#I also have something else in the works for fellow love and deep space girlies btw

[mika-writes-fanfics]

It’s really wild looking at my past works and seeing the difference between what it is now. Like for chapter one of Healing Touch I’m like… who tf even wrote this?

[dana-sculy]

Vive Ut Vivas - Chapter Two

→ Chapter One

It’s been 84 years since I wrote the first chapter of this story, I know, sorry it took me so long to continue to write it, hope you all enjoy! To read it in AO3 come here :)

tagging @today-in-fic

In this chapter, different from the first one, we'll see the story under Scully's perceptive. It's also a way to better explore her emotions and inner feelings of the situation. Plus, since in season 11 we came to learn more about Skinner's past and how he also had to deal with trauma, I decided to use that background in the conversations between him and Scully.

Prologue

I remember a time when I was only 5 years old. It was an ordinary day of summer, and mom had decided to take her children for a picnic in the park not far away from our house. She had little pots of everything with too much sugar and more packaging than the space-shuttle. Dad had been away on the sea for a long period of time, and even under the naïve perceptions of myself as a kid, it was possible to see how much she missed him. I don’t know if the picnic was an attempt of cheering the mood more for herself or for us. I should’ve been worried, but instead I just gave her my best smile and pulled out the fresh baked baguettes with brie and cranberry.

The air was warm that day, the beams of sunlight glowed on my skin. Melissa liked to sit close to the flowers and inspect them, under the freshly cut green grass. Charlie and Bill would start fighting with each other any time soon; it was sort of their motto. And that was my cue to go get and adventure by myself.

Looking back today, I wonder how could I and Melissa get along so well together. We were opposites in everything: she was the model, girly girl, who loved dresses, flowers, dolls and the piano lessons mom made sure we attended to. I was never that way. I loved dogs, sports and comfortable pants. I would only come inside home when mom called me with that tone of threat, which is the reason to my abundancy of freckles, due to hours and hours under the sun, climbing trees, running and playing around.

I was the tough child, I guess. Mel was the soft, popular one. That hasn’t changed much now that we’re adults. I still don’t go very well with softness; I keep it under tons of labored layers, deep inside.

This was mainly the reason I feared so badly to come here and stay with my sister. She has always had this thing of hers that somehow goes straight into your heart and sees everything. I’m a private, reserved person, and I like keeping my feelings only to myself. But that never really worked with Mel. Let’s say she would be very good at interrogations.

---

After what felt like an eternity, my tears, which eventually turned into little sobs, finally went away. At some point, Melissa’s tightened her hold on me; there wasn’t much else she could do about the whole situation for now. I ran my fingers through her knuckles, and she released me slowly.

“I guess I’ll be going, Mel.” – I feel terrible for leaving her after such an intimate moment, and especially because I know she’ll have a lot of other questions for me now.

“Work stuff you said, right?” – She sounds discouraged, but not mad, at the very least.

“Yes. Skinner had called me in the morning and he’s expecting me at the Bureau. So… I’d better be on my way.” – I rise from the couch and start to collect my things, stuffing them in my purse. It feels weird, not having my badge with me.

I say goodbye to my sister without turning to look back at her. If I did that, she would find her way into convincing me to stay. Even so, I can still feel her eyes burning on me, absorbing each detail, each movement I do. I close the door quietly and follow my way down the stairs of her building.

---

FBI headquarters  - 3:00 p.m.

There is a feeling: it starts when you enter a place you’ve already been a thousand times before, and yet, when you look around, you feel like it’s not the same, even though nothing’s really changed. You try desperately to find out what is different, but the only thing you find is a bitter taste in the back of your mouth, a feeling of intrusion, as if you were the wrong peace of a puzzle, trying to fit in.

I enter through the front door, the big cement columns threatening to smash my tiny figure as I pass them to go through the metal detector machine.

As the elevator doors open, I feel a sense of relief as I notice it’s empty. I am aware that my abduction has made me quite a popular person in the bureau, as if being part of the X Files division hadn’t already granted me that. Mulder talked with me about how a few people, whose existence he’s never known before, had stopped him at the corridor to ask if Mrs. Spooky had been taken by his fellow aliens, or simply to know what really happened to me.

Being a woman in a field that is predominantly occupied by men has taught me that the standards are never equal when it comes to gender difference. I had to work harder than most of my male colleagues at Quantico to stand out, and now as an agent, I feel more than grateful to be Mulder’s partner, because, unlike the others, he treats me like an equal, recognizing my work as an agent without making me feel less capable due to being a woman, and protecting me when it’s needed without making me feel like I couldn’t handle myself.

The problem in that is that it often makes me forget how mean the rest of the bureau can be. I realize I wasn’t that lucky when the elevator doors open again, now in Skinner’s office floor, and I see a very crowded hall ready to swallow me up.

The loud noise of my high heels coming in contact with the floor fill my ears and I feel my body threatening to throw up all the remnants of the cheap lunch I had back at the hospital. I walk silently, looking straight away and trying my best to avoid the curious eyes that follow me. I hear whispers too, but my ears don’t register any words being said. My mind is way too busy fighting to keep me standing and moving forward. Thank God Skinner’s office is not so far from the elevator itself, and I get there quickly enough.

Arlene’s attention is instantly drawn to the creaking door as I open it, increasing considerably as she recognizes my singular figure entering the precinct. She tries her best to be discreet, though. She even gives me a little smile, embarrassed with the whole situation.

“Agent Scully, you can go inside. Mr. Skinner is already waiting for you.” – with that, she returns to typing in her computer.

Skinner is indeed expecting me as I walk to a chair in his conference table. Different from the others, he doesn’t show any sign of curiosity or pity. I feel immensely thankful for that, so I give him a smile. I’m well aware that the evaluation is merely standard procedure, not to mention that it’s just me and Skinner there, but, still, the knot in my stomach doesn’t subside a bit. I guess after all that’s happened, my mind had gotten a little susceptible to Mulder’s paranoia of breaking The X-Files division, and shutting our careers down along with that. Let’s not think about that right now, Dana. I turn the focus of my mind on taking long, deep breaths.

“Agent, Scully, it’s a relief to see you well.” – Skinner is sincere in his words, as he looks straight into my eyes to show me he means it. – “I hope you understand the need of this procedure. You were under a highly stressful situation and that requires a bureau evaluation, to make sure you’re ready to go back to field”.

“Thank you, Sir, I understand. I just want to go back to work as soon as I can.” – And forget this nightmare, I think to myself. For a moment, I wish Mulder could be here. His crack jokes and sassy faces would certainly help lighten the mood.

I remember Mulder with that thought, how he was worried with me coming back so soon, how he couldn’t help himself in hiding his desire to have my company back, despite that. My memory traces the lines of our office: the dusty shells of stuff Mulder makes sure to keep there, his table, his geek poster I came to like with time, the silly green alien key chain he bought me last summer, while lecturing me about how aliens are actually grey. It gives my heart some comfort to remember something so familiar to me.

“Good to hear that, agent. So, let’s begin, shall we?”

Thereby, Skinner starts to present me a series of routine questions, then about standard FBI procedure, and, finally, questions with, I suppose, a more psychological approach. Turns out it’s not that bad, after all. I feel relieved.

After I give my last answer, he pauses, closing his eyes for a bit. He uses the tips of his long fingers to massage his temples, and then takes a deep breath.

“If you allow me, Dana, I’d like to talk to you, off the record.”

I realize I won’t escape personal interrogations today, so I give him a week nod.

“Listen… Your test shows no reason to keep you away from work. That said, I’m letting you know you can return to work any time.”

“I see a ‘but’ coming” – I attempt to make a joke, but he doesn’t alter his serious face.

“Well, yes, indeed. As your boss, I’ll tag along with the evaluation, but as your friend, I’d like to advise you to go home, Dana. You’ll continue to be paid normally even if you take some more time off, and you really should do that. Go be with your family, go rest and give your body and soul time to heal. Trust me, I know the feeling. Your strength is increasing and your body seems better, so it feels like you’re ready to go back to action, but these wounds, Dana, they’re bigger than they look. They can threaten to unsettle your spirit in the most inconvenient of times, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if that caused another risk to your life, or to agent Mulder.”

He was probably right; I knew it in my heart. But how could I tell him that taking time was consuming me, that it was making me mourn over and over again all the things I lost during my abduction? I could no longer rest unless I was under the effect of my sleeping pills, or drowsy due to my strong medication, because when their effect passed away, all I could see in my mind was the same nightmare over and over again. I must've let out something, because when I turned my eyes back to Skinner’s, he had a bigger frown on his face.

“Don’t fight me on this, Dana. You’re the bravest agent I know, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need help.” – He waited for a response, so I opened my mouth in an attempt of an answer.

“Sir, I appreciate your concern, but I really need to work.” – I sigh – “I need something to focus my mind on. I’ll be careful, plus, Mulder will be there to help me.” – I try to give him my best sad-puppy face. It seems to work.

“That’s not the answer I hoped for.” – Now it’s his turn to sigh. – “But I know you well enough to understand that trying to convince you otherwise won’t make any difference.”

“Thank you for understanding that, Sir.” – As I rise from my seat, he speaks once again.

“Agent, as you’re released to come back to work, I want you to be aware that, due to the circumstances of your case, you’ll have to go through periodic psychological counseling. That is not negotiable, agent Scully, but don’t worry, everything you say during session will remain private, these routine sessions are just to make sure you recover from your experience.”

I nod to him and find my way to the door, but he calls my name when I’m about to leave the room.

“Just one more thing, Dana.” – I turn to him. – “As you return, if you feel like you can’t stand a situation, anytime, my offer stands. Promise me you’ll accept help from the ones closer to you.”

From all the times Mulder and I had to count on Skinner’s assistance, I’ve learned to trust him and to believe in the fact that he really cares for us both, but now, from the way he says this words and the look on his face, I feel like this is more than just concern for me. It feels personal, and I’m inclined to conclude that he’s had his amount of trauma too.

“I promise.” – I tell him and leave, there’s a basement I have to go to.

[deludeddragon-blog]

I’m gay.

I guess I’m a little behind on this self discovery.

I grew up without having an identity or even knowing that identities exist. What was I supposed to do? I had a severe case of Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD). I hated myself, my hair, my clothes, my body, my voice, my anxiety attacks, my personality. I hated everything about myself. I think other people did too, at least, that’s how it felt being teased and bullied by my school mates.

It took marrying an abusive man at the age of 22 for me to finally find myself. I nearly killed myself, and it wasn’t fun, but I finally began to understand that I had an identity somewhere buried deep within me, and all I needed to do was dig it up. We were married for one and a half years. It was pure misery. I caved, I crumbled, and then I ran.

I ended up living in my car and from couch to couch for a while. It was kind of fun, like being a gypsy or something (a really, really hopeless gypsy). That time in my life gave me the courage and space that I needed to figure out who I am as a person.

I’m going to share what I discovered..

1. I’m antisocial.

Oh, so antisocial. It’s rather embarrassing exactly how antisocial I am. Talking to people... it’s so difficult. Smiling? But not actually feeling it? That’s what you’re supposed to do all day? Let’s not make ourselves miserable.

But, on the same token, I really feel lonely sometimes. I have my closest, dearest friend, and a couple of not-quite-as-close-as-him-but-still-past-my-outer-shell friends. They all live hours away from me, so we really only talk over technology, which is okay, I guess.

I’ve learned that I’m just not really into being a perfect butterfly that smiles and greets and hugs and smothers, and that’s okay. I’m perfectly okay with me.

2. I’m androgynous.

This is really the most major discovery that I’ve had. I was raised in a modest, strict household that taught religion as a way to force you to dress a certain way. The gender role game was strong. So strong that I had anxiety if I was seen talking to a guy at all (JUDGMENT EVERYWHERE). However, I always liked and felt so much more comfortable hanging around guys. I got super nervous around other girls and I would absolutely freak out (I did try to hide this). I think I partly just hated drama, but I really felt so at home with the bros.

I love dressing androgynously. I love beanies, men’s clothes, and feeling comfortable for once in what I’m wearing. I know it may sound stupid, but my confidence goes down the drain when I’m trapped in some ugly, girly outfit that I struggled to put together. I hate skirts, I hate dresses, I hate having no pockets, and I hate having long, stringy hair that I don’t want to fix because PIXIE CUT. Boyish charm all the way!

3. I’m rebellious.

It took forever for me to admit this, but after taking the DISC personality test and scoring 42 points in Dominant (almost half the pie!), I finally accepted that I hate sharing, I hate teamwork, and I hate when I can’t express myself without having to ask permission. I’m all about being kind to people, but I am so over being a doormat that everyone else can walk on just so I can come across as meek and gentle. I’m a freaking strong-ass stallion spirit. There’s nothing wrong with me.

It was one experience in particular that I had that made me HATE gender roles. My ex-husband had me with him at a store one day, and we ran into a fellow believer (in the strict lifestyle religious thing I mentioned). The guy literally did not look at me at all while he greeted my ex. My ex and he just stood and had this conversation as though I was invisible. Finally, my ex decided to acknowledge my existence. At this time, I was highly annoyed and insulted that the fact that I had no dick between my legs meant it was somehow inappropriate for the other guy to even introduce himself. I was literally an accessory on my ex’s arm, and no, I’m NOT okay with that.

I’m also not okay with being met with disrespect and demand from another man just because he thinks he is superior to me. I’ve had this happen a lot, and although I totally respect a person’s authority role when it is necessary, no one is going to come up to me and chew me out for having my own brain.

4. I’m gray-ace and bi-romantic, or perhaps just bisexual.

My failed marriage partly consisted of a lot of discomfort to doing “the deed.” I felt like a rape victim the majority of the time. It took a lot for me to finally realize that I’m just... not normal.

I was raised not to even look at a guy in a sexual manner, as our beliefs were that sex is for (traditional) marriage, and if you even secretly lust after someone, you’re sinning (wanting someone is equivalent to getting in bed with them). Basically, dating was a courtship (a highly controlled courtship that everyone had a say in regarding if it was the right fit for you). If I couldn’t even look at a guy, you can believe I was DEFINITELY not going to be looking at a girl. I didn’t even know how sex worked until I was married (at 22 years old). And yes, I was a virgin until marriage.

I guess you can say, I highly admire women. I really like men for companionship and friendship, but I really think women are very attractive not only physically, but in a lot of other ways. I find myself attracted to both men and women sometimes.

I actually have a boyfriend now, someone who I grew up with who shares my background and experiences. We are BFF’s from childhood and are inseparable. I am happy, he is happy. I hope we stay this way forever. I’m just glad to know my gender identity.

5. I am not good at commitment.

Don’t be scared, I don’t mean that I’m some sort of cheating type. I’m not against open relationships when consensual, but no, I’m not into the whole douche-bag mentality where you’re just freaking unfaithful. I’m actually quite noble when it comes to relationships. I believe that when you love someone, you don’t betray them. That’s why you shouldn’t be with someone you don’t love.

However, I’ve always been super freaking scared of commitment. The fact that I’ve been married once is actually shocking to me looking back on it. I’m a lot like Polly Prince from Along Came Polly, I’ll just say. Maybe not that bad, but you get the idea.

So, if I commit to you somehow, you better know you’re super important to me. I’m not going to just give a chunk of my heart to anyone, and I will protect you and care for you with all of my ability.

For me, I don’t see this quality as a bad thing any more, like I’m broken. I just see that I don’t play around. And that’s okay.

6. I’m agnostic-atheist-bordering-Buddhist.

No, I’m definitely not a Christian, although I was heftily raised to be one. At least, in their eyes. The rest of Christians actually consider my people to be heretics. (Long story.)

Do I believe in the Biblical, Christian God? No. Why? Because the Bible contradicts itself and I have concluded that it is invalid. Some of the teachings in it are morally okay, and I don’t have a problem with other Christians (as long as they mind their business and show love), but overall, I just can’t take it seriously any more.

At the same time, I don’t know if there’s some sort of higher power out there. I’ll probably never know. Why? Because it can’t be proven or disproved. I just choose to spend my mental energy admiring science and doing other things besides trying to call fire down from heaven.

I love Buddhism and its teachings. I even think the concept of reincarnation sounds perfectly reasonable. I like to read and follow a lot of the teachings, and I find comfort in the possibility that every person gets tons of chances to live their best life and grow by reincarnating into someone new.

Hey, I don’t have to know everything, and I’m finally at peace with that.

7. My interests consist of fantasy MMORPG’s, anime binge watching, androgynous fashion, nature, and healthy living.

I’m not a fanatic in anything, really, but I do have strong interests in these areas.

I was always afraid to have a hobby before because I was raised to be consumed by religion and religious activities instead of “wasting my life” doing things I actually enjoy. It feels really good to have control over what I spend my time doing.

I guess that sums things up. I know it looks like I’m pretty much bashing my past religion, but I remain friends with many of them to this day, and I do respect their decision to live the way they want to. My Tumblr is a way for me to get this off my chest without repercussions. It’s hard when everyone you love is holding on to the lifestyle you left. No one really understands how you feel or why you have changed things about the way you live.

That part of my life sculpted my identity almost by itself, so I acknowledge it, just like I acknowledge the people who have come and gone in my life. It’s a part of who I am, and once again, I’m okay with that.