Dana Katherine Scully (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faithfulskeptic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
what_wings_dare2022-09-09 06:57 pm
faithfulskeptic) wrote in what_wings_dare2022-09-09 06:57 pm
Entry tags:
🅧 Please explain to me the scientific nature of 'the whammy'
| [ n a m e ; ] | Dana Katherine Scully |
| [ c a n o n ; ] | The X-Files |
| [ g a m e ; ] | spicy times in noctiumrp |
{ ACTION / NETWORK / VOICE / WHATEVER WELCOME }
no subject
She'd taken it in stride when she'd been told an FBI agent had some questions about one of her autopsies-- it's not usual, but you never know when a death is part of something bigger, and it's not that far from Federal stomping grounds. But then she'd heard which body it was, and... it's one of the weird ones.
The thing is: she is very good at her job. That's all. Simple. Years of medical training and an overzealous attention to detail-- plus a streak of workaholism that means she's always on top of new techniques and studies-- have made her an expert. She starts from the evidence at hand, she considers what could have caused the damage, she reports her findings. Simple. It's literally her job; lots of people across the country do it.
It's just that she happens to be very good at it.
And if sometimes, she can almost picture it-- like someone's telling her a story-- that's just her imagination running away with her. Because she is very good at her job.
Simple.
And sometimes simple isn't enough. Tool marks can be inconclusive; and even a six-inch knife with a serrated blade only goes so far, unless there's a weapon to compare it to. She might think it was the boyfriend, she caught him in the kitchen with his side piece, he grabbed the first thing he could find and they ran after while she choked on blood, but that's just a wild guess. She doesn't know, because the dead don't speak. It's a fantasy born of too many case reports and news stories.
And sometimes-- sometimes, you've got wounds that look like they were inflicted by an animal, but no animal she can guess at. Something huge; if the on-scene reports were to be believed, paired with what she can infer from lividity and angle... It was something taller than the victim, chasing him down. And that, really, is all she could say. No plausible theories-- only flights of fancy more informed by late night B-movies and old wives' tales. It's a pity the dead don't really speak, because all her too-vivid imagination could provide for this one was total nonsense.
So she's not looking forward to answering his questions. But this, too, is her job; so she squares her shoulders, looking across her desk (and up) at him, trying to fix a polite smile on her face.
"How can I help you, Agent Mulder?"
no subject
Maraniss' coroner, on the other hand, is seated at her desk, seeming normal even if you don't grade on a "well, you're talking to someone who does autopsies all day" curve. She's a pretty woman, possibly a few years his junior, wearing a little smile that looks like it doesn't want to be there on her face but is determined to stick all the same. She could as easily be in a corporate office, or the back of an outpatient clinic, if she wanted to be.
"I saw your report on a Mrs. Glenda Maraniss," he says, offering his hand to shake before he pulls up a chair on the other side of her desk. "It made for some interesting bedtime reading, Ms. Scully - and I was hoping you could tell me a little more about what you think killed her."
no subject
"Blood loss," she says automatically. "And shock didn't help. If you've read the report you already know how extensive the antemortem wounds were; I'd say the damage to the tendons in her left leg left her immobile. Even if her carotid artery hadn't been severed, I suspect she would have bled out in minutes."
But it's not what he means, she knows. Still, it's the correct answer; the best one she can give him.
"The wounds themselves... I'd say some kind of animal attack. I did say, in fact, in my report. And that the type of animal was not possible to determine."
no subject
As buttoned-up and professional as she is, Mulder doesn't want to push too hard - not yet. But there's something about prim Ms. Scully that makes him suspect that friendly curiosity might not convince her to spill the details without more prompting.
Only one way to find out.
no subject
Which is to say: isn't this your job, Mr. Mulder?
Actually, it's a little strange that it's his job; this doesn't seem like it should be a high enough profile to warrant federal involvement. But everything is a little off about this case, isn't it?
"Escaped zoo animal, maybe?"
no subject
She might not be a detective, but she's smart. Most of the coroners he's worked with don't have half the credentials Dana Scully can claim, and none of them have featured in as many solved cases. Police officers namecheck her in interviews when reporters ask where they found the key evidence that led to an arrest; they thank her in press releases and mention her at press conferences. That's how she came to his attention in the first place, her name showing up over and over again.
And that's why he has to believe she knows more than she's saying right now.
no subject
No.
"Black market exotic pets, maybe? Coyotes aren't unheard of in semi-urban areas, but I've never heard of one big enough..." Her brow creases slightly; she admittedly can't entirely resist the mystery. The problem is she doesn't have a plausible answer.
"I doubt I have any leads you haven't already come up with."
no subject
It's a gambit that might not pay off, but he's willing to try: sitting there, leaning toward her across the desk, a pleasant look on his face. He doesn't have her on the hook - that much is obvious - but if he lets her ruminate on it, maybe something unexpected will come out.
She's already shown a propensity for talking out the possibilities. Now he just needs her to think about the ones she didn't put in her report.
no subject
And she's got... nothing, she's got nothing. But saying so hasn't made him leave yet. She manages-- barely-- to bite back a sigh, and pulls her notebook from a drawer. Her report was thorough, but sometimes distance offers some clarity on conclusions. (Not that she believes there's anything here; but she'll think through it better with something in her hands.)
"I considered the possibility of a human assailant trying to make it seem like an animal attack, but the punctures seemed decisively organic, and there's no way a person could simulate the necessary jaw strength," she muses. "My best guess would be canine rather than feline, but that's just conjecture. Maybe-- a wolf-dog, trained to attack?"
She doesn't really sound convinced herself.
"If the autopsy were always enough, you wouldn't have much to do, Agent Mulder." She shrugs.