Title: Self-control
Author: Maureen S. O'Brien
Rating: G
Category: V
Spoilers: Nope.
Archive: Yes, any.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to CC, Ten Thirteen, and Fox.
Author's Note: A short answer to Lee Burwasser's challenge.

When I was young, I was a holy terror.

I argued everything. I talked back. And if I didn't get my 
way, I screamed. Every scratch was an emergency.  Every
setback broke my heart and dissolved me in tears. And if 
smiled and laughed equally freely, I don't think it helped.

It was Ahab who finally dealt with my volatility and saved 
my mother's sanity. He took me for long walks in the woods
and then equally long days on the boat. He told me long 
intricate stories in his infinitely calm voice. He took me
birdwatching. He taught me to stand so still that the deer
would not run from me, and he bought me a sleepy old hound
so calm that nothing fazed him. He took me stargazing far
out in the country, and drove me back home again while I
slept in back, cradled in the sound of jazz and the knowledge
of my father's silent sturdy love.

And I learned. Learned to exclaim inside, without moving a
muscle. Learned to be quiet for the sake of others, so as
not to disturb their world. Learn to keep my mouth shut and
my eyes open. Learned to learn. 

Eventually, I would learn more. The strength of logic, the 
beauty of mathematics and the mysterious elegance of physics. 
To look at a human body with the detachment of a skilled 
mechanic. To see corpses as both people and a collection of
facts. To see the path to survival that leads through danger
for one who keeps her head and follows her training. To see
the truth behind lies and the lies behind truth. 

But first, I had to learn self-control from a man who fought
with the Scully temper all his life. I was only exposed to 
its full fury only after I had grown, when I told him that
I was going to become a pathologist and join the FBI. Afterwards,
he kept his own counsel and his anger hidden from me. 

It was only years later that I learned what a gift that was. 
His father, the grandfather who had died long before I was
born, had sent my father to school with two black eyes and a
fat lip. A woman doctor had seen him, insisted on treating
him, and given him sanctuary in her house. She had seen that
he got a scholarship to a good Catholic boarding school, run
by the Jesuits. And she had a friend of a friend of a friend
who was a senator, and gave my father his appointment to the
Academy.

He swore that he would never beat his children. He vowed to
God that one of his offspring would be a doctor and save 
children. He wrote that in one of his journals, in the 
legible handwriting he learned for writing orders. He thought
that I would fulfill his vow, and then that I had turned 
away from it. 

But thanks to him, I kept my temper when I gave my report.
Thanks to him, I kept my voice calm and my steps steady.
And today, after reading that entry in my father's journal 
at my mother's house, Skinner called to tell me that the 
X-Files have been reopened.

Who knows how many children we can save?  We are a 
formidable group, for all that our numbers are few:
Mulder. Skinner. The Lone Gunmen. Myself. 

And Ahab.

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Just in case somebody wonders, the absence of a 
note saying 'I want feedback' does not denote that
I don't want it. I put this thing up on a public
newsgroup with my e-mail address attached; that 
should mean something.