Title: Chaos Restrained 
Author: H Lynn
E Mail address: hlynn28@aol.com
Rating:  PG
Category:  VA
Spoilers: The End
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST, ScullyAngst

Archive: Yes to all

Summary: Scully explores her feelings after a certain moment from 
'The End', and it leads her in a direction she didn't expect. 

Author Notes: This is a departure for me, writing style-wise. I've never 
attempted to write in the first person before, and it was both a 
challenge and a delight to do it from Scully's POV, with a scene that I 
felt *screamed* to be done. Also, the chance to write what happened 
afterward, when Scully and Mulder go over the X-rays in their office, 
was too tempting to resist. ;)   I'm anxious for feedback on this 
vignette, since I normally don't write short pieces such as this--any 
comments sent will be welcome. And if the responses are good, there 
might be a Mulder version to accompany it…

Disclaimer:  The companies known respectively by the number 1013 
and the animal Fox own these characters that I've used. I have written 
this with no expectation of compensation, and with the highest respect 
for 1013's creative ability.

***************************



	I have to admit it, I'm in a state of shock.

	My mind whorls and reels as if it's standing on the deck of a 
storm-tossed ship, trying to stabilize itself after the large wave that's 
just slammed into it. I steer myself towards the facility unconsciously, 
X-rays in hand and preparing myself to face him.

	Anger writhes inside of me, as I realize that it doesn't have 
any reason to be there. Why on earth should I be angry that Mulder 
didn't tell me about his true relationship with Diana Fowley? It's not as 
if we're dating. Far from it. 

	Then why do I feel so betrayed?

	The icy steel of the facility's door handle surprises me almost 
as much as the sudden understanding that accompanies it. 

	I don't want to lose him.

	I frown at the thought, then toss it aside. What do I have to 
be afraid of? Agent Fowley? I nearly laugh at the thought. Nearly. 

	I take the stairs to the second floor and head towards the 
room where they're keeping Gibson Praise. My mind wanders a little, 
thinking about what the Lone Gunmen found, and what it all means. 
That's another piece of the shock, too. Mulder is only a part of my life, 
I have to remind myself--not all of it.

	I recognize the door, and start to walk faster, more assured. 
Mulder will be probably at the observation window, watching Gibson. I 
convince myself of it pretty easily, and I'm half-expecting it when I 
glance through the door's window. 

	It's a fragment of time that becomes ingrained in my mind. My 
legs keep walking forward from momentum, my arms go slack, and for 
all appearances, I'm sure I look like I'm in control. I only wish that 
were true.

	They were...holding hands, like lovers once painfully 
separated, and now gleefully reunited. And Mulder...he was smiling 
like he was truly happy. Happy at seeing her, happy that she'd come 
back...to take my place?

	I want to get angry, but I can't. All I can feel is the achingly 
bitter pain of betrayal. I shake my head, trying to regain some 
semblance of sanity. Why, if I didn't know better, I'd swear that I was--

	I can't finish the thought. The stairway's door handle is in my 
hand, and my concentration focuses on descending the staircase, 
heading down towards the parking garage; Deeper and deeper into my 
own personal hell.

	The first door becomes the last, as I fling it open. Feelings I 
don't want assail me and claw for my attention. I don't want to feel this 
way, I shouldn't feel this way, I can't do this...

	I dig my keys out with numb fingers, and an eerie calm passes 
through me. Only then do I realize that my subconscious plan was to 
escape. Running away from the pain, the conflict, and the feelings 
denied. The keys slide into the keyhole easily, and with a quick twist 
and pull, I'm inside. I'm safe.

	Or so I wish. Instead the ache becomes even stronger, as my 
mind focuses on Mulder and the woman there with him. What are they 
doing now, I wonder? Are they talking about old times, reminiscing 
about love lost and found, or laughing about me...? 

	I fumble around with the keys, trying to find the one for the 
ignition. My eyes fall on the Apollo 11 keychain that Mulder gave me 
for my birthday a couple of years ago, and it takes all my strength and 
willpower to keep the tears back. 

	Mulder, I've lost you.

	In a dull haze, I pull out my cell phone. Regardless of what 
may be going on now, I'm still his partner. And there are X-rays that he 
needs to see. I try not to enjoy the thought that this will effectively 
disrupt his little tete a tete with Fowley. 

	I hear his voice, and I pause momentarily, wondering what the 
hell I think I'm doing. Then, as business-like as I can manage, I reply, 
"Mulder, it's me".

	"Where are you?" He sounds so concerned; I want to laugh 
bitterly. 	It amazes me how uneasily the lie rolls off my tongue.

	"I'm, ah, I'm on my way to work. I was hoping I could show 
you something...something about the boy."

	"Well, I'm at the psych facility with him right now. Why don't 
you come by and show me?"

	"Ah, no, I'd...I'd prefer to show you at work, if that's okay."

	"Okay, what is it?"

	"I think you'll be surprised," I pause as I realize all the 
emotions I've been holding back are creeping out vocally. Wearily I 
push them back again, and I nearly wince when I hear my efforts 
echoed in my voice. "Very surprised."

	I have no way to know if he recognized it for what it was, but 
his answer is reassuring. "I'm on my way."

	I hang up the phone and start the engine, aware that dawdling 
will only expose the scam I've just shamelessly pulled on my partner. 
Then again, it isn't too different from the one he's been pulling on me--
about Fowley--so I rationalize the guilt away. I turn my head to watch 
behind me, and find something I didn't expect.

	Spender's here? Why? Is he checking up on us, trying to find 
some fault with us in order to weasel his way up the Bureau's ladder? 
Or is it merely a coincidence? I shake the thought off with the sort of 
ease I wish I could use on my other prior musings.

	The whole way back to the Bureau is a blur. Stoplight after 
stoplight, I crawl through traffic that seems to have come from 
nowhere, and my thoughts go from reflection to anger and frustration. 
I go a little faster than I should, to make sure that I get there well 
before Mulder does, and I try to ignore the little voice in my head that 
tells me none of this would've been necessary if I had just walked into 
the room. 


**********************


	I've got everything ready, and just in the nick of time, it 
appears. He's here.

	I can nearly feel him on the other side, standing there without 
opening the door. Oh, God. Does he know? Does he know I was at the 
facility? Does he know that I lied?

	I try to push the thoughts and feelings away, but they come at 
me relentlessly, unbidden. Anger at his betrayal of confidence clashes 
against the pain I can't help feeling. A palpable anxiety descends on me, 
the fear of being rejected mixed with the horrible thought that I've 
already been replaced. Ultimately, my mind focuses on one thing:

*Why doesn't he just open the damn door?*

	The door knob turns, and in a second that passes by ever so 
slowly, the door opens just enough to expose a rumpled and weary 
looking Mulder. The anxiety washes away as I see his face--he's clearly 
happy to see me. 

	"So, what's up? Is it an alien implant? Some here-to-for 
unknown scientific phenomenon? Or did the image of the Virgin Mary 
appear in his X-rays?" He smirks at the last comment, knowing that I 
don't take offense.

	"Try the middle, but with an added kick to it." He raises his 
eyebrows in surprise, and I dimly recognize that we've fallen into our 
old pattern. A defense mechanism? "Take a look at this."

	We head over to where I have the X-rays displayed, having 
gotten them up only a few minutes before he arrived. I have the area 
circled already, and he squints as if that'll allow him to understand what 
he sees.

	I tell him what the circled area is, and about the neurological 
tests I had conducted on Gibson Praise. He's truly taken aback. I can 
tell from the way he's looking at me that he knows what I'm talking 
about.

	"The God module? Scully, this is...amazing."

	"I know. Tell me about it."

	"But this isn't exactly your area of expertise, is it? I mean, 
what you're talking is something more…parapsychological."

	I struggle briefly with the lie, then give in. "Maybe I'm more 
open to the possibilities than you thought."

	He nods absent-mindedly, then gives me a mild grin. "Maybe 
you are. It's funny, actually."

	"How so?" I ask, not finding this funny at all.

	"I was just thinking about how this case must be affecting 
you; I was sure that you'd be burned out. Guess I was wrong, huh?" 
He gives me a playful tap on the arm, but I barely acknowledge it. He 
was thinking about me? But was this before or after I called?

	"Wouldn't be the first time," I reply acidly, feeling the 
irritation building in me. I find myself asking him the question before I 
can stop it from leaving my mouth. "So, does the first name basis apply 
to everyone but me?" 

	I've been wanting to ask it for so long, but this time his 
actions have hurt me badly enough that--in that one second of 
indulging my pride--I didn't care if it offended him. I can see from the 
way his jaw has set that he's angry. But his eyes show me the pain I've 
caused him, and I try to correct my mistake.

	"I'm sorry, Mulder. That wasn't...it was very unprofessional 
of me to say that."

	"You're right, Scully. It *was* unprofessional. But entirely 
human, too. If you wanted me to call you Dana, why didn't you say 
something before now?"

	I almost laugh in disbelief. Mulder has completely 
misconstrued what I'd said. I'm tempted to let it lie, but I feel that my 
lying quota's up for the day. "No, Mulder...that's not it at all. You told 
me the first year we were partners that you didn't want to be called by 
your first name. Yet, aside from Skinner and myself, everyone does. 
I've never seen you correct anyone's use of it, and you certainly didn't 
stop Agent Fowley from using it, either. In fact, it seems to be mutual. 
Now, while I'm not the psychologist in the room, I'd have to say that 
you're trying to distance yourself from certain people by having them 
use your last name. And since that includes me, I can only assume that 
you're trying to keep your distance from me. Is that what you want?"

	He's looking at me in astonishment, his expression obvious to 
me after all these years. "That's the last thing I want."

	"Then why do we do this? Why can't I call you by your first 
name?"

	"I never said you couldn't. I just said I wouldn't like it. Diana 
knows I hate it, and my mom knows that, too. They just choose to 
ignore it. You, however, haven't even tried to use my first name since 
I mentioned how much I disliked it, and that means more to me than 
some false attempt at endearment. What's in a name, after all?"

	" 'A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet'," I 
quote, and his eyes light up with an unrestrained joy that I've rarely 
seen. Just seeing that look in his eyes gives me a grin I can't help 
wearing. 

	His joy ebbs off slightly, and he asks, "Did you want me to 
call you 'Dana'?"

	I manage to stifle an exasperated sigh. "Mulder, I don't care. 
Call me by whatever name you feel comfortable with."

	A playful smile crosses his face. "Right now, I feel pretty 
comfortable with 'Dana'," he replies, a serious coloring to his voice that 
causes me to shudder with something I hesitantly identify as delight. I 
wasn't entirely truthful when I said I didn't care what he called me. 
However, this is going in a direction that could become dangerous--an 
office in the basement, tucked away where no one would hear or see 
anything...

	For his sake and mine, the thought goes no further.

	"So, what did you do at the psych facility?" I ask, covering up 
the moment. He turns to look at the X-rays, the pale light etching his 
features in sharp contrast. 

	"I was checking up on Gibson, to see how he was doing. Ran 
into Diana, too."

	"Oh, really?" I notice that I'm instantly on edge. He's being a 
bit too glib about this...

	"Yeah. We were talking about old times when you called. It's 
been interesting to hear about what she's been doing, how things are 
going, y'know?"

	"I guess so."  I'm starting to wonder if I've either gone crazy, 
or have turned into a glutton for punishment. "Did you get along well 
with her?"

	His gaze shifts to the floor. "Yeah, I suppose you could say 
that. She got offered an assignment that was too good to pass up, and 
she left. She was easy to work with, since all she ever did was agree 
with me." He gives me a knowing look, one that seems to chastise and 
uplift me at the same time. "That isn't anything I have to worry about 
with you, however."

	I don't know whether to be offended, or pleased. I want to 
ask him more, but the questions are too personal and way too much for 
a partner to ask. And I convince myself that isn't any of my business, 
anyway. Like I said before, we are not an item.

	He changes the subject before I can. "Have you isolated the 
cause for the boy's mutation?"

	I shift back into my work image, falling easily into the role of 
scientist and doctor. This role I know well, having used it so often that 
wear it like a second skin. Mulder decides to tease me a little by calling 
me Dana, until he too gets lost in the information and we are back to 
the beginning. Back to the way we always are. 

	And I wonder whether I've lost, or won.

*End*

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