Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Dreams
He was surrounded by fog off in the distance, yet she would never mistake who he was - her father, William Scully. There was no expression as he stood there watching her on the end of the dock. Everything was silent, yet she swore she could hear him calling her.
It felt as though she were a child again. Each step she took was carefully calculated and carried out with hesitation. There was a feeling of dread, the same type that she used to feel whenever she knew she was in trouble. The only difference was that this was much bigger than some broken flower pot or missed curfew. He wasn’t about to yell at her and ground her and be done with it. This was about her choices in life and the subtle disappointment he demonstrated every time he saw her. It was simply a collection of small looks and nods that stuck with her long after he left, reminding her of the fact that he would never truly be proud of her.
The wind began to pick up as she grew closer. A bright light emitted from behind him that masked his face in a dark shadow. She wasn’t sure whether it comforted or scared her that she couldn’t see his mouth moving anymore. It wasn’t as if he were truly saying anything, yet there was something ominous about what he was trying to tell her.
“Dad!” She called, wincing as she used her hands to try and shield her face from the light.
Nothing.
“Dad!” She tried again to no avail. She stood there, yelling, tears streaming down her face, but nothing. He wouldn’t respond. His lips just kept moving as he stared directly into her eyes.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. She jumped, wheeling around to find the culprit. There was nothing but darkness surrounding her. The only sound came from the wind. And as soon as she relaxed, she could feel him leave, the absence and loneliness.
“Dad?” She softly whimpered. He wasn’t there anymore. She was simply all alone.
Oooooo
Scully lay awake staring straight up at the ceiling. Something had felt off ever since she last had dinner with her parents. The news of his death had caused her to replay that entire night over and over again in her mind. There must have been something she missed, a symptom, a warning look shot from Margaret to William when he reached for a second helping. Surely she must have caught something if she had that dream, she must have known that he wasn’t well.
That was the problem, she hadn’t known and she blamed herself. Perhaps if she would have monitored what he ate while he was there or had them stay just a little longer. Maybe he would have lived if she would have been there.
She had thought she had been doing better since Luther’s execution, but there was still this lingering feeling. It wasn’t something she could really identify. At times when she was alone it felt like an ominous dread, a paranoia. Other times it was this guilt ridden grief.
Any hope of getting sleep tonight was lost. The images of her nightmare were swarming through her mind. It was a lost cause, but she believed that maybe if she concentrated hard enough that she would be able to figure out what it was that her dad was trying to tell her. It was naive to think that it meant anything, but not knowing was bothering her. It almost scared her to think that there was a chance she would never decipher his message.
She pulled herself out of bed and headed towards the kitchen. The house was mostly dark save for the illumination from the streetlights shining through select windows. It was silly, but part of her was afraid to turn on the lights. She didn’t want to pass by her living room and chance seeing him sitting in the chair again or spot him hiding somewhere, waiting as his mouth moved silently.
The only thing that comforted her now was the promise that the most recent wave of paranoia would be gone by morning. That was the time in which she usually felt better. That and while she was at work. It was only the evenings that troubled her, the times in which she were alone with her thoughts and imagination.
“Dana?”
Turning, her eyes widened in fear as she examined the darkness surrounding her. There was no one there, but she could have sworn that she heard her name. Logically she knew that it could have been from the mix of the stress and the exhaustion. The mind was able to convince many people of extraordinary things. There was no reason that she wouldn’t believe that it made her think she heard something when she was half asleep and scared.
“Hello?” She called, making sure.
There was no answer. The silence should have made her feel better, but all it did was raise more questions.
She hastily grabbed her water from the sink and headed back to her room. She didn’t bother to stop and glance around the house this time, she barely even closed her door before rushing to the bed and plopping down. It was going to be a fight to get back to sleep, but her little episode only reminded her of just how badly she needed sleep.
Oooooo
Scully awoke the next morning more tired than she had been the previous night. Something had to change, but she wasn’t sure what it was at this point. She was doing better than she had been, at least, she thought she was. There were no more panic attacks, and she didn’t have to deal with Luther messing with her head as she did her best to sort out her feelings.
She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, finishing her makeup with the application of her lipstick. It was all she could do to try and distract from the dark circles that had taken residence under her pale blue eyes.
Just a couple of weeks ago Mulder had called her Dana. It wasn’t much, it was her name after all, but the way he used it. He was worried about her. He’d been worried from the second that he learned of her father as though he knew exactly how hard it was going to hit her. From that moment on she had been nothing more than a ticking time bomb. Perhaps in such time, she had already gone off, when she was allowing Luther into her mind, twisting her memories and playing with her emotions. The man had taken something that should have been personal private and brought it all to light, making her feel exposed. He had this gift of bringing up all the things she had tried so hard to forget, things she had buried deep within her mind and left to be vanished forever.
Then again, maybe that was simply the beginning. Maybe she was still getting wound up with the insomnia and the paranoia. If that were the case, she was scared.
Science was something she had always held near and dear. It explained things in a way that Catholicism could not. It gave her definite answers that grounded her to reality when things were too chaotic - something that happened regularly in her home. There were things her father and his friends would talk about, things that none of them could explain, things that could have easily taken him away from her. That was when she started turning to science, when she was so afraid of his absence, when the unknown forces were suddenly much darker than a benevolent being offering comfort in times of need. William was already in enough danger whenever he left home, she didn’t need to start worrying about the things that he couldn’t fight off with a gun, the things that would simply not be affected by our weapons.
It was getting to the point where her own greatest weapon was beginning to fail her. She couldn’t explain the way Luther hurt her. She couldn’t explain the suddenness of William’s death. And without that security blanket, what did she truly have? Her own mind even seemed to be against her.
Sighing, she set her lipstick down onto the sink and gave herself one final examination. She didn’t look great, but it was enough. Hopefully Mulder knew better than to ask too many questions.
She rushed out the door, grabbing her things and getting into her car. Among the things brought, was a thermos of coffee. She took a chug out of the cup before starting the engine and rechecking herself in the mirror. The first thing she noticed was the fact that her lips were bare. She sat up, moving closer to inspect her reflection, wiping her mouth with her thumb - nothing. She looked down to the thermos and noticed that there was no lipstick mark.
Her heart began to pound as she stared with widened eyes full of horror back at her reflection. She could have sworn she applied lipstick. She remembered very clearly standing there at the sink, applying it and setting it down.
She went to turn off the car so she could head back inside and check, but she spotted the container sticking out of a pocket on the side of her purse. She slowly reached out to take hold of it, her hand trembling as she did so. It were as if she had to check to make sure that she wasn’t simply seeing things.
Once she finally grabbed it, she brought it up to her face and examined it. It was the one she thought she used that morning.
Tossing the tube aside, she retrieved her phone and dialed the all too familiar number. “Mulder? It’s me!” She said, her voice laced with anxiety. “You need to come over.”