TITLE: Severed Yuletide
AUTHOR: Atrocia
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kthomas@qnet.com
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Xemplary, Ephemeral, and 1aFMDSGADDX-
FilesFanFic.  Others are fine, but please tell me where it's
going.
SPOILER WARNING: Christmas Carol
RATING: R
CLASSIFICATION: VA
KEYWORDS: none
SUMMARY: For personal reasons, Bill Scully Jr. is more disturbed
by Scully's talk of Roberta Sim's possible suicide than he is
willing to let on.
DISCLAIMER: The characters within do not belong to me, but to Ten
Thirteen and 20th Century Fox.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: A big thank you to my beta, Kimpa, who shares my name as well
as my obsession!



"Suicide victims rarely make the fatal cut on the first try,"
Dana spoke in an unemotional, matter-of fact tone, repeating to
her brother nearly the exact words she had used earlier when
speaking to Detective Kresge.  Detached due to being a doctor -
due to the nature of her work - her brother, Bill, supposed.

However, Bill cringed inwardly.  "Thank God," he thought, "Thank
God they don't."

***

He remembered back to that day, when he'd found his wife in their
kitchen, cuts running vertically down her wrists.  Tara had stood
there, watching the blood flow through her open cuts.  Using the
gleaming blade, she had made only one cut in each of her ivory
wrists, but they had been deep.  Sensing his presence, she had
looked up at him, her doe eyes sparkling with the threat of
tears.

He had gone to her, gently taking her into his arms as she held
her wounded wrists out to her sides.  Stroking her flaxen hair
gently, he had kissed the top of her head.  Finally pulling back,
he looked into her eyes, which must have revealed to her only a
tear-blurred image of him.

"We have to get you to a hospital," he spoke to her softly,
seeing that the crimson stream was, if anything, flowing more
freely with each passing moment.  She didn't argue with him.  He
could tell that at least a part of her wanted to, though.  He
couldn't bring himself to say another word to her, though;
instead he quietly led her to the bathroom, where he snatched a
roll of bandages out of the medicine cabinet.

Still silent, he had gestured for her to sit on the closed toilet
seat.  She had tranquilly complied, seating herself, arms
outstretched, palms up, awaiting him to bandage her.  Tara's
serenity disturbed Bill almost more than what she had done to
herself, although he tried not to let on to this fact.  Bill
wrapped the bandages around Tara's outstretched wrists gently,
yet as tightly as he could without fear of harming his wife.

Then, Bill had walked Tara out to their beige Taurus and driven
her to the emergency room.  Of course, this was long before she
had even been diagnosed as having any sort of a "chemical
imbalance".  Back then, although he had scoffed the idea of that,
even *he* hadn't been able to ignore the problems she had faced,
and it had been at least a few years ago, before they even
considered having children of their own.  The incident was their
own secret (as they saw it, there was no point in relating it to
anyone who had not already known...and his wife was now a
cheerful, beaming, woman).

However, Bill couldn't deny what his lovely wife had tried to do
all that time ago.  She had gotten help then, but he still
worried these days.  This was especially true now that Tara had
decided, all on her own, that it would be far better for the baby
if she were to go off of her medications.  He couldn't very well
argue, now that her mind was set upon it.

But, he still couldn't help but worry.  This was, Bill supposed,
largely due to the case that his sister was currently working on.
That, and the fact that this incident with Tara had taken place
during exactly this part of the year.

***

Bill scratched his head.  "Yeah," he finally replied to Dana, "I
suppose they don't."



**The End**