ANAHATA By T Bishop Rated: Barely R Category: MSR/SA/Post Ep for TINH Disclaimer: Sure. Fine. Whatever. Spoilers: Yes, through TINH. Anything else is pure speculation. Feedback graciously accepted at: Tbishop27@mindspring.com Author's Notes: Love to David and Marybeth for beta. A very special thanks to my Spooky Sister Tracy for all her help with this story, despite Mercury's mischief wreaking havoc in her life. And, as always, a big thanks to Grasshopper for archiving. You can find all my stories at The Literary G-Spot. http://tbishop.freeservers.com/ or http://arcticfox42.phpwebhosting.com/Tbishop.htm "Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind that ye may prove what is the good and perfect will of God." Romans 12:2 Anahata (1 of 1) He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. For the longest time it's all that echoes through her mind, over and over, in tune with the beating of her heart. She can't escape it. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. The icy reality pulses through her veins in the darkness. There's nowhere to hide from it. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. "Mulllderr!" she sobs - a futile cry for deliverance as the significance filters into her consciousness despite her resistance to accept. HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. It grows louder and faster with her panic. She can't stop shaking. Cold from the inside out... just like Mulder's corpse lying on that stainless steel slab in the morgue at Quantico. Dead. She feels dead too. Empty. Frozen. Alone. They wouldn't let her stay with him, so she came back here - to HIS place - to HIS bed. To the pillows that have hidden her tears all these months. To sheets that have been on the bed since the day he left for Oregon. To his dress shirt she never could force herself to take to the cleaners. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. She can't rationalize away the pitiful truth tonight, as she lays in Mulder's bed, wearing his cherished Knicks' T-shirt, her small frame wrapped in a familiar leather jacket, clutching his badge to her breast. Mulder's dead. Mulder's dead. Mulder's dead. She sobs until she exhausts herself. Sleeps fitfully... briefly. Wakes up alone, and starts crying all over again. Dana Katherine Scully is no stranger to grief. Ahab... Missy... Emily... the pain of losing all three had not prepared her for this. Her partner, her best friend, her lover, and soul mate... the father of her unborn child... Mulder... gone... forever. Forever. Forever. Sorrow penetrates her every cell; the pain is excruciating. She curls into a fetal ball, hugging her swollen belly. That's it. That's why the hurt is so unbearable - she's grieving for two. Her baby will never know its father. Mulder will never know of their miracle. She never got a chance to tell him. And now he's dead. There was so much she wanted to say to him, words that never passed her lips but should have. "I love you," she whispers to his ghost. Why didn't she tell him when she had the chance? There were so many times... so many times she'd wanted to but didn't dare. Even after they'd become intimate, she couldn't bring herself to utter the words. Why didn't he tell her he was dying? Why? Why? Why? Mulder's life had been dedicated to his quest. No woman could possibly compete with his single-minded pursuit of the all-elusive truth. Scully knew better than to try. Asking him to be the father of her baby had been a bold risk, dangerously close to an imposition. But it wasn't merely a child she ached for; it was HIS child she longed to carry in her womb. And though she'd been almost certain he would turn her down, she had to try. When he said he didn't want 'this' to come between them, she'd understood exactly what he meant - a gentle warning not to expect more than he could give. He said yes! She was ecstatic. The process began. Eight precious zygotes. The first three didn't implant. Try again. Another disappointment. Three more would-be embryos... potential darling little babies... lost. One last chance. That final failure had left her wracked with guilt for putting Mulder's love to the test and ultimately giving him nothing in return. Enter Daniel. A dark secret from what felt like someone else's past. He was dying too. Why was everyone around her always dying? Including herself. Anger, resentment, fear, guilt, shame... cancers of the soul... they'd been eating away at her steadily for years. No wonder she couldn't conceive a child. Her body had to continually struggle just to nurture her own existence. She would read that book again, the one Colleen recommended. The author believed emotional issues strongly affected one's health. That releasing negative energy was crucial to the healing process, physically and spiritually. Love heals all things... Amor vincit omnia... Love transforms... Anahata, the chakra of the heart. Had it healed her barren womb? She'd certainly witnessed stranger events. Maybe Empedocles was right. She'd finally made peace with her past and was ready to face the future. It had been one of those moments of incredible clarity. She'd known exactly what she wanted when she woke up on his couch that night. He was waiting for her. She smiled impishly, slipping out of her blazer under his curious stare. "Mulder, did you know Hindu Tantrics believe sex is a means for attaining cosmic consciousness, enlightenment... universal 'truth'?" A single brow lifted playfully on that last word. He propped himself up on one elbow in the bed, trying to figure her out. "Is this a come on, Scully? Or are you only seeking intellectual stimulation?" "If you were a Hindu Tantric you wouldn't have to ask, now would you?" Her eyes never left his as she continued slowly undressing. In this very bed, their bodies had joined as one. The intensity of Mulder's passion had overwhelmed her... took her breath away. They were perfect together. Nothing had ever felt more right. She'd left the next morning while he was still sleeping. It was her reassurance to him that there were no expectations attached. He'd called a few hours later, his sleepy voice rumbling low and sexy through her cell phone... sending chills through her body. "Scully, I had the most incredible dream last night." "Really? What a coincidence." "You want to tell Dr. Mulder about it? You know I got an A in dream analysis when I was at Oxford." "You got an A in everything when you were at Oxford." "Ahh... but the real question is, did I make the grade last night?" "I'd put you at the head of the class." "Come back, Scully. The bed's cold without you." Come back, Mulder. The bed's cold without you. Come back. Come back. Come back. ~Fin~ Author's endnotes - Colleen Azar's book recommendation (Which incidentally is a favorite of Gillian Anderson's too, according to GAWS): Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom: Creating Physical and Emotional Health and Healing By Christiane Northrup Last summer I wrote a short story called PROGENESIS to explain Scully's miraculous pregnancy. That theory was based on hard science - progenitor cells (stem cells) actively rebuilding damaged tissue - and the machinations of the Cigarette Smoking Man in "En Ami". The theory I propose in ANAHATA is infinitely more in the true spirit of The X-Files, and for that reason, I like it so much better. Empedocles philosophized that love (philia) is what ultimately transforms matter. Clearly "all things" was a life-changing episode for Scully. The catharsis she experienced pushed out the strife (neikos) from her body, and allowed the healing love (philia) to restore her fertility. That's what Dr. Christiane Northrup's book postulates. (BTW - Northrup is an OB/GYN. ) So what we've got here is a case of "Physician heal thyself." Wouldn't it be nice if Scully were allowed this victory after all the losses she's been made to endure? Thanks for reading. T Bishop Life is too short to drink bad wine.