From: JohnieRed Date: 6 Aug 1998 01:18:30 GMT Subject: By Johnie: A Pink Doll With Frantic Green Stuffing A Pink Doll With Frantic Green Stuffing by Johnie Disclaimer: I know I don't own them. You know I don't own them. Fox Studios, since they are still getting their royalty checks, knows I don't own them. 'Nough said. Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Season Five, and a line from the movie. If you didn't see it, you won't ruin anything. Category: V/A, Scully angst Summary: Scully talks to Mulder, the universe, and you. Comments: to JohnieRed@aol.com who will cherish and take loving care of them. When did you do it Mulder? How did you do it? Do you even know you did it? I heard your words, "Go be a doctor Scully." But I told you my place was with you. You didn't argue. Did you know that it's true or did you simply hope against all hope I would want to stay after all that has happened and you were too grateful to protest further? It is true. My place is with you. I *am* you inside. I can't begin to fathom how or when it happened but it did. Sometimes I still can't understand it. I respect you. I admire you. I care about you. But sometimes I don't even like you. How did you become such a substantial part of me? Did you infect me? A Mulder-virus entering my blood stream and dividing at a rapid rate, attacking and inserting viral DNA into my cells one by one, rewriting my genetic code, changing me over to make me more Mulderesque. Or is it that I have been breathing you in so long I've acclimated and adapted to you? Evolved and adjusted to more Mulderish surroundings. Rather like the bizarre insects that can go dormant for years under the hot desert sand waiting for rain to reanimated them, I have learned to live in a sometimes harsh environment quite happily. I endure the hot baking sun and periods of near lifelessness because I know, sooner or later, for however briefly, it will rain. I have no choice. Mulder is in my blood. I breathe Mulder. His pain is so entwined with mine that if you shot me the wound would bleed out Mulder, bleed his O negative blood, so much rarer than my own B positive. And if I died from the gunshot wounds and you autopsied me, when you made the Y incision, pulled back my flesh and spread my ribs, you would find a lush jungle of Mulder inside. Not a beautiful virgin rain forest jungle with towering majestic teak trees rising like great temple columns from the sparse forest floor. No. You would find a wild, tangled swelling of life that happens only after an old growth forest has been clear-cut and all the opportunistic plants have grown out of control in the upset, unbalanced ecosystem. Yes. That is what you would find inside, lianas flourishing in a snarled tangle around my ribs, and a dark beautiful orchid smelling of rotten meat where my heart once was. Well, perhaps that isn't exactly fair. Mulder has given me many opportunities to escape, resign, remove myself, chicken out, or whatever you want to call it. But I haven't ever gone. And it isn't as though Mulder is responsible for my, to quote Dr. Seuss, 'heart two-sizes too small'. There are too many others who can claim that honor. My heart dropped down another size after I buried Emily. Slimmed down on a cardiac grief diet that I unwittingly started after Melissa died. I just like blame Mulder once and while. It's convenient and I know he cares, so he won't run from my evil moods and the paring knife sharp comments that roll off my impatient tongue. The problem is Mulder knows the same trick and I get to play, well, not the punching bag, let's say the pin cushion, on occasion. It's just today, I realized, on yet another drive back from yet another court house that I smelled like Mulder. And it suddenly occurred to me I probably always smell like him. I panicked for a minute, thinking it was the Mulder in me that was causing it, that the smell was oozing out my pores and everyone would know. Everyone would see right though my skin, see the Mulder jungle inside. But then I realized how silly that was. I smell like Mulder because I ride in an enclosed space -a lovely government issue Ford Taurus- with him and his citrus-y cologne overpowers the light floral scent I wear. Since I met him, his aftershave has clinged to the wool of my blazers in the winter and in the summer it always insinuates itself into the very weave of the fabric of the silk blouses I wear. It's a hell of a lousy reason to smell like a man. Smell by default. Smelling like him just because you were driving around in the same sedan. Rolling around naked together in the cool dewy grass on a humid July day, flesh running over flesh so many times your sweat mingles and starts to smell the same, like sex and sea water, and then it soaks through your clothes after you get dressed three hours later so that you carry the suggestive and risque scent for the rest of the day, is a much, much better reason to smell like a guy. Of course that reason doesn't apply to Mulder and me. It probably never will. I blame it on physics. You see, if you apply the laws of physics to Mulder and me, as a couple, it just doesn't work out. In fact, the idea terrifies me. Why? Well, consider matter and anti-matter, for example. If you've ever watched Star Trek or the many spinoffs it inspired and paid attention to their manner of propulsion, then you know the theory, a collision of matter and anti-matter would bring forth a great explosion of energy, or in our case, if I can stretch the hypothesis, two bodies colliding in a burst if great sex. But then you have the end result of the reaction: nothingness. Matter and anti-matter balance each other out completely. Is that what would happen to us? The thought scares me to death. Which one? The thought of being one with nothingness, or the thought that you and Mulder might become nothing? I don't know. Or maybe it's the secret knowledge that I am Mulder inside. If I'm enough like him the law of opposites attracting wouldn't apply. There would no great bang, if you'll pardon the pun. We'd only have a matter/matter reaction. I know those can be spectacular but I can't help but feel that after all Mulder and I have been though, we'd have to up the ante or we'd just fizzle. Somehow that doesn't seem worthy, seems beneath us. Nothing but ginger ale should fizzle. After all, who would ever choose to be a neutron? Doesn't everyone want to have some effect on the universe? Positive or negative? I've worked with enough criminals desperate for attention, desperate to know they have some power, to know it often doesn't matter which it is. Transform. Effect. Change. Human nature requires us to want to stir up the world and those around us. Nature may desire a balance but people sure don't. Not the least of whom, Mulder. I think that's why he's done this to me. Maybe he doesn't even know he did it. But it happened just the same. I'm still me, but a different me. A Scully doll with Mulder stuffing. The same on the surface, but different, so different inside. END Love to A.S. where ever you are.