Headers and Notes in Part 1

Part 4 of 12


Bakersfield Chronic Care Home
Arlington, VA
February 28, 2001
8:10 pm


Scully smiled faintly as Fox once again propelled his wheelchair 
further ahead of her as they traversed the hallways back to his room, 
her walk a slow, steady pace.  He had been eagerly 'showing off' his 
newly acquired, and ever increasing, strength of his upper arms her 
entire visit, and delighted in speeding up every so often.

She was surprised at how much he had improved physically in the last 
week or so, despite her conversation with his physiotherapist upon her 
arrival at the home a few hours ago.  She had run into Mary Anne, who 
had been on her way out, and the therapist had said he was making 
amazing progress.  She had even said she felt comfortable hazarding a 
guess that he would be walking within a month.

The news, while most certainly encouraging and welcomed, had put a 
slight damper on the main reason for her visit, aside from coming to 
see and talk to Fox... her intention to speak to his doctor about having 
Fox put into a medically induced coma.  

Was she really doing the right thing?

Scully winced then, both from the strong jab to her kidneys by a tiny 
foot or elbow, and the memory of the doctor's reaction that had 
lingered in her mind ever since she had spoken to him.  Fox's attending 
physician at the Home, Dr. Peter Michaels, had been quite vocal in 
stating his disapproval of her proposal.  He had claimed that the drugs 
necessary to induce the coma could actually do more harm than good, and 
that there were no guarantees that such a thing could work.

Which was entirely true.  And frightened her more than she wanted to 
admit.

However, she had become convinced that doing so was the only option 
available to them, and her conviction had led her to be equally vocal 
in presenting her case.  Well, to be honest, her demand.  She had 
gotten a little pushy, she had to admit somewhat sheepishly.

Her mother would have called it her 'dog with a bone' mood.  The 
phrasing was apt; she had a ferocious stubborn streak, and when she 
strongly believed in something, there was little that could be said or 
done to persuade her otherwise.  And because it concerned Mulder, and 
his well being, her resolve was immeasurable.

In this instance though, she had found it necessary to use the threat 
of her Power of Attorney, and the fact that she was Mulder's personal 
physician on record, to argue her case.

After over an hour of heated debate, and a conference call with the two 
doctors at GUMC who had examined and tested Mulder's mental 
capabilities, Dr. Michaels had reluctantly agreed to induce coma.  

It was scheduled for tomorrow morning.

Scully's apprehension had grown steadily since then, and tension had 
gathered at the base of her neck.  Tension that would soon escalate 
into a full-blown headache, she knew.  It did not help that she was 
extremely tired - her day from the moment she had arisen in the motel 
in Bellefleur had been non-stop... or that she had thus far avoided 
speaking to Fox about his dreams as she had intended.

"Day-na, look! Woo-hoo!"

The excited sounds of Fox's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she 
focused her gaze on him, realizing she had been walking along in an 
almost daze.  He was quite far ahead of her, rolling rapidly down the 
hall, his arms raised above his head in the air, fists clenched, in a 
pose that reminded her of someone riding a roller coaster, or 
celebrating a victory.

Oh, God.  He could hurt himself.  Or someone else.

She had a horrible vision of he and his wheelchair crashing into the 
wall, or a piece of equipment, or another resident, and her heart 
started to beat double-time.  "Fox!" she called, and quickened her 
steps, one hand coming up to support the bulge of her belly.  Speed was 
not exactly her forte right now.

His laughter whooped out, echoing slightly in the hallways, and despite 
her fear, she couldn't help but be buoyed by the sound.

Fortunately a male nurse who had been coming from the opposite 
direction intercepted Fox before any damage could be done.  Scully 
heaved a sigh of relief and caught up to them, huffing and puffing, in 
time to hear the nurse lecturing Fox in a firm but gentle manner.

Fox looked downcast, possibly even contrite, but his eyes sparkled.

Scully had a vision, of her some time in the future, dealing with the 
handful that was she and Fox Mulder's child.  Hazel eyes, auburn hair 
and a willful spirit.  It brought tears to her eyes.  Tears she hastily 
blinked away.

"Sorry," Fox said low-voiced, his head ducked down, and the nurse 
patted him on the shoulder and left with a nod to her.  Fox peeked 
after the nurse and then looked up, head tilted to the side as if 
gauging her mood.  He gave her a crooked grin, and shrugged his 
shoulders.

She could not be angry with him.  Especially as this could very well be 
her last evening with him.  In two extremely different ways... one 
poignant to the point of tears, the other exceedingly painful and 
difficult to contemplate.  If the coma were successful, Fox would be no 
more.  If the coma were not successful, she could lose Mulder forever.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Scully gave him a small smile.  
"Come on, let's get back to your room."  She took the handles of his 
wheelchair, and headed down the hall.

Once in his room, he asked if they could read their book.  Still 
hesitant about broaching the subject of his dreams, Scully agreed.  He 
eagerly wheeled over to his night table and retrieved the book, before 
joining her at the window.

They read it together, taking turns with the pages.  Scully could see 
his lips moving silently when she was reading, and knew that he had 
memorized the entire story.  She smiled slightly, for it reminded her 
of how Mulder had done the very same with his 'favorite' X-Files.

When they were finished, she sneaked a glance at her watch.  It was 
fast approaching the time when the nurses got him ready for bed, and 
she could tell that he was getting tired.  He had slumped against her, 
his head on her shoulder, and she thought his eyes might be closed. 
Stifling a sudden yawn, she admitted that she was tired too.  It had 
been a very long day.

"Fox," she said softly.  "Can you tell me who Scully is?"  She had 
decided not to beat around the bush, and hoped that with him relaxed 
and sleepy, the answers might come more easily.  She had also 
pronounced her name as she had thought she had heard it from his lips, 
Scuh-leeee.

She could feel his shoulders tense through her arm, which was draped 
around him, and she tilted her head to try and see his face.

He would not look up, but kept his eyes focused on the book still 
opened on his lap.

"Fox?" she prompted.

He looked up at her slowly, reluctantly it seemed, his lower lip 
jutting out not in a pout, but more with sadness or fear.  "I...I 
don't...I don't know," he whispered.  "When I try to think about it, my 
head starts to hurt."

She remembered how he had told her once that he could not sleep when he 
had too many 'thinks' in his head.  Did his thoughts also cause 
headaches?  "Are there...are there other things that make your head 
hurt?" she asked, keeping her voice low and not aggressive.

He nodded, and looked back down at his lap.  When he spoke again, she 
had to lean closer to hear him, his whisper was that low.  "Sometimes I 
see...I see a man, and he looks like me.  He goes into this circle of 
light, with all these other people.  It makes me feel scared."

It was startling to hear.  Were memories, Mulder's memories, seeping 
back in the form of dreams or nightmares?

Fox continued to speak in the same whispery voice.  "Other times the 
man is with you, Day-na, and..." He swallowed with a gulping sound.  
"He calls you Scuh-leeee."

Oh my God.

Scully closed her eyes tightly, bowing her head, glad that Fox was not 
looking at her.  It had not been a dream.  Not hers, anyway.  He had 
dreamed of them together, and called out her name.

"Day-na?"  His voice was shaky.

"It's okay, Fox," she told him, raising her head to meet his frightened 
eyes.  "Everything's going to be okay."

God, please let it be okay.

***

8:15 pm




Fox grinned as he held the wheels of his wheelchair and tightened his 
arm muscles, as Mary Anne had shown him, ready to zoom off down the 
hallway again.  

Today had been a really good day.  There had been lots of visitors, 
Maggie had brought treats from the bakery, and best of all, Day-na was 
back.



That's why he was pushing the wheelchair for the walk back to his room, 
to help Day-na.  He had seen her yawn a couple times, real big ones 
too, and she had been making those funny sighing noises a lot and 
rubbing her belly.

He remembered then that he hadn't had a chance to sit with his hand on 
her belly, to feel the baby playing soccer inside, so he spun the 
wheels as hard and as fast as he could.



He imagined the wheelchair was a rocket ship soaring through space.  Or 
maybe he was a racecar driver tearing up the track, just like Uncle 
Melvin always yelled when they watched the videotapes he sometimes 
brought - a racecar driver named Ricky Rudd.  Coming down the last 
stretch in his victory lap.  Fox let go of the wheels and lifted his 
arms up over his head, coasting down the hall, his heart thumping like 
crazy.

"Day-na, look!  Woo-hoo!"  he called out, and then laughed, feeling the 
wind from his fast ride in his hair and in his face.  He saw a few 
faces looking at him in surprise from open doorways as he went past, 
and they made him laugh more.

The chair was beginning to slow, and he brought his arms down to wind 
it up again, when suddenly there was someone in bright white grabbing 
the chair and stopping it all the way.



Fox blinked up into the face of a nurse named Mike, and Mike wasn't 
smiling like he usually was.  Fox got that scary, twisty feeling in his 
stomach, the one he got when he thought he might be in trouble, and 
swallowed the big lump in his throat.



"Hey there...Fox, isn't it?" Mike said, but his voice didn't sound 
angry at all.  "You've got to take it easy in the hallways, okay buddy?  
There are other patients and people here that you could have knocked 
into."

Fox felt bad for a minute, until he remembered how much fun it had 
been.  But he knew what he had to do.  He looked down at his lap and 
said, "Sorry." 

Behind him he heard Day-na, making little gasping sounds, and he hoped 
she was all right.  Mike patted him on the shoulder and walked away.  
Fox waited a moment and sneaked a peek after the nurse and then looked 
up at Day-na.  It was hard for him to tell if she was mad or not.  He 
tried his big smile, the one that always made her smile back, and 
lifted his shoulders up.

Day-na did smile back, not a big one, but one that he could see in her 
eyes too, and said, "Come on, let's get back to your room."  She put 
her hands on the handles of the chair and started pushing.

He helped her, but was careful not to let the wheelchair pull away from 
her.  She didn't say anything all the way back to his room, and he was 
scared she was going to leave before he got to touch the baby.  

After she had gotten his wheelchair through the door and shut it behind 
her, Fox looked at her and quickly asked, "Can we read our book?"



She didn't answer right away, just stood there looking at him, which 
made him feel worried and a little scared that she was going to leave, 
and then she said, "Of course."

He hurried to get the book from its spot on the table by his bed, 
pushing the wheels quickly, the chair moving easily beneath his hands.  
He grabbed it up, putting it in his lap, and rolled over to the window 
where Day-na already sat in the chair that was always there for her.  

Fox got as close to her as he could, and smiled to himself when she put 
her arm around his shoulders like he had hoped she would.  He looked 
over and down at her belly, but could not see any kicking.  Maybe after 
the book she would help him move his hand all over, chasing the 
movements inside.

Day-na opened the book and began reading.  She always went first, 
because that's how it should be, just like when the book had been new.   
He read along inside his head with her, but did not say the words out 
loud.  The next page was his turn to read.  He knew the whole book, 
from front to back, could read it to himself, but he liked it best when 
they read it together.

He snuggled into her as they got near the end, resting his head on her 
shoulder.  He was getting tired.  Day-na read the last page and closed 
the book, which was still in his lap.  He didn't feel like moving at 
all, he just wanted to sit there with Day-na.  He let his eyes close, 
but they popped open again when Day-na spoke his name.

"Fox," she said in her quiet voice.  "Can you tell me who Scully is?"



A picture in his head... Day-na and the dark-haired man, lying in a bed 
together.



He squeezed his eyes shut again quickly, very tight, his shoulders 
scrunching up, and pushed the picture away.  He didn't want his head to 
hurt.  He could feel Day-na move, and his eyes opened once more.  He 
did not look up at her, even though he knew she wanted him to.



She said his name again, and finally he lifted his head and turned to 
look at her.  "I...I don't...I don't know," he whispered.  "When I try 
to think about it, my head starts to hurt."

"Are there...are there other things that make your head hurt?" Day-na 
asked, still talking in her quiet voice.  Her arm around his shoulders 
felt heavy, like she wanted to move it but couldn't.  Like when he had 
a bad dream and wanted to get away and couldn't.

He nodded, and looked down again.  He would try to tell her about the 
dark-haired man, the man who he thought sometimes was him.  "Sometimes 
I see...I see a man, and he looks like me.  He goes into this circle of 
light, with all these other people.  It makes me feel scared."  He 
didn't like talking about that, it made his head really hurt, so it was 
hard to explain what he meant.

Day-na was making those funny breathing noises, and he knew somehow 
that this was important to her.  He talked some more, even though his 
head was hurting.  "Other times the man is with you, Day-na, and..." He 
had to stop and swallow the big lump in his throat.  "He calls you 
Scuh-leeee."



He wanted the bad thoughts to stop.  He wanted his head to stop 
hurting.  "Day-na?" he said, and his voice was wobbly.  She hadn't said 
anything else and he was scared.  He turned his head to look at her, 
but she was looking down.

"It's okay, Fox," she said then, and lifted her head.  He could see 
that her eyes were shiny.  "Everything's going to be okay."



He felt a little better when she said that, and because she didn't ask 
any more about the bad thoughts.

Her hand came up from his shoulder, and pushed his head back down into 
her neck.  He sighed and rubbed his nose there.  She was warm and soft 
and smelled pretty.  He let his eyes close when he felt her hand 
tickling his hair.

They sat together like that for a long time, and Fox remembered again 
about touching her belly.  But when he was going to ask her if they 
could feel the baby move, the nighttime orderly came in.  Day-na moved 
away, and he heard her sniffle a little.

Dave came over and took him to the bathroom to get ready, and when they 
came back, Day-na was sitting in her chair by his bed.  She waited 
until Dave had left the room before pulling her chair closer.

Fox moved his arm and stuck his hand out, and Day-na took him, her 
thumb rubbing the back of it in the tickling way he liked.  Sometimes 
he could close his eyes and fall asleep while she did that.  Sleep 
sounded like a good idea, so he let his eyes close.

"Fox?"  Day-na said real quiet.  "Did Katy tell you about your tests 
tomorrow?"



"Uh-huh," he said, and nodded against the pillow, keeping his eyes 
shut.  He didn't really like having to go for tests, but at least he 
got to ride in the ambulance.  Maybe they would even turn the sirens on 
for him.

"You know I'll be there with you, right?" Day-na said, after a few 
minutes of quiet.

"Glad," he whispered, and yawned really loud.

He heard her little laugh, and smiled to himself.



It was quiet again for a bit, and he was starting to think about 
racecars, when he heard Day-na's chair move.  Then he felt her lips on 
his cheek.

She whispered, "Good night, Fox."

"Night...Day...na."

The touch on his hand was gone, but that was okay, because he was 
pretty sure he had just won the race.  He rubbed his cheek, the one she 
had kissed, into the pillow, and smiled.

***

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
March 1, 2001
4:45 am


Scully shifted around on the mattress, and was unsuccessful in her 
attempt to find a position that eased the ache in her back, despite the 
pillow she had stuffed there during the last of many such futile 
efforts.  Sighing harshly, she stared unblinkingly at the bright red 
glow of numbers on her alarm clock and felt the bitter sting of tears 
as her eyes protested the abuse.

It was time to face facts.  She was not going to get any sleep tonight. 

With that admission, Scully sighed and hauled herself up so that she 
was sitting on the edge of the bed.  Her feet dangled slightly until 
she inched her body forward, her toes now touching the roughness of the 
throw rug.  She rubbed her back and then her belly before slowly 
standing, and reached for her cotton robe.  Shrugging it on, she looked 
about briefly for her slippers, and not spying them immediately, 
decided to go without.

She padded barefoot to the bathroom, relieved her bladder and washed 
her hands, and then continued down the dark hallway towards the 
kitchen. She bumped into the little deacon's bench halfway there, and 
could not contain a sharp cry of surprise and even fear.  She then 
cursed herself, low and harshly.  She had become clumsy during the 
second trimester of her pregnancy, and knew better than to be walking 
around in the dark; she should have turned at least her night lamp on, 
it would have illuminated the hallway enough until she had got to the 
kitchen.

Her nerves were shot too, which didn't help, and the few times she had 
managed to drift off, she had horrifying nightmares in which Mulder 
suffered irreparable damages due to the induced coma.  

Each nightmare had left her wondering if she was doing the right thing, 
or if she was courting disaster by proceeding.  Despite the support 
from everyone she had spoken to - her mother, Skinner, the Gunmen, even 
Doggett... she was still terribly afraid.

But she could think of no other options.  And she was not prepared to 
abandon the man who had been Fox Mulder.  The father of her baby.

Scully sat on the bench and rubbed her shin, feeling a slight bump 
there, shaking her head as she thought of the bruise it would be in a 
few hours.  With a slight groan she got to her feet again and proceeded 
to the kitchen with more caution, sliding her hand along one wall until 
she was there.  She flicked on the overhead light, squinting at the 
sudden brightness until her eyes adjusted, and headed for the stove.  
She filled the kettle and put it on the burner, and then went about 
retrieving a mug and the herbal tea she had taken to drinking on 
occasion.

While the kettle boiled, she made herself some toast and peanut butter, 
knowing there would be no sleep for her now.  She put the plate with 
the toast on a small tray and poured her tea, inhaling the aromatic 
steam with a deep sniff.  Putting the mug on the tray as well, she 
moved slowly out to the living room, the light in the kitchen 
illuminating the room well.

Placing the tray on the coffee table, she sank down into the couch with 
another grunt, something she had noticed she had started doing 
recently.  Leaning forward with effort she snagged first the TV 
converter, which she placed beside her for the moment, and then the 
plate of toast, before sagging back into the cushions.

Several mindless seconds of channel flicking found nothing worthwhile, 
so she turned it to MTV, a station she rarely watched.  She lowered the 
sound until it was nearly inaudible and stared blankly at the glowing 
screen as she nibbled unenthusiastically at her snack.

Her mind drifted to thoughts of Fox, as they so often did, and she 
pictured him as he had looked when she had told him of the 'tests' he 
was going for the next day.  It had pained her, that it was a necessity 
to lie to him, but she could not contemplate having to tell him what 
she planned.  

He had grimaced, for he was not overly fond of the hospital, and of the 
tests, and really, who could blame him?  In his child-like mind, they 
were scary events that he did not fully comprehend, and had to accept 
because the grown-ups demanded them.  Here Scully grimaced herself, for 
it was she who demanded them, in her driving need to find some sign of 
improvement in his condition.  Of which there had been none, making her 
feel even worse for having subjected him to them... there had never been 
any change.

Yet he had lightened her spirits seconds later, as he so often did with 
a look or a smile or a gesture that was Mulder to the core, all 
unknowingly of course.  He had snuggled into his pillow and replied 
that he was glad to her statement that she would be there with him.  It 
had not assuaged her guilt, the only thing that would do that would be 
for Mulder to awake healthy and whole from the coma, but it had helped 
her feel just the tiniest bit better.

Scully finished her tea and toast and looked at the clock.  Not quite 
5:30 yet, and Fox was not scheduled to be at the hospital until 8 am, 
but she might as well get ready now.  There was nothing else to do but 
wait, anyway, and going about her morning routine would keep her 
occupied until it was time to go to the hospital, at least.

With that thought in mind, she rose slowly from the couch and carried 
the tray back into the kitchen.  She did the dishes quickly, and put 
away the tray and the box of tea, and then headed back to the bathroom 
for her shower.

***






Georgetown University Medical Center
Georgetown, D.C.
March 1, 2001
12:45 pm


Scully stifled yet another yawn, ducking her head down to hide it from 
her mother's steady regard.  The effects of her nearly sleepless night 
were catching up with her... her eyes were red-rimmed and blurry and she 
knew she could easily lay her head down on the edge of the hospital bed 
and be asleep in minutes, if it even took that long.

It did not help matters that the steady drone of the respirator was 
quite hypnotic.  

At the thought of the respirator, Scully looked up again and over at 
the apparatus, and frowned slightly.  She had not been present when the 
doctor had induced coma, unable to watch Fox slip away into 
unconsciousness, and it had surprised her when she had come back in the 
room and seen him hooked up on the machine that assisted his breathing.  
The reason had come to her in seconds - because one of the drugs 
necessary for the induced coma was a paralyzing agent, the respirator 
was required - but it simply had not occurred to her until then.  The 
IV, which she had been present for, because Fox had told her beforehand 
that he didn't like needles and wanted her to hold his hand, and the 
EEG machine and heart monitor, she had expected.  

Scully winced now, as she had at that moment when she had first seen 
it, as she looked again at the tube protruding from his mouth, and the 
tape used to hold it in place.  His chest rose and fell in a slow, 
steady rhythm, an assurance that he was still alive, one she 
desperately clung to.

She blinked and let her eyes unfocus as she stared at him, drifting 
back to earlier that morning.  

She had sat with Fox until the nurse had come in to begin administering 
the sedative in his IV, stroking his hand and talking softly.  And 
still holding a faint smile from his story about his ambulance ride, 
and how the driver had indeed used the sirens for him.  Once she 
realized why the nurse was there, she had risen with a grunt that had 
made Fox giggle, leaned over to kiss his cheek and then told him she 
would see him later, walking quickly from the room before he could see 
the tears that were already rolling down her cheeks.

Straight into her mother's comforting arms, where the walls and all her 
defenses had crumbled, and she had been soothed and rocked as she had 
been so many times as a child.  And where she had wailed her grief and 
fear as the enormity of what she had done sank in.

Scully felt tears welling again, and sniffled, ducking her head once 
more, squeezing her eyes shut to try and stop the flow.  A hand touched 
her shoulder, and she opened them again to see a tissue waving gently 
in front of her.  Lifting the hand that had been cupped around her 
belly she took it with a whispered thank-you and wiped away the tears.

"Dana, honey," her mom began, and returned her hand to Scully's 
shoulder, which she then squeezed, before shifting to crouch before 
her.  "You can't sit here like this all day.  It's not good for you."  
She paused, her hand moving down to rest on the bulge of Scully's 
belly, and then added, "Or the baby."

Scully avoided her mother's gaze, until her mother reached out and 
gently but firmly grasped her chin, the quivering of which Scully could 
not halt, and tilted it up.  Scully bit her lip as she looked into the 
blue of her mother's eyes and saw her own weariness and pain reflected 
there.  She knew her mother was right, just as she knew her mother 
would not leave until she did.  Scully nodded slowly, and sniffled, 
rubbing her nose in an entirely unladylike manner that made her mother 
smile slightly and turn to dig through her purse for a fresh tissue.

"Blow," she commanded, after handing the tissue over.

Scully did, loudly and fully, and they both smiled at the sound and 
then as one said, "Foghorn!"  The word was an old family joke that 
referred to the sound Ahab and his youngest daughter both made when 
they blew their noses, and it brought about a fit of laughter that was 
soon tinged with hysteria on Scully's part.

The laughter turned to tears, her hold on her emotions tenuous at best, 
and then Scully was once again in her mother's arms, leaning forward 
awkwardly in her seat, and her mother now on her knees on the floor.  
They rocked together, her mother's hands stroking her back in slow up 
and down sweeps that also helped to ease the ache there.

Moments passed, and slowly her sobs ceased.  Scully pulled back and her 
mother released her, angling her head back to stare into Scully's eyes, 
her own watery and red-rimmed.  "Okay, honey?" she said softly, and 
Scully nodded, swiping at her wet cheeks. 

The laughter and tears had been a catharsis, a cleansing one.  She 
really did feel a little better.

Her mother straightened, her knees creaking, and held out a hand.  
"Come on then, Dana.  Let's get cleaned up, and then we'll go out and 
get some lunch.  And then you'll lie down for a nap."  

Scully opened her mouth to protest the nap, wanting to return 
immediately after lunch, but her mother continued on with a glint in 
her eye and the tone of her voice implacable.  "We'll tell the nurses 
we're going and to call you if there is any change whatsoever."  At 
Scully's frown she added, "I'm sure I saw those three friends of yours, 
those Lonely Gunmen or whatever they call themselves in the hallway 
earlier.  Fox won't be alone, Dana."

Not that he would know anyway, Scully thought fatalistically, and then 
pushed the dismal thought away.  She nodded then and placed her hand in 
her mother's, grateful for the assistance in rising.  "Okay, mom," she 
said.  "Let's go then."

Her mother picked up her own purse and Scully's overcoat, handing the 
coat to her, before slipping into her own jacket.  Scully threw it over 
her arm for the time being, she was too warm to wear it inside.  

She called out to her mother, "I'll be out in a second, Mom," and 
smiled slightly at her when her mother turned to look, her concern 
obvious.  "I'm okay," she added, and watched as her mother's eyes 
flicked from her to the man lying in the bed and back, and then filled 
with understanding.  After a moment, her mother nodded and left the 
room.

Scully waited until the door had closed before turning and making her 
way back to Mulder's bedside, her hand coming up to lightly stroke his 
arm, the one not hindered by the IV.  She frowned slightly at terming 
him 'Mulder' so quickly, not having realized she had somehow already 
said goodbye to the boy that had been Fox.  Maybe that was a positive 
sign, that her conscious believed he was Mulder once again.  She hoped 
so.

It was as she was rising to her feet that Scully had remembered her 
mother telling her something long ago.  Something about when she had 
been in her coma after her mysterious return from the still unexplained 
abduction.  Her mother had told her that during one of her visits to 
see her in the ICU, she had found Mulder sitting by her bedside, 
holding her hand and talking to her like it was a normal everyday 
conversation.  Scully had told her mother that many people believed 
that despite the fact that the individual was unconscious, they were 
still aware of things around them. 

She had never really given it much thought, or put much credence in 
such a theory, but if it were true, she did not want Mulder to feel all 
alone, wherever he thought himself to be.

Bending closer to his ear, she softly said, "Hey, Mulder, it's me.  I'm 
just going to get something to eat and walk around a bit, but I'll be 
back.  I promise."  She leaned even closer and pressed a kiss on the 
same cheek she had earlier kissed when he had been Fox, careful not to 
disturb the respirator tubing, and then added, "The guys will be coming 
in to see you, okay?"  She started to pull away and then leaned back 
in, putting her lips right against his ear.  "I love you, Mulder."

She straightened slowly, one hand at her back, the jacket still tucked 
in the crook of that arm, and the other on his arm.  She gave his arm 
one last stroke and headed out of the room to rejoin her mother.

***

Georgetown University Medical Center
Georgetown, D.C.
March 3, 2001
2:15 pm


Two days after Mulder was medically induced to a coma, Billy Miles 
awoke from his.

Scully was sitting in what had already become her usual spot - a 
lounge-type chair brought in by the nurses after her mother had spoken 
to them about her condition... and realized after that she must have 
actually dozed off.  

The shrill ring of her cell phone, tucked in the pocket of her coat, 
was loud in the room otherwise disturbed only by the hiss and whoosh of 
the ventilator machine.  Scully lunged upwards with a gasp, one hand 
going to her belly in a protective gesture, the other reaching out and 
clutching the arm of the chair tightly.

Certain something was wrong and that Mulder's heart monitor was 
signaling an alarm, she pushed to her feet and took a step closer to 
the bed.  Only to realize he lay as he had for the last two days, still 
and seemingly at peace, and that the sound was her cell phone.

She fumbled to pull it out of her pocket, and finally did, hitting send 
and bringing it to her ear to gasp out, "Scully."

"Dana, it's John." She heard Doggett's voice through a burst of static.  
He did not wait for her to respond, and added quickly, "Billy Miles is 
awake."

Scully blinked slowly, her breathing still ragged from her abrupt 
awakening, and moved the few steps backwards necessary to lower herself 
back into her seat.  She did so, carefully, her free hand searching and 
finding the arm of the chair to aid her descent, and landed with a soft 
exhalation.  Her eyes stared unblinking at the floor in front of her, 
the cell phone held to her ear, as her mind processed the words John 
had spoken.

'Billy Miles is awake.'

Where once the news might have filled her with a faint hope and sent 
her flying across the country, it now only stirred the vaguest of 
interest, and was not enough to induce her to leave Mulder's bedside.

"Dana?  Are you still there?"  John's voice was a little louder this 
time, full of concern.

"Um...yes, I'm still here," Scully replied, finally, and shifted a 
little in her seat.  The baby had been disturbed by the suddenness of 
her rising, and was moving quite aggressively, jabbing her quite 
painfully.  Her initial adrenalin rush from that awakening had faded as 
well, and she was weary again. "I'm sorry, I wasn't...I didn't...I 
didn't expect... "

"I know," John interrupted.  "Listen, you're at the hospital, right?  
I'll come get you."

Scully opened her mouth to reply, and closed it again without speaking.  
She knew John would understand when she told him she would not be 
going, that she could not leave Mulder, but found herself without the 
words.

"Dana?  Did you hear me?"

Scully took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and blurted out, "I'm not 
going to go!"

There was another burst of static and then John's voice, rather loud, 
and more than a bit surprised.  "Did you say you're not going?"

Scully sighed a little, rubbing at her belly, and said, "John, I'm 
sorry, but I can't leave Mulder.  I won't."  She glanced over at Mulder 
then, stared at the constant motion of his chest rising and falling to 
the rhythm of the respirator.  Her second sigh was a little harsher, 
and her next words were evidence of her frustration and fear and pain.  
"Besides there's no point, Billy's not going to tell us anything."

Silence from the other end for a moment, and then John said, "I 
understand, Dana.  But I still think I should go, just in case."  

A pause, during which she rose once more and went to stand beside 
Mulder, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm, feeling the need 
to touch him.  His skin was soft, and warm, the baby fine hairs there 
tickling against her fingers, and she wanted nothing more than to be 
able to crawl into the bed with him.  And to have him wake up and know 
her as his Scuh-leeee.

John continued, "I'm going to head over to the Hoover building.  
Skinner will be there even though it's Saturday, I'll make arrangements 
through him.  I'll call you if I have any news."

"That..." her voice broke just a tiny bit as she stared at Mulder's 
still face, expressionless in his unnatural slumber.  She cleared her 
throat.  "That's a good idea, John.  I'll talk to you later."

He disconnected immediately, she was much slower in pressing end and 
folding up her phone.  She laid it on the mattress to put away later, 
content to stand as she was for now, watching Mulder.  A sudden yawn 
surprised her, and she shook her head slightly. 

As was her habit of late, she ran her eyes over every visible part of 
him... his spiky hair that her hands itched to smooth down, and did, his 
stubbled cheeks and chin, that also invited her touch, the pulse that 
beat steadily in his neck.  She talked softly to him at these times, 
telling him she was there, and that she missed him.

Another habit, an almost compulsive one, was checking all the equipment 
and wires that were running to and from his body.  She talked to him 
then too, explaining what she was doing at each step.

She shifted her stance slightly, and inspected his IV, his Foley 
catheter and the leads to his heart monitor.  The respirator was 
examined as well, with a careful touch so as not to disturb the tubing.  
Her next stop was the EEG machine, on the other side of the bed, where 
she lifted the strip that printed out continually, and glanced at the 
lines that represented his brain waves.

The printout looked blurry, and she blinked to clear her eyes.  Yet the 
blurriness remained, now looking somewhat like a smudge.  She blinked 
again and brought the strip closer to her face.  One of the lines 
actually looked like it had a hint of an echo, almost like when a faxed 
copy of a report had faint shadows on certain words.

Frowning, she went back a few pages, and spotted the same blip, or 
irregularity, every so often.  Then back even further.  It was still 
there, and always on the same wave.

A chill ran through her, and she realized she was quite possibly 
holding more evidence of the brain abnormalities Mulder had and was 
apparently still suffering.  She wondered if it would be the same on 
the EEG's of the other abductees.

She cursed then, angry with herself for having missed this sign too if 
it were true; she would have to check the other EEG's as well. Although 
she had to admit it was not easily spotted, it did look like a smudge, 
or like the ink had smeared.  But still, her own carelessness at not 
catching this earlier was galling, and a bitter pill to swallow.

It was not until she felt paper crinkling did she look down to see that 
she had fisted her hands, the printouts clutched within.  She opened 
them quickly, smoothing the strips out and replacing them, before 
coming around the bed back to Mulder's side.  Of course she had not 
brought her briefcase with her to the hospital, she would have to go 
home and get all the medical files.

She glanced at her watch; it was just after 2:30.  Her mother had said 
she would come by before 3, so Scully would wait until she arrived and 
then go home to check the EEG's.  What she would do after that, she did 
not know.

***
  

Georgetown University Medical Center
Georgetown, D.C.
March 5, 2001
11:15 am


Scully moved slowly along the hospital corridor, thankful it was mostly 
empty at this time of day.  That way she did not have to smile or 
perhaps engage in small talk with anyone.  She did not feel up to being 
polite or friendly right now.  Her back was aching already, and it was 
only mid-morning, and the baby had managed to find a spot within her 
that compressed a nerve leading down her right leg, which was 
alternately numb or sore from the pressure.

Walking helped a little, and it also allowed her to get the kinks out 
from sitting in the same position for the last hour and a half, since 
she had first arrived at the hospital.  The nurse was in with Mulder at 
the moment, checking his vitals, and she had used the opportunity to 
get out and stretch a bit.  

Ever since she had confirmed that each of the other abductees' EEGs had 
the same irregularity on their printouts, she had been reluctant to 
leave Mulder alone.  She was afraid she would miss something, some sign 
or indication he was improving.

She had already arranged with Skinner before Mulder had been induced 
into coma for a leave of absence of undetermined length, and spent the 
majority of her time at the hospital by Mulder's side.  If it had been 
at all possible, she would be there all the time, despite the protests 
of both her mother and Skinner.  But the health of the baby had to come 
first.  No matter how much she loved Mulder.
 
During the day, if she was not there monitoring him and the EEG for any 
sign of change or the disappearance of the smudged wave as she had now 
begun to call the irregularity, one of the Gunmen had that duty.  
Though it was not really a duty to any of them, herself included.

As for the nighttime, she had spoken at length with Mulder's doctor, 
and he had arranged for a nurse to check the EEG results on a bi-hourly 
basis.  And to call her if there was anything to report.

So far there had been no change.  

It was worrisome.  She had not thought there would be immediate 
evidence that the coma had been the right thing to do, despite her 
fervent hope that would be the case, it had been far too unrealistic an 
expectation.  But it had been five days now, and there had been 
absolutely no sign at all.

Scully stopped and moved closer to the wall, putting one palm flat 
against it to support herself, as the baby kicked her quite vigorously 
in the side.  With her free hand, she pushed gently on the spot that 
had been abused, and thankfully the baby shifted once more.  

As she turned to head back to Mulder's room, sure the nurse would have 
completed her check now, she heard a voice call out her name.  She 
looked down the corridor to her right, to see Skinner heading towards 
her, his black trench coat billowing around him as he strode 
purposefully towards her.

"Hello, si-, I mean Walter," she said when he caught up with her, and 
then smiled wryly at him, as she had nearly greeted him as 'sir'.  It 
had gotten easier as time passed to call him by his first name away 
from the Bureau, but upon seeing him in his FBI attire the title had 
automatically come to her lips.

"Dana," he responded, a quirky smile on his own face.  He had also 
gotten over his difficulties with terming her 'Dana' instead of 
'Scully', and rarely slipped up.  "How are you feeling?"

"A little tired, a little achy."  She shrugged her shoulders slightly.  
"The usual."  She had given up on trying to pretend everything was all 
right, most of the time the person who had posed the question didn't 
believe her anyway.  It was just easier to go with the truth.

Mulder would have been surprised, and very likely amused, that she had 
finally admitted to having weaknesses like everyone else.  That for 
once, everything was not 'fine.'  She was sure he also would have had 
some wisecrack to celebrate the moment.

Walter's next words pulled her from her thoughts of Mulder, both his 
voice and expression serious.  "Don't stress yourself, Dana," he said.  
"If you need help, you ask for it.  Anything you need, I'm here.  So is 
Agent Doggett."

"I know, Walter, and I thank you for that.  But being tired and achy is 
normal, and I'm being very careful not to overdo it."  Scully lifted 
one eyebrow at him as she spoke, an almost uncontrolled habit of hers 
when she was speaking earnestly.  Also when she was angry, as Mulder 
had been witness to on many occasions.  There he was, slipping into her 
every waking thought again, much as he had taken up permanent residence 
in her sleeping ones.

That made her recall her many dreams of the night before.  All of them 
sexual in nature, and all involved Mulder.  As one particularly hot 
event popped in her head, she felt herself flush.

And then felt Walter's hands gripping her by the arms.  "Dana?  Are you 
all right?"  His voice was louder than normal, and very concerned.

The flush deepened.  Oh, dear.  She imagined herself replying, 'I'm 
fine, Walter, just having an erotic visual of Mulder and myself', and 
closed her eyes for a minute.  

That only worried him further obviously, for he muttered a curse as his 
hands tightened on her and he pushed her back until she was against the 
wall.  Her eyes popped open at that, to see him looking rather wildly 
up and down the corridor, the muscle in his jaw twitching rapidly. 

He then said, "Hang on, Scully, let's get you to a chair, I'll get some 
help."

Even as she was opening her mouth to tell him she was all right, she 
noted how he had reverted back to his once usual form of address.  
"Walter...sir...I'm fine, honestly.  I just...ah, I just got a little 
light-headed for a moment.  It's passed.  I'm fine."

His head swiveled to face her again, and his grip on her arms lessened.  
"Are you sure? You're okay?"

Other than being embarrassed as hell, I'm fine, she thought.  She 
nodded and said, "I'm sure."  She was not sure how to apologize, or if 
she should.  Or how to at all.

He solved her dilemma by smiling suddenly, his hands leaving her arms 
completely.  "You know, Dana, I don't know if I'm exactly the best 
back-up for your birthing coach.  This," and here he indicated her with 
a wave of his hands, "was nerve-wracking enough."

She had asked him to be her back-up coach, with her mother as actual 
coach, a few days after Mulder had awoken from his first coma and she 
had realized he might never be okay.  It was an unspoken and silently 
acknowledged fact though that both of them were holding those positions 
only until Mulder recovered.   Until, not if.

Scully laughed then, picturing him pacing up and down the hallway as 
she labored to deliver her child.  The picture turned her mood, which 
had been sliding towards depressed with her thoughts of Mulder unable 
to be her coach.  "You'll do fine, Walter.  A big, tough ex-Marine such 
as yourself, it'll be a walk in the park."

He grunted out a laugh, and then surprised her by pulling her into a 
gentle hug.  "I'll be there, don't you worry," he said softly.

"I know," she replied with equal softness, and lightning-quick, tears 
were forming in her eyes.  She blinked them back before he could see 
them, not wanting to alarm him again.

Walter cleared his throat, and released her.  "Well, now that I know 
you're okay, I'll tell you why I came by.  I had an appointment that 
didn't last as long as I had expected, so I thought I would come by and 
take you to lunch."  He shifted and lifted his arm up to glance at his 
watch.  "I know it's a little early, but I figured you could use a 
break."

At the mention of lunch, her stomach rumbled.  "That's very nice of 
you, and you're right," Scully replied, smiling once more, and patted 
her stomach.  "We could use a break.  One of the Gunmen should be here 
any minute, and then we can go."

Walter cupped her elbow, and they walked together down the hallway to 
Mulder's room, to await the arrival of a Gunmen.

***

8:20 pm

Despite the fact she had gone home and taken a nap after her lunch with 
Walter, Scully could feel the exhaustion creeping in again already.  Of 
course she had been at the hospital for the last 5 or 6 hours, with 
only a small break for dinner with her mother midway through that time.

Visiting hours were over at 8:30, and though the nurses made an 
allowance for her if she stayed a bit longer, she thought that tonight 
she would leave then.  She shifted in her chair, arching her sore back 
slightly, and had to bring a hand up to cover a huge, sudden yawn.  Her 
jaw cracked with the force, and a tiny noise escaped her mouth, and she 
was embarrassed at the sound.  Until she realized the only other 
occupant of the room was most likely totally unaware of her presence.

But in case he was aware of the things around him, his very self locked 
inside his own mind, she continued to talk to and touch him with 
frequency, and a growing ease at doing so.  

She had brought the portable radio from his room at the Bakersfield 
Home, along with some of his own CD's and some of the ones they had 
listened to at her apartment, and she played them periodically.  She 
had had the Gunmen bring in a VCR, so that she could play the videotape 
of basketball games Frohike had made for him during his disappearance.
She had even begun to move his arms and legs twice daily through some 
of the passive exercises Mary Anne had shown her how to do when the 
therapist had begun Fox's physiotherapy upon his arrival at the Home.

She still left a majority of the tending of his personal needs to his 
nurses, feeling slightly uncomfortable with that aspect of his care. 
This was because of her innate sense of privacy, not only for herself, 
but for him as well, despite the fact that she was quite familiar with 
every inch of his body, and he of hers.  Although she did continue to 
monitor and check all the equipment, and the accompanying tubes and 
wires, that he was hooked up to, on a regular basis.  It had become a 
constant need for her... to connect with him physically, and perhaps 
even to atone for not finding the results in the medical files sooner 
and having him put into this coma.  

For playing God with his life.

Which so far appeared to be for naught, she thought with bitterness.  
And then quickly chastised herself for her negativity.  He would get 
better.  She had to believe that.

Scully sighed and shifted a little once again, her hand rubbing her 
belly in slow circles, the gesture having become her physical version 
of a mantra.  Just like she had to touch Mulder.  She glanced at her 
watch and decided to check things one last time before leaving for the 
night, it was almost 8:30.  

She planted both feet firmly on the floor, slightly spread for balance, 
and with her hands also planted firmly on the arms of the chair, 
hoisted herself up and out.  A grunt escaped this time, and she made a 
face, glad no one was around to witness it; she got a little tired of 
the grins and cute comments at her bulk and her increasing difficulties 
in getting to her feet.

In quick, economical movements, she checked his IV lines and his 
catheter, ensuring his output was normal, which it was.  After a brief 
look at his heart monitor leads, she allowed her hand to rest on his 
chest for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the steady and 
reassuring thud of his heart against her palm.  "Hey, Mulder, it's me," 
she said quietly.  There was still this irrational hope within her that 
she would feel his heart rate increase when she spoke to him, but it 
did not.  "I'm getting ready to go home for the night, and I'll be back 
in the morning."

Her hand slid reluctantly away, and she readjusted his hospital gown 
before moving it to rest briefly on his cheek, her thumb stroking there 
gently.  His stubble was rough and scratchy, and she could see signs of 
irritation on the skin around his mouth from the tape that held the 
respirator tube in place.  She touched it lightly, a moue of distress 
on her face, and made a mental note to ask one of the nurses tomorrow 
for some sort of ointment for him.

Leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek and to whisper 'I love you' 
in his ear, her eyes happened to glance over at the EEG machine.  She 
shook her head slightly, annoyed at herself, for she had almost left 
without checking the printouts of the last little while.  Another yawn 
cracked her jaw as she made her way around the bed, and she rubbed at 
her eyes before reaching for the strips.

She was not expecting to see anything different, and therefore almost 
missed it.  Almost put the strip back down, said her goodbye, and left.
But it caught her eye somehow.

The blip, or smudge, was gone from the printout.  

Sure she was just not seeing properly, Scully blinked rapidly to clear 
any trace of weariness from her eyes and looked again.  It was still 
not there.  She quickly grabbed the moveable lamp over Mulder's bed and 
swung it closer to herself, angling it directly over the strip of paper 
in her hand, studying it intently.

Her heart began to pound, heavy thumps she could feel in the pit of her 
stomach, while her hands were icy cold and trembling.  She took a deep 
breath in an effort to calm herself, and looked back over the strips of 
the last hour.

Hope blossomed.

For in between her last check of the monitor, which had probably been 
well over an hour ago, and just now, the anomaly on Mulder's EEG 
reading had disappeared.

Her eyes left the evidence before her, her head lifting slowly, and 
shifted to the man lying on the hospital bed.  The strips of paper 
fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as she stumbled around the machine 
and to his side.

"Mulder?" Scully half-whispered, one shaking hand coming up to touch 
his arm, tears building in her eyes.  She blinked them back, and 
shifted her stance, her belly pressing uncomfortably against the 
bedrail.  This enabled her to lean closer, and she moved her hand from 
his arm to his face, the other coming up to rest over his heart.  The 
thumbs of both her hands moved automatically, caressing gently, 
stroking his cheek and his gown-covered chest.  "Mulder, can 
you...Mulder, oh God, Mulder, if you can hear me..." Her voice trailed 
off as her mind began to process what she had just learned.

They needed to order a CAT scan to confirm that Mulder's brain 
functions were normal again; she had to contact his doctor to arrange 
for one.  She cursed out loud as she realized they probably would not 
be able to do so until the morning, flinching at the crude word she 
rarely uttered.  Her teeth clenched on another curse; morning seemed so 
very far away at that moment.    

And if the scan showed that they were normal...if they were, the 
medication that kept him in his coma had to be stopped.  But not until 
then.  Her eyes flicked from his face to his IV, to stare at the lines 
entering the veins in his arm... for nutrition, and to administer the 
drugs on a predetermined schedule.  The hope continued to grow; maybe 
very soon, even tomorrow, the IV would no longer be necessary. 

Scully lifted her hand from his cheek, stroking it through his spiky 
hair in one last caress, and stretched on tiptoe to press a kiss on the 
spot where it had lain.  She lowered herself back down and leaned back 
a little, the guardrail had begun to hurt.  This time she did not 
whisper her goodnight in his ear, instead speaking out loud.  As if 
vocalizing what was going to be.  "Mulder...God, I hope...no, I know 
I'm going to be telling this to you soon."  She paused, and then let 
all her emotions pour forth into her next words.  "I love you, Mulder."

She studied his face for a moment and then shuffled over to her chair, 
plucking her coat off its back.  She threw it over her arm for now, and 
headed from the room, purpose in every stride, as waddling as those 
steps might have been.

She had a call to make.

***

End Part 4 of 12

    Source: geocities.com/kim_djd