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The night she had returned from Philadelphia Scully’s nose bled again.
She wasn’t an idiot.
She knew the signs and resigned herself to booking a doctor’s appointment in the morning. She still, believe it or not, had some friends-turned-acquaintances from her med school days. Among them was Julia Oakes, leading oncologist at Holy Cross Memorial Hospital.
Scully would make arrangements in the morning, go sometime in the next week before work, but for now she laid against her pillow and let the blood pool under her cheek, she’d toss the pillow case in the wash when she got up.
She considered calling someone, expressing her fears, but who would she tell? She couldn’t startle her mother with mere suspicion. Melissa was dead. Charlie was out following in their father’s footsteps and would not be home for several months, as far as she knew. Billy- well. Forget about Bill. And don’t even start about Mulder.
She didn’t think that she would even be able to look at him in the morning. Not out of embarrassment, because Scully wasn’t embarrassed. No. Scully couldn’t face him at the risk of spontaneous combusting from the rage that was coursing under her skin.
And congratulations for making an personal appearance in the Xfiles for the second time. It’s a world’s record.
How dare he. How dare he look at her like he was better than her. Like she was the villain for wanting something and having it go south. Wasn’t that his life story? He wanted to investigate an x-file and ended up getting injured. He wanted to find his sister and only got laughed at.
She was done. Not done with the x-files, she was fairly sure she was about to go down with that particular ship.
No.
She was done with him. She was done trying to be his friend, to help, to be his- something more. It was exhausting and quite frankly he didn’t deserve it and god dammit the blood was leaking in her mouth.
The coppery taste reminded her of rage.
She hated him. She vowed to herself that she would hold onto that rage in the coming months. That she wouldn’t let his akward, soft smile and apologies weaken her resolve,
But as the blood trickled down her neck she disdainfully admitted to herself that it wasn’t likely a promise she would keep.