TITLE: Butterfly Dreams (4/?)

RATED PG-13 (Chapter 3) | | X-files M&S Angst

Author: Darshann 

Repost?: After complete definitely, just keep it intact with all 
installments and with my name on it,please! 

Spoilers: Everything up to mid-Season 7 is fair game

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and the X-files are not mine, thank you 
so much CC for creating them. The rest of this story and it's 
characters belong to me However, if the people of the X-files 
should ever stumble upon this story and like it, take it and use 
it. Just let me bring GA some coffee between takes :)

Summary: M and S explore the world of dreams both individually and 
in reference to a case involving a series of strange deaths and 
discover some things about themselves they may not be ready to 
know.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[Chapter 3]

Dana Scully's Computer [password protected]

D://Personal/Journal/feb2200.doc 

I have this vivid memory of being in preschool during naptime flat 
on my back staring up at the ceiling, daydreaming. I would lie 
there imagining who I would be when I grew up. What would I be 
like? I remember thinking, someday I'll be married. What will my 
husband look like? What will he be like? Did I already know him? 
How many children would we have? I had big dreams. 

I couldn't wait to meet "The One". As a child it was so easy to 
believe. I remember story after story that made it seem so easy. 
It will happen to me. True Love will someday sweep me off my feet 
and it will be perfect. A 'Happy Ending' complete with sunset. 

I believed as a child. Then I grew up and learned the hard-edged 
truth. It was a lie. 'Happy Endings' are just about as real as the 
Loch Ness Monster. Life isn't as beautiful as it was in those 
stories. And most dreams don't come true. 

Still deep down inside there is this little voice screaming... and 
sometimes it's so hard not to hear. Especially, when your 36th 
Birthday is tomorrow and you just know your mother is the only one 
who is going to give a damn.

God I feel old.
_____________________________________________________________

 
The air in the FBI forensics lab always smells like a mix between 
formaldehyde, metal, and death. Something I rarely notice after 
all this time, but today I do. I grab one of the white coats off 
the rack by the door and pull it over my maroon scrubs to ward off 
the chill. 

The eight bodies are already here. Each wrapped in post-exam 
fashion and lying on their gurneys. Silently they wait. 

I should have been furious with Mulder for assigning me eight 
autopsies(Eight, this is going to take all day!), but I was just 
relieved to be able to be alone. Well, at least away from him. It 
was just too awkward this morning.
 
A bureau Path-lab assistant is busy gathering instruments from the 
cabinet at the back of the room. I really hope he isn't an idiot 
like some of them. 

He turns and begins wheeling the newly filled instrument tray over 
to the autopsy table. Realizing I've worked with this assistant 
before, I sigh inwardly with relief. 

He's a young guy, medium build with freckles, sandy blonde hair 
and bright eager eyes. He knows his stuff and doesn't chatter like 
some of the others. Now what was his name? 

He spots me and smiles the way you do to an authority. Someone you 
respect; someone you admire. "Good morning, Agent Scully."

That was the other thing. I remember being struck by the 
sensation, the first time we worked together. Respect. You'd think 
being a doctor and a federal agent, I'd get a lot of that. You'd 
think.

Just in time, I spot his name tag and smile back. "Nice to see you 
again, Jacob, hope you weren't thinking of catching an early lunch 
today. I think we're gonna be here awhile."

Jacob nods and moves off to begin dragging one of the bodies over 
to the table. I remember when I was that fresh and eager. Never 
tired. No regrets. My future all ahead of me. I pick up the first 
report from the ME and start looking it over. A few things pop out 
at me immediately. I guess sometimes experience is nice too. 

Reaching over the papers I turn on the recording mechanism built 
into the room. A nice perk about doing autopsies here instead of 
out in the field. 

"February 21, 2000 addendum to original examinations of eight 
victims relating to case LR-23745. Re-exam performed by Special 
Agent Dana Scully, assisted by Jacob Dover. We begin with - " I 
pause and turn to peer at Jacob. 

Without looking up he grabs the toe tag and reads off, "Morsen, 
Robert."

Knowing his response was also recorded, I continue. "No apparent 
cause of death was concluded in the original report. However, 
blood work done shows some strange findings. Acetylcholine, 
Seratonin and Melatonin levels were all more than 10 times the 
normal amount, while Neoepinephrine levels were so low they were 
practically immeasurable. This would appear to indicate the 
subject experienced an unusually long and undisturbed deep REM 
state of sleep just prior to death."

Great, more fuel for Mulder's dream theory. Just what I need, a 
case where the victims decide their lives suck and they'd rather 
be dreaming. Forever. 

"The subject also exhibited alarmingly low electrolyte and fluid 
levels indicating severe dehydration. However, due to the late 
discovery of the body, this may be due to post-mortem desiccation. 
Especially if the place were they were found was being over-
heated." 

Moving over to the table, where Jacob has already removed the 
wrapping from the body, I begin to make my own observations. I 
pull on a pair of latex gloves and run my finger along the skin 
testing for the expected rigidity. Note the pallor and texture. 
Looking for any marks or punctures. I examine the torso, head, 
arms, legs, feet. "Nothing remarkable is revealed about the 
subject upon external re-examination. The traditional Y-incision 
is present indicating the subject was previously autopsied. As is 
usual, the brain has also been removed for firming and later 
autopsy."

I wave my hand over the body, indicating to Jacob that he can 
proceed to re-open the cavity. Eagerly he begins cutting open the 
coarse sutures. 

Meanwhile, I flip through a few of the other reports to check for 
any correlation. Strangely, all the subjects exhibit the same 
abnormal levels in hormones associated with REM stage sleep. 
Mulder's gonna have a field day with this. 

"All other subjects' blood chemistry reports reveal same abnormal 
hormone levels. As this would be extremely rare in even one 
subject, the multiple occurrence is very strong evidence of a 
connection between all the subjects."

"Jacob, when you're done with that can you get the brain for this 
subject. It should be set enough for dissection." Jacob, cleanly 
slices away the last suture and spreads the flaps open, revealing 
the cavity filled with pre-dissected sliced organs. He sets down 
the knife and disappears into the back of the room.

"Brain dissection may reveal pituitary abnormalities. Thus 
explaining the abnormal hormone levels which could have caused the 
subject's apparent inability to wake. Ultimately death would have 
simply been a result of cardiovascular collapse due to the 
inevitable dehydration."

God, I hope so. Though, I know it is unlikely that eight people 
all just happen to have this same abnormality which causes them 
all to die within a month. Maybe, the killer was somehow able to 
trigger the malfunction. Nothing strange showed up in the 
Toxicology report. Could over-the-counter Melatonin do the trick?

"It is my opinion at this point that regardless of the 
state of the pituitary, the ultimate cause of death was the 
subject's inability to awake and take in fluids, leading to severe 
dehydration. Because of this very fact, the time of death is 
difficult to determine with any great accuracy and thus the 
original inability to conclude this as the cause of death."

I plunge my hands under the mass of dissected organs filling the 
torso cavity. Feeling the cold rubbery flesh through the gloves. 
As I suspected, the entire cavity, where usually wet and slimy 

with mucous residue, etc, is quite desiccated. It would not have 
struck me specifically had I been looking for more conventional 
causes. Especially given the fact that the time of death was shaky 
give or take a week. "The body cavity is uncharacteristically void 
of normal moisture for the estimated time of death and method of 
preserving the body. All organs, as can be determined in their 
current state appear normal in color, and exhibit no abnormalities 
beyond the same uncharacteristic dryness."

Jacob, returns to the room pushing before him the wheeled tray 
loaded down with tools and a large jar containing the preserved 
brain of Mr. Morsen. He is sporting a surgical mask and goggles 
and hands a pair of each to me. "I figured you wouldn't want to 
wait the 3 hours for the formaldehyde to drain off, so..." 

"You read my mind." I don the protective gear as Jacob unscrews 
the jar and lifts the now rubbery organ onto the dissecting tray, 
cutting the string it hangs from. "Beginning dissection of subject 
Morsen's brain." 

I separate the cerebrum, cerebellum and brain stem and then begin 
removing the hypothalamus in order to take a look at the 
pituitary. Pulling back the membrane that covers it, I find to my 
disappointment that it appears normal. "Upon initial external 
examination, all major sections of the brain including the 
pituitary gland appear normal."

I continue with the dissection, but continue to find zero 
abnormalities. Even the tiny pituitary upon being carefully 
halved, also reveals nothing remarkable. Damn. "Upon 
complete dissection, no abnormalities have been revealed. 
All appears normal."

Well then why the hell couldn't he wake up? Tox screen 
showed nothing. I guess I could run it again, but probably a 
huge waste of time. But something must have triggered the 
malfunction. I suppose it is possible, however unlikely, 
that the subject took a high dose of over-the-counter 
Melatonin and that caused the inability to wake. But there 
isn't any way to prove that through autopsy since it is 
naturally found in the body. Maybe Mulder will find some 
pills. I should tell him to look for those.

I frown and shake my head. Switching off the recording system, I 
sigh and push back from the mobile dissecting table. "Jacob, the 
rest is just going to be dirty work. Why don't you unwrap the rest 
and get to work opening them up. Just leave them on the gurneys. I 
doubt anything new will surface, but I have to make sure."

The rest of the day moves by like a blur. Body after body, dry 
cavity after dry cavity, normal, normal, normal. It becomes so 
monotonous, I find my mind wandering. Thinking back to a time when 
I would regularly spend all day elbow deep in pieces parts. 
Breathing in that stale acrid smell of preserved flesh. 

Funny how you look at the world when you are young. You have such 
visions of who you will be and what you will do. Never thinking 
for a moment that you will end up 36, wasting your talents on a 
career going no where fast, no friends to speak of, hardly a 
family, single... God when was the last date I had? Better not 
figure that one out. Why am I here? What happened to what I 
wanted? Seems that day I walked into Fox Mulder's office, all of 
Dana Scully's dreams got lost in the shuffle. 

Oh, it's not his fault. No. It never is... It's always mine. I'm 
always the wrong one. Well, you did join the Bureau. You did want 
to prove your metal, bring Justice to the world. Now where did I 
ever get the notion that that was my responsibility? Truth. 
Justice. Sounds like some chivalric code. Sounds like Mulder. I 
wonder sometimes about my reasons for following after him. Is it 
that I need to somehow prove he is wrong in the end? No, that's 
ridiculous. If, he didn't have me around, he'd still be bouncing 
off the padded walls of his cell. 

I need him. Do I? No. Liar. Of course you need him. Who is it you 
always want to hold you when the world is crumbling? What? No no 
no, I do NOT need him. 

For a moment, I pause as the thought sends me back into the dream 
I had last night. Thinking that I am here in this life as a 
single FBI agent because I need to deal with a fear I have about 
being alone. So I am alone and I am strong. A survivalist. 
Without anyone else's love. I am, in fact, stronger in my 
solitude. An independent woman.  

The thought makes me smile to myself. "Loneliness is a choice."

But what if? The other side ponders. What if, I had gone on to 
practice medicine? Would I be married now? Missy alive. Dad... so 
proud. I wonder what my life would be like without Mulder. Though, 
in the dream, he was there too. Would I have met him anyway? Could 
such a shift have changed our relationship so much? 

No. Not as he is now. He would have had to have had a shift too. 
Some other path leading us both to a different fate. I wonder 
what that would be.

I find I have been staring into the depths of the latest body 
cavity for over ten minutes. Not seeing anything. I draw my hands 
out of the organ mish-mash and wipe my gloves absently on the 
white jacket. Jacob is quietly busy sewing back up the bodies I 
have finished with. We are almost done. Nothing new has 
surfaced.

I pull the latex off my sweaty hands. "Jacob, I'm gonna go and get 
some air and make a call. I'll be right back. Do you want a 
sandwich from the machine while I'm at it?"

"Yeah. The roast beef is pretty decent. Thanks, I forgot how 
starved I am." He waves over at the side counter. "Got some 
quarters over there, if you need 'em."

"Oh. No, it's on me. Not every day I get such a great helper." He 
smiles. Jeez, I think he blushed. Sweet. He's kinda cute. Wish he 
were older... what am I thinking? Shows you how desperate I am for 
some respect and admiration. 

I toss my gloves into the bio-hazard trash and walk through the 
door, leaving behind the smells and clinging dampness.


[End of Chapter 3] 

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