From: Maria Bermudez <aliengirlm@yahoo.com>
Date: Thu, 12 Apr 2001 08:19:46 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: submission: Grave Dancer
Source: direct

Title: Grave Dancer
From: Banshee-6 <aliengirlm@yahoo.com
Summary: Scully's POV while at the LGM
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Pre-Redux
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, everything is
property of CC, 1013 Productions and Fox.
Feedback: Love it like chocolate <aliengirlm@yahoo.com


Grave Dancer------- by Banshee-6------

XXXXXXXXX

"We'll leave now." Mulder says and then turn his face
to look at me, worried. Sure, I feel like dog crap and
probably look the same. Besides, my lack of speech for
the past hour has most likely confirmed the state I am
in.

I want to go home, and lie down and forget about
everything.

I can see the concern in everybody's eyes.

Mulder walks ahead of me and Langly follows to open
the complicated set of locks that protect the Lone
Gunmen's hideout. The minute I get off the stool I
come up with many other reasons to go home. No more
than a few steps and my sight is blurred by a light
fog in front of me, my body sways like a tree in the
wind and then I hear voices calling my name and feel
hands holding me.

I have no idea if whether I'm stand up or sitting or
lying down. My hearing is inactive for a while,
perceiving only a buzz, something close to white
noise; but I'm sure they are asking me if I'm fine. My
tongue is dry and leaves a funny sensation in my mouth
as I speak. "I'm fine. I just need to sit down."

A little more aware now, I'm conscious enough to know
they've returned me to the stool I was occupying
earlier and only then I'm able to focus my eyes on
something, Mulder, and he's handing me a handkerchief
he's by now used to carrying in his pocked for these
particular occasions.

Damnit! If I looked like crap before... I quickly take
the cloth and wipe my nose leaving a streak of red in
the white surface; now noticing it is more blood than
what I am used to see. "Thanks, Mulder."

He looks bad, very worried, as if he's about to cry,
and the Lone Gunmen are not far behind.

I hate it when this happens.

If I get sick outside in the street or at the office,
there is no opportunity for him to make a scene. But
we're first of all, indoors, and second of all at our
friend's house, meaning he's got green light to get
all mushy.

I swear to God, Mulder, if you start crying I'll come
haunt you after I'm dead.

Before he does I ask for the bathroom and Byers leads
me to it. I close the door behind me and it's only a
few seconds before my knees give away once more and I
collapse, this time on the bathroom stool. 

I thank God the seat was down, then wipe my forehead
with the back of my hand. My pulse is a million per
second, my eyes try to focus again, this time on the
tiled wall in front of me, but I fail.

It was about time I started feeling like this. The
disease is weakening every cell in my body and I'm
afraid I won't be able to take it for too long. I feel
so bad I am now the one who wants to start crying.

I get even more scared when I realize the heaving
noises I hear are made by my own body in an attempt to
take some oxygen into my lungs.

I'm clutching the handkerchief in my hand and my brain
starts racing. I see myself as a little girl, at home
with my sister, suddenly she's gone. I see myself
again with my father, and he vanishes too. I see my
face as if a reflection in a mirror, I'm hollow and I
fade away.

I am awoken from the ghostly fantasy by the sound of
steps frantically approaching the door. My guess?
Mulder. I can see the shadow under the door, he stops
and then retreats, just checking to se if I died in
here.

I get up from the seat feeling a little better, but
not as better as I would want to be, and wash my face
dampening the cloth with some water. I'm doing it with
such patience that I'm probably driving everyone crazy
by now. I was right, my partner knocks on the door.

"Scully, are you ok?"

I answer. "Yes! Do I have a time limit or something?"
Hoping the humor might ease the moment. Since I can't
see the look on his face, I guess I'll never know.

Langly offers me a glass of water the minute I come
out. I thank him and take the water and only manage to
drink half of it.

Mulder asks me again if I'm ok, if I need something. I
answer. "I'm fine, I'm ok now." But he's not buying
it, neither am I.

I still have it in my to reassure the Lone Gunmen with
a smile. It's not much but it's something.

As for Mulder, he already knows we are in for a bumpy
ride.

XXXXXXXXXX

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