I can't help it now; I'm falling apart, literally and figuratively. I'm physically injured and broken inside, and I can't stop the tears. Maybe it's the hormones flooding my body to protect the only thing I have left of Mulder, growing inside me. At least, I hope with all my heart that it's still growing inside me after the impact I just suffered when that hybrid dressed in Skinner's skin threw me against the wall. Maybe I have a right to fall apart now. But what scares me the most is that I don't care. Agent Doggett is holding me now, and I'm hiding my face from him, mostly because I don't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he's rescued me or some such, but I'm not trying to be brave or to control myself the way I might have if Mulder were here.
I've fallen apart a few times in Mulder's presence, but never like this. I've always composed myself within minutes, tried to protect him from the full onslaught of my emotions; he always had enough of his own to contend with without worrying about mine. And there was probably a bit of pride involved too; I never wanted to appear weak in front of him, lest he treat me as an inferior more than he already did. In fact, now that I think of it, every time I fell apart in front of him, he became overprotective and overbearing, at least for a time. Whatever comfort he offered in the moment ultimately proved unmatched by the amount of undesired concern and condescension I received afterwards. It's not fair either; he's fallen apart in front of me, but I've always let him off afterwards, allowed him the freedom to do what he wanted, even when I knew it was dangerous or ill-advised.
There are no such concerns now. I no longer care about my career; I have no partner, no direction, no motivation besides protecting that tiny, secret embryo in my uterus. That embryo whose origins are suspect and which I cannot say for certain is Mulder's offspring, but that assumption is the best possible explanation for my supposedly impossible gravidity, and is the only explanation I can live with.
In the past, I've waited to fall apart until I was in the safety of a confessional booth or my mother's arms, and occasionally, if I couldn't wait, alone in my car. I don't know if now, I'm not waiting because I can't, because the hormones have left me without the necessary emotional control, or because I simply have no motivation to put on a show of strength for anyone around me. Skinner's probably unconscious somewhere, and Doggett's an ass who doesn't deserve an ounce of consideration. It's mostly his fault we're in this situation to begin with.
I have a feeling I'll be falling apart a lot in the near future.