Description: Vignette/Angst. Scullycentric.
Summary: The revelations of “Christmas Carol” lead Scully to memories of her sister, Melissa.
Disclaimer: Scully is property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions, no copyright infringement intended.
All feedback is greatly appreciated at: Isis_Bastet@excite.com

Dana Scully strode down the narrow walkway, her footsteps solidly drumming against the pavement. A gentle breeze teased with her Auburn hair, taking a lock in its grasp and slowly stroking it away from her face. The dim glow of Christmas lights filtered through the windows of the nearby base houses. Bill and Tara were, no doubt at the window of their own house, along with Scully’s mother. They had not tried to follow her, or even ask a question as Scully had slipped outside.

Scully briefly replayed the scene that had taken place earlier in the morning, before the presents had been opened. It had started with a simple noise, the loud tong of the doorbell followed by a man saying, “FBI Courier. Package for Agent Dana Scully.” Bill had made an attempt to sign for it, and then Scully had risen from the couch.

The Courier had briefly looked at her, saying, “I need you to sign for this. Merry Christmas.” Distantly she had heard the words, and mumbled “Merry Christmas” as a reply. Reading aloud without even noticing, Scully’s eyes had pored over the neatly typed words. Silently mouthing the next sentence, a wave of dizziness had lightened her while a disbelieving mind ordered her to say the words aloud. “According to this… I am Emily’s mother.”

Then came the hollow numbness, which had invaded her body as shock overcame her. This same shock mixed with disbelief had been mirrored on the other faces in the room, except for Tara who had had a different emotion visible in her eyes -something that looked suspiciously like pity. Scully’s panic had swallowed her whole for an entire minute, as she stood gaping and waiting for the right words to fall from her mouth. Words that never came and instead stayed locked in her throat. Seeing Tara’s expression had stunned her, catching Scully completely off guard. It wasn’t exactly the look on her face it was the realism that it brought to the situation. The surprise she could deal with, but the sympathetic look she could not comprehend at that moment.

Scully’s index finger trembled slightly as the tightly gripped paper let out a crackle. Looking at the paper as if it were a foreign object, she released it. Three pairs of eyes watched the piece flutter to the floor. Then, three pairs of eyes watched the figure of Dana Scully, as turning on her heel she had left the room, retreating to the kitchen. The kitchen had been a less stifling environment, and with the comfort of solitude she could slowly let the thoughts slide in and out of her head. Dana. Katherine. Scully. A mother. A burning sensation rose up into her face, as the meaning behind the words hit her.

Faraway a child’s anguished wail erupted, probably the result of a stolen toy, or an unwanted Christmas gift. The noise interrupted her reverie, and it was only then that she noticed she had been standing in front of her parked car for five minutes.

It was amazing how many words could pass through your mind in five short footsteps.

As Scully thought this, her hand found the cold metal car keys nestled deep within her trenchcoat pocket. Running her fingers around the keychain, Scully thought back to the feel of the envelope in her hands earlier in the morning. The envelope had contained a piece of paper that had dramatically changed her Christmas and possible future Christmases as well. Most women had stout Obstetricians with receding hairlines deliver the news, or a small home pregnancy kit. For her, it was only fitting that it be a paper with an FBI seal on the corner.

Oh god, Dana Katherine Scully, a mother. Just thinking the words gave her an odd feeling deep inside her stomach. It stirred up many mixed emotions, to say the least. First of all, who the hell was the father? This question cut deeply - not only had these men stolen from her the ability of motherhood they had also taken her choice of a father. Who could it be? A government official? Or, there were always the others… God, Dana don’t even think that, her conscious scolded.

The car keys slipped easily into the ignition, as Scully strapped on her seatbelt. A second later, the engine roared to life and Scully turned onto the road. Where was she going now? The question was a trite one - Scully knew deep down she was only reacting in the way she knew how. Dana Scully knew how to bury emotions, and the first step was contemplation and solitude. She had known immediately to seek comfort in the quietness of the car. Christmas morning, and here she was taking a drive around the base housing. Letting her gaze slide over the simple homes, she was transported back to pleasant memories of childhood. To anyone else, the dull sidewalk was just that - to Scully it was a captured moment of time spent with Missy.

Oh, Missy, I need you so much now. More than I ever have before, I just miss you so much, Missy. As Scully desperately thought these, a slow tear trickled down her cheek grief replacing the happiness of the memories. It was then that she felt more than heard a voice inside her head telling her to put away her sorrow and instead, to concentrate on the happier memories with Melissa.

What am I going to do, Missy? How could Emily be mine?

Sighing, Scully tried to let herself feel Melissa’s presence. The book in the library had said to relax and clear your mind… Scully still couldn’t believe she had actually gotten that book out - “Connecting with the Dead.” Seeing the title of the book she had been hit with a rare impulsive urge. Her mother’s earlier words had filled her ears, influencing her decision - “We’re still connected to them, Dana. Even after their gone.”

Lately, she had felt a strong pull to Missy and with circumstances of possibly finding Melissa’s daughter, it was the closest Scully was ever going to get to using extreme possibilities. Apparently, she had wasted an hour of reading since it appeared not to be working. Although, the book had also said to close your eyes which she obviously could not do while driving.

Well, then why are you driving? The question had appeared in her mind, it’s directness surprising Scully. It was almost like something Missy would say… Stop it, Dana. Stop it now, her mind commanded her.

Circling the block, Scully came upon a small area with a bench and a Christmas wreath sitting next to it. The wreath was a rare form of color in the area, and it being a holiday, the entire area was completely empty. Pulling off to the side, Scully killed the engine and slowly stepped out of the car. The bitter chill in the air provided a brisk slap in the face, but after moving to the small area bathed in sunlight she felt the chill wear off. The area around the bench was completely open, except for the nearby commissary parking lot.

Scully stared at a crack in the sidewalk, a crack that had many times been dodged by joggers. Leaning back against the hard wood, she felt the emotions churn within her again. Motherhood. Me. Her self defense quickly kicked in, shoving the thoughts deeper. A breath of wind against her face managed to move a strand of hair from her cheek, as she took in the sun’s warmth. Please, Missy. Help me. I can’t take this right now… not after everything that’s happened.

Let yourself feel it, Dana. Let it all in.

The words appeared in Scully’s head, and she heard them in Missy’s voice. Suppressing a gasp, she felt an old familiar feeling come over her. It was the kind of feeling she would get when she would sit down to dinner as a child, with a full plate of her favorite food in front of her. The security of love and affection from her family, the anticipation of things to come, and the wish for the feeling to last forever. It never did, of course - it was soon replaced with anger as Charles spilled milk on her bread, or Bill kicked her under the table. The quick moment before was always worth the aftermath, though no matter how ugly the Scully family arguments got. Missy would sometimes lean over and whisper into Dana’s ear, telling her about an event at school or a new friend. Scully now treasured those moments as a child, even though they had seemed unimportant at the time.

Letting herself relax for a moment she felt as if she were seven again, knowing that she would have to eat the broccoli eventually, but savoring the steak. It felt as if a tremendous weight were being lifted from her shoulders - gone were the thoughts of evil men with heinous plans and a girl she did not know how to feel about. Instead, Scully sat peacefully in the sunshine, eyes closed, with a slight smile on her face. In a voice barely a whisper, three words escaped from Scully’s mouth.

“Thank you, Missy.”

The End

Isis Bastet

Isis_Bastet@excite.com

--
"The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the
rational mind is a faithful servant.
We have created a society that honors the
servant and has forgotten the gift."
- Albert Einstein
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