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It was late at
night, and the aisle was already deserted, the sounds had reduced
to a minimum. One man was sitting alone on a plastic chair, his
body reclined, propped by elbows on his knees. He was holding
something in his hands, a picture, and his gaze was fixed on it.
The middle-aged nurse who had just started her shift walked along
the corridor and studied him discreetly. He was young and
handsome, but to her expert eye, he looked like he belonged
inside one of the rooms, in bed, sleeping. What could he be doing
at the hospital so late anyway? Visiting hours had ended long
ago.
Dana Katherine Scully was officially in remission and feeling
better by the hour. She was tired, but sleeping seemed like a
waste of time after being so close to falling asleep forever. She
wanted to savor the fact that she was alive. Her mother and
brother had stayed with her during the evening, enjoying
themselves, celebrating the good news. But by the end of the day,
she needed to spend some time with the man she believed had made
that possible. Perhaps her doctor, her priest and her family
didn't feel that way. She wouldn't deny her faith, but God helps
the one who helps themselves, right? The irony of God employing a
skeptic as His tool was not lost on her, and it brought a small
smile to her lips. Bill Jr. was particularly upset, but he simply
didn't have all the facts. She couldn't explain the chip to him,
he wouldn't take any of it. It was easier to blame her *lunatic*
partner. Mulder. How he had managed to get his hands on another
chip was beyond her, and despite her euphoria, Scully was afraid
to ask. She just wanted to see him.
"Mom, do you know where Mulder is?"
Bill Scully Jr. frowned immediately, and only the stern look his
mother threw at him stopped him from making a snide remark.
"He was sitting outside a few hours ago, but he must have
gone home by now. It's late, and he seemed very tired," was
Mrs. Scully's reply.
"Nah, he must be still around there. Bill, would you please
go see if you can find him? I need to talk to him."
This time the man didn't repress himself.
"Dana, you need to get some rest, not go into a talk about
work or little green men right now."
"Little green man? What are you talking about? Did Mulder
say anything to you?" Dana prompted, raising her eyebrows.
"We've been... chatting... earlier," Bill shifted
uncomfortably at first, but then spoke bitterly. "He all but
admitted that all this has been for nothing, it didn't help him
find his *little green men*, in spite of the loss of lives,"
he said with contempt.
"Bill, you're talking about things you know nothing about.
Now, if you won't do me the favor, I'll just go get him
myself." She started to climb down her bed but her mother
stopped her, pushing her shoulders back down.
"Enough, you two!" she said firmly. "I'll check if
he's still outside."
"But Mom…" her son protested.
"I said enough, Billy."
Mrs. Scully wasn't really surprised to find Fox Mulder sitting
there like a guardian angel. She didn't share her oldest son's
opinion on her daughter's partner and friend; in fact, she was
very fond of him. There was something about this young man that
called to her most basic mother instincts, a not-too-rational
urge to bring him home and give him a bowl of soup.
Lost in his dark thoughts, Mulder didn't notice Margaret Scully's
presence, giving her precious seconds to study him. Her daughter
hadn't gotten her analytical skills out of thin air, she too was
very adept at not missing details. However, you didn't need to be
a genius to detect the signs of distress in Mulder's face. The
haggard expression, the glassy eyes, the pallor of his face. Even
his hands were slightly trembling, holding a marred picture.
"Fox," she called him gently, placing a hand of his
shoulder.
That startled Mulder, who looked up alarmed. Mrs. Scully winced
when she saw the dark holes around his eyes. She occupied the
seat that Skinner had left vacant hours ago and gingerly reached
for the young man's hand.
"Are you all right, Fox? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine, Mrs. Scully, don't worry about me," Mulder
answered quickly, a bit uncomfortable at such overt concern.
But Margaret went on. "Why shouldn't I?" she asked
softly.
Mulder raised his head, taken off-guard. He bit his lower lip in
order to keep the sob at bay.
He felt so lonely, his heart was broken into pieces. The image of
his sister pulling away from him, her voice repeating those cruel
lies, it all was playing back in his mind. He was extremely
tired, he couldn't remember when was the last time he had slept.
Or ate a good meal. Ashamed of his vulnerability, Mulder tried to
shirk away from Mrs. Scully's touch, but she wouldn't let go of
his hand.
"Miracles aren't cheap, Fox," she said. "Someone
always ends up paying the price. Looking at you now, I don't even
want to ask what you had to do in order to get that thing in
Dana's neck. All I know is that she's going to be alright, and
that this is the second time you bring my daughter back."
Mulder found his voice among his grief.
"It's my fault these things keep happening to her, Mrs.
Scully. You have nothing to thank me for."
"Law enforcement is a high-risk profession. Dana could have
stayed in medicine, earn a lot of money, she's good enough. But
she chose the FBI, and I stand behind that choice; I'm proud of
her, of what she does. I can't ignore the risks she takes, but
I'm thankful she has you as a partner. I've seen the things
you're willing to do for her, you'd protect her with your life if
you had to. A mother can't ask for much more, you know."
Mulder nodded almost imperceptibly. He couldn't bring himself to
believe he was worth of this woman's caring, that he deserved the
absolution she was trying to give him. He wanted to say that she
was wrong, but couldn't. There was so much love and concern in
her expression, hers weren't eyes full silent accusation; Mulder
had plenty of experience with those.
A stabbing pain pierced his chest.
All that guilt, the reproaches, the sacrifices he and Scully had
made, his quest, his own life, lived with only one purpose since
he was twelve… all gone in just a few days. Scully telling
him that he was the reason she was sick, Krichtsgau and his
stories of deceit, his own people at the Bureau working against
him, and what hurt the most: Samantha breaking his greatest hope
into a million pieces, reducing it to a mocking expression in
that smoking bastard's face. Everything seemed justified by his
partner being alive, but Mrs. Scully was right about one thing:
miracles weren't cheap.
Margaret Scully witnessed the emotional battlefield the young man
beside her was trapped in. She couldn't help wondering where was
his own mother through all this, then remembered Dana's comment
about how he and Mrs. Mulder seemed to have 'profound
differences', as she had called them. Either way, it hurt her
soul to watch him endure all that pain alone. And God forgive
her, she didn't even want Dana to see him like that. Perceptive
as she was, her daughter would know immediately how much her
miracle cure had cost her best friend, and Margaret felt Dana
wasn't strong enough to deal with that yet. But on the other
hand, it was downright cruel to deny Fox the comfort of loving
arms and tender words from the only person in the world he seemed
to care about.
"Dana wants to see you," she finally said. "Don't
worry about Bill Jr., I'll shoo him away."
Mulder sighed tiredly.
"I don't blame your son for hating me, Mrs. Scully. I was a
big brother myself once. I know what it's like to lose a sister
to something you don't even understand." Mulder's quiet
voice cut deep into the older woman's soul.
"We all do what we can, Fox."
"Yes, and it's still not enough," he seethed, the anger
he felt tinging his every word. His own voice startled him and he
shut up, concentrating instead in bringing his pulse and his
breathing back to acceptable levels. "I'm sorry, Mrs.
Scully. You don't need to hear about me and my problems. Maybe
you should go back to your family, I think I'll go home
now."
Mulder rose from the chair wincing at the effort. He was running
on empty and he knew it, and the last thing he wanted was to pass
out. He hoped his stamina lasted another half hour so he would be
able to drive home.
Mrs. Scully stood up too and waited expectantly for him to go
into the room, but Mulder didn't even look that way. He couldn't
face his partner right now, he didn't want her to know how broken
he felt. What a bittersweet victory this was for him. He sure
loved Scully, every single thing he had done to save her could
also be considered an act of self preservation. Her death and his
own would have been as simultaneous as he could get them to be.
Tears of desperation started to burn in his eyes and Mulder
bolted and walked away, almost running.
In the silence of the night, he heard hurried steps behind him.
"Fox…!"
He stopped but didn't look back. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully.
Please tell Dana that I'll be back in the morning…" he
swallowed the sobs that he had been trying to stifle, consuming
his precious reserve of energy in keeping his voice even.
"Walk with me, Fox," the lady asked, catching up with
him. She took his arm and pulled gently.
Mulder followed her like a docile pet, somewhere in the back of
his mind he found amusing that he was willing to trust this woman
so blindly. Or maybe he was too tired to resist or even to argue.
He closed his eyes; a last, futile effort to fight back the tears
that pressed behind his eyelids like a relentless current against
a weakened dam.
"Wh… what are we doing here?" he asked as he
looked around him. Mrs. Scully had led them to the hospital's
small chapel.
"Oh, don't worry. Dana tells me you and religion don't get
along very well," she smiled sweetly, coaxing him to sit
down on a pew. "But it's quiet here and you need to calm
down, Fox. That partner of yours would have me killed if I let
you drive in this condition."
Mulder couldn't tell if it was her voice, or the words of sincere
concern, or his own emotional exhaustion; but in that moment the
dam gave away and he let out an anguished sob. Others quickly
followed, and there was no way of stopping the current until all
his sorrow had run its course.
Margaret pulled him against her and rocked him while he cried
convulsively. She offered no words of comfort except for
nonsense, calming sounds that she had mastered after raising four
children. And knowing as she knew how hard it was for this man to
vent his feelings, it warmed her heart that he allowed himself to
break down in front of her. She knew he wouldn't have done it
with her daughter; not because he didn't trust her, but because
he wouldn't want to burden her when she was still so weak.
Even long after his tears were spent, Mulder stayed in the warm,
welcoming arms of Margaret Scully, his head resting on her
shoulder. He hadn't experienced comfort like this since he was a
little boy. As he grew older, especially after Samantha's
abduction, he began to notice how his mother would be deeply
upset when he cried –not to mention his father. No matter
how terrible the situation was, he'd always been unable to shed a
single tear in his presence. Like the time the first clone had
*died* and he had to tell him it was his fault, as usual. And
then he had lost the little Samantha clone, and now… the
*real* Samantha, his Holy Grial, had simply asked him to leave
her alone. Or was her a clone too? Another one of Cancerman's
fabrications? Could she be another hoax? Was there any reason for
someone to play with him in such a callous way, when they had
already taken away everything he believed in?
Paranoia is like cancer, after all, Mulder thought. It grows and
grows and eats you alive. And there was no cure for it, no
shelter… except maybe the arms of someone who loved him, who
cared if he lived or died. Someone he trusted.
Taking a deep, cleansing breathe, Mulder pulled back from the
embrace and slowly got up.
"I…uh… I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully…" he
stammered nervously.
"Are you always apologizing for everything?" she
interrupted him, raising herself. Mulder looked a little
embarrassed, but she put her hand on his arm and continued.
"I don't need you apologize to me, Fox," she said
gently, looking up to meet his eyes, a good foot away from hers.
"Well, unless you step on my toes, that is."
Mulder chuckled despite himself. It had been a long time ago
since he had any reason to laugh at all. Suddenly he was invaded
by an immense urge to see his partner.
"It was about time, you two!" Scully cheered when she
saw the door opening. However, her mother came in only to pick
her purse and coat. She kissed Dana good night, threw her a
knowing look and left. Billy had departed too, so it was just
Scully and Mulder, face to face. Alone at last.
Scully smiled at him with affection. "Come here," she
invited, raising the upper bed and patting the mattress. Mulder
didn't wait for her to repeat herself.
"You look 100% better," he smiled.
"Always the gentleman, huh?" she teased him. "I
look like hell, Mulder, and frankly, so do you."
"Always the non-nonsense one, huh?"
Scully didn't say anything, but as if to prove her point, she ran
the back of her fingers over the tear tracks still visible on
Mulder's face.
"Are you okay, Mulder?"
"I'll be, I guess," he said, closing his eyes.
"Now that I know that you'll be okay too."
"What happened to you?"
"It's a long story." Almost unconsciously, he snuggled
against her.
Scully wrapped her arms around his shoulders before she knew what
she was doing.
"You should go home and get some rest, Mulder, you need a
week's sleep," she offered gently, but he gave no indication
that he intended to leave. If anything, he burrowed closer
against her.
"I'm not going anywhere. You never listen when I say that to
you, anyway."
It was a good thing that most of her lines and wires were gone,
she thought as she caressed the back of his neck. Scully
discreetly felt her partner's pulse and it was faster than she'd
liked it, but didn't make any comments. Instead, she kept
caressing him lovingly until he calmed down and fell asleep in
her arms.
She couldn't care less that they were in a hospital –the
oncology ward, no less- and that beds were not supposed to be
shared.
*No one* would take Mulder away from her that night.
FIN
Disclaimer:
I'm too bored to write one. M & S aren't mine. Nuff said.
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