Title: The Yesterdays

By Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)

Website: http://susanproto.freeservers.com/TheGarden.html
Classification: Fill in the blank - vignette

Rating: PG13 for language
Keyword: MulderAngst
Spoilers: Demons
Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are the property of Fox, Inc. and 1013 Productions.

Authors Note: Written specifically for the Demons After the Fact
challenge and posted with Mary's nudging <g> and Vickie's encouragement. Thanks, ladies.

Summary: No more yesterday...don't want them back...

The Yesterdays

By Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)


"What do you think it was?"

"It was some kind of seizure, some kind of acute physiological disturbance. I couldn't tell if you lost consciousness, but definitely some kind of clotic event. Kind of an electrical storm in the brain."
"Brought on by what?"
"That's what a specialist is going to have to tell you, Mulder."
"I feel really... good... right now."
"Mulder, you are not really good."

No. No, I'm not good, but I'll be damned if I admit that to Scully. I'll be damned if I admit that to anyone. Not again, damn it, not again.

Somehow I manage to walk away from my partner without falling down. My legs feel wobbly; I'm so tired. I can't let her think something's wrong. Damn it. Damn it! This time feels differently - so hard to describe - yet the same.

The first times were so long ago, but now it feels almost like...oh, god, it's always going to feel like the yesterdays! I look up and see the same, concerned expression. I remember never knowing what the hell happened. Disoriented - dizzy, fuzzy - all I want to do is sleep. Back then. The first times...even now, I'm confused.

I'm not sure which way is up at the moment, but I don't think I'm sleepy. This time it's different. Groggy...muddled...dazed. I think it's different. No more yesterdays...shit, I don't want them to be back.

The first times - I woke up - I saw her.

School nurse, Mrs. Mills...wearing that dingy white uniform. God, how old is that woman? 103? The phone call. That damn phone call. I remember, wondering, 'God, who the hell is she talking about?' I can't figure it out. 'He had a fit.' A fit? I keep wondering who is she talking about? 'Yes, Mrs. Mulder - I've already called for an ambulance.'

The gurney - I don't want to get on it. 'No - want to go home.' They pick me up. Kicking. Screaming. 'Please - want to go home.' The straps - too tight. Too tight. Please - home - now.'

Quiet - too quiet in school. Don't look - don't look at them. I don't see them - they won't see me. Faces look down at me with the same expression as Mrs. Mills - as Scully's. 'Please - let me go home.'

I walk toward the Cassandra home as if on autopilot. We walk to the Cassandra's home.

"I think I've been here before."

My gut says I wish hadn't.