Author: annaK
Title: Medusa
Rating:PG-13
Classification: VA
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine
Spoilers: Up to Season 9
Archive: I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral. Anywhere else, just let
me know.
Author's notes: This is my first fic so be gentle!
Dedication: To all the Mastos! You guys rock!

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Medusa by annaK

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Images swirling, blurring. An avalanche of colour drained from her
cheeks, twisting around her face in a fiery halo. The image reflected a
woman she did not know. This being that stared back at her was hollow
inside.

Dana Scully moved away from the mirror as if in slow motion, as if her
reflection had hypnotised her. She measured her footsteps on the slow,
regular rhythm of her heartbeat. The seconds passed in pulsations of
blood, moving around her body; a provision of foods, fluids and
vitamins; maintaining a life that she no longer wanted to live.

She had never thought that she would miss her cancer. The monster that
had leeched off her body now seemed like the perfect escape route. She
remembered when she had heard that it had metastasised, how she had felt
a numbness overtake her. She had fought it then, afraid to lose the
feeling, even if all she felt was hurt. She remembered sitting in the
bathroom, carving her name into her calves. Milky white skin tainted,
smeared with the evidence that she was still here; the blood still ran
through her veins, her heart still beat. Pain had been an escape. She
had wanted to feel.

Now she is tired of feeling. Her reflection, her portrait. The coldness
in her doppelganger's eyes her ultimate goal. If she could stop feeling,
stop living, then she might be able to find peace.

The sounds of a child crying interrupted her reverie, awakening her to
the harsh brutality of an existence that felt, every day, more and more
like a prison. Her son's needs chained her to a world she would rather
leave.

Scully silently approached the small creature. His eyes squeezed shut,
mouth open and screaming for milk. Her milk. She wondered when her
existence had become that of a milk cow, mindlessly drained to maintain
another's life; her child's life. This creature with too red skin and a
too large a nose was all she had left; her miracle. He was more of a curse.

Her doctor had said it was post-natal depression. Not that she trusted
doctors anymore.

Picking up the child, she wandered through to the livingroom. Lowering
herself onto the couch, William found a comfortable position and began
to feed. She felt even more drained than usual.

The image of her child suckling from her breast was still surreal to
Scully. Mulder had said it was beautiful, and kind of erotic; something
which she had found rather disturbing in a Freudian sense. They had
laughed when she had told him that, the sound echoing off the walls of
their home. They were a family.

Now she is alone, cut in half and bleeding into the impostor's mouth.
His name is William. She cannot say it.

This creature has an identity, she does not.


**
The End



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