Character: Dana Scully
Fandom: The X-files
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1608
Prompt: Music Prompt: Haunted/Poe
Setting: After Scully's return in Season Two Episode: One Breath


“They fixed the window, they did a nice job,” Maggie Scully chattered reassuringly as she assisted her youngest daughter out of her car. Dana groaned as her still painfully stiff legs tried to pull her out of the depths of the passenger seat, and hated the idea that at thirty her mother was having to help her out of a vehicle as if she was a child.

“The manager was very nice about it, he said he’d fix it up for you no charge. He told he was so happy to have an FBI agent living in his apartment, it made the tenants feel so safe,” Dana quietly listened to her mother’s prattling. She knew it was Maggie’s way of hiding her nerves at returning her daughter to her own home, at the still subconscious fear of what could of happened, what nearly did happen to her during all these long months. She only wished she remembered most of it, she thought ruefully as she walked slowly down the sidewalk to her own home.

“Fox would come by from time to time,” Maggie pulled a small duffle from behind Dana’s seat, it was all of the things she had brought to the hospital to make her feel more comfortable, more human after her ordeal. “He would collect the mail, water the plants. But I think one of them didn’t make it.” She sighed apologetically. “I don’t think he deals with plants much, it look a bit over-watered.”

“Mulder has goldfish,” she wasn’t sure why she felt it important to say that. Her mother shrugged, and smiled.

“Well goldfish aren’t plants, I’m afraid. Anyway, he was so good about everything.” Suddenly in the tree months she had been gone, Maggie had practically adopted Fox Mulder as a third son, to the point she was using his first name. Dana never used his first name. The one time she had tried, he had laughed at her.

“How do you get away with calling him Fox,” she asked as they approached the front door of her building.

“What,” Maggie blinked at her, and then laughed. “Oh, that, well I suppose being a bit older, and Fox being raised to be such a polite man, he learned not to argue with his elders.”

“Wish he’d learn not to argue with his co-workers,” she grumbled, but without malice. In truth, she was grateful that Mulder had been there for her mother, a touchstone, someone who reassured her that she would come home, even when everyone else had given up on her. Maggie hadn’t received that from any of her other children, not even Melissa.

“So is Missy stopping by?”

Maggie opened the door first, and held it for the still shuffling Dana. “She said she would come by later, she wanted to stop by one of her friend’s shops, pick up something for you, a get well present.”

Dana groaned.

“Now, Dana,” Maggie gave her a measured look, and frowned as her daughter rolled her eyes skyward. “Melissa’s beliefs I will admit are not the ones you were raised with, but they are hers, so try to respect them.”

Dana wondered how much of that came out of the days Melissa spent at the hospital, reconnecting with their mother after years of separation. She had watched the two, and noted how Melissa, always the most free-spirited one of the Scully clan, had been the surprising one at her bedside, and not Bill or Charlie.

If she had died, she considered briefly, would they have been there for Mom? Surely the would be, she tried to assure herself, but there was Bill, all bluff and bluster, trying so hard to be the man he thought their father to be. And easy going, affable Charlie, the peacemaker of the bunch, it always shocked her he had joined the Navy as well, following in the footsteps of his elder brother and father. Charlie she knew would mourn her passing. Bill would just become angry, most likely try to find Mulder and blame him for not taking better care of his little sister.

Like she needed taking care of, she snorted softly as her mother carried her bag to Dana’s apartment door, and fumbled for the keys. Dana had been well able to take care of herself up till that point, she had learned how to best Bill years ago. She hardly needed Mulder with his own sense of responsibility and overfed guilt complex to start in on her like her brother did. And yet, he had said nothing on any of his hospital visits, and had always been sunshine, smiles, and lots of sardonic wit when he came to see her, just to pass the time. But she could see in the new lines in his face, and the haunted look in his eyes that he did feel responsible. Frohicke had only alluded to Mulder’s mental state while she was gone.

Her mother opened her door with a creek, and the familiar scent of the potpourri she liked filled her lungs and nose. Despite the comfort it should bring her, she felt her mouth go dry and a sudden panic fill her brain as she stood rooted to the spot, staring through the doorway of what had once been her sanctuary. The last time she had seen it, she had been slung over Duane Berry’s shoulder. That was practically one of the last real memories she had.

Mulder wasn’t the only one who was haunted, she though grimly, as her mother watched her with wary eyes.

“You alright, honey,” Maggie murmured, causing Dana to blink, and nod, a fake smile forming on her lips.

“Uh…yeah, just…well it’s been so long.”

“I know, honey. Come on, let’s get you to beg, hmmm?” Maggie jerked her head inside, and entered, setting the bag down and waiting for Dana to slowly follow.

“It’s so strange,” Dana sighed as she made her way through the door. “I don’t remember a single thing that happened to me while I was gone. Not one. But I remember that I had stopped by the grocery that night, and picked up odds and ends. And there was this…thing…I don’t know what it was, it was pulled out of Berry’s nose while he was in surgery, and I happened to have it, and…” She couldn’t quite remember what happened after that. It was as if the threads of her memory frayed right then, and scattered into the swirl of fog that surrounded her entire missing time.

“I just wish…” She was surprised by the tears in her eyes, and blinked up at her mother, who immediately enfolded her in the comforting embrace only mothers could give. “Mom why can’t I remember?

“Dana, baby, it’s all right,” she crooned as she soothed and massaged her shoulders, ignoring the tears that dampened her thin, cotton top. “Honey, I can’t tell you what you went through, but I know how we found you. You are lucky to be standing here alive. The fact you can’t remember…honey that’s to be expected. I’m sure it won’t last forever.”

“But it was three months of my life,” she gulped as she pulled away slightly, wiping at her face with an angry flick of her wrist. “Those are three months I will never get back. And I don’t know what was done to me or why I ended up that way, or for what reason…or who did it.”

“I know, dear,” Maggie’s own eyes shined suspiciously. “And it hurts me that there are all of those questions, the same questions that I asked myself time and time again, while you were gone, when you came back, while you lay in the hospital dying, and there was nothing I could do to make you better.” She reached a hand to smooth back Dana’s hair, damp now from crying. “Those questions will haunt you for a long time, Dana, and I won’t pretend that they won’t. But you are here now, and you are alive. And you can find those answers now.” She smiled tightly at her youngest daughter. “I think Fox has already been looking for those answers.”

“I bet he has,” Dana replied, her voice teary and caustic.

“So don’t you think you better get well and help him,” Maggie asked, with the same matter-of-fact mother tone she used when she was trying to convince Dana to help her siblings with chores, or do her homework instead of playing.

“I plan to,” Dana replied emphatically, sniffing loudly as gazed finally around her apartment. For the second time since her work on the X-files began, her home had been invaded. The first, by Victor Toomes, had only managed to frighten her but nothing more. She hadn’t felt the deep sense of violation she felt now, that she had been taken from her own home and…. what? The questions burned her, pained her, as if leaving a scar on her very consciousness.

Her eyes fell onto the full, bay window where she had seen Duane as she was on the phone. She remember he had shattered it and had reached inside for her, like a horrible monster from a bad, science fiction film on television. Now, as she stared out of her window, it was smooth and perfect, though the white paint stood out slightly against the walls, evidence of it being newer than the rest of the paint in her apartment.

“See, all better, just like new,” her mother said, as her eyes followed Dana’s.

“Yeah, all better again,” she whispered, as she reached a hand to rub tiredly behind her neck.