Headers and Notes in Part 1 Part 2 of 12 Three Weeks Later Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Arlington, VA February 19, 2001 12:00 pm Scully was lucky enough to find a parking space near the front door of the nursing home and zipped neatly into it, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine. The weather had turned surprisingly cold the past week, and had been very windy and wet for the last two days, making her visits to Fox a little more difficult. He had been in the chronic care home for just over a week and a half, and she had so far managed to visit him each and every day. Although some of those visits by necessity, had been rather short. It was disheartening because he did not seem disturbed by that fact. He greeted her each time with enthusiasm, but never professed disappointment when she had to leave, or questioned why she could not stay longer. And today was going to be another short visit. She was on her lunch break, and would be stretching it as it was, with the drive from and back to the Hoover Building cutting into her time. Skinner had pulled many strings for her, she did not know how, but she was very grateful to him, but there had only been so much time he could give her. Kersch had closed the investigation into Mulder's disappearance, despite the fact that the hows and whys had not been answered. She had been warned by Skinner, who had been extremely angry about having to be the deliverer of such a message, that if she did not return to her work on the X-Files, she would no longer be employed by the FBI. As much as she had wanted to march into Kersch's office and tell him where he could shove it, she could not. Mulder's emergency fund would not last forever, not with the cost of private care, and she needed to keep her job. Fortunately their caseload had been very light, and she had not been required to go out of town. She did not know how much longer that would last though, until she was on desk-bound duty in another month. Scully sighed as she pulled the keys from the ignition, tucking them into the pocket of her trench coat, before reaching for the bag on the seat beside her. It contained some books she had picked up for him, because one of the things he had expressed an interest in was reading. Not surprising was the subject matter. Space. The doctors had performed several aptitude tests on Fox..., her mind insisted again, and it had been determined that not only could he read, but that he was at a higher level than expected. He was reading at a fourth or fifth grade level, so she had purchased books in that age group. Making sure her grip on the bag was secure, Scully opened the door, gasping when the wind yanked it from her grip on the door handle. A rush of cool air filled the car, and she struggled to get out of her seat, her increasingly large belly in the way. The hand that had been holding the door gripped the door's edge and she used that to lever herself out, after first making sure her feet had secure purchase on the wet pavement. Her coat billowed in the wind, her hair whipping into her face, and she nearly lost her hold on the bookstore bag. With a curse, she got free of the car, batting her coat down, and shut the door. Ducking her head, she half-ran, half-walked with an awkward waddle up the path to the front door, while one hand clutched the bag to her stomach and held her coat shut. The receptionist looked up with a look of surprise, for Scully had also brought a rush of wind inside with her, but it quickly turned to a moue of sympathy as she took in Scully's appearance. "Terrible weather, isn't it, Miss Scully?" She was known already. Most likely because she came at least once a day, if not more, and often stayed for several hours, but possibly because Mulder's case was quite unusual. Scully nodded, and after straightening her coat, headed down the hallway that would take her to the wing in which Mulder's room was located. She was there in minutes, and by habit, knocked on the door before entering the room. Fox was not alone. He was lying on a mat on the floor, his physiotherapist gently guiding one of his legs through passive range of motion exercises. Although they had no way of proving or disproving their theory, she and the doctors believed that wherever Mulder had been, he had not been free to move about, and had more than likely been kept motionless, and possibly restrained. The muscle deterioration was quite severe, hence the need for physiotherapy to restore it. At this time, he was currently unable to walk. He was able to move his head quite easily, and his fingers and toes, but he could not squeeze with any strength, nor lift his own arms and legs. He just managed to be able to turn the pages of a book. The physiotherapist, whose name was Mary Anne, was extremely confident that with time and intense therapy, he would regain full motor function. Scully hoped so, as much as she hoped his mind would recover. Mary Anne had looked up when she entered and smiled her greeting, as Scully had shrugged out of her trench coat and laid it on the back of a chair. Fox had turned his head and smiled too. Scully made sure the maternity sweater she wore covered her belly and walked over to join them by the mat, maneuvering around his wheelchair, which was parked to one side. It was another struggle to lower herself to the ground, but she managed. She let out a sigh of relief as her backside connected with the carpeted floor, and tucked her legs to the side, leaning on one hand. "Hi, Fox. Hi, Mary Anne," she said, and smiled into Fox's hazel eyes. "How are you today, Fox?" She had to hide a grimace as the baby gave her a sharp jab just under her ribcage, and shifted about, trying to encourage the baby to settle into a new position. It worked this time, for which she was thankful. It seemed her baby could be quite stubborn. Just like its father, she thought, and then shook her head slightly to banish the sadness that had arose. "Okay," Fox replied. Nothing more. Scully managed to keep the smile on her face, though it slipped a little. It was painful to sit there with his seeming lack of interest, especially as she had to go out of her way to come her for this visit. Sometimes she wondered if it was even worth the effort, and then immediately felt ashamed for thinking that way. She was, although not by any legal definition, his only family. Mary Anne interrupted her thoughts with a cheerful, "That's it for now, Fox. Let me get an orderly, and we'll get you set-up for your lunch, okay?" With that, she rose gracefully from the floor, and left the room. Scully watched her go to get an orderly. While Mulder had lost some weight during his absence, it was still difficult to lift him, particularly as he was almost dead weight. And while she was certainly quite strong for her own size, she did not think she would be much help in lifting him. As well, her pregnancy had thrown her off balance on more than one occasion. She took the opportunity to show Fox the books she had bought for him, pulling the bag closer and pulling the small stack out, and was heartened by the excitement that shone in his eyes. "I'll come back later and read one with you, okay?" she asked, and was rewarded with a beaming grin. "Great!" he exclaimed. Mary Anne returned then, with an orderly Scully had met a few times, named Thomas. They easily lifted Fox, and sat him in his wheelchair, which was then rolled to the table by the window. Scully accepted the hand Mary Anne offered, and got to her feet, thanking the woman quietly. She brought the books over to the table for Fox to look at while he waited for his lunch. She sat down to his left, and together they paged through one of them. When Thomas returned with Fox's lunch, Scully rose from her seat, and said, "I have to go now, Fox. I'll see you later on, okay?" She ran her hands through his silky soft hair, and he nodded against her hand. "Okay, Day-na," he replied. "See you later." He actually looked up from the book for a second and smiled at her. Her heart felt a little bit lighter as she left to go back to work. *** Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Arlington, VA February 19, 2001 12:10 pm Fox watched Mary Anne as she slowly bent his leg at the knee and pushed it forward. It did not hurt, but he was tired and bored. He knew he had to do his exercises, but could not understand why. So he did them and did not complain. Out loud, anyway. Inside his head he complained. He also talked inside his head all the time. It was easier in his head. But sometimes, talking inside his head made his head hurt, or made him tired. Thinking did that too, so he tried not to think very much. And when the talking made him sleepy, he closed his eyes and floated away. Mary Anne placed his leg back down gently, and then he felt her hands on his other leg, one around his ankle, and one underneath his leg, below his knee. Sometimes if she touched his knee, it tickled, and made him laugh. Mary Anne hadn't tickled him at all today. She started to lift and lower his leg, and he sighed a little, trying to help move his leg like she had asked him to. There was a soft knock at the door. The door opened and Day-na walked in. His friend. As she came near, Fox smelled cold air and peaches. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Fox opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side to see her. It made him happy that she was here, so he smiled. Day-na came to visit him a lot, and he liked it. He had another visitor, besides Mary Anne and Thomas-the-orderly and Katy-the-nurse, a friend named Walter, but he liked Day-na the best. Most of the time Day-na sat with him and read him stories, or watched cartoons with him. Those were the best times. But other times she was very quiet, and seemed very sad. When she was sad, sometimes he saw pictures of her in his head, and he didn't know what they meant or why he saw them. She looked different in the pictures, and she was almost always with a tall man with dark hair. A man he did not know. In some of the pictures she looked sad, or scared, which made him sad and scared too. The pictures also made his head hurt. He rolled his head to the other side and watched as Day-na sat down. She looked funny and made a noise when she reached the floor. "Hi Fox, Hi Mary Anne," she said, and smiled. "How are you, Fox?" Day-na asked, and then made another face. She moved around a bit on the floor. He was bored and tired and sad now too, but he did not tell her that. He knew it would only make her sadder. He said only, "Okay." Mary Anne bent his leg and moved it again, and then spoke in her happy voice that she always used when she was talking to him. A lot of the nurses used happy voices when they talked to him. So did Walter, and Day-na sometimes, when she seemed the saddest. "That's it for now, Fox. Let me get an orderly, and we'll get you set-up for your lunch, okay?" Day-na watched Mary Anne leave the room, and then Fox saw her reach for the bag she had brought with her. He got excited, he just knew it was a present for him. She pulled out some books, and he felt a funny thumping inside, right over his belly. He wished he could sit up and touch the books. "I'll come back later and read one with you, okay?" Day-na said, and her voice sounded happy. She looked happy too. Which made him even happier, and made the thumping inside him go faster. He smiled as wide as he could and said, "Great!" He loved when she read stories to him. The sad/scary/hurting pictures never came while she was reading. The door opened again, and he turned his head again to see Mary Anne and Thomas-the-orderly. Thomas-the-orderly was nice too, and called him 'Sport' when he helped him into his wheelchair or in the bathtub. Thomas-the-orderly and Mary Anne lifted him and put him into his wheelchair, resting his feet on the metal steps, and then Thomas-the- orderly wheeled him over to the table, where he ate all his food now. At first they had made him eat in bed, and he hadn't liked it. Things got spilled on him, and once he had got burnt by something hot. It had made him cry. Day-na came over and sat down at the table with him, bringing the books with her. She took one from the pile, called 'The Best Book of Spaceships', and opened it so that they both could see it. They paged through it slowly, mostly just looking at the pictures, until Thomas- the-orderly came back with his lunch. Day-na stood up then, and said, "I have to go now, Fox. I'll see you later on, okay?" She lifted her hand and patted him on the head. Fox nodded his head, and wished she would keep touching him like that. "Okay, Day-na," he replied. "See you later." He looked away from the book and smiled at her. She looked really happy when he did that, and it made him feel good. Almost as good as getting the books, or when she had touched his hair. Day-na walked away then, and Thomas-the-orderly moved the books out of the way as he said, "Hey Sport, I'll just put your books over here while you have lunch. We don't want to get anything on them, do we?" Fox shook his head, and watched as the books were moved aside and the food tray was placed in front of him. It smelled good, and he felt his mouth water. He remembered he was supposed to say thank-you when someone gave him things, and then felt bad for a moment because he had not said thank- you to Day-na for the books. He hoped he had not made her sad. "Thank-you," he said. Thomas-the-orderly smiled at him and said, "You're welcome, Sport." And then everything else was forgotten as Thomas-the-orderly helped him eat. *** X-Files Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, D.C. February 19, 2001 1:20 pm Scully tapped her foot impatiently as the otherwise empty elevator descended to the basement, looking at her watch once again. Traffic had been heavy coming back from Bakersfield's, and she had had to make a quick stop at the cafeteria, to grab a salad and a carton of milk to take back to the office. That had been somewhat of an ordeal. One that had her cursing inside for forgetting to pick something up outside the Bureau. She had been keeping her excursions about the Hoover building to a minimum, and surprisingly enough, Skinner had taken to coming down to their office instead of calling them upstairs for meetings. She wondered idly if he had heard some of the rumors, and was trying to somehow shield her from them. Now that she was well into her sixth month, and despite the generous cut of maternity clothing she had chosen, her expanding waistline, not to mention her bustline, was often noticeable. It had not helped that she had left her trench coat in the car, having taken it off for the drive back, due to the newest side effect of being pregnant – hot flashes. The eyes she had felt on her had been speculative and in some cases, snide and cutting. There had been mutterings and whisperings as well, but she could not make anything out, thankfully. She had wanted to run out of there, but had also known that was the worst thing she could do. After paying for her lunch, she had strode out with her head high. And her insides a mass of jello. The baby had reacted to her inner turmoil with a series of jabs and rolls. She had noticed that the baby often reacted to her moods, and particularly more so when she was tense or upset. Scully had waited for the privacy of the elevator to cup her hand over the mound of her belly and stroke it with gentle circles. As always, the gesture had helped to comfort her. Finally the elevator reached its destination, and binged quietly as its door opened. She stepped out and walked quickly down the dim hallway. Scully knew John would have covered for her if anything had come up, and did not begrudge her the extra time she took to visit Mulder, but she still felt guilty for it. The door was open, which made it easier, as her hands were full, and John had his chair spun around facing her as she walked in. She saw immediately that he looked perturbed, his lips a tight line, and his eyes narrowed. The sight had her steps slowing slightly, and her hand tightening on the tray she carried. "John..." she started to say, to apologize for the delay, when he interrupted. "Dana, I got a call from the hospital in Bellefleur," he said without preamble. "Theresa Hoese came out of her coma." Scully dropped the tray. The clatter as the hard plastic hit the floor was quite loud, and both she and John jumped. He recovered more quickly however, and seconds later was rescuing her lunch, the salad in its protective container a little bedraggled, but still edible, and the milk carton amazingly had not split open. She stood there stunned, watching bemusedly as he cleaned up for her, still hearing a faint echo of his words..."out of her coma"... "Dana?" John's voice, concerned. "Scully?" Spoken a bit louder. Scully blinked. "Huh?" John put everything down on the desk and took her gently by one elbow, leading her to her chair. . She sank into it, staring at him, and finally found her voice. "I'm...okay, John. I was just ...a little surprised." To say the least. They had been checking with the Bellefleur Hospital several times a week since Mulder had been brought to Washington, and there had been no change in the three abductees who had returned with him. Nor had there been any other returns. She had begun to think that Mulder coming out of his coma had been a fluke. "I was too," he said honestly. "The call came in over an hour ago, but I couldn't reach you on your cell." The words were not spoken with censure, just as a statement of fact. They both looked over at her desk then, where her cell phone was lying. Scully thought back to how her cell phone had once been like an extension of her hand, because it was a connection, sometimes the only connection, to Mulder. How in the early days of his disappearance she had been afraid to let it out of her sight, worried she would miss the call that said he had been found, or that he would be lying hurt or abandoned somewhere and trying to reach her. These days, since he had been found, and she knew she would no longer hear his voice when she answered it, she was not as fanatical about carrying it with her. And to be honest, she occasionally forgot it completely. Scully said nothing about the fact that she had not had it with her, nor did John say anything further. "Did they say anything else?" "Just that she woke up early this morning, and asked to see her baby," John replied, stepping back now that she seemed to be all right, and moving to sit down in his chair. "I spoke to Skinner, and he was going to have Kimberley arrange our flights out." He looked at his watch and continued, "I'll give her a call, see if everything's booked." With that, he picked up the phone that sat at the edge of his desk, close to hers, and dialed the extension. Scully sat there and watched him, her thoughts whirling. Theresa had asked about her baby. So it would seem that she had her memories, or at least some of them, and was not mentally incapacitated as Mulder was. What the hell did it mean? Why was Mulder the way he was and Theresa Hoese was seemingly normal? It wasn't fair. , said that little voice, the one she hated, and tried to ignore. But it was persistent, and cutting. The phone being returned somewhat noisily to its cradle silenced the voice, and Scully was grateful. She looked at John, who was shaking his head. "Flight's been booked, but Kimberley got pulled into a meeting with Skinner and Kersch, so she never got a chance to let us know," he said, his voice tight. Scully couldn't summon any anger. It was not Kimberley's fault. It wouldn't surprise her to learn Kersch had done it deliberately, though how he would have learned about Theresa Hoese was a question. "When do we leave?" she asked. "We need to be at the airport for 3:30," he said. "Why don't you head home and pack, and I'll swing by and pick you up at 2:30?" "Okay," Scully replied, and rose from her seat to gather her briefcase and her cell phone. "Thanks, John. I'll see you in just over an hour." He nodded, and she left the office as he was gathering his own things. Walking towards her car in the underground garage, Scully was remembering how she'd told Fox she would come back later and read him his new book. They would be gone for a couple days at least, and she wondered sadly if Mulder would even realize how much time had passed when she was finally able to visit him again. She sighed as she climbed into the car, reaching for the seat buckle and locking it in place. He probably wouldn't, for time really seemed to have no meaning to him, other than when he was hungry. She turned the key in the ignition and headed home to pack for another trip to Bellefleur, Oregon. *** Bellefleur Hospital Bellefleur, Oregon February 19, 2001 4:45 pm (PST) Their flight had been delayed, the rental car company had screwed up, the weather was miserable, and Scully had not eaten since breakfast that morning. But finally they had arrived. She looked at John, walking slightly ahead of her as they approached the main doors of the Bellefleur Hospital, and surreptitiously rubbed at her temples, at the headache that was steadily increasing in nature. She felt nauseous as well, her legs shaky, and despite the urgency that was tugging at her to get to Theresa Hoese's room, she knew she had to get something inside her stomach. The juice and peanuts she had eaten on the plane had not been enough. John pulled the heavy door open and stood aside to let her enter first. She did so, managing a faint smile of thanks, and once they were both inside, he started immediately for the reception desk several feet away. Scully grabbed his arm, halting his progress, his head turning to meet her gaze, and before he could speak, said, "John, I need to get something to eat. I missed lunch, and the airplane snack is not sitting well." The slight look of irritation he wore was rapidly replaced by concern. He spun around quickly, his hands coming up to grasp her arms, just above the elbow. "Are you all right? You should have said something, we could have stopped at a restaurant on the way." "It wasn't that bad, but the car ride must have made it worse," she said, a little defensively. It was true though, the headache had come on midway between the airport and the hospital. "I'll get something from the cafeteria." "Let's go then," he said, and released one of her arms, leaving the other one in place as they walked down the hallway, following the signs that directed them to the cafeteria. He carried the tray for her as well, and purchased her lunch, buying himself only a coffee. She was a little uncomfortable eating while he watched, sipping at his coffee, and downed her sandwich and orange juice rather quickly. Once she was done, and the tray and its garbage disposed, John took her elbow again, and they made their way back to the main lobby, where he went to find out Theresa Hoese's room number. Scully rubbed slow circles over her belly, the food having awoken the baby. He returned moments later and stated, "Same room number as our last visit." They made the walk to the elevators in silence, Scully suddenly as nervous and nauseated as she had been when they had been on their way to find out if one of the John Does was really Mulder. What would Theresa Hoese tell them? The doors binged quietly when they opened, and Scully jumped slightly, having been focused on the ground and lost in thought. "Dana, you okay?" John asked. Scully nodded her head, embarrassed, and entered the elevator, John at her heels. Thankfully two other people stepped in as well, and she was saved from having to talk. When the elevator stopped at the third floor, John stepped forward and held the door for her again, touching her elbow lightly as she walked past him. His faster strides caught up to her before she had gotten very far down the hallway, and although he did not take her arm to guide her this time, she was very conscious of him close behind her. They showed their badges at the nurse's station and John informed the nurse, coincidentally the one they had previously met, Kris, that they were there to see Theresa Hoese. He also inquired her as to the status of Ray Hoese and Billy Miles, and was told that there had still been no change in their conditions. He thanked her, and they started down the hall. Scully felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach as they neared the hospital room, and her hand came up to rub at it, just below the bulge of her belly. Her steps faltered for a brief moment, until she told herself to buck up. Her spine straightened from the slump she had allowed it to fall into, and the remainder of her steps were steady. John knocked at the door and then pushed it open, indicating to Scully that she should go first, which she did. She took a deep breath, and let her eyes sweep the room. As before, only one bed was occupied, by Theresa Hoese. The younger woman was awake, sitting propped up by pillows, and she was staring curiously at them. Scully saw dawning recognition in Theresa's eyes, and stepped closer, saying, "Mrs. Hoese, I'm Agent Scully, and this is Agent Doggett." Her gaze swiveled to Doggett, who was standing just behind Scully, and then returned to her. "I...I remember you, Agent Scully," Theresa replied. "You came to my house with Agent Mulder before...before we were all taken." Scully's heart gave a little jump at the mention of Mulder, and she had to clear her suddenly dry throat before speaking again. "Do you...do you remember being taken?" she asked cautiously. "I remember standing in this circle of bright light, with Ray and Billy and a bunch of other people," Theresa replied, her face scrunching up a little. There was also a frown on her face, and sadness in her eyes. Scully understood then that Theresa was aware her husband had also been returned, but that he was still in his strange coma. She hesitated, and then asked, "Did you see...Agent Mulder?" Theresa nodded her head. "He was the last one to come. The man who had taken me there stepped into the light just after Agent Mulder, and they stared at each for a long time, and then..." Her voice trailed off, and Scully realized she had been unconsciously leaning forward as if she were going to snatch the words out of Theresa's mouth. She straightened up again, and prodded gently, heart hammering furiously. "And then?" "I woke up here," Theresa replied softly. *** Bellefleur Motel Bellefleur, Oregon February 19, 2001 8:00 pm (PST) Scully sat listlessly in the parked, but still running car, while John was inside collecting their room keys. Those words of Theresa's, "I woke up here", were playing in a continual loop in her head, adding layer after layer of defeat onto her already over-burdened soul. John had taken over after she had stumbled back from Theresa's bed with a mumbled thank-you, and gone out into the hallway, desperately craving some air. He had joined her not long after, and by then, she had regained some of her composure, able to ask the nurse Kris for a look at Billy Miles and Ray Hoese's charts. As she had told them on their arrival, there had been no change in either man, but Scully had wanted to see for herself. A thought was fluttering at the edges of her consciousness, but she was not yet able to grasp it. Something about their charts... The car door opened noisily then, bringing with it a rush of cold air that chilled her to the bone, and John slid into his seat. She had not noticed him exit the small motel office, and barely contained her nervous start. He handed her a key, attached to a diamond-shaped, white plastic key ring reading 21, and said, "Mine's number 22, right next door, but not connecting." He reversed out of the small driveway and then drove a few hundred meters to the low one-storey building that was to the left of the house/motel office, pulling their rental car into a parking spot in front of what she assumed were their motel rooms, killing the engine. He hadn't refastened his seatbelt, and was out of the car before she had barely registered the fact that they had stopped again. Scully unbuckled slowly, for her fingers did not want to cooperate, and opened the door. She heaved herself out of the car with a sigh, before he could come around to help her out, and saw him halt the motion that would have brought him around the back of the car to her door. He instead popped the trunk and lifted their luggage out, calling out for her to go ahead, that he had them. She nodded, unsure as to whether he saw the gesture or not, and carried on anyway. Her eyes took in the features of the motel, which was located on the outskirts of Bellefleur, and was not the place she had stayed at with Mulder on her last trip here. Mulder. She remembered with stunning clarity the night she had gone to him, shivering from an as then unknown malady, and he had held her in his arms, tenderly and protectively, and with a kind of reverence. She could not have handled it if she and John had stayed at the same place. As weak as the thought made her seem, she knew it were so. That memory was replaced by a picture of Mulder earlier that day, at lunchtime, his sweet smile as he looked at the books she had brought him. It reminded her of how she had told him she would be back to read one to him. And instead she was here, hundreds of miles away from him, chasing a dead end. Defeat rolled through Scully in waves, and she staggered suddenly, one hand going out to the scarred wooden surface of her room door to support herself. She was so damn tired, and so damn scared. She heard two muffled thuds, and imagined their luggage being dropped on the ground, and then John was beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, gasping, "Dana? You okay?" Scully tried not to cringe, but was not successful. At his next words, she knew John had mistaken the motion as a shiver, and was thankful. She had not meant to offend; she had just not been prepared for him to try and enfold her in an embrace. He said, "Come on, let's get you inside. You're cold." She allowed him to move her aside and to take the key from her hand, his arm falling from her shoulders. He opened the door and she moved past him before he could help her again, going over to sit down on the edge of the double bed with a sigh of relief. The next thing she knew, her large carry-on bag was on the floor by her feet. She must have blanked out for a second; she had not even realized he was gone. John's concerned face was in her field of vision then, as he crouched down in front of her. "Dana? You going to be all right?" he asked. "I'm just really tired, John," she told him, feeling that overwhelming urge to cry, and hard on its heels, the need to be held. How contrary of her, for moments ago, she had shunned his touch, although he had not known it. Somehow he read her though, and tentatively lifted his hands and pulled her into a loose embrace. Their contact was very light, only her forehead resting against his chest, and his arms around her shoulders. But it helped. After a long moment, Scully pulled back, and seeing the concern still on his face, summoned a small smile to reassure him. "I'm really okay, John. I'd just like to get home." And see Mulder, she added silently. He did look a little more relieved, and said softly, "I know you do. I'm just sorry that seven a.m. tomorrow was the earliest flight I could book." He rose easily to his feet and added, "Get some sleep, Dana." "I will," she replied, equally as soft. "Thank-you, John." "No thanks are necessary, partner. Good night, Dana." With that he turned and headed to the door. "Good night." She got up from the bed, having had to almost lunge forward out of the too-soft mattress, and closed and locked the door behind him. The temptation to just crawl into bed was great, but years of disciplined routine had her digging out her pajamas and her make-up bag. She changed quickly, neatly folding her clothes and tucking her undergarments in the bag she always brought with her for such things, and headed to the bathroom. Nighttime ablutions were performed, and within ten minutes of John's departure, she was sliding into cold sheets, huddled on her side to get warm. Not surprisingly, she fell asleep within moments. And also not surprisingly, her sleep was disturbed by dream after dream. All of them about Mulder. ...Mulder in that horrible tortuous chair/device in a dark, dank chamber that she knew was a spaceship... ...Mulder's head rolling on the hospital pillow as he awoke for the first time, looking at her and asking, "Are you my mom?"... ...Meeting with Mulder's doctors and hearing that he had the mental capacity somewhat similar to that of a child approximately 6 or 7 years old... ...Giving birth alone, without him by her side... ...Watching him grow older and older in appearance, although his mind never matured with his body... Scully tossed and turned through the night, and was never more grateful for a sunrise. *** Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Arlington, VA February 20, 2001 2:40 am (EST) Fox lay in the muted darkness and stared at the glow of the nightlight, the one that Day-na had brought for him after he had told her that sometimes he didn't like the dark. His hands trapped along his sides under the weight of the blankets, which were pulled to just over his belly, and he wished he could pull them up over his head. Now that he had the nightlight, the almost-dark mostly did not bother him, but he had just had a very bad dream. Staring at the nightlight helped make the scariness go away. He didn't remember very much about the dream, only how it had made him feel. He knew he could push the call bell that was right near his hand and someone would come in his room. But it would not be Katy-the-nurse or Thomas-the-orderly, because they only worked when it was not time for him to sleep. He liked the other nurses and orderlies just fine, but he didn't want one of them. He wanted Day-na. He wanted to feel her fingers run through his hair as she whispered to him and smiled her really happy smile, the one she only gave to him. He wanted her to tell him it was all right and there was nothing to be afraid of. He wanted her to read a story to him until he felt safe again. He wanted her to stay with him until he fell asleep. Fox had to blink rapidly, feeling the wetness in his eyes. He tried to think why he was sad, and let his eyes close. A picture popped in his head. It was of Day-na, sitting by his mat showing him some books she had brought for him. The picture changed, and this time Day-na was sitting at the table in his room, turning the pages of one of those books. If he thought really hard, even though it made his head hurt, he could hear her talking to him. <> His eyes popped open again. That's why he felt sad. Day-na had not come back to read to him. He felt that same wetness in his eyes again, hot and stinging, and knew they were tears. He tried to think harder, to try and remember if he had done something wrong, something to make her mad, and had to scrunch his eyes tight when his head started to boom. Fox opened his mouth to gulp in air, and pushed away his thoughts. The pain was soon gone, and Fox sighed. His sigh turned into a yawn, and he rubbed his cheek against his pillow. Sleep came, and with it, more dreams. ...Mary Anne smiling at him as she moved his leg in a back-and-forth motion, telling him it would make his muscles strong. She was very pretty when she smiled, and he thought about how pretty Day-na looked when she smiled, and like magic, Day-na was walking into his room. She had brought him books... ...Thomas-the-orderly sitting at the table with him after taking away his supper tray, and then opening the book from Day-na and reading to him. He was smiling because he was happy, but he was thinking that Thomas-the-orderly was a good reader, but not as good as Day-na... ...Day-na was sitting on a black couch with the dark-haired man, and they were clinking bottles together and then drinking from them. The dark-haired man smiled at her, and she was smiling back. They both looked happy... ...The dark-haired man was in a forest, and it was nighttime. Only Day-na was not there with the dark-haired man this time...and now the dark-haired man was him...He/Fox was not scared, he/Fox was looking for something. He/Fox walked into a circle of bright light, where other people were standing. And he/Fox and all the people were gone... Fox jerked awake, feeling hot and cold all at once, and this time he reached for the call bell, pressing it over and over again. *** Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Arlington, VA February 20, 2001 12:30 pm (EST) Scully headed slowly down the hallway towards Mulder's room, tired in spirit and body. She had gotten John to drop her off at home from the airport, telling him she would not be in the office until Monday, and had taken only a few minutes to tote her luggage inside and change into more comfortable clothing before leaving to come see Mulder. What she had really wanted to do was lie down and take a nap, not having slept well the night before, and unable to rest during the flight home, but she had not been able to get Mulder off her mind. She mused to herself that she probably should have offered to do their report for Skinner about the trip to Bellefleur, but could not summon the energy to care. She hadn't even phoned Skinner herself, which before would have been one of her first priorities, leaving that for John as well. She shook her head slightly, disturbed by this funk she seemed to be in, and her lack of caring about almost everything. Her focus lately was on the baby and their health, and Mulder, in that order, and that was all. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob to open Mulder's room, she was hailed. "Miss Scully! Miss Scully!" She dropped her hand, turning her head in the direction the voice was coming from, and saw one of Mulder's favorite nurses, Katy, hurrying towards her, waving her hand. She stepped away from the door and moved a few steps in Katy's direction. "Oh, Miss Scully, I'm glad I caught you before you went in," Katy said, a little breathlessly, as she reached Scully. Normally smiling, the nurse's sober face alarmed Scully, and she sucked in a breath. "Why? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Mu...to Fox?" Her voice had risen at the end, and she realized she was clenching her fists, down by her sides. She forced them open, and took a deep breath. Katy replied, "Oh, no, I'm sorry, Miss Scully, nothing's wrong." She bit her lip then and after huffing out a breath, continued, "Well, that's not exactly true. He's physically all right, but he's been very moody and uncooperative today. He even gave Mary Anne a hard time, and he's usually so good with his physical therapy. The night nurse told me he had a rough night as well, buzzing her several times because of bad dreams." Scully was a little confused as to why Katy seemed so concerned about Mulder's behavior. He had had rough days before, and had told her he had bad dreams sometimes. It certainly wasn't unusual for a patient to become frustrated, or difficult at times. And Mulder had often been both of those, on many an occasion. It would stand to reason that his younger self would be as well. She said as much to Katy. "That's true," the young nurse replied slowly. "But it's more than that. Thomas mentioned that yesterday evening after his dinner, Fox said he couldn't wait until you came to read him his story." She paused again, and then said, "I think he may be angry with you because you didn't come back." Though Katy had said the words without reproach, or condemnation, Scully felt them like little bullets tearing into her heart. Guilt crashed through her, and her shoulders sagged. The tears that were always so close to the surface welled in her eyes, and she ducked her head down to hide them from Katy. She knew that there had been no time to stop at the Home to see Mulder before she left, and phoning in to have someone leave him a message had seemed so cold at the time that she had decided not to. She had also assumed, wrongly it was now obvious, that he would not have remembered, or noticed she had not come back. Despite her guilt, she felt a small surge of pleasure, or perhaps it was solace, that Mulder had actually missed her. He had never seemed to before, which had hurt more than she could say, even though she knew it had never been a deliberate action on his part. Realizing that Katy was still standing there, Scully took another deep breath, blinking to clear her eyes, and looked up. An explanation was not necessary, but Scully felt compelled to tell Katy why she had not returned as she had told Mulder she would. "I was unavoidably called out of town for work," she said. "In the future if a similar situation arises, I will call and have someone speak to Fox." Smiling a little tightly, she added, "Thank-you for telling me, Katy." Katy nodded and then surprisingly reached out and touched her on the hand briefly, her expression sympathetic. "It'll be all right, Miss Scully. He's just feeling hurt, and maybe a little neglected." She made a surprised 'o', and quickly added, "Not that you neglected him, Miss Scully, that's not quite what I meant to say. It's just he doesn't understand, and we didn't know what to tell him. He seems very attached to you." She paused again, and when she spoke, appeared to be choosing her words carefully. "I have to say even though his behavior is a negative reaction, it's certainly a change...almost as though he is becoming...maybe more aware?" Her voice trailed off. Almost exactly what she had been thinking. Her voice sounded hopeful when she replied, "I hope you're right." She glanced at his door and then back at Katy. "I'm going to go see him now, and try and explain why I couldn't come back yesterday. Thank-you again, Katy." Katy smiled in response, and headed back to the nursing station. Scully watched her for a moment, and then moved to Mulder's door. She took a deep breath and entered to meet the lion in his den. On first glance Mulder was not immediately visible. After shutting the door softly behind her and advancing slightly, Scully took a second look around the room, spying him sitting in his wheelchair by the far window. His back was to the room, and she almost missed the quick dart of his head as he checked to see who had come in while she was giving herself a quick once-over, ensuring her pregnant belly was adequately covered. But catch it she did, and when he did not say hello, stiffened slightly at his obvious attempt to ignore her. She forced herself to relax, knowing he would easily pick up on her tension and discomfort, and her guilt as well. Like all children seemed to be, he was quite adept at reading the other people around him. She sighed, nervously toying with the hem of her cardigan, and walked over to join him at the window. The table was close by, so she grabbed one of its chairs and dragged it with her, placing it to his left. "Hello, Fox," she said, and sat down. Her knee just barely brushed his leg, and he jerked away from the contact, still staring forward out the window, refusing to meet her eyes. She was wounded by his action, and had to suck in her breath to hide her distress. Frustration warred with her understanding. She knew that he had felt hurt by her not coming back, and that his reaction was normal for a child his age... her mind added, but it was still difficult to face. She was unsure how to proceed. Scully decided to plunge right in. Her voice was soft and even, and she kept her words simple. "Fox, I know you're not very happy with me, but aren't you going to say hello?" She reached out and laid her hand lightly on his leg, the one he had moved to avoid her touch a moment ago. He moved it again, although not very far because of his lack of strength and muscle loss, but she was persistent. She kept her hand where it was. And was rewarded by him turning his head to stare at her. She recognized the look on his face. Petulance. She had seen it on Mulder's face more times than she could count when she had argued with him or challenged one of his findings. But back during those times she had recognized, and refused to accept, the accompanying behavior for what it was, peevishness and bull-headed stubbornness. And she had either argued back, or sometimes even walked out on him. She could not do that now. Before she could speak, Fox did, his voice querulous. "You were supposed to read me a story. Why didn't you come back?" Scully felt a little pang in her heart, and blinked rapidly to stop the tears that threatened. Tiredness and sorrow compounded on the defeat and distress from the day before, and part of her wanted to yell out, 'I was trying to learn more about what's wrong with you, or maybe even a way to help you'. More words he would not understand. Instead she replied with, "I know I was, Fox, but I had to go to work for something very important, and I just wasn't able to come here. I'm very sorry that I wasn't able to read you your story. I'd like to make it up to you now, if you'll let me." There had been a pout on his face, his lower lip jutting out almost sulkily, and his hazel eyes had been sad, but at her words, the frown slowly slid away. He tilted his head to the side, his mouth twisting as he seemed to consider her offer. His look grew sly. "Will you read me all the stories you brought?" Surprised, Scully actually laughed. Relief washed through her. "How about we read a couple now, and save some for later?" At the word later, his eyes narrowed a little, and he asked suspiciously, "Later when?" Scully realized he thought she was going to leave again, and squeezed his leg. "Fox, I'm going to stay with you until bedtime, if that's all right with you." His face lit up. "Will you tuck me in?" For some reason those words struck hard. She remembered saying them to Ahab many times when her father had been home on leave, and the comfort that had come when Ahab had brought the blankets to her chin, and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. She fought back tears, thinking that she had always imagined hearing those words from her own child one day, before she had learned she was unable to bear children, and now she was hearing them from the father of the miracle baby inside her. It was not right, and as childish as it sounded, it was not fair. What had They done to him? And how the hell was she going to help him, if she could not find that out? "Day-na?" Fox's voice registered, sounding worried and scared. Scully blinked, and managed a small smile. "Of course I'll tuck you in, Fox," she told him. "How about I get a book? Do you know which one we should read first?" "The Best Book of Spaceships," he said promptly. "It's by my bed." Scully had to put both her hands on either side of her chair to push herself off, grunting just a little at the effort it took to get up, and walked over to Fox's bed. As he had said, the book was on the little night table to the left of his bed. She picked it up with one hand, and with the index finger of her other hand, traced the picture of the rocket on the hard laminated cover. It was the book she and Fox had been looking at before she had returned to the Hoover building and the news that Theresa Hoese was out of her coma. With another, tinier sigh, she returned to Fox's side, resuming her seat beside his wheelchair, and scooted her chair a bit closer. She laid the book in his lap, and leaned against him, putting her right arm around his shoulders, her left hand opening the book. Fox turned his head towards her, bumping her chin, and smiled at her, before tucking his head in the hollow of her shoulder, snuggling into her, his nose in her neck. He made a sniffing noise that tickled her skin, said, "You smell pretty," and turned his head again, to look at his book. Scully sat completely still for a long moment, shivers racing through her from the feel of his hot breath on her neck, reminded of how Mulder had often snuggled his head in that same spot, tickling her with his nose and trying to blow in her ear. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her breath hitched in her throat. Oh, God she missed him so. The baby kicked then, just as Fox said, "Day-na, read, please." She sniffled back the tears and cleared her throat. "Yes, sir," she said, hearing his giggle, and turned to the first page. *** Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Arlington, VA February 20, 2001 12:35 pm Fox had been staring at the outside world ever since Thomas-the-orderly had taken away his almost full lunch tray. He was not hungry, and he did not feel like doing anything, except maybe sleeping because he was really tired. But Thomas-the-orderly had not helped him into bed, he had sat him in his wheelchair and pushed it over to the window. He sighed. There was a noise at the door and he couldn't help turning his head to see who was there. He did it quickly though, so they wouldn't see him looking. He saw red hair and knew it was Day-na. Pictures came in his head so fast he had to shut his eyes tight because they made it hurt and his stomach feel funny. The bad-funny that made him want to be sick, not the good-funny that made him laugh. Pictures of Day-na with the dark-haired man, and they both looked angry. It confused him, and his head started hurting more, so he did what he always did when the pictures hurt, he pushed them away. Fox could hear Day-na's footsteps and then out of the corner of his eye he saw a chair being put down beside him. He still did not look at her, only stared outside, and she said hello to him. Her knee touched him, and he pulled away quickly. Day-na made a sad noise, and he wanted to look at her, but he remembered that he was mad at her, and didn't. Part of him wanted her to go away, and the other part was really happy that she was here. Confused, he kept staring out the window. "Fox, I know you're not very happy with me, but aren't you going to say hello?" Day-na said to him, and then he felt her hand touch his leg, the leg she had bumped before. He tried to move away, not able to go very far, but her hand stayed. Why wouldn't she leave him alone like she had yesterday? Fox turned his head to look at her. "You were supposed to read me a story. Why didn't you come back?" After asking the question he felt like crying, and struggled not to, his lower lip poking out with the effort. Day-na looked like she wanted to cry too, and that made him feel sad and sorry. He watched her blink her eyes a few times, and had to blink his own eyes too. "I know I was, Fox, but I had to go to work for something very important, and I just wasn't able to come here. I'm very sorry that I wasn't able to read you your story. I'd like to make it up to you now, if you'll let me." Fox knew that sometimes sorry was just a word people said because they were supposed to, not because they were. He turned his head sideways a little to look at Day-na's face, and saw in her eyes that she really meant it. He scrunched his face up, thinking about how much he wanted her to stay, and that maybe she would read to him, and maybe take him for a walk, or they could even just sit together and watch TV. He thought about the books she had brought, and how when Thomas-the-orderly had read one to him it hadn't been the same. He got an idea, one that made him want to smile, and said hopefully, "Will you read me all the stories you brought?" Day-na laughed, and Fox felt the happy feelings in his stomach, the ones that made him squirm. She said, "How about we read a couple now, and save some for later?" Some of the happy feelings went away, and he started to feel scared that she was going to leave again. "Later when?" he asked, thinking maybe he wasn't scared, but mad instead. Day-na's hand on his leg gave him a little squeeze, which felt really good, like a tickle but more too, one he felt all over, and she told him, "Fox, I'm going to stay with you until bedtime, if that's all right with you." "Will you tuck me in?" he asked Day-na. Maybe if she stayed while he was asleep, the scary/strange dreams wouldn't come, and he wouldn't have to press the call button for the nurse. And lie there waiting for her to come and say there was nothing to be afraid of, only her voice didn't sound like she meant it. He had wanted to tell Day-na about the dreams, but thinking about them was making the glad feelings go away, so he tried to forget the dreams, and watched Day-na. She looked sad again, and like she was far away. He didn't like when she was sad, it made him feel sad too. "Day-na?" he asked, and his voice sounded all wobbly, almost like when he cried. He felt a little better when Day-na smiled at him, even if it wasn't his favorite smile. "Of course I'll tuck you in, Fox," she told him. "How about I get a book? Do you know which one we should read first?" "The Best Book of Spaceships," he said quickly, and tried not to wiggle in his wheelchair with his excitement. "It's by my bed." It was the first book she had showed him of the ones she had brought, and even though he had wanted to read it really badly, he had said no both times when Thomas-the-orderly had asked him if he wanted to read it. Fox turned his head so he could watch Day-na go over to his night table and get the book, and saw her touching the cover with her finger, like he did. He wondered if she pretended she was inside the rocket too. When Day-na came back, she moved her chair real close to his wheelchair, and put the book on his legs. She put her arm around his shoulders, almost like a hug, and used her other hand to open the book. Maybe he would ask her for a whole hug after the story. Her arm on his shoulders felt warm and soft and safe, so Fox turned his head to look at her. He bumped her chin by accident, but she didn't look mad, and he smiled at her. He could only smell her a little bit, and he liked to smell her, so he put his head down by her shoulder, letting his nose poke into her neck. He closed his eyes for a second sniffing a big sniff, and saw a picture of the dark-haired man with his nose in Day-na's neck, and it did not make his head hurt. It was a nice picture, and made him feel good. "You smell pretty," he told Day-na, and looked at his book again. Day-na did not move, or say anything. Squirming inside, Fox said, "Day-na, read, please." Finally Day-na said, "Yes, sir," and he giggled as she reached for the first page. *** 3:30 pm They had spent a pleasant hour sitting by the window, reading "The Best Book of Spaceships" not once, but three times, at Fox's pleading insistence. With the addition of his puppy dog look, Scully had been powerless to resist, and to be honest, she had enjoyed their closeness as they had sat together. When Mulder had first awoken from his coma and she had discovered he was essentially a child in a man's body, she had been very uncomfortable touching him in certain ways, ways that now seemed inappropriate and...wrong. She had limited herself to holding his hand, ruffling her fingers through his hair, and occasionally pressing a kiss on his cheek. While she still was not ready to accept the fact that his condition was permanent, she had in a sense come to terms with it for now, and allowed herself to be a little more natural around him. Thus she touched him as she would her nephew Matthew. And waited until she was home alone in her empty bed to remember the ways she had touched him for too short a time before he had gone away. Remember, and dream. Oh, did she dream. Every night. Very vividly, and in full Technicolor, with sights, sounds and tastes, that had her waking breathless and wanting. That left her lying awake waiting for the night to end. Scully managed to contain her sigh, and looked down at Fox's dark head as she pushed his wheelchair along the hallway back to his room. He had been pretty quiet during the last leg of their walk, which she had desperately needed after sitting so long in the not exactly luxurious chair by the window, and if she was not mistaken, he could probably use a nap. So could she. Her legs were tired from the combination of walking and pushing the wheelchair, not to mention the fact that while Fox may not have regained all the pounds he had lost, he was certainly no lightweight. As well, the baby had been doing the rumba on her kidney for the last little while, and her lower back was aching. This was where the father of the baby offered to rub the mother's back, she thought with a slight bitterness, and sighed again. She still could not allow herself to relax enough or to lower her guard and ask such a thing of Skinner, despite their newfound closeness, nor the Gunmen or Doggett, and she could not expect her mother to drop everything and come over every time her back hurt. Which was nearly on a daily basis. So she suffered alone. One particularly strong twinge had her halting in her tracks, and bringing a hand up at an awkward angle to rub ineffectually at the spot. No matter how she twisted her body, she could not reach it properly. "Day-na?" came Fox's voice, sleepy and questioning. "How come we stopped?" Scully dropped her hand and straightened, tugging at her cardigan in her now habitual gesture to cover the belly her contortions had exposed. "Well Fox, my back was itchy, and I stopped to scratch it," she told him. She hated lying to him, hated the fact that she felt it necessary to hide her pregnancy from him, but still could not bring herself to explain it to him. When she told Mulder about their baby, she wanted to tell Mulder the man, her partner and lover, not Fox the boy, her surrogate child. She was really hoping that 'when' would be soon. "I'm tired," he said, not quite whiningly. So am I, she thought, and bit back a sigh of frustration. "I know you are," she said evenly. "We're almost there." With that, she resumed pushing the wheelchair, although the speed had decreased significantly. Just as they reached Fox's room and she was maneuvering his wheelchair to the side so that she could open the door, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. "Hi, Miss Scully," she heard, and identified the voice as belonging to Mary Anne, the physiotherapist. Scully paused and turned to face the physiotherapist. "Hello, Mary Anne," she said, raising an eyebrow in question at the woman. "Our session today didn't go very well, and when I heard that you were here and Fox seemed to be in much better spirits, I thought we'd give it a go," Mary Anne explained. She stepped past Scully and crouched down in front of Fox. "Would that be okay with you, Fox?" Fox lifted his head from where it had been bobbing against his chest and yawned in her face, making no effort to cover his mouth. He did remember to say, somewhat sheepishly, "Sorry." He looked at Scully and then back at Mary Anne, his lower lip poking out and his eyes pleading once more. "I'm really tired," he said, and it was audible in his voice. Mary Anne smiled at him, patting his knee, and said, "That's okay, Fox. Why don't I get Thomas and we'll get you in bed for a nap, and we'll give it a shot afterwards?" Scully watched as Fox again looked at her, as if for approval, and she said, "That sounds like a good idea, doesn't it Fox? Maybe I can take a nap while you do too, what do you think?" "You're not leaving, Day-na?" he asked. "I told you I'd stay and tuck you in, remember?" she said softly, and was unable to resist the urge to run her hand through his hair, turning what would have been a caress into a playful ruffle. "I'm glad," he almost-whispered. He turned to face Mary Anne again and said, "Okay, after mine and Day-na's nap." Scully closed her eyes tightly on a wave of sadness as she remembered the last 'nap' she and Mulder had shared, a few days before he flew to Bellefleur and briefly out of her life. Mary Anne rose then, saying, "I'll be right back, you two," and Scully opened her eyes again, thankful to note that the physiotherapist had apparently missed her little trip down memory lane and was already headed down the hallway towards the nurse's station. "Let's..." her voice was husky and low, and she had to clear her throat before continuing. "Let's get you inside, huh?" She opened the door to his room and with only a little difficulty, got the wheelchair and Fox safely inside. By the time she had pushed the wheelchair to his bed, Mary Anne had returned with Thomas. The two efficiently lifted Fox from the wheelchair and had him situated in his bed within minutes. Scully fussed with his blankets as he watched her sleepily. His struggle to keep his eyes open was obvious. Scully smiled at him and whispered, "It's okay, you get some rest. I promise I will be here when you wake up." He nodded slowly, his eyes intent on hers, and whispered back, "You promised." When she reached out, bending awkwardly and holding in a wince, and touched his cheek reassuringly, he let his eyes close, and snuggled into his pillow. Scully straightened slowly, one hand bent behind her and supporting her back, and turned around to see Mary Anne watching from the opened doorway. The physiotherapist motioned her over, and when Scully reached her side said softly, "Could I talk to you for a few minutes?" Her eyes darted from Scully to the figure lying in the bed and back, a clear indication she did not want the conversation overheard. Scully nodded, and the two stepped out of Fox's room. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "No, not at all," Mary Anne said quickly. "I'm sorry to give you that impression. I noticed you wincing and rubbing your back there by Fox's bed, and I saw you doing the same when you were returning from your walk. Is it bothering you?" Scully arched her eyebrow in what she hoped gave her face the 'what, are you kidding?' look, and then chuffed out a half-laugh, half-moan. "It's killing me." "The reason I'm asking is that I'd like to offer you a back rub, if you don't mind my presumptuousness. I'm also a registered masseuse." If Scully had been a demonstrative person, she would have kissed Mary Anne. As it was, she gave her a beaming smile and a heartfelt, "Please!" Mary Anne laughed, and said, "Come on this way." Scully hesitated slightly, looking at the closed door, biting her lip. What if Fox woke up, and she wasn't there? "Thomas will keep an eye on him, don't worry. We'll tell him to come get you right away if Fox wakes up," Mary Anne said gently. Scully nodded slowly, the lure of a relief from the ache in her back to great to resist. Fox had been very tired, and with his troubled sleep of the night before, he would probably nap for at least an hour. He would be just fine. "Let's go," she said, and followed the therapist down the hallway. Mary Anne led her to a small lounge around the corner from the nurse's station. It contained two couches with a low coffee table in front, one kitchen-sized table with chairs by a window, and in one corner, a bed-like examining table that reminded Scully of those found in a Physiotherapy clinic. "You don't have to get changed," Mary Anne said as she indicated that she wanted Scully to go over to the bed/table. "But you'll be more comfortable if you take your sweater and shoes off." Scully nodded and toed her shoes off, nudging them aside. She hesitated slightly before undoing the buttons that held her over-sized cardigan closed over her belly, glancing up through the curtain of her hair at Mary Anne. The therapist had taken a crisp, white sheet from a cupboard against the wall, and after snapping it open, arranged it on the bed. Once it was to her satisfaction, she reached under the bed and pulled out a rubber-coated step stool. She looked up and smiled at Scully, who was standing with her arms folded over her stomach. "Climb up," Mary Anne said, and held out a hand to assist her. Scully took it, feeling awkward, uncomfortable, and just a little bit ungainly, and placed one foot on the stool. Her center of balance had shifted in the last couple weeks, due to her ever-burgeoning belly, and she was grateful for the hand Mary Anne had offered, wobbling slightly. Once she was settled on the bed, lying on her left side, her right leg drawn up and resting on a pillow Mary Anne had provided, the therapist began. She started with gentle strokes, using the palms of her hands, rubbing at Scully's lower back. "How far along are you?" she asked softly. Scully, who had let her eyes slip shut at the first stroke of Mary Anne's hands on the aching back, popped them open again. Even though it had been silly to think no one had noticed, the lack of questions or even curious glances had lulled her into believing it was so. She had become used to not talking about her pregnancy, or displaying her belly, here or at the Hoover Building, except for the occasional inquires from Skinner or Doggett in the privacy of their offices. Besides, there was no way the therapist could have missed what was practically under her nose. "I..." she started to say, and could not find any more words. Mary Anne had not stopped her motions at all, although they slowed a little when she leaned forward to meet Scully's eyes for a moment, an apologetic expression on her face. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she said. "You don't have to say anything at all." She moved back out of sight, hands now moving in slow, firm circles, and continued, her voice a soothing prattle. "I could tell your back was really bothering you, and wanted to help you. I usually give some of the staff members massages, and this is no trouble at all. You looked like your back was really bothering you when you were pushing Fox's wheelchair." Scully sighed harshly. She was so tired of keeping everything bottled up inside. Her relationship with her mother had been a little strained since she had shared the news about both the baby and Mulder's disappearance, and while they now talked every few days, she found it difficult to share many of her thoughts and feelings with her. Her mom had accompanied her to her second ultrasound, the one with her new doctor, thoroughly investigated by the Gunmen after her experience with Dr. Parenti and his clinic. They had both cried. Scully had clutched the still picture of the baby in her hand all the way home, and then tucked it carefully away in the scrapbook she had started. But she went alone to all her other appointments, and sat in the waiting room trying not to stare at the expectant women with their significant others along with them to share in the experience. Wishing Mulder was there with her, to crack jokes in her ear and to tease her about her slowly emerging waddle. Mary Anne hit a particularly sore spot, and the pain pulled Scully from her thoughts. She flinched away, gasping out a low, "Ooooh." "Hmmmm...hang on, Miss Scully," Mary Anne said, and switched the motion of her hands, becoming more soothing and less aggressive. Scully relaxed back into her touch, loosening her tensed shoulders. This time the sound that came from her mouth was a moan of relief, drawn out into an almost giggle as she realized it also tickled a little. As Mary Anne moved upwards in slow measure, the tension continued to ooze from Scully's body. She was not quite ready to go to sleep, but she was definitely feeling tranquil and at ease. Remembering the therapist's question, she quietly said, "Almost seven months." "You look wonderful for seven months," Mary Anne said. "Aside from your belly, and that cute little duck walk you've got going, I wouldn't have been able to tell that you were pregnant." She paused for a second and then said, with just a hint of questioning interest, "You hide it well." Scully was not sure what to reply to that. She settled for a non- committal 'hmmmm' sound. While she was sure the woman's motives were purely good intentioned, spiced with a healthy dose of curiosity, she was not going to share any of the details with her. It would come out sounding like some Elizabethan tragedy with a science fiction twist, or an over-dramatized, clichéd soap opera plot. "When are you going to tell Fox?" Mary Anne asked then, fingers digging into her shoulder with just the right amount of force. Not quite painful, but not a soothing caress either. "He's going to notice sooner or later." She paused for a second as she worked at a rather tight knot where shoulder became neck, and her next words were almost an echo of Mulder's nurse, Katy. "We, and by we I mean Thomas and the day nurses and myself, have all noticed a change in Fox over the last couple of days. He is more alert, and certainly seems more aware of his surroundings and the people around him, and he is also showing more of an interest in his world." "I know," Scully said softly. How could she not? She thought about it every time she saw him, and even the times when she did not. The subject was never far from her mind. She was a little disconcerted to be discussing it with his physiotherapist however, thinking it was something to be talking about with his doctor. Mary Anne's next words were an explanation of sorts for her interest. "It may seem like I'm prying...in fact, I know I am...but I'm concerned for Fox's welfare, just as I am sure you are. Everything affects him, no matter how big or small, which in turn affects his health and his healing. A prime example would be his unwillingness to participate in his exercises today because of how he felt about what he probably perceived as your abandonment of him." Scully could not help tensing up then. She could not feel any guiltier than she already did, but still the words rankled, and were like salt on an open wound, even if they had not been meant in censure. How strong did she have to be? She wanted to cry the question to the Heavens, but was frightened of what the answer would be. She knew her burden would soon to be too great, if Fox did not get better before she had their child, and was frightened too of what would happen then. Everyone had a breaking point, and she feared she was fast approaching hers. Something was going to have to give. Soon. Scully sighed then, the relief and pleasure she had been receiving from Mary Anne's capable and skilled hands was being unwrought by her dangerous and damning thoughts. She needed to talk to someone, to ask for help, something she had always found difficult to do. She just couldn't do this alone anymore. Mary Anne must have felt that she had spoken too candidly, or that she had perhaps hurt Scully's feelings, for she suddenly said, "I hope you didn't take offense, Miss Scully. I actually hadn't meant to talk to you about Fox while I was trying to help you relax and ease your pain. I'm sorry if I went too far." Scully craned her head back to meet the therapist's gaze. "It's all right, Mary Anne. I know you're just thinking of Fox, and I appreciate your caring. I'm quite sure not everyone would be this involved or interested in a patient's care, particularly someone whose job it is to help heal his body, not his mental ailments." She couldn't hold her head that way for too long, and was forced to lower it again. "Believe me, everything you have said has already been on my mind, I just don't know what to do about it yet. I do know I can't hide this baby forever, and am trying to think of the right way to tell him." "I think that's a good idea, Miss Scully," Mary Anne said, and then gave her shoulder one last squeeze. "How are you feeling now?" Mentally exhausted, Scully thought. She consulted her body, and realized that it felt much better than her mind. "Much better," she said. "Thank-you very much." "I'm glad I could help," the therapist said, and helped Scully up into a sitting position. She checked that the footstool was beneath Scully's feet and said, "Okay, all set." Scully felt for the stool with her toes and then stood, Mary Anne's hand moving to her elbow to guide her down to the ground. Once there she located her shoes and carried them over to a chair to sit down and put them on. Mary Anne tidied up the exam bed, discarding the sheet in a conveniently located laundry bin, and then waited for Scully to rise to her feet. They walked out of the lounge, Mary Anne holding the door open for Scully, and headed down the hall together to Fox's room. Thomas was just coming out when they got there, and when he saw them, he shook his head with a smile. "Still out like a light," he said. Scully thanked them both, and entered quietly. There was a more comfortable looking chair by the bed, and she smiled at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, knowing it was Thomas who had brought the chair. She sank into it gratefully, propping her chin on one hand, and watched as Fox slumbered on, his face relaxed and peaceful. She tipped her head back onto the cushioned edge of the chair and let her eyes closed, listening to the soft, even breaths coming from the bed. Her free hand came up and settled onto her belly, rubbing it in slow, easy circles, soothed by the gentle rolling motions within. Sleep snuck up on her minutes later. *** 4:50 pm Fox stretched in the bed, as much as he was able, feeling his toes and fingers wiggling beneath the blankets. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, his mouth opening wide in a jaw-cracking yawn, and then felt a tickle in his nose. He scrunched up his nose and sniffed, and knew right away that Day-na was nearby. He turned his head to the side, popping his eyes open, and there she was. Sleeping in a chair next to his bed, a blanket thrown over her. Fox managed to lift himself up onto one elbow, and stared at her. Her neck was bent all funny, and he thought it was going to be very sore when she woke up. She didn't look as tired as she had after their walk, her face all smooth and not crinkly, and he was glad that she had gotten to nap like he did, and that she hadn't left. Even though she had said she would be there when he woke up, he had still been worried she would have been gone. He sighed happily. As he looked at her, his eyes got a little blurry, and his head started to hurt. So he let them slip shut again, and lay back on his soft pillows. And then a picture was just there, like a movie in his mind. The picture was of Day-na, and he knew he was sitting beside her, even though he could not see himself. They were on a black couch, and he was looking down at her as she slept, her head almost resting on his shoulder. Fox saw his hand come up and touch her in the picture, touch her cheek and push some of her hair away from her face. Fox gasped, and forced his eyes open, his breaths coming all noisy and rough, coming up on his elbows once more to stare at Day-na. He could feel a fast thumping in his chest, and it almost hurt. At the noise he made, Day-na's eyes opened too, and she sat up with a gasp of her own, her hands pushing at her blanket. "Fox, what's wrong?" she asked, and her voice was shaky and funny. Not funny ha-ha, but funny scared. He tried to tell her, but couldn't find the words. The picture was gone, and he couldn't remember what it had been about any more. He was still making those sounds, his mouth hanging open. Day-na got up, her eyes scared, and leaning against his bed, put one hand on his cheek. The other hand began running through his hair, while she made soft, shushing sounds. "It's okay, Fox. Calm down. Everything's okay. Take nice, slow breaths." Her hand on his cheek felt good, warm and soft, and the other one in his hair was making him feel a lot better. He let himself fall back onto the pillows again, and tried to do what Day-na had said, take nice, slow breaths. "That's it, Fox," Day-na said. "Nice and slow." He nodded at her, and she smiled. Not her really happy smile, the one that made his tummy feel all squiggly, but not a fake smile either. He smiled back. "Can you tell me what happened, Fox?" Day-na asked softly. "Did you have a bad dream?" Her hands were still on his cheek and hair, and her eyes didn't look scared any more, just a little worried. "No...don't think...not a bad dream," Fox said, shaking his head. He was trying to remember what had made him all scared, and couldn't. "I..." A sound came from his door then, and Thomas-the-orderly walked in. He had been whistling softly, but when he saw them, his eyes got big and he rushed over. "Is something wrong?" Day-na stood up straight and moved back a bit, her hands gathering her sweater in her fists, her arms crossed over her tummy like she was cold, and said, "I think Fox just had a bad dream, Thomas. He's okay now." "That right, Sport?" Thomas-the-orderly asked him, and walked past Day-na to lean over his bed and ruffle his hair. "All better now?" He then turned to Day-na and said, "It's almost his dinnertime. I need to get him cleaned up." Day-na nodded and asked, "Do you need any help?" "We can handle it, can't we, Sport?" Thomas-the-orderly asked him. "Sure," Fox said back, and smiled him. Day-na bent to pick the blanket up from the floor and folded it neatly, laying it on the chair she had been sitting on. "Thank-you for the blanket, Thomas," she said, and Fox looked from her to Thomas-the- orderly, who nodded at her. "Fox, I'm just going to stretch my legs while Thomas is getting you ready for dinner, okay? I'll just be outside for a little bit." "Okay, Day-na," Fox said, and watched her walk to the door. Once there she turned a bit and waved at him, and then walked out, closing the door behind her. Thomas-the-orderly helped him sit up, and pulled the wheelchair closer to the bed. "Okay, Sport, you remember this part? You're going to push with your arms while I lift you, and then we'll move to the chair, okay?" He put Fox's arms in position, so that his hands were on the mattress on either side of him. "Ready? 1, 2 and go!" "There you go, Sport. Let's get you to the bathroom and then set you up at your table." When they were finished in the bathroom and Thomas-the-orderly had pushed the wheelchair back out into the room, Fox couldn't help searching for Day-na. A part of him was still worried that she would not come back. But she was there, standing by his window looking out. She turned when she heard them come out of the bathroom, and her mouth smiled. Her eyes did not. "All cleaned up?" she asked, and came over to where Thomas-the-orderly had parked his wheelchair, at the table. "He's all set," Thomas-the-orderly said, and looked at his watch. "Dinner will be here in about ten minutes, okay, Sport?" He patted Fox on the shoulder and started out of the room. He stopped halfway to the door, and turned back. "Oh, Miss Scully, I took the liberty of ordering an extra dinner for you." Fox looked at Day-na, who had another funny look on her face. He hadn't seen it before, and was not sure what it meant. He knew it wasn't a scared or sad face though. He heard her make that sighing sound, the one she made when she couldn't decide if she was going to cry or be happy, and then she spoke. "That's very kind of you, Thomas," she said. "Thank-you so much." The orderly smiled and left the room, and Day-na moved over to pick up a book from the stack by the window. "How about we read another story until dinner comes?" Fox nodded eagerly, and waited for her to sit next to him again. He would get to smell her real close, and maybe she would put her arm around him like she had before. *** 9:40 pm Scully lifted her arms up over her head to their fullest extension, her fingers meeting and clasping, and leaned side to side slightly, feeling the pull in tight, sore muscles that had been sitting in almost the same position for too long. She wished she were able to bend and touch her toes to stretch out her legs, but that particular ability had gone by the wayside in the last month with the ever-expanding girth at her middle. She was actually thankful that so far she could still see her feet. Even though her doctor had told her that her weight gain was perfectly normal and on track for this stage of her pregnancy, she had the occasional thought, particularly when attempting to rise from a seated or prone position, that she was quite large. The reason for her most current discomfort rolled his head on his pillow so that he faced her once again, the sheets rustling quietly as he moved. She could see that his eyes were open, watching her. "What's wrong, Fox?" she asked softly, and lifting up partially from the chair, grasped it's arms in her hands and dragged it closer to his bed. That way she could touch him easily, her arm hooked over the bedrail, her hand stroking his blanket-covered arm with a feather-light touch. "Can't sleep," he muttered sulkily. Scully wondered if her continuing presence was disturbing him enough that he could not relax and fall asleep, or if perhaps their activity after dinner had wound him up too much. She had read him his new favorite book, "The Best Book of Spaceships" again, and after that they had watched a cartoon, before Mary Anne had returned for his exercises. He had been in far more of a cooperative mood, and the session had gone well, and afterwards they had taken another walk. Just not as long as their first one. They had then worked on a 500-piece puzzle Thomas had dug up for them until it was time for Fox to get ready for bed. Once more she had excused herself from the room and walked the hallways while Thomas had gotten Fox cleaned up and in his pajamas. "Too much excitement?" she asked next, a gently teasing smile on her face. Fox jerked his head quickly in a negative shake. "Was fun," he stated emphatically, but with tiredness there as well. His lips twisted into a frown. "Just..." his voice trailed off. "Just what, sweetie?" she asked, leaning forward, a little worried now. Was he sick, or in pain, and didn't know how to tell her? "Are you...is something wrong?" Fox shook his head again. "Just can't sleep. Too many...too many thinks in my head." Thinks? For a moment Scully was baffled, and then she realized he had merely used the wrong tense, that he had meant to say 'thoughts'. "Oh," was all she said for the moment, remembering with a pang that Mulder had often been unable to sleep when his mind just refused to let go of things. She also remembered how she would lie down with him and gather him into her arms, and talk softly while rubbing his temples in tiny circles or stroking his hair until he slept. And how sometimes sleep often became the farthest thing on both their minds. Scully sighed; she did not want to remember those times right now. Those memories belonged at home in her bed with Mulder, not here with the man-child he had become. "Do you want to talk about the 'thinks'?" she asked him, and both saw his headshake and heard his quiet 'no'. An idea formed, and she got up from the chair with an unnoticed heave, hands going to the bed rail. She lowered it, aware of Fox watching her with curious, sleepy eyes, and said, "I'll lie with you until you fall asleep, okay?" Providing comfort not only to Fox, but to herself as well, having been denied such a thing for so very long now. "Okay." Softly spoken, but with relief too. "Can you roll over on your side?" she asked, gesturing for him to turn in the direction that would have him facing away from her. So that she could maneuver her body in a way that kept her belly from touching him. For although she had decided to tell him about the baby, it was not going to be tonight. "Uh-huh," was his quiet reply, followed by little grunts as he did what she had requested. Once he was settled again, Scully climbed awkwardly onto the bed, glad it was at its lowest setting. She did not pull the covers down; she was going to lie on top of them. It would be easier to get out of the bed when he did fall asleep. She rested her head on her folded arm, on the corner of pillow he had left her, keeping her lower half angled away from him, and lifted her free hand to run through his hair. He made the same snuffling, not quite a snoring noise she had heard from Mulder many times before, and moved his head against her fingers, encouraging her to keep playing with his hair. Her lips quirked in an almost-smile, and she did, feeling his body sink into the mattress as he relaxed. The baby, who had been quiet for the last hour or so, began his or her nightly routine of slow, rolling moves. With her one hand soothing Fox and her other hand tucked in support under her head, she was unable to do what she would normally do at this time. Which was to cup one hand around her belly to enjoy it to the fullest, and to caress the miraculous being within her, or lie flat on her back with her tee shirt or pajama top rucked up so she could also watch in amazed awe as she felt each and every movement. Her eyes were heavy, as was her body, but she could not let herself fall asleep. She had to stay awake to go home as soon as Fox had drifted off. But for now, until he did, she would lie there and pretend that everything was all right. *** End of Part 2 of 12