"Our Town Revisited"
by Marie Endres
joemimi@prodigy.net
Classification: Scully Angst
Rating: G
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Something is eternal
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and
others are not mine. They belong to
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and
Fox Broadcasting.
Author's notes: In Thorton Wilder's
play, "Our Town", the final act
takes place in a "graveyard"
fashioned of three rows of folding
chairs positioned on stage right. A
young woman, who recently died in
childbirth, finds herself there and
the dead speak.
"Our Town Revisited"
"Blood pressure is 70/40.
That's down again, Doctor. Down
from 90/50. She seems to be losing
consciousness."
"Come on, Dana! Come on
back. You're almost there. You're
just a couple of pushes away from
seeing your baby!"
"Dana, this is Dr. Gibbs.
I want you to focus. C'mon Dana."
Why do I know that name?
He's not the doctor I normally see.
Why isn't Dr. Pace here?
Why am I thinking of candy
canes, peppermint sweet? Daddy and
I, going to the bank. They're
giving away the little, tiny ones,
individually wrapped. Cold, so
cold. My breath. It's Christmas
Eve. That's why my usual doctor
isn't here. Who is Gibbs? How do I
know that name? Why is everyone
shouting at me?
Oh, I know. Gibbs, like
the Brothers Gibb or maybe Andy.
"I just want to be your
everything." My everything, every
little thing. Every touch. Every
kiss. Him. Mulder. Oh…God, this
hurts. Why can't I seem to think
straight?
Labor, so long. Why am I
bleeding so much? That's why I keep
hearing them talk about my blood
pressure. So weak. I can hear the
nurses scrambling. They're nervous.
Should I be? It takes so much
effort just to be here. Now. Easier
to float along and try to figure
out…
"Doctor, why is this
happening?"
It is my mother. I can
hear the fear in her voice.
Momentarily, I am smack, back there
in the midst of them all. Dr.
Gibbs. Dr. Gibbs. Why am I thinking
of Missy and Bill? High school,
homework, waiting. That's it. "Our
Town." Missy and Bill were in a
production of it in high school. Oh
no! That searing pain again, down
my torso, back down my legs, and
back again.
I'm there, though, back in
a darkened auditorium, not here in
the midst of pain and blood.
I'm waiting for a ride
home. I have to wait for them to
finish. I've memorized all the
lines because I've watched every
rehearsal. I cannot help but say
the play's words out loud.
"I'm the brightest girl in
school for my age. I have a
wonderful memory."
"Mrs. Scully, what is she
saying?" the nurse implores.
"I have no idea," I can
vaguely hear my mother reply.
"Aw, ma! Bu ten o'clock, I
got to know all about Canada," I
say with a chuckle, trying to jog
my mother's memory. This was Bill's
only line in the play. C'mon, Mom.
Don't you remember?
"Just somebody help her.
She's delirious!" My mother is
truly in a panic.
It's easier to slip back.
So hard to try and convince her
that I am fine. It's simpler over
there, over there in Grover's
Corners.
The stage is half-lit.
There are three rows of chairs a
little over to the right. I walk
slowly to the center. There is no
one here, on the stage or in the
audience. I look around, wondering
where everyone has gone. I sense,
rather than see, a figure in the
third row of chairs on the stage.
She sits in the second chair in
from the left.
"Dana." The voice is that
of a woman, a practical woman. It
is not a gentle voice or a
nurturing tone. I know the woman.
"Mrs. Mulder?" I ask,
testing to see if she will respond.
I walk closer to where she sits.
She begins:
"Yes. I need to tell you
something. You know, you can't go
back. You can't re-live or change a
moment. You can only hope for
appreciation, for comfort. I want
you do that for me. Can you?"
"I don't know. Can I?" I
ask a woman I know to be dead.
"Yes. You must give to him
what I never could- a shelter, a
healing. You were right when you
said that I just wanted him to
stop. I just wanted to ease his
pain. I only caused more. Dana,
comfort him."
"But I can't. He's not…"
my response is halted by another
wash of hurt. I slip closer, back
to the scene set before me.
There is one stirring, two
rows up and to the right. She is
restless.
"Dana," she says in a
plaintive whisper without turning
around to see me. I move to stand
in front of her.
"Melissa," I say with
relief, excitement.
"You know, you can't go
back," she says with a tinge of
sadness and regret.
"I think I'm beginning to
understand that," I reply simply.
"If I could, though, I
would savor more. I would taste
every flavor, enjoy every scent. I
want you to do that for me. Can
you?" She raises her head so that
her gaze once directed outwards,
falls upon me.
"I can try."
"You must. Live every
moment. Always remember his touch,
let it bring you to life again and
again. Cry out with joy, in
celebration. Never hold back from
him. Enjoy him, Dana."
"But Missy,he's gone, go-"
Before I can finish, I see
one more figure sitting in the
chairs before me. His shoulders are
stooped, his chin rests on his
chest. He is a man severed, broken.
My hand, by it's own volition,
reaches toward him. Before I touch
him, I speak:
"Mr. Mulder?"
He nods only, words are
difficult for him.
"You know, you can't go
back, you can't change one thing,"
he says with resignation.
"I know that."
"You can only hope that
the future is kind. Our only means
of righting the past is a dream
that hinges on our children. If I
could return, I would be a father,
a good father. I would choose to
love my children in the face of
evil rather than fighting another
war against it. Let him be a
father, Dana. Keep him from making
the same mistakes. Let him love his
child and that love will conquer
the world."
My tears begin to fall out
of frustration. I plead with him,
with all of them," Don't you
understand? He's not here. I can't
do any of…"
I am jolted by the sound
of a familiar voice, calling to me
from far away.
"Scully-"
No, not here. Please don't
let me be hearing him here.
"Scully-" more demanding
now, he speaks.
No! Only the dead are
here. Please God, no.
"Dammit, Scully! Come back
to me. *I* came back to you!" He's
choking out the words in a tone
somewhere between a scream and a
request.
I open my eyes, only to
meet his. Mulder. Here. Alive, with
his arms around me, propping me up
in a bed, in a labor and delivery
room, ready to watch his child
being born.
"That's it. Welcome back,
Scully. We have a baby to meet," he
coos into my ear.
"How? What?…" The
questions tumble forth from me.
"Not now. We only get one
chance to meet our first born. You
can't go back and try this again,
you know," he replies good
naturedly.
"Yes, I know." For I
truly do.
~~~**~~~
It is dark now. All the
busyness of nurses, doctors, and
family has dissipated. It is
simply, quiet. My partner, in every
sense of the word, sleeps safely in
a chair next to my bed. Our
daughter is a warm, tightly-
swaddled bundle in my arms. And as
I look down into her perfect
countenance, I remember the past
and know without a doubt that a new
day is near. I cannot turn back,
but I know the future is as near as
her tiny hands. Life, through
nurturing, savoring, loving, is our
connection from "here" to "there".
And as the Stage Manager in a
brilliant play once said, "We all
know that something is eternal."
END
Feedback: Eternally appreciated and
cherished! To joemimi@prodigy.net
Thank you's as always to Georgia-
Somethings like friendship and good
beta help are truly eternal!
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