Transition 
By Heavenly Creature 
NC17 
MSR, VRA(?) 
Please archive. 
heavenlyc@geocities.com
xxxxxxxxxxx
 
I don't know when she'll come back. 
 
You see, sometimes when I close my eyes at night, Dana 
comes back to me. 
 
Normally, I can't tell the difference between what Dana is 
like and what I am like. It's only when she's there that I 
remember. 
 
I didn't become Scully overnight. 
 
It was a long, slow transition that started the day I met 
Mulder, and finally finished when I realised that he had 
managed to take over my whole life without even trying. 
 
Maybe he had tried, though I doubt it. I wish he had. I'd 
feel better if I had changed due to forces stronger than 
fate. 
 
No. Long and slow. 
 
I don't think of myself as Dana. Even when I feel like 
her, it's not like I'm myself again. She was a different 
person, separate, opposite. Maybe not opposite, just. . . 
changed. 
 
She appears in the corner of my room, like all the best 
apparitions do. She is just an outline, her hair less 
tamed than mine is, her edges more filled out. 
 
Don't let her get to me, I pray. 
 
She crawls in under the covers at the end of my bed, and I 
think I can hear her rasping my name - *her* name - but 
it's only my imagination. She isn't though. She is real. 
 
Her skin is cold and smooth like plastic, but thick and 
liquid like candlewax as it melds into mine. 
 
I feel vaguely angry, indignant, apprehensive. 
 
"What are you doing?" I ask, possibly out loud. 
 
"Shut up," she says harshly. It's only when she talks that 
I remember just how hard I used to be. I don't know why or 
when I changed. 
 
I don't think Mulder noticed my change, because I didn't. 
But when Dana gets into my head I remember things that 
used to be different, when I was her. When I dream about 
making love with Mulder, I am Scully without a doubt. Dana 
would not dream this way, or act the way I imagine I 
would, she would bite and scratch, and scream, and take 
control. I would not do these things, I am soft now, I 
love Mulder, he is my equal. 
 
She brushes her cheek against mine, and kisses my ear, 
deceptively sweet. I don't want her to touch me, and I try 
to push her away, but it hurts. Her body is already half 
inside mine, and when she moves away she takes some of me 
with her, like getting my thighs stuck to a plastic chair, 
except it goes deeper than that. It doesn't just pull away 
skin, but some flesh, and the tiniest hint of bone. 
 
Dana laughs at me. 
 
She pinches at my stomach with her hard fingers, and I 
remember the way I used to stand with my hands on my hips, 
digging my nails in. It was just a habit. 
 
And then I can't see her any more, because she is inside 
me, moving my limbs tentatively, experimenting being back 
inside her old body. She lets out a long sigh, and I feel 
her breath on my lower lip. I'm still in there somewhere, 
only very deep down now, like a memory. Dana pulls at my 
pyjamas, she is not used to wearing ones like these. 
 
Afterwards, I will wonder how she felt about this body, 
whether it has shrunk or become more, whether the changes 
make her feel good or make her wish she was there instead 
of me, moulding this body into something else, something 
that she wants it to be. 
 
She digs her nails into my waist, and frowns when she 
realises I am bruised. Slight bruises, in the shape of 
Mulder's fingertips. He saved me. He pulled me away from 
my death, pulled me by the waist, and held me afterwards, 
sorry he had marked me and glad I was there. I try to 
smile as I remember, but Dana has already shaped my mouth 
into an amused smirk. She fingers the bruises lightly, 
wondering. 
 
She climbs out of bed, and looks at my reflection in the 
mirror. She doesn't like it. She takes off my pyjama top 
and replaces it with a t-shirt. But she still doesn't like 
it. "What did you do to yourself?" she asks, pinching my 
waist. 
 
I don't answer. 
 
We go to the kitchen, she walks around touching things, 
brushing her fingers over the walls and the surfaces, 
remembering. She drinks all the milk, and then the 
doorbell rings. 
 
Mulder, I think. Oh God. . . 
 
"Mulder?" Dana asks, wondering. She wipes her mouth with 
the back of her hand, and goes to answer the door. I can't 
stop her. Mulder has the worst sense of timing. 
 
"Did I wake you?" he asks, and I know that I can't answer 
him myself. 
 
"I wasn't asleep," Dana says. She wants to be near him, I 
can hear her thoughts and I know that she wants to smell 
him, touch him, taste him. 
 
I remember, when I was Dana, being attracted to him, and 
faintly amused by him, but never loving him. I was Scully 
long before I ever loved him and I'll never be anyone else 
for as long as I do. 
 
She invites him in. He looks rough, and a bit drunk, but 
she doesn't question him about it, as I would have done. 
"Don't you ever sleep?" he asks. Dana smiles. 
 
"I was thinking," she said. 
 
"About what?" 
 
I know what's going to happen next, of course. Dana is 
ambitious, very, very ambitious, and if she wants 
something then she will work hard to get it. 
 
"Just things," Dana says, and then adds, "You." 
 
Mulder looks pleased. "Me?" 
 
She smiles and nods, putting my hand on his arm, and I can 
feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. So 
this is how it's going to happen, I think, and Dana 
silently tells me to be quiet. I'm getting in her way. 
 
"What were you thinking?" he asks, looking at my hand a 
little nervously. 
 
She shrugs. "I was wishing you were here," she says. 
 
She isn't me, can't he tell? Isn't it obvious that I would 
never say these things? I didn't think that Dana would say 
them either. I don't remember ever acting this way with 
anyone when I was her. I don't know why she is doing this 
to me, how will I explain it to him afterwards? 
 
"And now you are," she says. 
 
"Are you okay?" he asks, "Is something wrong?" 
 
Dana smiles, shaking her head. Mulder looks almost scared 
now, and slightly unsure of what is happening. "Don't you 
know, Mulder?" she asks softly. 
 
She reaches out my arms and holds his face, stroking his 
cheek with my fingers. I'm scared as well, now, but at the 
same time intrigued, wondering how Mulder will react. It's 
a horrible feeling. 
 
"Know what?" Mulder asks, resting his hands on my hips. 
 
"I love you," Dana says, and I know instantly that she has 
ruined my life. There's no way I can take that back, tell 
him that it wasn't *me* who said it. It's so unfair. Dana 
doesn't love him, and she has no right to tell him that 
she does. Or that I do. Or whatever it is that she has 
effectively just done. 
 
Mulder's face softens, "You do?" he murmurs, his eyes 
scanning my face. 
 
I can feel myself smiling coyly, and nodding, and gently 
pulling Mulder's head down to my level. 
 
"It's isn't me!" I say desperately, but this time it *is* 
only in my head. Dana is kissing him, speeding ahead at 
full pelt, a very strange feeling when I am not in control 
of it. 
 
She wastes no time, because - after all - this is the Dana 
who will take whatever she wants and won't ask questions. 
I have come to the conclusion that this isn't even the 
real Dana, not the woman who I used to be. This is the 
mind of the woman, which isn't the same thing. This is the 
way I would have liked to have acted, if I hadn't been so 
sensible. She isn't me. . . 
 
But Mulder likes her, I can tell. 
 
His hand slides down my back, and I notice that he avoids 
the area where I am still bruised. He remembers. Dana 
moans as he reaches the back of my thigh, and lingers 
there. His hands are warm, his fingers barely touching as 
they run along my inner thigh, down, as low as he can 
reach, and then back up. . . 
 
This is wrong, I want it to stop. If I told him to wait 
until morning, would that give me enough time to get rid 
of Dana? I don't even know if I'm capable of removing her, 
but I know that I'm not capable of speech. 
 
She wraps my leg around the back of his, and pulls us 
closer. His fingertips brush along the damp patch of my 
pyjamas, only just touching me through the fabric, making 
Dana gasp and me wince. Before I know what is happening, 
she has forced him to support the weight of my whole body, 
to hoist me up into his arms, my legs around his waist, my 
back slammed against the front door. 
 
Blind panic rushes through me. I don't want this. Dana is 
tearing at the zipper on his jeans, and he lets my feet 
drop to the floor so that he can slide my pyjamas over my 
hips. Dana kicks them away, and he kicks away his jeans, 
and I feel vulnerable and exposed. She pushes his jacket 
off his shoulders, smiling up at him in between kisses. I 
can feel electricity crackling behind my ears, and I want 
it to stop. 
 
He lifts her - me - and gives a little push, sliding 
inside of me, moaning deeply. Dana puts her arms around 
him again, sighing loudly. It all feels so familiar, but 
it doesn't feel right. Not one bit. 
 
"Jesus. . ." He pushes his hips against mine, but the 
feeling I have is not one of happiness or love, but of 
sickness. I feel sick to my stomach that Dana will have 
sex with Mulder and he will like it, and wonder where she 
has gone when she disappears, and I have to pick up the 
pieces. 
 
If she disappears. 
 
Would she have to become Scully in order to love him too? 
And if so, would it be me she became, or would there be 
another version of Scully, two of us in this body, *my* 
body? Or would I disappear altogether, and come back and 
haunt the new me the way Dana haunts me now? 
 
"Back. . ." she mumbles, and we move back into the room, 
awkwardly staggering to the one-seater, where Mulder sits 
back, and Dana sits astride him. She pushes her hips 
against his. . . they're not mine any more, they're hers. 
I'm going, disappearing. 
 
She pushes and pushes, and tears the flesh on his 
shoulders with her fingernails, and shrieks, shrieks his 
name, but not in the way that I would say it. The way I 
say it tells him that I love him and need him and 
appreciate him more than anything or anyone. Even when I'm 
angry or hurt by him, that's what his name means on my 
lips. 
 
Dana doesn't even know him. 
 
How can this be happening? Half an hour ago I was lying in 
my own bed in my own body, and now. . . 
 
She comes, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, and it 
hurts me. I want to get away now. 
 
"AaaaahhhMulderrr. . ." She keeps pushing, and I feel my 
edges blur. If I split away from her now, fly away out of 
our shared body and up into the air, would I ever be able 
to return? I don't know how long it would take Mulder to 
notice that she isn't me. If he would at all. 
 
"Ohhhh. . . Sculleeee. . ." 
 
Bits of me return, and I see through the eyes on the body 
that might be mine again. Dana thrusts, but Mulder said my 
name and it was -me- who he wanted. 
 
"Fuck, Mulder. Ooomigod. . ." She comes again, and he does 
too, trembling and clinging to her. By now I am almost in 
tears, but Dana is smiling, having collapsed and draped 
herself over him, breathing deeply. She isn't being 
affectionate; Mulder moves to embrace her, and while she 
doesn't resist, she doesn't snuggle against him or even 
return the embrace. She just lies there, and smiles to 
herself. 
 
"I love you too, Scully," he says finally, and more of me 
returns. I still can't answer. Dana laughs. She closes her 
eyes, and I long to know if Mulder has closed his. I don't 
want him looking at Dana, seeing the difference, 
wondering about her. 
 
Don't let her fall asleep, I pray. 
 
I don't want to wake up like this tomorrow, I don't want 
to be Dana any more. But when she falls asleep, I have to 
too. 
 
I want to reach inside myself and pull her out, but she's 
attached to my bones now, wrapped around them, clinging to 
them for dear life. 
 
We - Dana and I - drift in and out of sleep all through 
the night. Somewhere in between waking up one time and the 
next, Mulder has taken us back to my bedroom. I'm not sure 
who is controlling my body, and I'm too tired to try to 
work it out. 
 
But when morning comes, Dana has gone. I feel lighter, and 
slightly out of control. My waist hurts where she has 
scratched me with her thick nails, and my back is sore, 
but I feel much, much better. I can breathe again now, I 
can control my own movements. 
 
Mulder is asleep next to me, and I find myself incredibly 
angry. Dana has stolen from me, she has stolen everything 
that I enjoyed, the waiting and the wondering, she has 
ruined everything. Now I have Mulder, which is what I 
want, it *is*. . . But the thought of facing him when he 
wakes up is not a particularly pleasant one. 
 
Dana sits at the foot of the bed, but I don't look at her. 
I won't. 
 
Mulder stirs, reaching for me. 
 
"Good morning," I say, suddenly pleased that he is near. 
 
He scrambles across the sheets and drapes his arm over my 
stomach. "I feel like hell," he mumbles. I can't be sure 
that he is fully awake, that he knows where he is or that 
he even remembers last night. 
 
"I think you had a little too much to drink," I tell him, 
though I'm not sure. 
 
"I don't remember," he says. 
 
"I'm sorry about last night," I say, "I don't know what. . 
. I don't know why I did that. . ." 
 
He opens his eyes and looks up at me quizzically. "You're 
sorry?" 
 
"Yes, uhhhhh no, I mean. . . no." 
 
"Did you mean what you said?" 
 
I touch his face. "What did I say?" I can't remember. It's 
more like a dream in my memory. 
 
"You said you loved me." 
 
I want to tell him that I didn't, that it wasn't me, and 
I'm still furious with Dana for taking away my opportunity 
to tell him that *myself* for the first time. But I nod, 
and he kisses the corner of my mouth, slowly, closing his 
eyes and resting his head back on my pillow. "Love you 
too, Scully," he murmurs, unable to resist the temptation 
of sleep. 
 
Dana watches us curiously, and then she fades a little. I 
reach out with my toe, and prod her black outline. She is 
only just real, hardly there at all. She looks at me 
haughtily as she fades a bit more. 
 
Go away, I tell her, but I think I must have said it out 
loud. Mulder opens one eye, and frowns at me. "Hmmm?" 
 
"Nothing," I say, and smile. 
 
"How can you hate me?" Dana asks. "Can you honestly tell 
me that you're not happier now?" 
 
"I don't hate you," I say quietly. Mulder is dead to the 
world, his breath against my shoulder. 
 
"I did it for your own good," she tells me. "Think of what 
you'd be doing if I hadn't." 
 
She's right. I am happier. 
 
And then in a split second, I'm not actually sure whether 
Dana was ever there at all. There's no sign of her, not in 
the room or inside of me. 
 
I don't know when she'll come back. 
 
 
 
 
 
__________________________________________________________ 
Hmmmm.... I just read the book which I got this idea from, 
and realised just how similar aspects of it are.... Well, 
never mind. 
Feedback will be worshipped at <heavenlyc@geocities.com>. 
Thankie! 
 
"In the morning she feels more like herself, like Charis. 
She doesn't know where Karen has gone. Not back 
underneath the lake; it doesn't feel like that. Possibly 
Karen is hiding somewhere else inside their shared body; 
but when she closes her eyes and searches with the mind's 
eye, here and there within herself, she can't find her, 
although there is a dark patch, a shadow, something she 
can't see." 
            from 'The Robber Bride' by Margaret Atwood