By Donna
donnah@donnas-stories.com
 

URL - http://www.donnas-stories.com/
Rating - PG-13
Category - Angst
Spoilers - Three Words
Keywords - Angst
Summary - He's alone
Feedback - Please
Archive - Anywhere, just let me know so I can visit

Disclaimer - Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunmen and Skinner
all belong to Chris, 10-13, and Fox - Bless them for it!!  No
infringement intended
 

Fish Listen

'Don't go!  I didn't mean it.  Don't leave me alone!'  He was
screaming inside, fear paralyzing him, but he refused to let
her see it.  He was alone, now more than ever.  He watched
the door close behind her and nearly lunged for it to stop
her.  When he's awakened and seen her beside him, seen
the trauma in her eyes, on her face, and known that his
disappearance has caused it, he had felt . . . loved.

Now she was leaving.  He'd driven her away.  He was
screaming for her to stay even as he yearned to be alone for
a few minutes.  He desperately needed to get his thoughts
straight.  And he wanted to go over his thoughts slightly less
than he wanted a prostate exam.

To get his thoughts straight he had to think, to go over what
he'd been through.

Maybe it would have been better to remain dead.  Dead and
buried.

She'd buried him.  He shivered as though feeling the cold
earth surrounding him.  Scully had buried him.  If she,
pathologist par-excellence, had declared him dead, he must
have been pretty dead.

She remembered nothing of her abduction, she said.  So
why was every moment etched so clearly in his mind?
Torture, that was the only word for it.  He realized his hand
was touching the scar on his chest again.  Damn, would the
sound never leave him?  The whine of the blade as it spun
toward him, the sound of his flesh parting, his bone cracking.
He could see the blade, spinning, reflecting light, coming
toward him over and over.

He shivered again and closed his eyes to block out the sight.
No!  The whole scene was in front of him then.  He was lying
naked on that, that form.  It hadn't been a table, it wasn't
hard, more organic feeling and slightly oily.  Did they expose
his body on purpose?  Yes, they had been around humans
long enough to know that having their genitals exposed
make them feel more vulnerable.  Could he have felt more
vulnerable?

He tried desperately to superimpose this more recent
memory with the one of Scully's hands cupping his balls,
stroking his length.  But that memory was tainted now too.

What should he think about?  How the hell he could ever go
to a dentist again?  Oh yeah, that was helpful.  His tongue
felt the ridge of scar tissue on the roof of his mouth for the
millionth time.  Was it smaller than it had been?

She said his scars were healing.  Maybe they were,
physically.

When he'd awoken and found her beside him in the hospital,
for just an instant he hadn't realized that what he'd endured
was real.  He'd thought maybe a nightmare, and she was
there to make it better.

His first deep breath had put that theory to ruin.  Then . . .
then what was left of his life had imploded and he was
thrown into a waking nightmare that hadn't gone away.

Everything was different, especially his place in the world.
The X-Files had been reopened - in order to find him.  Irony
at its best, but other agents were in charge now.  Hell, did he
even want to be involved with them?  He was the ultimate X-
File, abducted by aliens and risen from the dead.

He had little desire to investigate that.  Living it had been
bad enough, thank you.

And Scully.

Scully.

He closed his eyes, shuddering at the pain just the thought
of her brought to him.  He should be thinking about what a
wonderful time this was for her.  She was pregnant.  She
had her heart's desire.  He'd stammered his way thought
actually saving it.  Why wasn't it true?  So what if he was a
selfish shit for wishing he had a part in it.  He hadn't asked
how it had been achieved.  'It' not 'her baby'.  He wasn't able
to go there yet, no matter how hard he tried.   He'd thought
all of her viable eggs had been used when they had
attempted . . .  Obviously he'd been wrong.

He didn't think her new partner had been involved.  No,
she'd probably used one of those anonymous donor places,
some member of Mensa or a Noble Laureate.  She had,
hadn't she?  It was none of his business anyway.  That was
obvious.

He'd never felt so alone.
 
He looked over at the fish tank.  Scully was wrong, the Molly
had been luckier than him.  If he'd stayed dead . . .