What She's Lost

Author: Jamie Greco

Jgreco217@aol.com

Rating: PG

Classification: S

Spoilers: Not really, unless you're a season behind.

Disclaimer: Obviously these aren't my characters or there would have 
been a lot more angst this year.  So, no infringement is intended, 
just some clarification.

Summary: "This is Not Happening" hasn't happened, yet.  Scully visits 
Mulder's therapist (a recurring character for me.)  

Author's notes: I would like to believe Scully is simply covering her 
emotional turmoil were Mulder is concerned.  I want to believe...

Also, for those who haven't visited in some time, my web site has 
changed.  It is now jamiegreco.envy.nu  (Thanks Lauryn)  Come up and 
see me some time.

Thanks again, JP for editing, even though your heart now belongs to 
The West Wing.

I'd love for you to archive me.  But let me know so I can visit.

And last, but not at all least, let me know if you like the story.  I 
love hearing from you.




She fingered the curve on the arm of the chair in which she 
fidgeted.  "I call his answering machine," she said so quietly, and 
her words immediately dissolved in the air.  But it's my job to catch 
words before they disappear.

I find that when people aren't ready to voice certain thoughts, they 
mumble or whisper in a kind of dress rehearsal.  If I wait a moment, 
they tend to repeat their words, sometimes with more clarity.  I 
realized, as the ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder in the 
dense silence, that Dana Scully was not going to offer up this 
sentiment again, not without prompting.  "I'm sorry; I didn't hear.  
Could you speak up a little?" I urged.

She pushed her hair behind an ear and fidgeted a little more, her 
eyes cast downward.  As I watched for a sign that she would speak 
again, I suddenly realized she had freckles.  Why this touched me, I 
don't know.  Before I could contemplate it further, she fixed me with 
a direct gaze, her chin tilted up at a challenging angle.  "I'm not 
the kind of woman who indulges whimsical impulses."

"I wouldn't characterize you that way," I agreed readily.

"You don't know me that well, but I can assure you-"

"I probably know you better than you can imagine," I reply too 
hastily.  She didn't reply verbally, but her face conveyed the 
message that she found me disingenuous at least.

"You're Mulder's psychologist," she clarified solemnly.  "I purposely 
came here because you know him better than you know me."

"That's undeniable, Agent Scully," I confirmed as I rose from my 
chair, feeling slightly dry mouthed.  Something about this woman made 
me feel slightly ill at ease.  Freckles or no, she was not someone to 
be underestimated.  Even if her partner had not fashioned this image 
of her for me, I would have come to that conclusion on my own.  
Finally I stood, maybe just for the distance. "More tea?"

"Nothing is undeniable, Ms. Kennedy," she countered, holding out her 
mug. 

As I looked into her face, I glimpsed a bit of the tragic journey I 
knew Mulder had undertaken. "You're right," I conceded, taking her 
mug from her and proceeding to fill it from what my assistant refers 
to as bottomless pot of tea.  "So much is a matter of perception.  
Even my assertion that I know a great deal about you is my 
perception, drawn from Mulder's.  I probably should apologize for 
assuming."

"No need," she replied, holding out her hand.  

I handed her the cup and settled into the chair opposite her, feeling 
slightly remorseful.  "Would you like to repeat what you said a 
moment ago, or would you prefer to tell me why you sought out a 
therapist who has worked with your partner?"    

"It's up to me, huh?" she said with the slightest of smiles.

"I think it's best," I replied, returning her smile in the same 
measure.

She sipped at the tea.  "Mm- it's good.  What is it?"

"My latest passion-Lady Grey."

She tested it again.  "I'm trying to cut back on caffeine, but this 
might become my daily allowance."

"I'm glad you like it."

She lapsed into silence, and I let her gather her thoughts as I 
watched one cloud after another pass over her delicate features.  She 
had changed; there was no mistaking that.  When I met her in the 
presence of her partner, she had a subtle glow from within, not 
shining on the surface like satin but more concealed.  She had been 
like a candle behind a curtain of silk, and now the light had been 
snuffed out.  I felt the loss as if it was my own.   "You know that 
Mulder is...missing," she said after a moment.

"I...yes.  I called his office when he didn't show up for a few 
appointments and he didn't return my calls.  Someone answered-a man. 
He was vague, but I got the gist.  I feared he might be dead; I have 
to admit.  I called you..."

"I know.  I'm sorry.  There was a time when I couldn't...I just 
couldn't say the words.  I couldn't hear them coming from my own lips 
or they'd be more....

"Real?"

She shook her head slightly.  "It was like admitting my defeat.  
Saying the words meant that I was conceding that he was gone."

"Can I ask...do you know where he is?"

She fixed me with a steady gaze and nodded slowly.  "I know where he 
is."

Her eyes spoke volumes and yet she wasn't going to confirm what she 
insinuated with her expression.  Yet, from what I had been forced to 
accept about Mulder's  beliefs, I knew what she meant; and I shivered 
somewhere at the core of my being. I found myself unable to speak, 
and so I looked back at her and we shared something I have yet to 
completely understand. 

"I came here," she finally began without prompting, "because I find 
myself needing to talk about him to someone who knows something 
beyond the surface of Mulder."

"I see."

"I needed to say things aloud...I think.  Maybe I just need to be 
heard by someone whose vision of Mulder isn't clouded by a weakly 
drawn opinion of him.  I couldn't think of anyone who might know him 
well enough to understand and still could be trusted..." Her eyes 
shifted toward the window.  My back was toward her view, but I could 
see the sun was going down by the shifting shades that played against 
her cheekbones and the color in her hair.  The world was drawing away 
from the daylight and settling into night, and I saw it all on her 
face.  "Mulder trusted you," she added, looking back into my eyes.  

I had to laugh a little, causing her expression to change subtly, to 
draw in, and I regretted it.  I placed a hand over my lips, feeling 
inappropriate, but I was still slightly amused.  If I had to 
characterize what I believed Mulder felt about me, trust would be 
very low on the list.  Finally I had to address my laughter.  "Well, 
if that's true, it was certainly a hard fought victory," I confessed.

"You don't think he trusted you?"

"I think he learned to accept me.  I don't know if he ever got so far 
as to trust me."

"I think he trusted you to be fair and open-minded.  That's the 
highest of praise from him."

"Wow," I murmured.  "I'm a little disconcerted over how flattered I 
am."

"Mulder does not dole out acceptance easily.  God knows you're 
expected to earn it," she said as if she were watching something far 
off, in the distance, but still within reach.

"Yeah, I got that.  I just never knew I made the finish line."

Scully raised her eyebrows.  "I'm not sure anybody ever broke that 
particular ribbon."

"You did."

She shrugged a little.  "Maybe."

"No maybe about it.  I don't think he would mind my telling you he 
talked about his trust issues.  He trusted you completely, without 
reservation."

"His trust is so tenuous though.  I always feel that it's on loan.  
That his trust was never mine to keep."

"I'm sorry you have that doubt.  I can't say that I agree with you, 
not where you're concerned."

"I would like to believe I haven't lost his trust."

"What makes you believe you might have?"

She raised from her seat and, carrying her cup to the small sink at 
the back of my office, she rinsed it out and set it aside but didn't 
turn around to face me again.  "I know, wherever he is, he's waiting 
for me," she said, her voice small but full with purpose.  "It 
probably has never crossed his mind that he is removed from me in a 
way that I cannot overcome.  He's..."  Her head bent lower.   "He's 
calling my name."

"How can you know that?"

She turned on a heel and I felt her frustration clutch at my 
throat.  "Because I feel him!  I feel his agony all around me!  
Sometimes it's the only thing I have left to hang onto."

"I-I don't understand."

"If I feel him..." she said, pausing to breathe deeply and steady 
herself.  "If I feel him, he has to be alive somewhere.  If he 
weren't, I'd know."  She took a few steps back and braced herself 
against the wall. "My god, his pain is my only hope and it makes me 
feel so impotent...and selfish."

"Selfish?"

"If I were to truly want what's best for him..."  She shook her head, 
in a form of self-censoring.

"If you truly wanted what's best for him...what?"

"I'd want his pain to end," she bit off quickly and then searched my 
face for something unknown to me and quite possibly unknown to her as 
well.  Maybe she hoped I would join her in condemning herself.  Or 
maybe she wanted redemption.  I didn't offer either, as I felt there 
was no need.  

"I think it's human nature to want to keep those we care about with 
us.  I'm sure you've seen it as a doctor.  As long as there's hope, 
we want to believe."

"I want to believe," she repeated, once again in a voice that 
attempted to shield her words from me. 

I watched her intently.  "Dana?  Do you want to come back and sit 
down?"

"Maybe I should go," she said flatly.

"Why?"

"I'm not accomplishing anything here."

"Is that why you came?  To accomplish something?"
   
"Why else?"

"I don't know.  Why else would you come here?" 

"I'm afraid that's what Mulder would call shrink speak," she said 
with a small, wry, smile

"Well, that's my job description, pretty much," I agreed, slightly 
chagrined.

She smiled a little and finally sat cautiously back down, obviously 
prepared to leave without explanation given the smallest 
incentive.  "I'm a little put off by the whole delving into my psyche 
idea," she said as she folded her arms.

"Okay.  Well, why don't you just talk; see where you go?"     

"That's not...I'm a person who likes clear objectives.  I've never 
been good at that type of undefined goal."

"You don't just talk? Ever?  To your mom or your friends?"

"I used to."

"Well then, let's just talk.  I'm sure it'll come back to you.  I'll 
start.  How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling?" 

"Mm-hm."

"I'm...I guess I'm tired, mostly."

"Emotionally or physically?"

"Both."

"How so?"

"Since Mulder's been gone, I've not been sleeping well," she 
answered, slowly releasing the grip she had on herself.

"Why not?"

"I just lay there, you know?  My mind won't stop trying to solve 
this, to fix it.  If he were only some place that I could go...or if 
there was evidence to follow in order to find him, that's all I would 
be doing.  I would put everything aside until he was back.  But 
there's nothing.  And I know there's nothing.  There's only waiting 
and hoping and..." She trailed off, placing the tips of her fingers 
against her lips.  "So I go about my life.  But going about my life 
isn't simple.  It never has been, not since I've been with Mulder.  
But now...the amount of effort that I put into portraying 
normalcy...it's exhausting."

"Maybe if you didn't try so hard to keep your feelings hidden-"

"What are you suggesting, that I cry on my new partner's shoulder?  
That I go into my boss' office and ask him to hold me?"

"Don't you have anyone to talk to outside of the office?"

Scully smiled sadly.  "Why do you think I'm spending 100 dollars an 
hour to talk to you?"

"Why is that?"

"My life...my life has become the X-Files.  It's hard for me to say 
that because I fought that so hard.  I didn't want to become...I 
didn't want to become Mulder."  She laughed a little.  "But to my 
undying horror, that is just what I've become."

"What do you mean?"

"I have dissolved my personal life.  I have completely immersed 
myself in the strange and unexplainable at the expense of the normal 
and mundane.  I walk in his footsteps.  I read his files.  I feed his 
fish.  I hear his words coming out of my mouth!"

"Is this something your comfortable with?"

"That's the most bizarre part.  I feel completely comfortable.  It's 
like I was trying to cover up the part of me that was most like him 
while he was here.  But now, sometimes I feel like I've lost myself.  
When I think of the person I was when I meet him...there's almost 
nothing left of her.  And I don't know what became of her."

"What do you miss about her?"

"Miss?"

"Yes."

"About myself?"

"What do you remember?"

She reflected quietly and ducked her head.  When she looked up, she 
was smiling. "I remember laughing.  On our first case, I remember 
standing over a grave, laughing, really giggling with Mulder, in the 
pouring rain.  He laughed a little too.  It was so exhilarating!  The 
newness of what was possible.  I felt like that for a long time."

"What happened?"

"I don't know.  What used to drive me now only...drives me down.  
Maybe it's just all of the losses...I don't know."

"Maybe you should spend some time trying to find out."

"How? How would I do that?"

"I could help you.  We could work together."

Scully contemplated that.  "I'm not sure what good it would do."

"Maybe if you were to find what you left behind, you could integrate 
it with what you are now and find a more comfortable place to be."

"Do you think that could happen?"

"I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't."

She mulled it over, nodding lightly, her expression testified to the 
realization that came upon her.  "Maybe that's why I came here.  Not 
because I can't find Mulder, but because I can't find me."

"Sounds plausible."

She sat silently, considering and finally drew back into my 
company.  "How long would it take?"

"How long?"  She had startled me slightly.  "Well, this isn't the 
kind of thing you can schedule.  Why don't we just meet next week and 
see how it goes?"

She sighed.  "There's a very good reason I didn't do well with my 
psychiatric rotation.  I need some cut and dry in my prognosis."

"Sorry," I told her unapologetically.

"Well," she said as she stood again, this time without the previous 
agitation.  "I guess we have to do this on your terms."

"I guess..." 

"Okay." Scully began to gather her things.  "I'll call and make an 
appointment."   

"Good. I'll look forward to seeing you again."

She smiled a perfunctory grin and turned to go.

"Agent Scully?"  I said, causing her to turn and regard me 
curiously.  "Will you answer one question before you go?"

"If I can."

"What did you say when you first sat down and I asked what was 
bothering you?"

Scully flushed a little.  "It's a little embarrassing."

"Would you rather not say?"

"No...no, I can say.  I said...I said...I call his answering machine 
to hear his voice."

"And that makes you uncomfortable?"

"It feels...juvenile," she answered, waving her hand dismissively, as 
if she could bat the words away.

"Why do you do it?"

"I find...I miss the sound of his voice.  I am amazed at the enormous 
hole that has been left in my life.  I don't know how to fill it.  I 
don't know where to begin.  So I call his machine and listen to his 
message.  Sometimes I leave a message."

"I think he'd like that."

"What?"

"Coming home to your messages."

"You believe he's coming home?"

"Don't you?"

"I have to," she answered succinctly.

"I want to," I told her in kind.

The loss hung between us like clothes flapping on a clothesline.  We 
saw each other's pain but only briefly and in a fragmented way, 
before our expressions settled again.  She was not ready to give me 
the whole of her despair, and it was not appropriate for me to 
disclose my sense of longing and pain.  So we let it go.   

"I wish there was more though," Scully said aloud, although it seemed 
more like a thought than a statement.

"More what?"

"Words.  Mulder never let a single word do when dozens would 
suffice.  'This is Fox Mulder, leave a message' gets old when it's 
all you have."

"I can see your point."

She nodded once and held out her hand.  "Thank you for seeing me."

"It was good to see you again.  I look forward to our future 
meetings."

Scully gathered her coat, lifted a hand and departed while I watched 
her leave, considering her.  

She was a curious combination of strength and fragility.  I could see 
her struggling to prevent herself from falling into the same abyss 
that threatened Mulder, but still peering over the edge, almost 
curious as to where it would lead.

I remembered what Mulder had told me once about her importance in his 
life and was struck with the need to hear his voice, much as his 
partner was.  My good fortune in this matter was that I had the tapes 
of his sessions at my disposal and some time on my hands.  So, I 
sought out his discourse on Scully and plugged the tape into my 
player.

"She loans me sanity," Mulder said matter-of factly.

"Loans?" I countered.

He laughed a little and then grew quiet.  "It was always a given for 
me that some day I would admit defeat in my battle to keep myself 
from sporting that little, white wrap around jacket the people in 
your profession keep trying to pass off as stylish.  White just isn't 
my color and the warp around sleeves...well, I just find then 
confining.  And I say that from experience."

I heard myself laugh a little, but it only saddened me now.

"Scully..." he began and paused.  "When I got to know Scully and 
depend on her, I began to believe that she gave me sanity.  That she 
held me back from that particular black hole into which I had seemed 
destined to be swallowed up.  But, then she was taken away from me..."

I could hear the ticking of my clock and the rustle of clothes and I 
closed my eyes to picture him more clearly.

"When she was gone I could feel my sanity drip and then trickle and 
then gush away from me until all I could do was sit on the floor of 
my apartment and watch it go.  I realized then, or at least upon 
looking back on it, that she hadn't given me sanity, she simply had 
doled it out to me when I needed it and when I tried to hold onto it 
I was like a colander.  I was incapable."

"Mulder, you're not insane.  And I sincerely believe you would not be 
insane if Scully were to disappear from your life."

"Maybe you're right.  Maybe she's simply a talisman for me.  Whatever 
the case, I don't want to discover I was right about the sanity 
thing.  If I were to lose her again..."

"Mulder?"

I snapped the tape off and leaned back in my chair.  I missed him in 
a way that was inappropriate for my profession.  Yet, denying the 
fact wasn't worth the struggle.  I felt an ached grow inside of me 
and wondered at the magnitude of Scully's lost and how I might 
relieve it, even slightly.

 

3 days later    

Scully trudged up the few steps last steps to her apartment, her mind 
fixated on the idea of a hot bath and Ben and Jerry's ice cream.  She 
wasn't sure of the time as she had left her watch on the sink that 
morning and had been disoriented all day as a result.

Upon reaching her front door, she fished her key out of her pocket, 
almost missing the small parcel at her feet.  For a moment she stared 
at it, seriously considering leaving it.  The amount of energy she 
anticipated it would take to bend over and retrieve it seemed far 
beyond the value of knowing what was inside.  She gazed at it, 
leaning against the door. Finally, in a smooth movement, she bent 
down and retrieved it.  Turning it over and weighing it in her hand 
told her nothing about its contents, but the return address told her 
it had come from Marilyn Kennedy.  She cocked her head and frowned as 
she entered her apartment and shrugged off her coat.  With a quick 
rip of the beige paper, she was holding the contents in her hand: an 
audiotape.  She turned the envelope back toward her and peered 
inside, pulling out the small note stuck within.


Dear Dana,

I have struggled with this. As you know, it would be considered 
unethical.  Still, I feel it will do some good; and therefore I am 
trusting you with it.  
Please listen only from where I have cued the tape and return it when 
you come in next week.

Sincerely,

M. Kennedy 
 

Scully turned her attention back to the tape she had placed on the 
entry table.  Taking it in her hand as if it were ticking, she opened 
the box it came in and approached her stereo.  Then in a hurried 
motion she slapped the tape inside and pressed play.


"You let me talk over my time," Mulder's voice teased through the 
speakers.  Scully took a step away and covered her mouth with her 
hand.  His voice was as startling to her as if he had suddenly 
appeared from nothingness.

"I had to hear the end of the story, or I wouldn't have been able to 
sleep," Marilyn's voice followed after his, a hint of amusement, 
barely concealed.

"It's just your basic, boy meets mutant, boy follows mutant, mutant 
tries to eat boy's face story."

"Mm-hmm, just the basic."

Scully looked over at the speakers from which Mulder's voice 
emanated.  She had an overwhelming urge to curl around them with her 
head on the top and her hand on the vibrations that might feel like 
her hand on his chest as he spoke.  But she found herself frozen to 
the spot where she stood and so she just listened.

"My partner's is now officially pissed off at me," Mulder announced.

"How do you know that?"

"We have a psychic connection."

"Like Dionne Warwick?"

"Even better."

"Or..."

"Or I was supposed to meet her ten minutes ago and-"

"And now she knows you're late.  Maybe she'll just go on home."

"No, she'll wait.  It takes a lot for Scully to give up on me.  It's 
one of her best qualities."

"It must be nice to have that amount of faith in a person."

There was a long silence; and Scully stepped forward, putting out a 
hand.  "Nice doesn't cover it," he finally replied, all humor 
dispelled from his voice.  "It's the greatest gift I've ever 
received, better than the BB gun that I got when I was twelve," she 
heard the smile around his words.  "I've never had that, have you?"

"A BB gun?  No, my family were pacifists."

He laughed slightly.  "You don't know how lucky you are.  
No...That...that assurance, that rock solid assurance that she won't 
give up.  It's like a miracle to me."

"I'm glad.  Really I am."

His phone rang, and Scully could hear him chuckle.  "Mulder," he 
answered, and she caught her breath at the familiarity of it.  "I 
know...I'm sorry.  I'm just leaving..."

There was silence, and she knew he was listening to her.  "Just wait 
a little longer.  I'll be with you soon, I promise..."

Scully slapped the stop button, her breath suddenly harsh, her mind 
spinning.  She laid her forehead against the shelf where her stereo 
rested and quietly hit rewind for a moment and then play.  

"Just wait a little longer.  I'll be with you soon, I promise."

"Just wait a little longer, I'll be with you soon, I promise."

"Just wait a little longer, I'll be with you soon..."



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Jgreco217@aol.com

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