From: Annette Gisby Date: Thu, 1 Jul 1999 16:57:03 +0100 Subject: NEW: Analysing Scully MSR (1/1) TITLE: Analysing Scully AUTHOR: Annette Gisby EMAIL: annette.gisby@which.net RATING: R for adult themes and sexual situations SUMMARY: Mulder & Scully married CATEGORY: Vignette. ANAYLYSING SCULLY I don't understand her, I really don't. I thought this was what she wanted. I thought her objections to making love were borne out of some still felt catholic guilt about sex before marriage being a sin. But we're married now, so why does she still object? There must be something bothering her, but she won't tell me what it is. Just shrugs off my concerns and says she wants to wait, she isn't ready yet. We've waited six years already, what's a few more months? I know all her arguments off by heart, and I have no defence against any of them. It's not the lack of sex that is bothering me, though at times I have felt rather frustated. It's the fact that I know something is wrong, and Scully can't bring herself to tell me what it is. I thought we trusted each other, I thought there would be no more secrets between us. The new apartment we bought is large with three bedrooms, one of which we've converted to an office. I sleep in the second, Scully in the other. I can't even get her to share a room with me, never mind anything else. She's sitting by the couch, engrossed in a book, pretending not to notice that I'm watching her. "Scully," I begin, hoping this time we don't get into an argument. "Hmm?" she doesn't look up from her book. "Have you thoght any more about what I said?" "I've thought about it. The answer's still no." "But, Scully. It might help," I protest. "How can a sex therapist help? I just need time to sort this out in my own way. Can't you just be patient for a while longer?" She stands up and heads to the kitchen, effectively ending the discussion. I've noticed that more and more recently. Whenever Scully doesn't want to talk, she leaves. It's like talking to a brick wall, a beautiful five foot three brick wall, one who could sulk for the country. ****************************************************** God, I hate doing this to him. He deserves better than this. But I can't tell him what happend to me. The truth is, I don't remember. I just know that something happened to me when I was thirteen that put me off being intimate with someone. I know what Mulder would say if I told him I couldn't remember, he would want me to be hypnotised. That's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of what I'll remember. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and try to think about it logically and calmly. Maybe a sex therapist would help, but I'm still rather sceptical about the whole idea. I do want to make love with Mulder, but there is some mental block that I can't overcome. I thought that once we were married everything would be all right, but I was wrong. I go back to the living room, where Mulder is staring at the fire. He has a terrible fear of fire, but he saved me from one. Don't I at least owe him sonething for that? For all the times he's put up with me? For all the times he saved me? For all the patience he's shown up to now? He's a normal hot-blooded male, his patience won't last forever. I take a deep breath and put my hand on his shoulder. "Mulder." "Yes?" He doesn't turn round. "Would you come with me?" "To a sex therapist? If you want me to, Scully. I don't want you to do anything that you don't want. I don't want to force you into this." "You're not. I think it's time I tried to figure out what's wrong with me, and I want you there." ********************************************* I can't believe Scully has actually agreed to this. I'm a bit worried, actually. Why has she suddenly changed her mind? But I don't voice any objections as we are led into the therapist's office. There are comfortable armchairs and a couch along one wall. I feel Scully tense as she sees it. The doctor, a woman about fiftyish gets up from her chair and greets us like long lost friends. "Dana, Fox. Do take a seat." Scully and I sink into the armchairs. Scully starts fidgeting straight away, playing with her hair and wringing her hands nervously. God, she's got guts to come here. My mouth feels dry and I wish it was over. "So, who'd like to start?" Dr. Clarke is all smiles, trying to put us at ease, but I can tell it's going to be a struggle. Scully doesn't like to admit she has problems, that there are areas of her life she can't control. "It's my fault," says Scully quietly. "We've been married two months and I can't have sex." "Did you have sex before you were married?" asks Dr. Clarke. "No." "And what do you think the problem might be, Dana?" "That's just it, I don't know. I can't remember. I'm afraid of what I might remember. That I was raped or something." "It is true that rape or sexual abuse can sometimes be repressed by the victim, only surfacing when the victim tried to embark on a sexual relationship. And you think that's what might have happened to you?" asked the doctor. "It's a possibility, isn't it?" Scully is as white as a sheet. What am I putting her through? "One of many, Dana. Not everyone who has problems with sex have been abused. It could be a lot of things. Have you been hypnotised before?" Scully nods and takes my hand, crushing it so tight that I hear a knuckle crack. "Okay, Dana. Where would you be more comfortable, here or on the couch?" "Here," Scully rplies quickly. She doesn't let go of my hand and I can feel pins and needles start to prickle. Who'd have thought someone so small could have such a stong grip? "Close your eyes, Dana and take some deep breaths. Relax every part of your body. Feel all the tension draining away. I want you to go back, back to where you first had any sexual feelings. Where are you?" "I'm in my bedroom. I've just woken up. Missy, my sister, she's still asleep in the other bed. I've been having stange dreams." "What age are you, Dana?" asks the doctor quietly. "Thirteen." "What are the dreams about, Dana?" "I'm not sure, but I wake up feeling strange. Tingly." "Is it a nice feeling, Dana?" "Oh, yes! Very nice!" I can see Scully's face is flushed and she begins to breathe deeply, as though, as though she is aroused. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be watching this, I feel like a voyeur. "But sometimes, sometimes it makes me ache, as though I'm going to explode if I don't do something, but I can't. I can't do it." "What can't you do, Dana?" "I can't touch myself, there," she waves in the general direction of her groin and I feel myself going to explode at any minute. I really shouldn't be here. "Why can't you, Dana?" "Because it's a sin and I'l go to hell. But Missy's still asleep, no-one will know. I have to do it, I have do." Tears roll down her cheeks and I feel my heart wrench, imagining the struggle with her conscience and the hormones raging through her adolescent body. "Did you climax when you touched yourself, Dana?" "No, no I couldn't. He came in before I finished. He caught me." "Who, Dana?" "My brother, Bill. He told my parents on me. They said they were ashamed of me. That I was filthy, disgusting. They took me to the priest, made me confess to him what horrible thing I'd done. He talked about it at the sermon that Sunday. He didn't mention my name but everyone knew it was me, I was an outcast." She is sobbing in earnest now. Oh, God. Oh, God. Poor Scully. What a thing to have happened. I could have quite happily murdered Bill on the spot. It was bad enough he had to catch her, but to tell her parents? What sort of maniac is he? "Okay, Dana, I want you to wake up now. You will remember what we talked about it, but it can't hurt you anymore." Scully looked around dazed, and her eyes caught mine. "I can't believe he did that!" she said, more angry than upset now. "Now, Fox and Dana. I want you to do soemthing before our next session. Dana, I want you to get to know your body, its likes and dislikes. You have to touch yourself, don't worry about climaxes at this stage. I just want you to get comfortable with your own body. There is one condition, Fox can watch you, but he mustn't touch you. Full intercourse is a long way off yet, but I have every confidence that we'll get there. Do you think you can do that?" Scully looks at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "We can try." I can't ask anything more than that. THE END Feedback pretty please annette.gisby@which.net