Title: Pandora Revisited
Author: Eve Whiting
Spoilers: Practically anything upto Orison
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Any songs, poems, phrases I've quoted
don't belong to me. Probably anything intelligent at all that happened to
make it's way in here doesn't belong to me. That should cover it.
Note: In my universe Daniel doesn't exist,and he's certainly not the reason,
she changed career paths.
Rating: R ( for now, somewhere along the tracks, freaky circus action will
occur.Thank you Mitz for that wonderful phrase.)
Archive: Wait until I finish the damn thing then go for your life ;-)
Dedication: To my beta, and better (sorry couldn't resist) Sarah,
words fail when talking of her incredible patience and help. To Bron, it's
all your fault woman, I refuse to thank you, but I have to acknowledge you.
To my ass-kicker Dani, I live to see what you'll send next.
And to Fish...always to Fish
Pandora Revisited
Chapter 1
“When we meet again, introduced as friends, please don’t let on
that you knew me …”
- Just Like A woman
Bob Dylan
***************************************
Going through Mulder’s desk drawers, has always been dangerous.
Mostly because they should be classified as health hazards. But I
really needed his copy of the report that we had been working on,
otherwise, I swear, I wouldn’t have gone looking.
You never knew what could be lurking in one of the corners. From a
three year old banana, to some piece of evidence, that he had
‘forgotten’ to return.
It always reminded me of a Lucky Dip. You know that game where you
fish around in a big bucket for a prize, and you don’t know what
you have until you actually open it up.
As I searched through a rain forest of loose papers, my hand
brushed against something small and square.
Don’t ask me why, before I could think, I found myself pulling it
out. It was a jewelry box, or to be more specific, a ring box.
It had me hypnotized. Any thought to Mulder’s right to privacy had
flown out of my mind along with my scruples and conscience.
I was pretty sure I knew what was in the box. I knew that by
opening it, I would be re-opening a door which had been bolted
shut. In fact, for a long time, I just pretended that door hadn’t
existed.
There are moments in your life, when all clichés seem to apply.
This was one of them.
My heart did sound unnaturally loud, as I looked down at the box in
my hands.
Time did seem to slow as I debated whether or not to open that
little box.
A thousand thoughts did manage to flit through my brain in about a
thirty-second time frame, and yes I even had the proverbial voice
of reason or conscience or whatever, warning me that Pandora had
only found pain when she had opened the lid.
She had been warned, and so had I. If not by Mercury, at least by
my own sense of self-preservation. But like my mythic counterpart,
I had an overdeveloped sense of curiosity, and, like that pagan
Eve, I opened the damned box.
It’s funny how something so innocuous as a pair of wedding bands,
can remind one of an unpinned grenade, but I guess it’s all a
matter of perception.
Anyone else would have marveled at the craftsmanship, or perhaps
read the inscription inside both of them. I did neither.
Instead I sat there for God knows how long, letting unbidden tears
roll down my cheeks steadily.
They say that time heals all wounds, but that’s a lie. It might dim
the pain. It might allow a scab to cover the anguish, but it
doesn’t heal. The sight of those two bands managed to rip away all
the protective layers I had built up over fourteen years, leaving
me vulnerable to the agony of memories.
The feel of a linen handkerchief, pressed gently into my hands ,
brought me sharply back to reality in a way no amount of cold water
could have.
I remembered where I was, and who I was crying in front of.
Mulder.
Oh shit.
The silence that enveloped us was oppressive, like a storm that
wouldn’t break. It grew and I could feel it pressing down on us.
The stand-off was worthy of a John Wayne western. All we needed
was a piece of tumbleweed to roll artistically between us, and the
scene would have been perfect.
I wanted to say something, anything, but I remained mute. All I
could do was look from Mulder to the rings and back again.
Mulder has always been more foolhardy (or brave, however you want
to phrase it) than me, so it didn’t really surprise me when he
finally broke our deadlock.
“Where did you find those?” His voice held no accusation in it, but
the question put me on the defensive anyway.
“ I was looking for a report, the McKenzie one. I wasn’t snooping.”
He wanted to wince at my tone, hell I did myself, but I couldn’t
help the hardness that had crept into my voice.
“Scully, it’s ok. Really. I was just surprised, that’s all.” He
paused. I knew he had more to say, but I just wasn’t ready to hear
it. Frankly I wasn’t sure if I would ever be ready to hear it.
“Look Mulder, I have to go. Just hand the report in to Skinner
please. I’d do it myself but I…”
“Scully,” he interrupted “ Scully please. Don’t do this. We need to
talk.”
Anyone could have heard the anguish in his tone, it was impossible
to miss, but I didn’t care. I was busy dealing with my own
feelings. Feeling that I thought I had dealt with. Feelings I had
thought I had overcome. Feelings that had come back to bit me in
the ass with a vengeance.
“We don’t need to talk Mulder, there’s nothing to talk about.” It
amazed me that I succeeded in keeping my voice so calm.
“ Scully…Dana…”
“Don’t.” I whispered frantically. “ Don’t call me that. You
haven’t called me that in fifteen years, so don’t start now.”
My calm was slipping from me, I needed to get out of the office as
fast as I could. It was just a matter of time till I lost it.
“I’ve got to go.” I said hurriedly, looking away from his tortured
expression.
“Scully wait.”
“No. For God’s sake Mulder don’t. Just leave it . Please. I can’t
talk about it. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Not waiting for him to say anything else, I quickly left the room.
The walk to my parking space usually takes me about seven minutes,
but this time, I was at my car in three.
I stood against the door of my car trying to catch my breath, and
finally letting the tears I had fought so hard against in Mulder’s
presence, free.
The fact that I made it home, without crashing the car is a tribute
to my driving skills. It’s not easy, negotiating your way though
peak-hour traffic, when you keep on getting blinded by your tears.
The drive itself seemed interminable and by the time I had actually
made it into my apartment, I felt weary in a way I hadn’t since my
remission.
Changing into some sweats used up the last reserves of my energy
and I collapsed bonelessly onto my couch.
Sleep refused to come, instead I found myself staring at my old,
chipped Oxford mug.
Proust had Madeleine Cakes, I had a five pound souvenir. Less
aesthetically pleasing, but just as effective. Dana Scully’s
version of Remembrance Of Things Past, was about to begin in
glorious Technicolor. There was no stopping it, and honestly, I
didn’t really want to. 1985 was still one of the happiest years in
my life.
*******************************************************************
It had been chaos the last couple of hours in the hospital, and
Dana was looking forward to taking her break. She had been lusting
after a lemon iced tea for the last hour, and she knew that there
was one, and only one in the vending machine, in the staff’s
lounge.
Despite the fact, she had been working for two months at St.
Swithins, she still found herself wondering how she had managed to
get roped into voluntary work on her holiday.
Actually this trip was not so much a holiday, as a sabbatical. It
was a time to take stock. She had found her life following a path
not determined by what she wanted, so much so as what was expected
of her.
Much as she loved her family, they were suffocating her. So she
left. Deferred college for a year, much to her father’s horror, and
come to England.
Though her original intention had been to take a complete break ,
she found the inertia irksome. There were only so many stately
houses one could see without becoming bored.
Oxford was only meant to have been a pit-stop for her. A chance to
see the Bodlein, and wander the halls Oscar Wilde had, in Magdelen.
Instead she had somehow ended up at the hospital offering to do
some volunteer work.
She loved the work, and had no problem with spending most of her
time in the hospital. Though at first she had been working in the
emergency rooms, in the last couple of weeks she had been moved
upstairs. It was different there. Quieter.
The head doctors had quickly realized that as well as being a
skilled student Dana Scully retained a quality, that so many of
them had lost. Tenderness.
They all cared about their patients, but at the end of the day,
they detached themselves. They had to, to survive. She didn’t do
this.
It was after the head doctor had found her crying quietly over a
toddler who had been beaten to death, that the move had been made.
She was thinking of these circumstances, when she felt someone
jostle her.
“Hey, watch it.” Turning around, to see who she was talking to, she
came up short, against a broad chest. Heaving, not in lust or
passion, but in extreme annoyance and exertion.
“Excuse me, but you’re the one in the way.” The chest was attached
to a face. While she normally found this face very handsome, the
scowl marring it managed to effectively quench any attraction.
Well most of it anyway .
“Excuse me, I’m not in the way, as you put it. If you had watched
where you were going, there wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Great” she heard him mutter, “ all I need, a self-righteous candy-
striper.”
That did it. It didn’t matter how handsome she thought him, she was
out for blood now.
“What did you say?”
“I said, I do not have time for this right now, and you shouldn’t
even be here. This is the staff lounge.”
“I’ll have you know” she said, hotly, losing her temper, “ that I
have every right to be here. Where the hell do you get off,
assuming that I’m some stupid little candy-striper, doing this to
waste some time.”
Looking at the two of them, the scene was amusing. Both of them
were toe to toe, and though there was an obvious physical
disparity, neither asked or gave quarter. They were focused
completely on each other, and nothing short of a nuclear blast
could have changed that.
“Look” he said, unfazed by her tirade “ could you just get out of
my way. I really don’t care if you’re Mother Teresa herself. All I
want to do, is get into the lounge, grab a drink and get some
sleep. I’ve been on call for thirty-two hours, and unless you get
out of my way soon, I’m going to do something, that while I’ll
enjoy at the time, I’ll regret later.”
He had an inappropriate desire to laugh , when he saw the look of
disbelief on her face. At first he had just wanted to get into the
lounge, and catch some much needed sleep, but sparring with this
girl, was proving more fun than he had had in ages.
The look of unadulterated shock on her face, did it. He gave up,
and started laughing. He knew that this would only piss her off
further, but he really couldn’t hold it in anymore.
It did piss her off more, in fact it made her furious. So much so,
that she refused to rein in the tatters of her temper, letting fly
instead.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me Fox Mulder. Just because you’re fucking
golden-haired-boy of this hospital, does not allow you to act like
the asshole you are.
Your not in Martha’s Vineyard anymore Goldilocks, so don’t even
think of using those macho shithead tactics on me, or I’ll have you
on your ass so fast you won’t even remember hitting the floor.”
He stopped laughing at the beginning of her tirade, partly due to
surprise, and partly due to awe.
“Hey how did you know my name.”
She scoffed at his surprise. “ I know what everyone knows.”
“What does that mean?” He queried, genuinely annoyed this time.
“Just that. That you’re well known. Hell your the closest thing to
a celebrity St. Swithins has. And like any other enfant terrible,
you get a lot of leeway, that no one else could ever dream of
getting.”
“Is that what you think?”
From his tone she could tell he was in earnest. For some reason,
her opinion really mattered. But still she was not ready to be
another notch in Fox Mulder’s belt. His list of conquests was long,
the hospital was littered with his ex’s. She was not going to be
part of that growing sorority. She was here to decide her future,
and Fox Mulder-while very nice to look at- had no place in it.
“Look, it doesn’t matter what I think, because quite frankly I
don’t think about it at all.” Dana hoped that her face was not
going red from lying. ‘If you don’t mind, I just want to go, get an
iced tea and then I’ll be out of your way.”
Before he could say anything further, she slipped into the lounge,
got her drink and left.
He was still mulling over everything said, long after she had gone.
Some of it had hit pretty close to the bone. It wasn’t her insults
he was still pondering over -he rather liked her inventiveness- but
rather her acuteness in describing him.
Without thinking he went to the vending machine and put his money
in, only then did he remember that she had already taken the last
iced tea.
“Great, great “ he grumbled to himself, “not only does she leave
me speechless, but she left me thirsty as well.” At that he started
laughing. “Shit, I don’t even know her and already I’m ready to
start writing purple prose to her. Fucking hell, I didn’t even get
her name. Great. Smooth, really smooth.”
He flopped onto the disconsolately onto the couch, determined to
get a little rest. Despite being bone tired, sleep remained out of
reach. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the pre-Raphaelite
Bodicea, who had put him in his place.
“Shit” he yelled. “ Would you grow up you stupid pratt. Forget
about it. Forget about her, and get some goddamn rest.” It was
going to be easier said than done, he knew it.
She had blind-sided him. He had spoken to her for ten minutes at
the maximum, but he already knew, he had never met anyone like her
before. She fascinated him.
He found himself smiling, when he thought over their conversation.
And slowly, amidst memories of a red-headed firebrand he fell
asleep
*******************************************************************
The shrill sound of my phone, finally broke through my brooding .
I’ve really grown to hate the sound. I think it’s because I always
have a sense of foreboding about who’s calling and what it’s about.
It was no different this time. I may have known who was calling,
and even why, but it was still as terrifying as waiting for a call
from my oncologist.
Continuing my trend of cowardice, I just let it ring, hoping it
would just stop. That he would just give up. I didn’t want to laugh
at the ludicrousness of the thought. Instead I prayed to a God, I
was not sure I believed in anymore, he would. He didn’t.
The machine finally picked up. There was a long pause, as if he was
trying to choose the best words, before he spoke.
“Scully… Scully I know you’re there. We have to talk about this
Scully. It’s gone on for too long, and though we’ve worked around
it before, I don’t think I can do that anymore, and I don’t think
you can either.”
Though I wanted to be angry at him, for playing shrink on me, I
couldn’t. he was right. I couldn’t do this much longer. He was
still talking, though.
“ …Look I think I should come over. We need to deal with this.
Scully if you’re there please pick up. Please.”
I never could resist Mulder, when he asked me anything in that
tone.
I remember our first case, I was still in shock at actually meeting
again, let alone being partnered, Mulder had been waxing lyrical
about how a mammalian corpse was extra-terrestrial, while I was
wondering what the hell had happened to the man I had fallen in
love with in England. Just as I was going to write him off , write
any hope of a partnership off, he turned to me dropped all his
defenses, and virtually begged me to bear with him. I couldn’t
resist him them, and it was the same story seven years later.
“Mulder I’m here.” I gripped the phone so hard, my knuckles turned
white.
“Scully” The relief in his voice was clear.
“ You’re right Mulder, we do need to talk.” There was complete
silence on the other end. “I bet you never thought I’d say that
huh?”
He chuckled at that, “ Let’s just say that I’m checking out my
window, for impending signs of the apocalypse Scully.”
Smartass.
“ So are you coming over?” It seemed ridiculous, a question so
simple, would affect my entire future.
“Do you want me to?”
I really hated when he answered a question, with another. It was
the oldest trick in every psych text book, and I didn’t appreciate
him using it on me.”
“Mulder” The warning was obvious in my tone.
“ Sorry, old habit. I’ll be over in a couple of hours. But I have
to ask, are you ready to do this Scully?”
I wasn’t sure how I could answer him. I didn’t know the answer
myself.
“Scully?”
“Sorry. Just come over Mulder.” I felt a curious sense of relief.
I had made my decision for better, for worse. Frankly I had a very
hard time believing that it could get any worse.
“All right Scully, I’ll be over in a couple of hours.”
Knowing I had nothing more to say, he hung up.
God knows how long I sat. Probably minutes, though it felt like
hours. Though I knew the front door did not contain the answers to
the mysteries of the Universe, I still couldn’t stop staring at it.
Looking down at my hands I found I was shaking. Only then did I
realize I was cold. Freezing. I think the last time I had been this
cold was Antarctica.
I was going into shock. It terrified me that I could stare down
most horrors known to us, but fell apart when it came to dealing
with my personal life.
Before I could unglue any further, I pushed myself into the
bathroom, hastily got rid of my clothes, and stepped into a bath
that was almost scalding. It was just what I needed. The much
needed warmth seeped into my bones, while the rhythmic lap of the
water, soothed me.
I could feeling the thumping of my heart slowly leveling. Until I
had got into the tub, my heart had been pounding, as if I’d been
running a marathon. As always, within a couple of minutes a
delicious sleepiness overtook me. With my defenses down, even and
especially from myself, I soon found my mind wandering
This time, I didn’t try and fight the urge to trip down memory
lane. There was no point. Soon I found myself thinking of England,
St. Swithins, and Mulder. Always Mulder.
Actually not Mulder. Fox. He let me call him Fox then.
It was laughable, how when we were first partnered, I thought that
maintaining a last name basis, would allow those walls I carefully
constructed to stay up. We tried, though. Both of us did, being
masters of denial , to keep it that way. I let it go, that time he
called me Dana, partly because I was hurting, and it didn’t
register until much later, and partly because he was Fox then. Not
Mulder, my paranoid partner, but Fox, the man I had known, eight
years earlier.
We made no mention of it later, but both of us were very aware of
it happening.
It still hurts to think of the one time, that one fucking time, I
tried to call him Fox.
I’m not too sure what possessed me to do so. I knew that I was
breaking one of our unspoken rules and that I would probably be
rebuffed for my efforts.
“I even made my parents call me Mulder.”
That was the first time he ever lied to me, outright, anyway. We
both knew it. It took all the strength I had to continue on with
what I had been planning to say.
His face softened and I think he knew just how much it took for me
to continue. Of course he had to make that crack about iced tea,
though. I think he must have known exactly what I went through
buying him that root beer.
I remember standing in front of the fridges for so long just
looking at that iced tea. I still wonder what he would have done,
if I had pulled out a bottle. That was the first time we played
Chicken in our partnership, but certainly not the last.
The Tooms case was a turning point for us though. It was the first
time that I saw a future for us, maybe not the way I had planned
when I was twenty-one, but a future none the less.
It was also, at that point, the time I began to fall in love with
Mulder. Mulder, not Fox.
Still brooding over moments passed, I failed to hear Mulder’s
frantic knocking. It was only when he raced into the bathroom that
I snapped out of it.
He was panting heavily, and had a look of chagrin mixed with fear
plastered on his face. It was so strangely similar to that first
time we met so long ago, I couldn’t help smiling.
“What the hell are you smiling at Scully?” he barked “Didn’t you
hear me knocking?”
I shook my head, but still didn’t say anything. I’m not sure I
could have, for at that, Mulder blew up at me.
“For fucks sake Scully, do you know how worried I was standing out
there in your hallway? Do you know what was going through my head?
Your neighbors are probably going to call the cops since I nearly
broke down your door hammering. I was thinking that I hadn’t been
fast enough again, that it had happened again, that…”
“Mulder stop.” I cried. It scared me seeing him lose control. Not
that I hadn’t before, but this was different.
Usually it was because of Samantha, his mother, the case. When it
was about me, I could always chalk up his concern to being a good
partner and so on. As I said before, I am and always have been a
master at the art of denial. This time it was because of me, pure
and simple. Not even I could construe it as anything else.
He stopped short. Slowly that look which had frightened me so much,
died in his eyes.
“I’m sorry Scully… I …I just…worry.”
“ I know Mulder, I know.”
Remembering, suddenly, just exactly where we were, Mulder abruptly
averted his gaze .
“Sorry. I’ll be outside, when you finish up.”
He left, before either of us could say anything else.
Getting out of the tepid water, I haphazardly threw on my clothes,
not bothering about my hair. I stood at the doorway of my bedroom
for a long time, screwing up my courage. The last time I had needed
to do this, was when I had stood in front of Mulder’s office for
the first time, with my fist poised to knock.
It was as terrifying, if not more so, this time.
***********END PART 1*************************
Chapter 2
“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember
- Hamlet
Shakespeare
****************************************
“ Why did you keep them Mulder?”
Thank God Mulder didn’t even try to misunderstand me. From his
face, whatever he was going to tell me, was probably going to hurt
like hell, but I just had to know why he had kept the rings.
“ I couldn’t give them up Scully. Stupid really, I mean I gave up
on everything else. I gave up on trying to get you to talk to me. I
gave up on the promises we made to each other. I gave up on us for
Christ’s sake, but for some reason, I just could bear to give those
up. I think, for me, they were tangible proof somebody had really
loved me once. Loved me enough to spend their life with me.
Do you know, I wore mine for years. Right up to the day when I
first met Arthur Dales. The day I first heard about the X-Files.
After that, I made a conscious decision not to wear it anymore. It
was like closing a door. On the past, on everything I had wanted
for so long...basically, I closed the door on you. I thought. Fate
must have been laughing her ass off that day.
I remember, I took it off while sitting on our bench. I think I
meant to make some childish gesture of throwing it into the water,
or something equally cinematic, but as it lay in my hand I found
myself re-reading the inscription, and for the first time in a long
time, I cried.”
Till today, I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried. Really
cried. I think I must have made up for all my stoicism in the past,
and then some. I found myself crying. Again. I didn’t compose
myself. There was no point, besides it wasn’t hysteria, just a
terrible sadness and a sense of shame.
Mulder, as usual, had delegated all the blame for our breakup on
himself. He had managed to absolve me from any of the
responsibility, while convincing himself that my silence, my
withdrawal from him, was all his fault.
“I’m sorry Scully. I didn’t mean to make you cry. God, no matter
what I do, I always end up causing you more pain. There was no
point forcing this conversation on you Scully. I don’t know why I
thought it would be different this time.
I’m sorry… I’ll go now…Get some rest.”
Mulder’s move towards the door, finally galvanized my dormant vocal
chords into action.
“Don’t go Mulder . Please stay. I don’t want you to go…” I wanted
to say so much more. To apologize for my silence, then and now,
for not having this conversation sooner, for not making him
understand that there was nothing he could have done.
He moved towards me, as one would move towards a cornered animal,
slowly and cautiously.
“Scully are you sure, you want me to stay?”
His uncertainty would have hurt, if I wasn’t so numbed with pain
already.
“Please. Stay. Just…” I tried to finish, but the vise squeezing my
throat seemed to clench further.
“Just what Scully?”
“…hold me?” I managed to whisper
“Oh Scully…” he murmured brokenly, “…always.”
I had barely asked the question, before Mulder’s arms were around
me. It had been far too long, since I had last allowed myself this
luxury. It was something usually reserved for death bed or near
death escapes.
I burrowed further into his arms, and he hauled me into his lap, so
that I was sitting completely within his embrace. Unconsciously he
began to rock me, and it reminded me of what a great father Mulder
would have been, and because of me, would never be.
“Don’t Scully.” His voice cut into my thoughts sharply
“Don’t what?”
I was utterly adrift until I realized, I must have said my last
thought aloud.
“But it’s true Mulder. You would make the most wonderful father.”
“It’s not your fault Scully. You know that. There was nothing you
could have done to prevent it. Nobody saw it coming.”
“If that’s true Mulder, why can’t you forgive yourself? Why do you
continue to blame yourself?”
“Because I let you down Scully. It was my fault. I know I said that
nobody saw it coming, but that’s the point. I should have seen it
coming. That was what I was there for. It was my job, for Christ’s
sake. I fucked up, and it cost you, us, everything.”
There was no need to look up to see if he was crying or not, I
could feel his tears running down my neck. His face was buried in
my hair, and I could hear his hitching breaths, as he desperately
tried to compose himself.
“Mulder, Mulder, look at me.” I pleaded.
He made no indication of hearing me, instead he pressed his face
deeper into my neck.
“Mulder, it wasn’t your fault. None of it. I’m sorry I withdrew
from you, after it happened, but it just hurt so much. But at no
point, and I mean this, at no point did I blame you. You were a
victim just as much as I was. If you refuse to believe anything
else I’ve said today, believe this Mulder.”
Slowly he brought his head up, so he was looking directly into my
eyes.
“ I just can’t believe that Scully. I want to, but I can’t. I let
you down. It was my mistake, and you paid for it, almost with your
life, and with our… “ he didn’t go on, but looked away instead.
I could feel him pulling away .
“Mulder…”
Before I could say more he deftly placed me on the couch, while
getting up, all in one move. The look on his face, reminded me
forcibly of the shuttered expression he had worn that last awful
month in England
“I can’t talk about this right now Scully. I promise, I’m not going
to walk away from this, from us, but I just can’t talk about it
right now. It’s too much, too soon.”
Much as I wanted to argue with him, I knew the truth of his words.
We had barely scratched the surface of what had gone wrong, and
already I was exhausted.
“Ok”
“Really?” The surprise in his voice was evident.
“Call it an emotional time out” I quipped, hoping to lighten the
atmosphere
“So should I go back to my corner?”
That was so typical of Mulder. Mask a serious question in a joke.
“ No more corners Mulder. Come sit by me”
He eased himself back onto the sofa, and tentatively drew me
closer to him. I snuggled closer, hoping to show that since we had
broken that first pact none of the others applied. It must have
worked since his arm tightened around me and he pulled me close.
“Talk to me Scully” Mulder suddenly requested, breaking the
silence.
“About what?”
“Anything. Everything. Whatever you want.”
“Don’t you like the silence Mulder. You know this is one of the
first silences we’ve shared that have not been awkward or filled
with things unsaid.”
“I do like it. A lot. But I love hearing your voice more.”
“ Mulder…”
“No it’s true. It helps me believe that this is real. That we are
sitting here, and this is not some dream that I’m going to wake up
from, cold and alone in my bed. So please, just talk. Tell me
anything, you can repeat autopsy details for all I care, just don’t
stop. At least not for a while” he added, with a sheepish grin, as
an afterthought.
There was so much that I wanted to say in return. Words of regret
and apology, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He hadn’t been
looking for sympathy. It was a statement of fact.
So, after finally finding my voice, I tried to comply.
“I still hear from Carrie you know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she never stopped writing. Even when I didn’t answer her.”
I had been watching Mulder intently while telling him this, and
suddenly I had the answer to a question I’d wondered over during
the course of our partnership. That slow ,sleepy, smile he
sometimes wore for no apparent reason, happened when he was
thinking about England, about us.
“How is she?”
“She’s happy, finally. She still asks about you. How you are and so
on.”
“Really?” The disbelief was patent in his voice. “Why?”
“How can you ask that Mulder. It was purely because you refused to
give up, that she got to speak to Frank. Imagine if you hadn’t have
found her that day, she would have never have got sort of
resolution. You gave her that. You gave her and Frank peace.”
“Don’t sell yourself short Scully, if you hadn’t have pissed me off
so much, I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to find her.”
His mischievous grin was impossible not to return.
“We certainly knew how to piss each other off didn’t we?” I asked
laughing, remembering just how close we came to murdering each
other that day.
“God, I’ll never forget your face, when Frank asked us when the
wedding was, ” he laughed “ I think the correct term was gob-
smacked. There’s absolutely no other way to describe it.”
“What about you. It was the first time I saw the panic face. You
looked less revolted when you had Eugene Tooms’ bile all over you
hands”
“ I did not,” his mock indignation had me laughing even harder “ I
was a perfect gentleman. By the way I still maintain you’ve never
seen me panic.”
“Sure Mulder. Fine…”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence Scully.” He threatened, moving
to pin me to my cushion
“…whatever” I ended triumphantly.
“Ok, that’s it” he declared, launching himself fully. “ Death by
tickling it is.”
Christ, how could I have forgotten, that Mulder knew all of my weak
spots. Literally.
In moments, I was helpless, lying weak with laughter, as Mulder
loomed directly over me.
The air changed. A frivolous moment suddenly became serious. We
both remained frozen, looking squarely into each other’s eyes.
Awkwardly Mulder moved off me, and returned back to his part of the
couch.
We had gone back to separate corners. Some habits were too
ingrained to break all at once.
“Do you want some tea?” I finally managed to ask.
I know, scintillating attempt at conversation. I was so proud that
my very expensive education was not going to waste.
“Tea, Scully?”
“After England, I got addicted. I never could stand the way they
made coffee there, and though I admired your staunch devotion to
the dishwater they called coffee, I never was crazy enough to try
and emulate it.”
“ But that was fifteen years ago Scully.”
“Thank you for the math lesson Mulder,” I retorted “ I know England
was fifteen years ago, that really isn’t the point.”
“So then what is?” He was genuinely curious. I wondered how a man
could be so simultaneously incisive and thick at the same.
“ The point is that I want to remember England. Most of it anyway.”
“Why Scully?” the anguish was back in his voice “why would you want
to remember a time that changed our lives so completely, so
violently?”
“Because despite that England was one of the happiest times in my
life Mulder. That’s why.” What I had meant to come out in a
measured tone, came out hoarse, and broken. “ I was so happy there
Mulder, with you…I…” It was impossible to go on, I just prayed
Mulder understood.
He did.
“ I know Scully. It’s the same for me.”
“Mulder I have to tell you something.” I whispered urgently to his
shoulder.
Somewhere along the course of our conversation, we had once again
become entwined in each others arms.
“What Scully?”
“ I love you. I always have. I never stopped. I wanted to
sometimes, lots of times actually, but I couldn’t.”
“ I love you to Scully. You know that. You’ve always known that.”
“ When I met you again, I was so scared that I had pushed you away.
I mean that’s what I had tried to do, but being so near you, just
brought everything back so clearly. For a while I thought you hated
me, or at least considered me a mistake of your youth or something.
But when I came to you in the motel, I felt sure that though it
wasn’t like before, there could be some sort of future for us.”
Expressing myself, had never been easy for me at the best of times,
but this took on a new dimension of pain. Every word seemed laced
with my heart’s blood.
“You know what I was trying to do that whole assignment Scully? “
I wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, so I just
waited
“I was trying to figure out a way, to keep from holding you in my
arms, breaking just about every rule we had set for ourselves in
the office.”
“So how did you manage to restrain yourself Mulder. You did so
admirably I might add. You barely even turned a hair when I ran
into your room that night.”
“ Is that what you think Scully? Christ I turned so many hairs,
it’s a wonder I didn’t have to change my name to Curly Locks”
“ What stopped you then Mulder? You knew I was willing. I mean I
threw myself into you’re arms. That wasn’t subtle.”
He chuckled ruefully, then sobered.
“ It was guilt Scully. Guilt and fear. My two oldest friends. I
couldn’t bear the thought of it happening again. That’s why I held
you at arms length. That’s why I lied, and said that Samantha was
all that mattered. It didn’t make a difference though. You still
got hurt. You always get hurt and, as always, there’s nothing I
can do to stop it.”
The exhaustion in his voice was evident. Glancing at my clock, I
realized that it was well past midnight. We had been talking for
several hours, both of us were drained.
I gently pulled Mulder towards me, with little resistance he soon
rested his head in the crook of my lap.
Running my fingers through his hair, I found my mind wandering back
to England yet again.
To that day which brought us into a collision course with each
other
It’s amazing how the most momentous occasions in your life, can be
disguised as something quite commonplace. For us, it came in the
shape of a patient, suffering dementia, named Frank.
***********************END PART 2********************
Chapter 3
“Lover friend of mine, we will never lose the time, that we,
covered in our tears in our tears. “
- Weir
- Killing Heidi
*******************************************************************
**
One of the few things that had taken Fox by surprise in England was
the heat. It didn’t compute somehow. The rain was a given, the snow
hadn’t been as bad as the Vineyard’s, the sleet while annoying
hadn’t lasted long, but the heat was a shocker.
Why the hell hadn’t they ever mentioned it in the guidebooks?
Not only was it hot, but all the stones of Oxford seemed to absorb
the sun, as if storing it for the long winter ahead. All in all, it
made the University town resemble one of Dante’s circles. The inner
ones.
To be strictly accurate though, the heat wasn’t always this bad. He
had been assured of this several times, by his solicitous
housekeeper. This year, they were having a heat wave.
He still wasn’t sure why she was so excited over this fact, but he
dutifully tried to muster up the enthusiasm she seemed to expect.
As soon as she left the dining room, the smile slid off his face.
A heat wave was just the final straw, in a truly shitty month, he’d
been having.
His nightmares had been occurring with greater frequency. His
mother couldn’t to fly over to see him. The holidays were coming
and once again he had nothing to do, and no one to do it with.
But what was truly ruining his month, was the fact that by some
twist of fate, his rostered shifts now coincided with Dana
Scully’s.
He had looked forward to working with her. He’d made it a point to
find out about her, and all the reports had been good. Better than
good, great:
“…She’s a professional”
“…The hospital’s lucky to get her”
“…She’s doing this voluntarily”
“…She’s sharper than most of the doctors here.”
The kudos were endless.
That wasn’t what he wanted to know though. Not really. He wanted to
know about her. Not Dana Scully- Mother Teresa- in-training, but
Dana Scully the woman. No one seemed able to tell him anything
about that.
The adjectives, when they tried, were cold, distant, aloof.
It didn’t fit. He had met her only for a little while but none of
those limited descriptions came close to painting an accurate
picture of her. So he waited for their first, formal,
introduction.
It had been a disaster, almost from minute one.
He had never met someone who seemed determined to hate him, or
ignore him at best.
It wasn’t because of their first run in either, he was pretty sure.
She had seemed to despise him even before that.
He had tried to be friendly, but any olive branch he tentatively
offered was studiously ignored. On good days Dana Scully simply,
worked around him, at other times their arguments could be heard
down the hall. Despite the constant friction, the head doctors of
St. Swithins seemed to think they were an effective pair, and Fox
had to agree that when they weren’t arguing with each other, it was
true.
He could have handled all of this much better, if he wasn’t
,despite this, so attracted to her. What was more was he was sure
that despite her aloof and downright unfriendly behavior, she was
not as immune to him as she wanted him to think.
Occasionally, when he’d turn around suddenly, he’d find her staring
at him. Or when he’d make a flippant comment, out of the corner of
his eye, he’d see her fighting to keep a straight face.
It was as fascinating as it was extremely frustrating.
On the way up, he was still thinking over this bizarre little game
he found himself playing, when the pysch intern he was relieving
came rushing up.
“ Thank Christ you’re here.”
Trevor wasn’t a person easily agitated, so Fox knew that whatever
had happened, or was happening was pretty serious.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“It’s Frank. He’s suddenly got violent today. Usually the fantasies
are reserved to the time he kissed Vivien Leigh, but this time it’s
different. This time, he keeps moaning for Grace, begging her
forgiveness, then asking to see Carrie. He keeps on trying to get
out of bed. When we tried to restrain him, it made him worse. He
started getting violent.”
“Fuck Trevor. Why the hell did you feel the need to restrain him?
Is he still that bad?
Where is he, and who’s with him?”
“You’re not gonna like it Fox, but there was no other option.”
“What am I not going to like? Tell me. This is serious, I don’t
have time for cryptic sentences.”
He watched as Trevor prepared himself for the expected blast. If
the situation had been less serious, it would have been funny.
Trevor was a year older than him actually, but Fox had the
seniority. At St. Swithins he was considered on par with any of the
doctors.
“It’s Dana Scully”
He hoped desperately, Trevor had chosen this moment to play an ill-
timed joke.
“ Please tell me you’re not serious.”
“She was the only one who could control him. I’m serious.” Trevor
added emphatically when he saw the patent disbelief on his face.
“See for yourself Fox. I’m telling you, she got that crazy old
bugger to calm down in about two minutes, whereas, it took three of
us to try and hold him down.’
Rubbing his hands over his face, he counted slowly to ten, hoping
the wave of rage he felt would lessen. It didn’t.
“Three of you held him down. You held him down.” he enunciated
carefully, “ Trevor what the fuck were you thinking? This man was
no danger to us. He’s not even in the psych ward. He actually came
in here to wait out the cancer, not because someone committed him.
We were only assigned him, because one of the nurses heard his
ramblings, and because his oncologist felt he needed some sort of
emotional support since he has no family.
And don’t you ever dare call any patient a ‘crazy old bugger’. His
dementia was non-aggressive, but now God knows what state of mind
he’s in. But to top it all off, you left, an untrained volunteer
with him. If anything should happen to her, we would be held
directly responsible. We’d lose our degrees, and the whole program
would go down the drain.”
Before Trevor could think of a further defense, Fox had sprinted
off towards Frank’s room.
In truth, the future success of the Oxford Internship Scheme, was
the furthest thing from his mind.
What spurred his fear, was the thought of Frank, while usually the
nicest of patients, hurting Dana Scully.
He didn’t stop running till he came to the room, but after taking a
quick glance through the small window, managed to compose himself,
before entering the room.
“Shh” she warned immediately “he only fell asleep a little while
ago.”
“ Are you ok?” he asked earnestly.
She looked at him quizzically before answering.
“I’m fine. The same can’t be said for Frank though. Why did you
think I wouldn’t be ok anyway?”
“I was told that he got violent.”
“He got violent when they tied him down like an animal.” She hissed
furiously.” Have you seen his wrists? You want to talk of violence
look at that.”
Picking up the sleeping man’s hand, he winced in sympathy and
regret, to see the raw, angry abrasions there.
“Do you know what happened? Why he started acting like this?”
For a minute, he didn’t think any answer would be forthcoming, but
after a while she began speaking softly.
“I do know Frank’s been depressed for a while. He wouldn’t tell me
what about though.”
She looked sadly to where Frank lay, moaning restlessly, in his
sleep.
“ How do you know? As far as I’m aware Frank doesn’t come under you
care does he?”
He found it odd that she blushed when he asked this.
“He’s not on my roster of patients I’m supposed to deal with, if
that’s what you mean.” She was evading his question for some
reason.
On previous occasions when they had been stuck together, during
their desultory conversations, if she chose to back off for any
reason he’d always let her. This time, he wasn’t going to.
“So how do you know Frank, if he’s not your patient?” he asked
again.
“God, you are a persistent bastard aren’t you?”
Knowing it was rhetorical, he answered anyway.
“Yup. Always have been.”
She smiled at him, before she could stop herself, and it was one of
the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. His answering smile
almost took her breath away, and she watched fascinated, as his
melancholy eyes lit up with a glee that would rival any three-year-
olds.
Whatever he might have said to her, was forgotten immediately,
when they both noticed Frank coming back to consciousness.
“Frank, Frank can you hear me?” Fox asked.
“God boy, must you yell like that? I’m not deaf you know.” Was the
crabby reply from the bed’s occupant.
“He’s awake,” he said dryly looking towards Dana.
“Of course I’m awake. “
“You had us worried Frank, “Dana said gently “ Do you remember what
happened?”
“I remember you coming to visit me m’dear.” He said with a fond
glance in her direction.
“And after that?” Fox asked
“After that I… I don’t know. What happened Fox?” Suddenly Frank
didn’t sound crabby, but querulous and afraid .
“ You had another episode Frank. The worst one yet I’m afraid.”
Dana watched him deliver this news. Unlike others in the same
position, he didn’t coldly state the facts, viewing his patient as
an obstacle, or just as a job that needed to get done. Instead he
bent close to Frank, almost protectively, holding his hand the
whole time
“Why was it so bad Fox?” Frank finally asked.
“ Well unlike the other times Frank. This time, you tried to get
up, get out of the room, possibly out of the hospital. They were
scared that you were going to hurt yourself.”
“I was just probably dreaming of Vivien.”
His cocky grin fooled neither Fox or Dana, but for his sake they
laughed dutifully at his attempt to lighten the situation.
“Frank, who are Grace and Carrie?” Dana asked quietly .
“Where did you hear those names?” The whiplash speed of the
question shocked them both.
“You were mumbling those names the whole time Frank. You kept
asking for forgiveness.”
“Why do you feel you need to be forgiven Frank?” Fox asked.
He knew he was pushing it. Firstly Frank had just woken after an
obviously traumatic experience. But more importantly, Frank came
from a generation of men who didn’t speak about their emotions.
They tended to bottle it all up and hide it somewhere deep down.
Actually Fox knew that wasn’t reserved to Frank’s generation alone.
The words ‘pot’ and ‘kettle’ whispered through his mind, but he
resolutely shook it off, and turned his whole attention back to his
patient.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Frank said turning his face away.
He really hadn’t expected Frank to open up, but this was too
important to give up on.
“Frank , please tell us. Are they you’re family?”
This drew a half-laugh, half-sob from Frank.
“Don’t you know Fox. I haven’t got any family. Now if you’ll excuse
me, I’m very tired. I think I’ll take one of those naps you people
are always recommending . Dana m’dear, thank you for visiting. As
always you brightened my day up. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t
conscious for most of your visit. And Fox,” Frank paused for a
minute “thank you. For everything.”
Knowing there was no point to further prodding him, both Fox and
Dana left the room, together.
“Do you know what all of that was about?” Dana asked breaking
rudely in to Fox’s thoughts.
“Not really. I have a couple of ideas, but nothing definite or
concrete.”
“ So share.” She requested peremptorily.
“I’m not even sure truthfully.”
“Well you’re doing better than I am anyway, so spill.” Her calm
assumption he would tell her what he was thinking made him smile.
Who would have thought ,twenty-four hours ago, Dana Scully would be
demanding quite plainly to know what was going on in his head. The
day had definitely not turned out the way he thought, and he
certainly didn’t have a problem with that.
“I think they’re his family.”
“But Frank doesn’t have any family.” She pointed out logically “
That’s why admin. turns a blind eye to all the special treatment
he’s given, and the fact that he really doesn’t need half the
services we provide him.”
“He says he doesn’t have any family. There’s a big difference.”
“Even so, in all probability, these are people long gone. “
“I don’t think so,” he found himself musing aloud, more than
answering her “ from the way you, and Trevor described his
ramblings, he was asking them to forgive him. He was speaking in
the present tense, which makes it far more likely that at least one
of these people are alive.”
“Actually, he only seemed to beg for Carrie’s forgiveness.”
“ That’s strange.”
He was quiet for a while. Dana found herself longing to know what
he was thinking. Less than a day ago, she had sternly taken herself
to task over thinking about Fox Mulder too much, and yet today,
after less than an hour with him, she found herself …captivated.
She hated the word, but it was certainly fitting. It implied,
through the very sound, a sense of capture, but that’s in essence
what Fox Mulder had done.
He had captured her attention, against her own will. He had also
captured her mind. Never before had someone challenged her the way
he had. She often found herself regretting their first run in
hadn’t been longer.
Because of this, when she did meet him, she made an effort to be
more aloof than usual.
She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to discourage him, or
herself. It didn’t matter in the end though.
Watching him with Frank had demolished the last of her self-
imposed barriers.
She knew, just knew, somehow, from now on, Fox Mulder was going to
be a major person in her life
“What’s strange?” She asked, after a few moments.
“It’s strange that he only thought he needed forgiveness from
Carrie. Whomever she is.”
“So what do you think?”
“I think, I’m going to take the rest of the day off.” He answered,
a smile growing across his face.
“What?” It took all her control not to shriek the word in the quiet
hallways of the hospital.
He started laughing unabashedly at that.
“I think I should be insulted at the lack of faith you have in me.
I would, except you looked so damn funny just now. Thank you, I
really needed that today” he gasped, once he had managed to stop
laughing.
“Oh glad to be of service. Now will you tell me what you’re going
to do, before I get some seriously homicidal urges.”
“Are those the only urges you get around me?” he asked with an
impish grin.
“I’m waiting.”
Her control over her voice was admirable, but he noticed her faint
flush, and decided to leave it at that. At least for the time
being.
“Look I have the name of the home Frank was at. Maybe someone there
can help me.”
“Us, you mean. ” She stated, looking steadily into his eyes.
“That is exactly what I meant. Us.” He assented, finally, with a
tender half-smile on his face.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
**********END PART3******************
Chapter 4
Time it was
and what a time it was
it was...
a time of innocence
a time of confidences
-Old Friends
-Paul Simon/ Art Garfunkel
**********************************************************
It had been a week since Fox and Dana had joined forces, and they
had found nothing helpful yet.
A needle in a haystack just didn’t cover it. More like looking for
a blade of grass in a haystack.
Frank, by all accounts, was the original Solitary Man.
Still, neither of them could let it go. Mostly because Frank’s
lapses into delirium had become a regular occurrence, but partly
because neither of them could bear the thought of crying Uncle so
easily.
Lately though, they had taken to splitting up in the hopes of
covering more ground. Dana spoke to any and everyone who was even
vaguely connected with Frank, while Fox stayed with Frank, talking
to him, trying to get him to open up.
Frank, however, was not easily played. To his chagrin and grudging
amusement, Fox found he’d usually end up talking about himself,
with Frank listening rather than the other way around.
“ You were a saxophonist weren’t you Frank?” Fox asked one morning,
when ,as usual, the topic had reverted back to him.
“ You know I was Fox, why do you ask?”
“ I was wondering whether or not you liked it, whether you ever
regretted not going into something more… I don’t know…traditional.”
“ Fox, being a musician, isn’t a job, it’s a passion, an obsession.
You just have to be it. You know that it’s not the smartest thing
to be. You know that you have a better chance of being struck by
lightening than by making any money from it. But you just have to
be it, it’s infects your blood, like… like being in love. “
So lost in his memories, Frank failed to see the path Fox was
taking with his line of questioning.
“ So why the hell are you playing shrink with me Frank? As you’re
not enacting some wish to see the path not taken, I’m telling you
here and now to cut the crap . Don’t think I haven’t known what
you’re doing. You know why I go along with it ? Because with you I
have a better relationship, than I do with my own parents. You
listen to me, you advise me, you’re here for me more than they have
been for the last twelve years, you don’t think the less of me,
when I tell you my fears and all the things I’ve gotten wrong.
Why won’t you let me do the same for you Frank? You’re my friend
and I want to help you, but I can’t until you want to be helped. “
Though he started speaking in a carefully moderated tone, he’d
struggled for control throughout. His last sentences were wrenched
from him. He hadn’t planned on spilling so much, but there was no
point in wishing back the words. Maybe this would help break the
stalemate.
Maybe not.
The ache of disappointment, when Frank remained mute, was sharp. He
wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this nothing reminded him
vividly of all those times he had tried to broach his father’s
jagged silence, only to be rebuffed with contempt-filled glances.
Sluggishly he got up from his customary chair and headed towards
the door.
“ She looked a bit like your Dana, you know. ” came Frank’s hoarse
whisper
Slowly turning around, Fox saw tears running down his cheeks.
“Who did?” he asked softly
“Grace” He did not so much say the name, as breathe it. Like a
prayer of thanksgiving. No one could mistake the love he managed to
convey in the one syllable.
“ Who was she Frank? Was she your wife?” While thrilled that Frank
was finally opening up, Fox found himself keenly missing Dana,
wishing she was present for this conversation
“ She was so much more than that. She was my other half.”
“ How is it that no one knew about her?”
Frank didn’t hear him and continued talking as if Fox had never
interrupted him.
“ She was the only one in the club who wasn’t scared of me. All the
others would jump to my tune. She…” he gave a choked laugh, “ she
bowled me over completely, when she told me, very precisely, where
I could shove my saxophone. I think I loved her from then on. “
“So what happened?” Fox asked cajolingly, as one would a spooked
horse.
“It’s a long story Fox, and I think your Dana would like to hear it
just as much as you would.”
He found himself blushing at Frank’s not-so-veiled inferences about
Dana Scully.
“Frank we’re just friends…truly.”
If he could have kicked himself, he would have. He might have
hung a sign on his chest proclaiming “ I have fallen for Dana
Scully”. In fact in all probability, that would have been the
subtler approach.
Frank missed nothing, but decided not to embarrass him any longer.
“ Just go find her. She’s been trying to get me to tell her about
as often as you have.”
As he reached the door, Frank’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
” And Fox… thank you. Neither you nor Dana needed to do this. I
know I haven’t helped, in fact I’ve been a real old sod about it,
but I do appreciate all you’ve done.”
“ Frank really we haven’t done anything, we still would be nowhere
if you hadn’t decided to tell us…”
Frank interrupted him before he could get any further
“Believe me Fox, you and Dana have done a lot more than anyone has
done, in a long time. You cared, and that’s enough, more than
enough, to earn my gratitude.”
“ Your welcome Frank, it’s been our pleasure.”
“ Now go find that young lady, so I can get this elephant of my
chest.” He said gruffly, his eyes glittering suspiciously.
Knowing he was pushing it, Fox decided to take a further chance and
say something even more personal “Frank, thank you. Thank you for
trusting us. It means so much to me, and I know it does to Dana as
well.”
Leaving immediately, Fox missed the lone tear trickling down the
old man’s cheek.
*******************************************************************
It’s strange, I wasn’t actually there in the hospital room when
Frank started telling Mulder, Fox, about Grace, yet I know the
scene as if I had not only been there, but I was the one with the
eidetic memory. I think it’s mainly because when Mulder first told
me what had gone on, it was the first time I had seen him
completely happy.
It was such a beautiful sight. I knew that no matter where life
took me, when I would be old and gray and full of sleep, the memory
of Fox Mulder’s face when he was happy would still be fresh as
grass after the dew.
Actually , with his face in repose, I found myself greedily storing
the memory of this moment. He’d fallen asleep almost immediately,
when I had pulled him onto my lap. Loathed to disturb him, I’d
contented myself with remembering about England.
But England was a memory that I could only deal with in small
doses. All those memories were tinged with tragedy. Melodramatic,
but true. No matter how innocent the memory, the path my mind would
take would inevitably take me to that night and the fallout from
it.
I think what they say about Mulder and I being psychic buddies,
does have an element of truth in it. Though thumbscrews would not
make me admit that to Mulder. Almost as I started to think of that
night, somehow I feel I should even think the phrase in capital
letters, Mulder started moving restlessly, murmuring so softly I
had to bend to hear him:
“Steven don’t please… You don’t have to…It won’t bring her
back…Steven stop… GOD NO…DANA…Dana…”
Waking Mulder is far more dangerous then letting him sleep through
a nightmare. I know this from practice, but there was no way I
could hear him call out my name, in such agony, and not do
something
“Mulder, Mulder, it’s me Scully, ” I remembered another time I was
desperate for an unconscious Mulder to hear me “Mulder please…”
Great now was I not only remembering that night, but I was also
remembering Mulder half dead stretched out in front of me in that
DOD facility. “ Mulder it’s over… Steven’s gone… I’m ok.”
The last two words were the ones that snapped him out of his
nightmare.
“Scully?” The question was obvious in his voice, I just wasn’t sure
what exactly he was asking
“Yeah?”
“You’re here?”
His beautiful face, which was so peaceful moments ago, now carried
the tortured, haunted expression I was intimately acquainted with.
“I’m here Mulder, it was a dream”
“ It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory.”
“Oh Mulder”
He turned his face away from me, towards my stomach, slowly I felt
him moving, in an effort to get up. Instinctively I held him, so he
remained with his head cradled in my lap.
“Stay” I whispered
“I’m not going anywhere Scully. I just wanted to get up. I’m too
heavy for you.”
“ No you’re perfect. Please stay” He must have heard the
undercurrent of fear in my voice, since he stopped moving and let
himself relax.
His breath remained labored though, and I knew he was still
remembering. I never grudged him his memory, once I got up close
and personal with one of his nightmares.
“Scully,” he whispered, startling me slightly “ Scully will you
read to me.”
“Mulder you should try and sleep.”
“Please Scully, you know there’s know way in hell I can sleep after
that.”
I smoothed away damp hair from his eyes as an answer.
I knew better than anyone how sleep became a luxury when you were
held hostage by your own memories. I had seen many a dawn break,
but their beauty was lost on me since my eyes looked to the past,
dissecting, analyzing, always wondering ‘what if’.
“Scully, you with me?” Mulder asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, sorry, I just drifted for a minute.”
“Thinking of the times you tried to go comfortably numb?”
“Mulder, I am not going to sing Pink Floyd to you, capiche?”
“ Capiche Scully?” the laughter in his voice was champagne to my
heart “ Although you’d make a great gangster’s moll”
“ The stuff that dreams are made of huh?” I teased
“ Are you sure I’m not dreaming Scully? I’ve dreamed of this,
exactly this, so many times I really can’t be sure anymore”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I changed the subject.
“What do you want me to read to you?”
“It doesn’t matter” he said gently, and for a minute I wondered if
he wasn’t talking about my abrupt changing of topic,” anything
Scully, I just need to take my mind of it. Just not to see it
running on a perfect loop in virulent Technicolor.
“Time Does Not Bring Relief” had been a poem that I had come across
in one of Mulder’s books he’d left in my bed-sit.
I was still battling with a grief that threatened to strangle me,
if I dwelt on it as I would automatically do. I was still grieving
for my broken dreams. But most of all I was craving for my lover,
though our mutual self-imposed banishment and exile was necessary,
I felt raw, unfinished, incomplete.
This poem spoke to me, at that point, it described me. I did not so
much read it as imbibe it. I drank in the malaise of pain, finding
a kindred spirit in this woman who had written nearly seventy years
earlier. Years and years after those terrible first months, I found
myself returning to this poem. Like a child does to a healing
wound. I read it over and over, picking at the scab, keeping the
pain fresh and bloody. Because pain as strange as it was, was the
only thing that remained real, and tangible. It was the only thing
my mind could comprehend.
I started reciting without conscious thought:
“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go, -- so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his boot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.”
“Oh God Scully” Mulder groaned as I finished “ I’m sorry, I’m so
sorry.”
I should have known he would have seen it in the wrong light, but
then again, what reason had I ever given him to think otherwise.
“No Mulder, no you have it wrong. I just needed you to know that it
was no easier for me than it was for you. I can’t tell you Mulder
in my own words, because when I try, I fumble, and all my words
come back to me in shades of mediocrity.”
“ I knew Scully, I knew how hard it was for you.”
His embrace would have been suffocating if it wasn’t so welcome, so
needed.
“Mulder, oh Mulder. Help me to remember. Please.”
I never thought that a day would come when, to put it crudely, I
would beg for sex. But this had very little to do with the
physicality of the act and everything to do with intimacy of it.
“Scully not like this”
“Then how Mulder? After a date with wine dance and seductive music.
I don’t need that, I don’t want that. It’s meaningless really, all
window-dressing. What I want, what I’ve always wanted and …needed
is you. Just you, nothing else.”
The whole time I was speaking, I had been plucking frantically at
Mulder’s clothing, desperate in my haste to meld our bodies
together, but when I finally finished Mulder stilled my clawing
hands, tipping my chin so he could look straight into my eyes.
“Scully, know this. What you just said, was possibly the most
beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. Each time I think I
can’t love you anymore than I already do, you prove me wrong. There
is no part of my heart or soul that does not belong to you. ”
He wanted to say more, but I couldn’t wait any longer. With an
impatient tug on his neck, I broached the gap between us.
He moaned deep into my mouth, and lips reacquainted themselves and
marveled at how they still were a perfect fit. Climbing into his
lap, in an attempt to merge my body into his, brought Mulder up
from our kiss.
“Slow down Scully please. There’s no rush now. ”
“I’m just scared Mulder, scared somehow even this will be taken
from us.”
“Scully, you wanted to remember, but are you really sure you’re
ready for it. Scully are you sure you’re not doing this to forget?”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore Mulder.” I told him hopelessly “
But I would never just use you as a…as a… temporary drug to ease
the pain.”
“I know that Scully” he quickly reassured me “ but I think that we
have to get through a lot more, talk a lot more.”
“No Mulder”
“Yes Scully” he said softly but insistently “ We have to talk about
Frank and Carrie. We have to talk about Cornwall and we have to
talk about Steven Trevors, because as much as we love each other,
if we don’t, no matter how we try to keep it in the past, it won’t
stay there and we’ll lose each other again. And I don’t know if I
could get through it this time. So please Scully, for me?”
Though every part of me screamed to forget, I knew Mulder was
right. This was a trial by fire we had to face.
This could break us both irrevocably, but it had to be done, we
would never be free otherwise.
*************END PART 4**************************
Chapter 5
In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.
It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human
being.
We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner
spirit."
- Albert Schweitzer
****************************************************************
“ She called Carrie her miracle. She was always beautiful, but
during her pregnancy , she was incandescent. Calm as well, while I
, I …I was a mess.
Grace had always been told, that she could never bear a child. When
I asked her to marry me, she spent half an hour trying to dissuade
me.
Usually I would always give in to her, but that was the one time I
refused. Finally she told me the truth. She could never give me a
child, and that she loved me too much to sentence me to that fate
as well. She told me of all the torturous visits to various
specialists. Enduring those humiliating exams patiently each time,
only to be handed down the same answer time after time. She cried
the whole time she told me her story. Not noisy sobs, just tears
sliding down her face silently. And the whole time she was opening
her soul to me, in a way she had done with no one else, all I could
think was “Thank god it was only that, thank god it wasn’t because
she didn’t love me.”
I told her that it didn’t matter, that as long as I had her, I had
everything I wanted. And I meant it.
But it did matter to Grace. I never realized how much until …
You know in the end of Jane Eyre, when Rochester and Jane are
married, Jane mentions her cousins want to visit, but will wait
till after their honeymoon. Rochester answers her that they had
better come soon, since their honeymoon would only end when one of
them were in their graves.
I always thought that excerpt described married life with Grace. Of
course we had spats, all couples do and should, but not a single
day went by without me giving thanks to whomever for sending her
into my life.
She didn’t tell me about the baby until it was after her four month
mark . It was the first secret she had ever kept from me, and I…I
started hating the baby for coming between us. Not realizing , the
only person coming between us, was me.
She knew how I would react, and I think, God forgive me, she was a
little scared of what I would do. I stormed at her, yelled at her,
and came damn close to actually shaking her. I tried every method
I could to make her get rid of it, but she wouldn’t give in. Not to
my threats, or my pleas.
It was only when she threatened to leave me, I regained a tenuous
hold on sanity. I begged her not to and she told me that she didn’t
want to, but if I continued , no matter how much she loved me, she
would.
I promised I would stop, all the while resenting the baby more and
more each day.
She went into labor two months too early. The doctors were more
scared for the baby than for her.
The last time I saw her alive, was when they were wheeling her into
the delivery room.
In our days a Father’s place was in the waiting room, smoking a
cigarette.
I bargained, cursed and prayed to any deity I could think off
during those hours, for Grace to be ok.
I never even thought of the baby.
At four in the morning, this young nurse came out and told me that
Grace ‘was gone’.
I’m not sure, but I think I actually asked her where.
Before she could figure out what to say, Grace’s doctor arrived and
told me that at least I could take comfort in the fact, I had a
healthy baby girl called Carrie. He quickly explained that Grace’s
last moments was ensuring that the doctors named the baby.
My despair found it’s focus . The baby. She was the reason Grace
was dead. If it hadn’t been for her my beautiful wife would still
be alive, and with me.
I left the hospital without even seeing her. I went back to our
flat, and for the next day wandered aimlessly through each room,
searching for…I’m still not sure.
The hospital finally had to call me, to take Carrie home.
Everyone says, when you first hold your baby, you feel
unconditional love. All I was conscious of thinking was, that I was
cradling Grace’s murderer in my arms. I felt sick, and at the same
time I sickened myself. Some part of me, some part of my soul, not
cauterized by pain, knew I was wronging my child, but I couldn’t
stop. I was caught in a nightmare, and as in a dream I seemed to
watch myself from far above the action.
I didn’t think it could get any worse you know, but when Carrie
opened her eyes it did. She looked exactly like my Grace. I stopped
hating her that moment, I couldn’t hate her, but I still couldn’t
let myself love her.
She reminded me too vividly of how I’d failed my family. Of how I
had failed my wife. Each time she looked at me with those huge new,
yet wise, green eyes of hers , I felt so ashamed, so small.
I sent her away as soon as it was possible. Carrie grew up in
boarding schools. She didn’t even spend her holidays with me, I
made sure of that. Somehow there’d always be a tour which happened
to be on at the same time.
She never complained though, she was so like her mother that way.
She’d just smile at me, and say ‘then I’ll see you next holidays
Papa.’ And me, I wouldn’t say anything. I don’t think I could’ve. I
don’t think I’ve ever talked to my daughter…not really.”
Frank paused, for the first time since he had started talking,
refusing to meet the eye of Fox or Dana.
“Why are you really telling us all of this Frank?” Fox asked
finally.
“ I just… thought you should know. You both have been trying so
hard, to find why I was having those nightmares…I just thought, I’d
save you some time.” He wouldn’t meet their gazes, choosing to look
out of the window instead.
“ I don’t buy that Frank. It may be one of your reasons, but
there’s more isn’t there? What is it? Why do you feel you can’t ask
us for help Frank?”
“ Fox…” it was impossible for him to go on. Years of repressing
feelings were too ingrained.
“ You want us to find her don’t you Frank?” Dana asked breaking
their deadlock . It was the first time she’d spoken since Frank had
begun telling his tale.
“ She wouldn’t want to see me Dana. Why should she? “ Frank
admitted brokenly
“ You’re her father Frank.” She didn’t say anymore, she didn’t need
to.
Both Fox and Dana watched Frank expectantly, as he struggled to
reach a decision. A decision to let them, these two relative
strangers, in, like he’d let no one in since the death of his wife.
“ I want… I want to say sorry to her.” he rasped finally “Before I
die. And don’t try and tell me that I’m not going to die because I
know I am…” their mouths closed over automatic denials “ I want her
to know, she wasn’t to blame for Grace’s death. I want her to know
just how much her mother loved her. I want her to know just how
much I loved…love her. I also want her forgiveness, I don’t deserve
it, but I suddenly realized just how disappointed Grace would have
been in me, and more than that, I suddenly realized how much I’ve
disappointed myself over the years.”
The silence enveloping them no longer seemed thick with things
unsaid, and secrets kept. It was comfortable. Frank found himself
falling asleep, exhausted with the night’s confessions. Somehow he
knew he would not be plagued with the nightmares of the last weeks.
He found it amazing how these two , children really, had made him
unburden a load he’d stubbornly carried alone for too many years.
In many ways they reminded him of Grace and himself, when they were
young, before they were ready to admit they were in love with each
other.
It was disconcerting how similarly Fox acted, it was like looking
at himself when he was Fox’s age. Poor Fox, so desperately trying
to make himself believe he was just friends with Dana. Dana herself
was little better. From barely acknowledging Fox’s presence, she
was now his constant companion, but yet she persisted in the
fiction of them being just friends.
With a wistful smile, Frank fell into a healing sleep.
Waiting until it was obvious Frank would not miss their presence,
Fox and Dana finally left his room.
“ What time is it?” she asked stretching widely.
“It’s one in the morning” he answered, shocked to discover just how
late it was
“WHAT?!”
He couldn’t help grinning at the look of utter horror on her face.
“C’mon Dana, I know it’s past your bedtime, but I’m sure at some
point you’ve been up this late.”
“ No, you don’t understand, the place I’m staying at, it’s a bed
and breakfast. The hostess locks up and if you’re not in by eleven,
you have to find other accommodations for the night.”
“ God I’m sorry. It’s all my fault” he said, immediately contrite
“How do you figure that?”
“Well if I hadn’t have told you that Frank wanted to talk, you
would now be in bed, not locked out.”
“If you hadn’t have told me about Frank, you would have found
yourself in serious trouble. I would have hunted you down, and
dramatically decreased your chances of fatherhood. It really isn’t
such a big deal you know, I’ll just bunk out in the hospital.”
“ Listen, “ he began hesitantly “ …umm.. my place is really close
by… and I have a spare bed.” He stumbled on despite her eyebrow’s
sudden flight into the stratosphere “ … Anyway, you’re welcome to
stay the night.” Fox found himself trying desperately not to
blush. Christ, he hadn’t acted like this since he was fourteen. In
fact he had a sneaking suspicion he’d been more suave then.
“ Sure” Dana said softly “ Thanks for the offer.”
“ Your welcome” he managed to get out, grateful that shock hadn’t
completely decimated his ability to speak.
The ride to his place was silent for several reasons. Dana found
herself wondering just what the hell had come over her. She was not
used to letting herself get so close so quickly. For most of her
life, people had respected her self-defined boundaries, content to
stay at the periphery of her life but with Fox, it was the
opposite. It should have scared her, but it didn’t. She didn’t
question her actions either, for the first time, perhaps ever there
were no questions, just a wonderful sense of…rightness. There was
absolutely nothing to fear from Fox Mulder.
Fox on the other hand, was terrified. He was not used to anyone
getting under his skin, so quickly or so thoroughly as Dana had.
Somehow, in the space of a couple of weeks she’d come to be
…necessary. And for Fox ,necessary was dangerous. Dana had also
become a good friend. Something else Fox hadn’t had in a long time.
“We’re here” he said quietly as they swung into his road.
“Here?” there was no mistaking the incredulity lacing her tone.
“Yeah” he replied with a sheepish grin
“Shit , I thought you meant a ratty hole-in-the-wall bedsit. This
place comes with serfs, I bet”
“ C’mon” he laughed pulling her up the stairs.
Before he could unlock the door, it swung open, revealing his
housekeeper’s worried face.
“Oh Fox it’s you. I was getting worried. “
“ Sorry I’m so late Mrs. Clarke.” He placated, flashing her a smile
Dana was sure he’d practiced just for occasions like this. “ Uh
Mrs. Clarke I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll be having company
tonight. Dana was also late, and because of me she’s locked out of
her bed and breakfast, so I offered her the spare bed.”
“ Mind? Oh Don’t be silly Fox, I’ll get the room fixed up in a
jiffy, and there’s plenty of dinner for the both of you.” She left
quickly, bustling in the general direction of the kitchen.
“ She didn’t call you ‘Master Fox’. I think you should dock her
pay. Can’t let them get to close you know.” Dana whispered in his
ear, making sure Mrs. Clarke wouldn’t hear.
“Shut up” he answered back laughing, trying to suppress an
involuntary shiver at her proximity. “C’mon let’s eat I’m starved.”
“ So who’s place is this?” Dana asked , her rampant curiosity
getting the better of her manners.
They were eating in one of the loveliest dining rooms she’d ever
seen.
“ It’s sort of in the family” Fox said quietly “ It was my great
grandmother’s. On my mother’s side. It went down each generation
from daughter to daughter. Insurance, I guess, in case they married
bastards.”
“ So it’s yours now?”
“Umm I’m sort of looking after it. For my sister.”
She could hear everything he wasn’t saying, the pain was impossible
to miss. Also Trevor had mentioned something about Fox’s sister
being kidnapped when he was a child.
She wanted to kick herself for being so rude.
“I’m sorry.”
“S’okay” he whispered back. Not really caring how Dana knew , just
glad she did.
“ Now Dana dear, I’ve got you set up in the study. Please excuse
the mess, but Fox refuses to let me touch any of his books or
papers.” Mrs. Clarke fussed, sailing back into the room.
“ That’s fine. I’m sure it will be lovely. Are you sure you don’t
mind though?” she asked, turning back to Fox.
“ If I’d have minded I wouldn’t have invited you now would I?” he
teased her gently.
“Thank you. “ Suddenly she felt unaccountably shy. Ducking her
face, so Fox wouldn’t see the faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“Come dear, lets get you to bed.” Mrs. Clarke said gently, hovering
near her elbow.
“ You’ve been summoned, best go before you incite Mrs. Clarke’s
wrath. It’s famed throughout Oxford.” Fox teased irrepressibly
“ Now don’t you start Fox, you should be in bed yourself.”
“ Well good night then Fox” Before conscious thought took over,
Dana swiftly bent and kissed his cheek. “G’night” she said once
again, and hurried after Mrs. Clarke.
“G’night” Fox answered much later with a little half-smile, his
hand covering the spot where her kiss still remained fresh.
Dana lay stretched across the bed Mrs. Clarke had gotten ready,
trying to understand her actions. First she’d accepted a bed of a
person she still didn’t know very well. Second she found herself
knowing Fox, even though she didn’t, not really. Thirdly and most
worryingly, Fox now seemed to block out everything and everyone
else when they were together. When she’d first known him, or known
of him, she recognized just how attractive he was physically. A
person would have to be blind not to. But what was worse, his
personality was just as attractive, if not more. It was a dangerous
combination, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold out
against it.
Sick of mulling over it, Dana resolutely told herself to go to
sleep. Though the command was ultimately obeyed by her exhausted
body, her dreams were filled with warm hazel eyes and resolve-
melting smiles. .
*****************************************************************
“Good morning”
“Why are you up, it’s still early?” Dana groaned.
“ Oh I’ve been up for ages”
“ Do you have to sound so damn cheerful about it.” She groused
“ Come have some breakfast.” Fox answered soothingly.
When she headed for the teapot, Fox started laughing.
“ Tea? Sheesh how long have you been here, that you’re willing to
drink that…stuff?”
“ I happen to like tea. Besides compared to the coffee they have
here, I’ll take my chances with the tea.”
They ate in companionable silence, which Dana finally broke;
“So where so we start?”
‘Well, I’ve actually already started. In fact in about fifteen
minutes we should have Carrie’s current address and last name.” The
glee was hard to miss, despite his trying to temper it.
“ How did you…”
“Let’s just say, I have friends and leave it at that.” He
interrupted, looking slightly embarrassed.
“ One question.” she asked in trepidation “ Am I going to be
transported to Australia for gaining this choice piece of
information?”
He snorted, but avoided spraying her with coffee.
“ I don’t think so, but if it comes to that, know you’ll have done
it for a good cause.”
“ Oh good, I’m sure it’ll make all the difference to my parents.”
They could have continued indefinitely, if it hadn’t have been for
the sound of the phone. Both went still. Chat and banter ceased .
All of a sudden they bore remarkable resemblance’s to Big Cats just
before the hunt.
“Fox dear, it’s for you” Mrs. Clarke’s voice floated across the
dining room.
He lithely moved to the phone on the sideboard, and after a
moment’s hesitation picked it up.
His conversation was short, mostly consisting of “yeah’s” and “uh-
huh’s”, but there was no mistaking the smile on his face when he
put down the phone.
“We got it. Carrie Seignoir, 87 Glenarm Road Hackney.”
Impulsively she hugged him. She would have let go almost
immediately, but his arms held her in place. She didn’t try to
break his embrace, quite content to remain there. How long they
would have remained that way was anyone’s guess, but Mrs. Clarke,
coming in to clear away the breakfast table, broke the spell.
“C’mon, it will quite a while to get there .” He said huskily.
Getting to Hackney was long, but neither of them felt it. Fox
delighted in showing Dana the lesser known sights of London. He’d
been in England for a while, and had done the usual touristing.
Dana’s enthusiasm was infectious though, and he soon found himself
planning another bout of sight-seeing which would take them at
least a month.
Once at the front door of Carrie’s flat, both hesitated.
“ You know Fox, she may not want to see him. It’s her right, I mean
God knows he’s never given her cause to want to. What should we
tell Frank if that happens?”
“ I think the truth” he responded slowly.” Frank would expect
nothing less of us Dana”
“ You’re right. It’s just, it’ll break his heart Fox, and I can’t
bear the thought.” She said softly.
“ I know. I feel exactly the same way.”
He knocked before their fears could get the better of them, almost
immediately the door was opened.
Carrie was a beautiful woman, but it was more because of a peace
she carried within her, than any particular feature.
“ May I help you?” she asked pleasantly
“ Are you Carrie Keighley?” Dana asked formally.
“ Yes. Well I was”
“ We’re friends of your father’s. We’d like to speak to you, if we
may.” Fox continued.
She looked measuringly at them both, but let them in after a minute
with a small nod.
“ May I get you something to drink?” she asked as they stood
awkwardly in her hall “ Please do sit down. I’m sorry, I have to
confess you’ve caught me off-guard.”
“ Nothing for us thank you,” Dana answered, quickly checking with
Fox “ and yes we do understand just how surprising our visit is.”
“ Why are you here?” Carrie asked frankly, sinking into an over-
stuffed armchair
“ We’re here for your father as we said” Fox began “ We both work
in St Swithins, in Oxford. Your father is a patient there. We’ve
both grown close to him, and to make a long story short, he told us
that he wants to talk to you, so here we are.”
“ My father wants to talk? To me?” The disbelief was unmistakable
“ Ms. Seignoir..” Dana began
“ Carrie, please.”
“ Carrie… we won’t lie to you. Your father hasn’t got long. He has
cancer, it’s terminal I’m afraid. His last wish was to speak to
you. That’s why we’re here.” She wondered if she had been too
blunt, but Dana had the feeling Carrie was someone who appreciated
‘straight-talk’.
“ Will you come?” Fox asked quietly, trying to keep a pleading tone
out of his voice.
“ Yes, yes I’ll come.”
They both tried not to let out an audible sigh.
“ Would you be able to come right now” Fox pushed gently “ I really
think it would be for the best” he added as persuasively as he
could.
“ I have a few things to do, if you both wouldn’t mind waiting for
half an hour.”
“ We’ll wait” they replied in unison.
It was a quiet trip back to Oxford. Not tense, but not quite
comfortable. For once traffic wasn’t a problem, and soon they all
found themselves back at St Swithins.
Carrie seemed to become a lot more hesitant and unsure, as she grew
closer. By the time she was at Frank’s door she was trembling.
“ I don’t know if I can do this. I mean I haven’t seen him in close
to twenty years.”
“ Carrie wouldn’t you regret it more if you didn’t see him? I know
I would.” Dana looked sharply at Fox, she had a feeling he wasn’t
talking about Frank and Carrie anymore.
“ You’re right. Thank you. Both of you for doing this. You didn’t
have to.”
“ Yes we did” Dana answered truthfully
Bracing herself unconsciously, Carrie opened the door and walked
in.
The moment was for father and daughter alone. To join them was out
of the question. And in truth it never entered Fox or Dana’s
mind’s. Somehow, they both knew, they’d done all that was possible.
It wasn’t up to them anymore. It was squarely between Frank, his
daughter and his demons.
“How long have they been in there?”
“ I don’t know. No gunshots, no crash carts and no door slamming,
so I guess it can’t be too bad.”
“ She could have just suffocated him you know.” He said morosely
“ Ughhh, you are the definition of a Job’s Comforter you know
that.” She said in exasperation
“ It’s just… I’ve never had much reason to expect things to go well
Dana” he said matter-of-factly.
“ I’m sorry Fox.”
“ Don’t be. You were right. “
Unconsciously she gently stroked his hand with her thumb. It
calmed, yet aroused him at the same time. It was amazing how
natural it felt.
Fox felt a sense of peace, sitting there in the hallway. One he
hadn’t ever known before.
They were both conscious of a pang of disappointment when the door
opened and Carrie came out.
She had tears in her eyes, but the most amazing smile on her face.
“He’d like to see you. Both of you”
As Fox and Dana moved past her to the door, she stopped them both;
“ I just cannot thank you enough. I hope you know just how much
this has meant not just to my father but to me as well.”
Not knowing what to say, Dana gently squeezed her hand.
“ He told me about my mother. For the first time. I’m not an orphan
anymore.” Carrie whispered, more to herself than Fox and Dana. “
I’m sorry, I’m keeping you, I know he wants to speak with you” she
said giving herself a little shake.
“ Will you be all right?” Fox asked worriedly
“ I’m fine now, really. Besides I’m not going anywhere.”
“ That’s good”
“ It is, it is very good. Now go you two, he wants to speak to
you.”
Hesitantly they entered Frank’s room. He was expecting them, and as
they snuck in he welcomed them with the brightest smile he’d ever
given.
“Thank you” he said simply. He couldn’t say anything more.
It was enough. More than enough.
“There’s something I think that belongs to the two of you.
Something I want to give you.” Frank began, after trying to speak
many time. “ These both belonged to Grace and I want you to have
them.”
“Frank, no” Dana interjected “ They belong to Carrie. Please don’t
feel you have to give us anything in return Frank. Really.”
“I’ve spoken to Carrie, and she agrees with me. Believe me, these
belong to you, and I know Carrie knows, understands and approves of
what I’m doing. She told me so herself. Come closer please.”
They did
“Fox, look in the chest of drawers here. You should mind a sheaf of
old papers. They all belong to you. The both of you”
After rummaging for a while, Fox found what Frank was looking for.
Perusing them his head shot up, and without a word he passed them
all to Dana.
“ Frank we can’t accept this” she said finally “it’s the deed to a
house. Your house.”
“ Actually Grace’s house, Dana. We spent our honeymoon there.”
“ Frank it’s too much” Fox said insistently.
“ No it’s not Fox. Carrie doesn’t want it. Really. And she wants
the two of you to have it. I told her why I wanted you to have it,
and she understood.”
“Well then explain it to us Frank, because as it stands, this is
really too much.”
“ Do you really want me to Fox?” Frank questioned, quite seriously.
“Yes”
“ Because it belongs to a young couple who are in love. And who
will always be in love with each other.”
It was to Frank’s credit that he managed not to laugh, at the
tomato red blushes both Dana and Fox sported immediately after he
dropped his little bombshell.
“ Frank really…you have it all wrong” Dana got out in a strangled
tone, still not daring to glance at Fox.
“ Well wrong or not, I want you to have this house, and since
Carrie has agreed, short of tearing it down and salting the earth,
it’s now in your hands.”
Fox was in the verge of arguing the point further, when a nurse
came in.
“ What are you two still doing here. Mr Mulder you know better than
to be here now. And you Miss Scully. Now off you two, off. I have
to see to Mr Keighley.”
Still blushing over Frank’s statement, Fox and Dana left the room
without a word. They stood stock still just outside Frank’s room,
both still terrified to look each other in the eye.
“So what were the other papers?” Dana asked, still not meeting
Fox’s eye.
“Umm the were some ..love letters.” He prayed she hadn’t heard his
voice break . From her smile he knew it was useless to hope so.
“ Frank and Grace’s?” she asked, letting him of the hook
“Yeah” It was amazing how he’d been reduced to monosyllables. He
figured the less he said, the less he could compound his
embarrassment
“ Can I have a look?”
“Sure…” His voice chose to break again. Fox found himself wondering
crazily whether or not he could blame his vocal acrobatics on
really, really, late puberty “Sure they are yours as well” he got
out without further incident.
The letters were beautiful, poignant, and heartfelt. Everything
love letters should be. Both felt as if they were invading Frank’s
privacy, but soon were soon caught up in all the emotion spilled
out onto the papers, they forgot all other considerations.
In the middle of reading a letter from his pile, Fox suddenly heard
Dana’s breath catch in a little sob.
“What is it?”
“it’s this letter. It’s so beautiful. Here read it.” She passed it
quickly, but continued to read it over his shoulder.
It took a moment for him to focus on the letter, he still found it
hard to concentrate when he felt Dana’s warm breath against his
neck, but soon he too was amazed by the love conveyed in the
letter.
It was from Grace to Frank. Written it during her pregnancy.
Somehow she’d known that she wasn’t going to make it. Somewhere
she’s found an passage from another love letter, written many
centuries ago, yet still so true.
Fox found himself reading it out aloud. Not for Dana’s benefit, but
just to hear for himself the power and the beauty of the words:
“July 14, 1861 Camp Clark, Washington
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few
days - perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write
again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall
under your eye when I shall be no more. . .
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me
with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence could break;
and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind
and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the
battlefield. The memories of the blissful moments I have
spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most
gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so
long. And it is hard for me to give them up and burn to
ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might
still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown
up to honorable manhood around us. . .
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused
you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been!
How gladly I would wash out with my tears every little spot
upon your happiness. . .
But, O Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and
flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be near
you, in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights. . .
always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your
cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your
throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for
thee, for we shall meet again. . .
Sullivan Ballou
Maj. Sullivan Ballou died 7 days later at the 1st Battle of Bull
Run.”
“Do you believe in love like that?” Dana asked
“ I didn’t. Not for a very long time.”
“And now?” she whispered
It was very important she whispered for some reason.
“Now, now I want to believe.” Looking her square in the eye and
giving her every opportunity to back away, Fox leant over her, and
kissed her as he’d been longing to since the first time they met.
******************END OF CHAPTER 5***********************
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