.]
{No, he won't, he's clueless.}
[He's an Oxford educated psychologist, he knows the signs of eating disorders.]
{Too bad you don't have one! Now get going!}

"Ready to go?" he asked me, signaling for our check.

"Yes," I said decisively, silencing the angry voice in my head for the time being. I couldn't do this in front of Mulder. Not just because I was afraid he'd figure out what I was doing. I couldn't bear to violate his trust with him so close by. No promises had been made, true, but I knew Mulder considered this a step in the right direction. He wanted me to be okay. I couldn't come back out of that bathroom and face him knowing what I had done. I had to get some distance, keep it close to the chest.

Mulder guided me out of the restaurant with his hand on the small of my back in his customary gesture. I wanted to slap it away. I didn't deserve him being so kind to me. He'd paid for this nice lunch and now I was going to ruin it all. I never wanted him to know but I hated lying to him. I just couldn't win.

"So, Scully, we have a little time...wanna window shop?"

I swallowed a silly retort. Mulder was definitely not the window shopping type.

{He wants to keep an eye on you.}
[He does not! Maybe he's just enjoying my company.]
{Oh, right. Like you're the most pleasant person to be around these days!}

"No, thanks," I replied, struggling to keep my tone light, "I have a few errands to run, I'll meet you back at the office, okay?"

"Fine," he answered, "I'll see you there." He surprised me then reaching for my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"What was that for?"

"For having lunch with me," he answered simply, "See ya." He turned and loped away. I stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching him walk away. I suddenly found myself wishing he didn't have so much faith in me. It would make deceiving him easier. Did he really have no idea what I was about to do? I wanted to run and catch up with him, ask him to stop me. Mulder, I'm out of control. Words he'd never expect to hear from me.

{He's a psychologist, he should know better.}
[I'm a medical doctor, so should I.]

I wandered slowly down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, wondering exactly how I was going to go about this. I felt uncomfortably bloated, and slightly sleepy. Discreetly, I looked down at my body. Was my stomach protruding? My waistband felt tight. I picked up my pace a little, my anxiety growing as the seconds ticked by. I had do this soon, before I lost my nerve. Before the nagging voice in my head drove me crazy. I wished I'd never agreed to have lunch with him. No, I was glad I had, it made him so happy.

I glanced into each shop I passed, wondering if they had a restroom. I should have used the bathroom in the restaurant...I could go back there. No, that would look funny. I didn't want anyone to hear me, think I was sick. I wanted everyone to leave me alone, damn it! Just leave me alone and let me get my life back in order.

I glanced up at the street signs on the next corner and realized I wasn't too far from home. Only 15 blocks or so...I could walk that easily.

{After pigging out, you could use the exercise.}

I walked faster now that I had a destination, stretching my legs as far as they would go. Yes, this was perfect. Take care of this in the privacy of my own home, catch a cab back to the office. Nothing could be easier...so why was my stomach doing cartwheels? I was just not used to such greasy food, I assured myself, it's natural to feel a little queasy. Sweat gathered under my arms and started trickling down my sides. I counted off the blocks in my head, willing my aching legs to carry me faster. The closer I got, the more frantic I was to get there. It was almost like running in a dream, and getting nowhere.

{What are you running from, Dana?}

Every breath burned my lungs. When had I started to cry? Tears trickled down my face and I pushed myself to go faster, not wanting anyone to see me cry. I felt so huge, blown up like a balloon...my world had narrowed down to getting rid of this feeling, whittling myself down to purity again. I had to get rid of the poisons in my system.

Sobbing openly, I wrenched open the door to my building and ran for the stairs. I wanted to run from this feeling of over-fullness, stretched beyond my limits. Crazy images of myself pregnant, swollen beyond recognition, flooded into my head and I took the stairs two at a time.

{Get it out! Get it out right now! Get rid of it before it grows on you! Don't let it stay!}
[They did this to me, they did this to me...I'm not supposed to be this big...]

I staggered through the door, shucking off my blazer as I went. I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up. The terrible pressure building inside my chest exploded and with a guttural scream I expelled everything inside me. The first wave of nausea subsided and I reached down with shaking hands to unzip my skirt. Freed from the confines of my suit, I felt a little better. I huddled down on the floor, feeling like my bones were going to come right through my skin. I shifted, trying to get comfortable on the unforgiving tile floor. When the worst of it subsided I made myself gag until there was nothing but dry heaves. Satisfied that I had gotten all the food out of my system, I flushed the toilet and closed the lid, leaning my burning face against the cool porcelain.

{Don't you feel better now?}
[No, I feel like shit.]
{That'll pass. At least you're not all swollen anymore, like when---}
[STOP IT! I got rid of the food, now leave me alone.]

I sat there, my tears pooling on the lid, until I couldn't stand the taste in my mouth anymore. I could have just tipped over sideways and fallen asleep right there on the floor, but I dragged myself to my feet. My reflection in the mirror horrified and fascinated me. The shadows under my eyes were startling against my ashen skin. I backed up, trying to see the rest of me in the small mirror. Clad in only my blouse, my legs looked---

{Huge.}
[Like toothpicks.]

I swept my hair back off my face and brought my hands down to cup some water from the faucet. Slowly, unable to believe what I was seeing, I spread my fingers wide. Strands of my red hair were caught in my fingers, more than there should have been. My dry, limp hair was coming out in my hands. Disgusted, I shook my hands over the trash can and watched the bright strands fall.

I took a mouthful of water, swished it around, spit it out. I repeated that several times, then brushed my teeth vigorously and used mouthwash. My mouth was sparkling but I still had a sour taste in the back of my throat.

[I could really go for something sweet...a soda.]
{Okay, but make it diet.}

I glanced down at myself as I padded into the kitchen. My blouse was ruined, splattered with water and spots of vomit. I'd have to change before I went back. Luckily my suit was still intact.

[How will I explain that to Mulder?]
{He's so clueless, he'll never notice you're wearing another blouse, just keep your blazer on.}

I opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of Diet Coke. I took several long gulps, washing the last of the bitterness away. I set the can down with a sigh and pondered the still-open refrigerator before me.

I had bought no food for myself since returning home from the hospital. Mom, however, had done enough shopping for an entire family. Mulder had even brought over goodies at various points, all of them fattening chocolate things. Melissa had actually listened to me ask for healthy food and that's where my yogurt and fruit came from. Since I hardly ever ate, shopping just didn't occur to me anymore. In fact, I hadn't been to the market since---

{Since the night that maniac broke in here and...}

I shut that thought off and forced myself to switch subjects. Standing in front of an open refrigerator, however, there was only one thing to think about: food.

A pickle would taste good after that sweet soda, I thought, reaching for the fat jar. I bit down, enjoying the crunch between my teeth and the tangy juice filling my mouth. Something salty now...potato chips. All the chocolate Mulder brought was finally put to use. I ate indiscriminately. I went back and forth from one taste to another. In the end, I didn't pause long enough to distinguish between anything, I shoved it in my mouth as fast as I could. Oh, all the things I had been denying myself these past few months, I wanted them all at once.

I came back to myself suddenly, shocked at the mess. Crumbs and wrappers were strewn all over the floor. I felt as though I'd filled myself to the brim with garbage. The world tilted. I made my way back to the bathroom dizzily, leaving sticky hand prints on the walls as I went. This was worse than lunch with Mulder, much worse. I really felt as though I might explode. I gasped for air, my breath whooping in my ears. Strangely, the angry voice in my head was silent, drowned out by visions...

[I am strapped down to a table. I can't move. The room is such a bright white that it hurts my eyes even through their closed lids. My legs are being spread, something cold is inserted in me. It is a feeling similar to a menstrual cramp, but more hollow. *I* am hollow. I dare a peek and see nothing but the vast expanse of my belly in front of me, with tubes and a pole rising from my navel. My body is shocked at the invasion. My mind stretches to the edge of sanity, trying to comprehend what is happening to me...Mulder where are you? I can hear your voice calling me but no rescue comes.]

I fell to my knees in front of the toilet, sobbing even as I regurgitated my angry feast. I wanted it all out of me, every last bit of it: the food, the memories, the pain. I wanted to fill the void of my missing three months, write over the blank pages with a normal life. I wanted Mulder to burst in and save me from Duane Barry this time.

The bathroom door flew open with no warning.

[Oh, God, Duane Barry's back, they sent him to get me, they want me back...]

I scrabbled backwards into the corner, screaming. I knew that I couldn't let him touch me, he couldn't get the upper hand this time. Strong arms reached for me. I kept screaming, clawed at the face looming above mine.

"MULDER I NEED YOUR HELP! MULDER!"

The arms wrapped tight around me, squeezing the air out of my lungs. With one last sob I sank into the blackness, too tired to fight anymore.

When I woke up the world was ablaze with sunshine. I squinted against the glare, trying to figure out where I was. The ground was dusty, cracked clay, so hot it burned the soles of my bare feet. Sticky rivers of sweat poured down my body, soaking through the thin cotton of the hospital gown I wore. Had I been abducted again, and dumped in this desert? It seemed so. I turned a slow circle and caught the sparkle of water on the horizon. The wavy lines of heat distorted my vision; it was impossible to tell how far away the lake was, if indeed it was real at all. I was so tired I just wanted to stretch out right on the ground, but I knew I had to walk somewhere. If I stayed here I would die.

As I drew closer to the lake I saw two things. One, that it was indeed real, and two, that someone was sitting beside it. The person, it looked like a man, was sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs and his head hidden against his knees. He wore a hospital gown like mine. Had he been kidnapped too? If so, did he escape or was he left here as well? Where *was* here, for that matter? I decided I had nothing to lose, so I approached him.

"Hello?"

The man lifted his head and I gasped in surprise. It was Mulder and he looked terrible. His face bore several bloody scratches and a black eye. The hospital gown clung to his body, damp with sweat, and I could see that he was emaciated. I hurried over and knelt down beside him.

"Mulder, my God, what happened?" I cupped his chin to try and assess the extent of his injuries but he flinched away from me. He drew his thin legs up closer to his body and stared at me miserably.

"Scully, it's so hot," he whispered.

"I know," I answered, smoothing his sweaty hair back from his forehead. I turned to look at the lake next to us. It wasn't very large but seemed to be deep, the water darkening to almost navy blue in the center. The water looked clean and the breezes that blew across the surface brought puffs of cool air. I wondered why Mulder hadn't had the sense to drink some of the water, or even submerse himself in it. Maybe he was in shock, I reasoned.

"Mulder, come on, let's get you a drink of water," I suggested, tugging gently on his elbow to try and get him to move closer to the water's edge. He yanked his arm out of my grip and scooted away from me, eyeing the water fearfully.

"No, I can't have any," he said sadly.

I looked at him incredulously. "Why not?"

"I'm not allowed."

"Says who?" I challenged. "Mulder, you have to drink something or you're going to die. You're already dangerously dehydrated. Look, I'll have some first so you'll see that it's safe."

I bent over the water and noticed that I could see almost all the way down to the bottom. The water wasn't the turquoise of tropical oceans, but rather the deep royal blue of fresh water lakes. The bottom sloped gently away towards the center. The water itself had a clean, fresh scent that reminded me of something I couldn't quite place. I scooped up a handful, then another, drinking deeply. It tasted wonderful after all the dust I'd been inhaling. I splashed some on my face and sat back with a satisfied sigh.

"See, Mulder, it's nice and cold, please drink some. You look like you've been out here for awhile."

"I have."

"How long? And how did you get here?"

"I-I've always been here," he answered slowly, "Ever since you got back."

"Ever since I..." my voice trailed off in confusion. Then a breeze blew across the surface of the water and I knew. The earthy scent of the water reminded me of another lake, where I had drifted in a rowboat, floating between life and death. Mulder had come to me there, stood on the dock and helped me get ashore. I had never spoken of it with him, dismissing it as a dream even while part of me insisted there was more to it than that. Now here we were in the middle of some desert...what was happening this time?

"Mulder, where are we?"

"I don't know."

"How did we get here?"

"You brought us here, Scully."

"*I* did?"

"Well, you came here, and I followed you. I had to. I didn't want anything bad to happen to you. Not like last time..." Tears started to trickle down Mulder's face, making tracks in the dust that covered his features.

"Why did I come here?"

"Because you're angry."

Another memory washed over me, of being adrift in the boat, feeling Mulder's anger across the water. The air had been thick with it, making it hard to breathe. I looked around me, at the wasteland that surrounded us. Not a living thing for miles except for us, no plants or animals. Everything good was burned away except for this lake, where I had found Mulder, dying within arm's reach of that which would save his life.

"That's why it's so hot," I murmured.

"Yes."

I turned back to him, noticing for the first time that Mulder was turning red with sunburn. I still didn't understand what *he* was doing here. He had stood on the dock because he wanted me to wake up from my coma. Why would he follow me into this desert and subject himself to this raging heat that apparently I had created?

"But Mulder, what are *you* doing here?"

He gazed at me sadly with sunken eyes. "I'm here because you're angry at me. It was my fault that you were abducted. It's only fair that I suffer what you're suffering."

"Mulder, that's not true."

He reached out and grabbed my hands in a painful grip. "Scully, whatever happens to you, happens to me."

I gaped at him, finally understanding. I had been so wrapped up in my own struggle to survive that I hadn't noticed Mulder's pain. Logically I knew he felt guilty about my abduction but I had assumed avoiding the subject would help both of us heal. It only made things worse, brought us to this place. Mulder let go of my hands and bowed his head in shame, crying softly. I heard him muttering under his breath and leaned closer to make out what he was saying.

"I couldn't save her and I couldn't save you," he repeated over and over. Tears poured down my face as I watched Mulder quietly tear himself apart. We had shut each other out in an effort to survive and it had only brought about our destruction. I grabbed his wrists and jerked hard, forcing him to look at me.

"Mulder, listen to me. None of this was your fault, do you hear me? Not my abduction and not Samantha's. You did everything you could to help us. I *do not* blame you for what happened to me. I'm angry about it, yes, but not at you. Let go of the guilt, okay?"

"Scully, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me. Our bodies burned against each other and I knew we wouldn't last much longer in this heat.

"I'm sorry too, Mulder, for everything I put you through. Now come on, you need some water."

I tugged on his hands and this time he rose to his feet. He let me lead him to the water's edge and we stepped in together, still holding hands. In slow steps we walked down the incline, deeper into the cool blue water. It felt wonderful on my skin, in my hair, washing away the sweat and dust. Our eyes locked and we took a deep breath, sinking under the surface.

I opened my eyes underwater and saw Mulder next to me, smiling gently. It felt safe under here, the harsh sunlight reduced to silver sparkles. It was the difference between night and day, anger and tranquillity. I drifted into Mulder's arms and we held each other, weightless and free.

I could have stayed in his embrace forever, but soon my chest started to tighten with the need for air. As if he had sensed this, Mulder pulled back from me and looked up to the surface, where a watery sun shimmered far away. He looked back to me and gestured upwards. I could hear him as clearly as if he'd spoken. He wanted us to surface. I drew back and shook my head, frowning. I preferred to drown here than face the heat above. I knew the desert was still there, I could sense it. At the bottom of this lake it was just the two of us, hidden away in a cool blue womb. I could think of worse ways to go.

I expected Mulder to frown back and try to pull me along with him, but he only looked up again, then back at me sadly. He reached out and ran his fingers though my hair, combing it out. He cupped my face and kissed me on the forehead, his lips warm even underwater. Then he let go of me and slowly started drifting upward, all the time keeping one hand extended down towards me. The sight of him leaving me suddenly made me panic and I grasped his hand just before it rose out of reach.

Mulder held my hands tightly as we rose upwards through the water. The light grew stronger, and I braced myself for a return to the burning heat. I could hear noise, filtered through the water. I tried to pull away to clap my hands over my ears but Mulder wouldn't let go. One last kick, a blinding flash, and with a gasp we broke the surface.

"What have we got?"

"31-year old female, found unconscious. Appears undernourished."

"IV started, 18 gauge, left anecubetal, normal saline running wide open."

"Will she be all right?"

Lights flashed by at regular intervals. Not golden like the sun but white and sterile. I knew these lights; they had blinded me before, pulsed in time to my heartbeat.

"Her partner reports she was experiencing hallucinations."

"Is she taking any drugs?"

"No, I think she was having flashbacks..."

"Okay, on my count..."

Vague forms, dressed in scrubs, surrounded me. I didn't know who they were, my eyes wouldn't focus. They lifted me and my head spun with a feeling of vertigo. I felt weightless, detached.

"Pupils equal and reactive to light."

"BP, 70/40."

"Respiration, 28."

"Pulse, 110."

"Sir, please, you need to wait outside."

I had returned into chaos. After the peace of the lake it was unbearable. The warm hand holding mine was the only thing that kept me from drifting away. I felt it was important to someone that I stay.

"Sinus-Tach with occasional PVC's."

"Okay, let's get her on a heart monitor!"

"Lactated ringers, dopamine drip, and check her electrolytes."

"She's going into shock!"

"I'm not leaving her, damn it!"

Words swirled around me, made my head pound. I couldn't concentrate long enough to figure out why I was here, or what was happening to me. Was this a hospital? If so, *whose* hospital? The hand holding mine was suddenly pulled away and with it, my last tether to consciousness. As I slipped into the blackness I heard an anguished voice call my name, then nothing.

I heard the beeping before anything else. Steady and measured, it became my guide out of the darkness.

I opened my eyes. No blazing sunshine this time, just green hospital walls. I turned my head slowly, wincing at the pain. Mulder slept in a chair beside my bed, his head resting against the back of the chair. He looked terrible, like he had in the desert...the breath whooshed out of my lungs as I saw that he bore the same injuries I'd seen on him then. My ragged breathing woke him with a start, but he got his bearings quickly.

"Hey, Scully," he said softly, his voice weary.

I tried to imagine what could have happened, who could have hurt him so badly that he looked like he did. "What happened to you?" I asked, gesturing. My own voice came out raw and dry. I cleared my throat and Mulder got to his feet and moved towards the bedside table.

"Let me get you some water," he said, pouring a glass and handing it to me. I drank it all down in big gulps gratefully, the cool water soothing my aching throat.

"Mulder, what happened?" I asked again, holding the now empty styrofoam cup with a weak hand.

He sat back down and put his head down, looking at his lap. Finally he raised his head and looked at me, meeting my expectant gaze. "You did this to me, Scully." His voice was soft, low, but not accusatory.

I blinked, then struggled to remember. I did this to him? He looked as if he had been attacked by someone who had intense rage bottled up. And then I realized: it made perfect sense that the person who did that to him was me.

I lowered my eyes, unable to look at him. Guilt washed over me in great waves. I closed my eyes and let the cup drop from my fingers. My hand went to cover my eyes.

"Please, Mulder," I managed, "please, I need to be alone."

"No, Scully, I'm not leaving."

I uncovered my eyes and looked at him. "Look what I've done to you. Look," I gestured, "what I've done to myself."

"Do you really know what you've done to yourself?" he asked. "Do you know what you're doing? You're killing yourself slowly, Scully. Little by little, you're starving yourself to death. Inside and out."

I nodded. I know, Mulder, I thought. I know.

"I can't stand by and let you do it to yourself. I can't. Scully, you're the most important person in the world to me," he said, the words all coming out in a rush. I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

There was a long silence. I knew what he meant. I just wasn't sure I had heard him correctly.

"You need help, Scully," he finally told me softly, sadly. "I'll be there. I'll do anything it takes to help you. But I can't do it all on my own. It has to be you doing the work."

My eyes filled with tears suddenly and I tried desperately to hold them back. "I'm scared, Mulder. I still don't know what happened. When I was gone."

The tears fell and spilled over my cheeks.

"I know," he said, and got up from his chair to come to the side of the bed. He sat down and put his arms around me. He tucked my head under his chin gently. "I know," he repeated, into my hair.

"I have to know, Mulder. I have to." My words were muffled into his chest.

"You will, Scully. We'll find out. I promise." His words were soft and reassuring. "But first you have to take care of yourself. You have to get better before you can do anything else. And then, I promise you, we'll find out what happened. You won't have to do this alone, Scully. You'll never be alone. I swear it."

I pressed my face into his chest more and cried, letting out all of the pain, all of the anger. All of it.

Finally, it was being released.



Jennifer's closing remarks: This is a story close to my heart, for obvious reasons. Feedback would be sincerely appreciated. I want to express my deepest gratitude to Leyla Harrison, who joined me on this venture and helped me see it to completion.

"We all have a dark side; it's bullshit to say that we don't. At some point we're going to have to face that." --Sarah McLachlan