From: AynNoromo@aol.com
Date: Thu, 7 Jun 2001 05:20:53 EDT
Subject: "All These Words" By AynNoromo
Source: direct
	
Title - All these words
Author - AynNoromo	
Rating - G
Classification - Vignette/Angst 
Spoilers - season 8
Keywords - 
Summary - Scully reflects on her pregnancy and the 
challenges ahead.
VA - Vignette/Angst



All the words I've spoken these past years. How many 
times have I said the same thing over and over again? What 
patterns would emerge? But now I am speechless. 
I was only able to admit it to Mulder the one time 
before I began to deny it to him. "Mulder, I have 
cancer." I had been firm with him because I knew that 
despite his desire to believe, he would not want to 
believe that. And then the nosebleeds I tried to conceal, 
the pain I hid from him so he would be proud of me. I 
recognize that now, I can see it. I've figured it all up 
from there. The last few years have been, aside from the 
physical pain, a thread of dullness, a lack in emotion. 
The emotions have been like sudden waves that receded but 
would return eventually, familiarly. And they meant 
nothing. I know the people around me think I have a cold, 
professional soul, detached from anything but my work. 
Agent Doggett seems bewildered by me. Skinner doesn't 
comprehend me. My own mother can only say, "Oh, Dana," 
when I try to show her what I feel.
The emotions of the past years. There is the 
occasional fear. The sometime agony, which I associate 
with Emily. And then the crushing loneliness that came 
back with Skinner, back from the X painted on the 
pavement; Mulder's vanishing. Skinner and I in the 
hospital room, as I told him about this miracle I carry, 
and his face changing. He had been looking at a victim. 
But after I'd told him I was pregnant, I couldn't 
understand the look he gave me.
Suddenly, though, this emotion I barely recall.
	This emotion so rare in my life. I see so much of it 
around me, I hear it in the street. I saw it as I walked 
by the church last week, and a newly married couple, 
delicate, dovelike, whirled out of the heavy wooden church 
doors to the sound of bells and laughter. Simple love. But 
not so simple.
	This is the love I have for the child inside of me.  
But how do I love this child? I hope it comes naturally as 
soon as I see his eyes. But it's been so long -- do I know 
how to love someone anymore? Will I be able to love this 
child? Can I find the words, after all this time?