From: =?iso-8859-1?q?aRcaDIaNFalls?= Date: Sun, 2 Dec 2001 20:16:52 +1100 (EST) Subject: NEW: Chances Are (1/1) by aRcaDIaNFall$ Source: xff TITLE: Chances Are AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$ FEEDBACK: arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au RATING: PG SPOILERS: minor one for Irresistible SUMMARY: Musings in a morgue. A short scene. AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those who are wondering, I've been working madly on TGP13 and it should be on its way soonish. Sorry for the delay. For now, I hope you enjoy this! --> http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ Chances Are (1/1) by aRcaDIaNFall$ "Looking for anybody in particular or just browsing?" I swung around. She was standing there in sneakers, blue scrubs and a dark blue plastic apron splashed with blood, her hair tied back with strands escaping, a smile quirking her lips. It was a charming picture. I smiled at her comment, taking a few steps closer to tuck the strands of hair back behind her ears as she shed the apron. "What's the verdict?" "You're going to be disappointed." "No signs of foul play?" "Massive coronary." I winced. "The man was only forty." "Thirty-nine to be exact. Almost six foot, one hundred and seventy-five pounds... All in all, a pretty good physical specimen." "Heart attack aside." "Heart attack aside," she echoed in agreement. She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, Mulder. I know that's not what you wanted to hear." "How does a thirty-nine year old man just drop dead like that?" "Poor diet, health problems, preexisting heart condition, genetic predisposition..." "I'm forty, Scully." An amused, tolerant smile. "You're not going to die, Mulder." "We don't know some doctor didn't tell this guy the exact same thing a week ago." "You're getting paranoid, Mulder." "Damn right I'm paranoid. You know the sort of crap I eat, Scully." "True," she acknowledged, looking as though she was starting to enjoy herself. She shook her head. "You're in great physical condition, Mulder, despite the crap. You don't have a heart condition, or at least you didn't the last time I checked." I shrugged uneasily. Scully folded her arms and leaned back against some steel instrument drawers, gazing at me curiously. "What's on your mind, Mulder?" I gestured the rows of morgue freezers to our right. "Death." "An inescapable fact of life." "But look at all these drawers, Scully. All these people... they're in rigor mortis and we're standing here talking to each other. Doesn't that get to you?" "Get to me?" She considered it. "You mean, that death is real, that it's a part of life, of our lives? I guess we're desensitised to it, a little..." "You've been busy slicing and dicing. You don't ever think about the person as a person, not just a body or a case or a name? You don't think about their wives or husbands or fathers or children?" "They don't exactly encourage that in autopsy class," she said dryly. Then she dropped her gaze, more serious. "You just push it away, Mulder. You just don't think about it." A slight shrug. "Denial, I guess. But you can't cut somebody's ribs apart when you're wondering about their life." "How do you do it, then?" She looked up, gazing ahead thoughtfully. "You treat the body as a piece of machinery, I guess. You know how things are supposed to look, how they're supposed to fit. You check all the parts, see what's broken or damaged or worn out... It doesn't bother you, so much, that way." She transferred her gaze to me, a little curious. "Do you think about dying, Mulder?" "Sometimes." "I dream about it. Not often, just sometimes. I dreamt once I was doing an autopsy, but when I pulled back the sheet it was *me*, on the table..." "We deal with a lot of disturbing things." I looked at her. "We deal with death a lot." Her blue eyes were watching me, innocent, wondering. "Are you afraid of dying, Mulder?" "Why do you ask that?" "Most people are." "Are you?" "I'm afraid of dying," she said slowly. "But not of death. Not of what comes after this world." I took a few steps toward her and, beside her, leaned back against the sterile drawers. "I have this one dream," I told her quietly, my unseeing gaze falling to the floor. "I'm alone, in the middle of the desert, and the sun is bright and it's dusty and the ground is stained red with my blood. I've fallen, and I'm hurt, I can't move. I lie there and I know that I'm dying. It might take hours or days, even, and I'll be waiting, listening for somebody, but nobody will come and I'll die alone. Dying alone scares me." "That frightens me, too." She touched my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, then stood. "I need to change and fix up the paperwork, then how about we go to lunch? I'll get you something healthy." "You said I was in great condition." "Just making sure you stay that way." She headed toward the door, but I called her back. "Hey, Scully?" "Yeah?" "I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Or you could." She nodded, serious. "Chances are pretty good we won't, but you're right, we can't be sure." "I love you." She smiled, a little amused but understanding. "Yeah. I love you too." I nodded. "No harm in saying it. Just in case." She turned to go, then stopped herself, frowning a little. "I'd find you, you know," she said softly. "If you were missing and hurt, I'd know, and I'd find you. I'd get you to a hospital, and if I couldn't save you, I'd at least make sure I stayed. I wouldn't leave you." I smiled, watching as she turned again and left, door swinging shut after her. I turned slowly to face the rows of refridgerators, each with a neatly labelled tag, each holding the mortal remains of somebody who surely must have feared death and what followed it. How long was it until I ended up cold and still in one of these drawers? What lay between that moment and now? Turning away, I headed toward the door, smiling to myself. Not what, but who. The door swung shut behind me, and I didn't look back. fin. ===== : VISIT aRcaDIaNFall$' X-FILES FANFIC : http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ > check out the new images!! <