Headers and Notes in Part 1 Part 4 of 12 Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Arlington, VA February 28, 2001 8:10 pm Scully smiled faintly as Fox once again propelled his wheelchair further ahead of her as they traversed the hallways back to his room, her walk a slow, steady pace. He had been eagerly 'showing off' his newly acquired, and ever increasing, strength of his upper arms her entire visit, and delighted in speeding up every so often. She was surprised at how much he had improved physically in the last week or so, despite her conversation with his physiotherapist upon her arrival at the home a few hours ago. She had run into Mary Anne, who had been on her way out, and the therapist had said he was making amazing progress. She had even said she felt comfortable hazarding a guess that he would be walking within a month. The news, while most certainly encouraging and welcomed, had put a slight damper on the main reason for her visit, aside from coming to see and talk to Fox... her intention to speak to his doctor about having Fox put into a medically induced coma. Was she really doing the right thing? Scully winced then, both from the strong jab to her kidneys by a tiny foot or elbow, and the memory of the doctor's reaction that had lingered in her mind ever since she had spoken to him. Fox's attending physician at the Home, Dr. Peter Michaels, had been quite vocal in stating his disapproval of her proposal. He had claimed that the drugs necessary to induce the coma could actually do more harm than good, and that there were no guarantees that such a thing could work. Which was entirely true. And frightened her more than she wanted to admit. However, she had become convinced that doing so was the only option available to them, and her conviction had led her to be equally vocal in presenting her case. Well, to be honest, her demand. She had gotten a little pushy, she had to admit somewhat sheepishly. Her mother would have called it her 'dog with a bone' mood. The phrasing was apt; she had a ferocious stubborn streak, and when she strongly believed in something, there was little that could be said or done to persuade her otherwise. And because it concerned Mulder, and his well being, her resolve was immeasurable. In this instance though, she had found it necessary to use the threat of her Power of Attorney, and the fact that she was Mulder's personal physician on record, to argue her case. After over an hour of heated debate, and a conference call with the two doctors at GUMC who had examined and tested Mulder's mental capabilities, Dr. Michaels had reluctantly agreed to induce coma. It was scheduled for tomorrow morning. Scully's apprehension had grown steadily since then, and tension had gathered at the base of her neck. Tension that would soon escalate into a full-blown headache, she knew. It did not help that she was extremely tired - her day from the moment she had arisen in the motel in Bellefleur had been non-stop... or that she had thus far avoided speaking to Fox about his dreams as she had intended. "Day-na, look! Woo-hoo!" The excited sounds of Fox's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she focused her gaze on him, realizing she had been walking along in an almost daze. He was quite far ahead of her, rolling rapidly down the hall, his arms raised above his head in the air, fists clenched, in a pose that reminded her of someone riding a roller coaster, or celebrating a victory. Oh, God. He could hurt himself. Or someone else. She had a horrible vision of he and his wheelchair crashing into the wall, or a piece of equipment, or another resident, and her heart started to beat double-time. "Fox!" she called, and quickened her steps, one hand coming up to support the bulge of her belly. Speed was not exactly her forte right now. His laughter whooped out, echoing slightly in the hallways, and despite her fear, she couldn't help but be buoyed by the sound. Fortunately a male nurse who had been coming from the opposite direction intercepted Fox before any damage could be done. Scully heaved a sigh of relief and caught up to them, huffing and puffing, in time to hear the nurse lecturing Fox in a firm but gentle manner. Fox looked downcast, possibly even contrite, but his eyes sparkled. Scully had a vision, of her some time in the future, dealing with the handful that was she and Fox Mulder's child. Hazel eyes, auburn hair and a willful spirit. It brought tears to her eyes. Tears she hastily blinked away. "Sorry," Fox said low-voiced, his head ducked down, and the nurse patted him on the shoulder and left with a nod to her. Fox peeked after the nurse and then looked up, head tilted to the side as if gauging her mood. He gave her a crooked grin, and shrugged his shoulders. She could not be angry with him. Especially as this could very well be her last evening with him. In two extremely different ways... one poignant to the point of tears, the other exceedingly painful and difficult to contemplate. If the coma were successful, Fox would be no more. If the coma were not successful, she could lose Mulder forever. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Scully gave him a small smile. "Come on, let's get back to your room." She took the handles of his wheelchair, and headed down the hall. Once in his room, he asked if they could read their book. Still hesitant about broaching the subject of his dreams, Scully agreed. He eagerly wheeled over to his night table and retrieved the book, before joining her at the window. They read it together, taking turns with the pages. Scully could see his lips moving silently when she was reading, and knew that he had memorized the entire story. She smiled slightly, for it reminded her of how Mulder had done the very same with his 'favorite' X-Files. When they were finished, she sneaked a glance at her watch. It was fast approaching the time when the nurses got him ready for bed, and she could tell that he was getting tired. He had slumped against her, his head on her shoulder, and she thought his eyes might be closed. Stifling a sudden yawn, she admitted that she was tired too. It had been a very long day. "Fox," she said softly. "Can you tell me who Scully is?" She had decided not to beat around the bush, and hoped that with him relaxed and sleepy, the answers might come more easily. She had also pronounced her name as she had thought she had heard it from his lips, Scuh-leeee. She could feel his shoulders tense through her arm, which was draped around him, and she tilted her head to try and see his face. He would not look up, but kept his eyes focused on the book still opened on his lap. "Fox?" she prompted. He looked up at her slowly, reluctantly it seemed, his lower lip jutting out not in a pout, but more with sadness or fear. "I...I don't...I don't know," he whispered. "When I try to think about it, my head starts to hurt." She remembered how he had told her once that he could not sleep when he had too many 'thinks' in his head. Did his thoughts also cause headaches? "Are there...are there other things that make your head hurt?" she asked, keeping her voice low and not aggressive. He nodded, and looked back down at his lap. When he spoke again, she had to lean closer to hear him, his whisper was that low. "Sometimes I see...I see a man, and he looks like me. He goes into this circle of light, with all these other people. It makes me feel scared." It was startling to hear. Were memories, Mulder's memories, seeping back in the form of dreams or nightmares? Fox continued to speak in the same whispery voice. "Other times the man is with you, Day-na, and..." He swallowed with a gulping sound. "He calls you Scuh-leeee." Oh my God. Scully closed her eyes tightly, bowing her head, glad that Fox was not looking at her. It had not been a dream. Not hers, anyway. He had dreamed of them together, and called out her name. "Day-na?" His voice was shaky. "It's okay, Fox," she told him, raising her head to meet his frightened eyes. "Everything's going to be okay." God, please let it be okay. *** 8:15 pm Fox grinned as he held the wheels of his wheelchair and tightened his arm muscles, as Mary Anne had shown him, ready to zoom off down the hallway again. Today had been a really good day. There had been lots of visitors, Maggie had brought treats from the bakery, and best of all, Day-na was back. That's why he was pushing the wheelchair for the walk back to his room, to help Day-na. He had seen her yawn a couple times, real big ones too, and she had been making those funny sighing noises a lot and rubbing her belly. He remembered then that he hadn't had a chance to sit with his hand on her belly, to feel the baby playing soccer inside, so he spun the wheels as hard and as fast as he could. He imagined the wheelchair was a rocket ship soaring through space. Or maybe he was a racecar driver tearing up the track, just like Uncle Melvin always yelled when they watched the videotapes he sometimes brought - a racecar driver named Ricky Rudd. Coming down the last stretch in his victory lap. Fox let go of the wheels and lifted his arms up over his head, coasting down the hall, his heart thumping like crazy. "Day-na, look! Woo-hoo!" he called out, and then laughed, feeling the wind from his fast ride in his hair and in his face. He saw a few faces looking at him in surprise from open doorways as he went past, and they made him laugh more. The chair was beginning to slow, and he brought his arms down to wind it up again, when suddenly there was someone in bright white grabbing the chair and stopping it all the way. Fox blinked up into the face of a nurse named Mike, and Mike wasn't smiling like he usually was. Fox got that scary, twisty feeling in his stomach, the one he got when he thought he might be in trouble, and swallowed the big lump in his throat. "Hey there...Fox, isn't it?" Mike said, but his voice didn't sound angry at all. "You've got to take it easy in the hallways, okay buddy? There are other patients and people here that you could have knocked into." Fox felt bad for a minute, until he remembered how much fun it had been. But he knew what he had to do. He looked down at his lap and said, "Sorry." Behind him he heard Day-na, making little gasping sounds, and he hoped she was all right. Mike patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Fox waited a moment and sneaked a peek after the nurse and then looked up at Day-na. It was hard for him to tell if she was mad or not. He tried his big smile, the one that always made her smile back, and lifted his shoulders up. Day-na did smile back, not a big one, but one that he could see in her eyes too, and said, "Come on, let's get back to your room." She put her hands on the handles of the chair and started pushing. He helped her, but was careful not to let the wheelchair pull away from her. She didn't say anything all the way back to his room, and he was scared she was going to leave before he got to touch the baby. After she had gotten his wheelchair through the door and shut it behind her, Fox looked at her and quickly asked, "Can we read our book?" She didn't answer right away, just stood there looking at him, which made him feel worried and a little scared that she was going to leave, and then she said, "Of course." He hurried to get the book from its spot on the table by his bed, pushing the wheels quickly, the chair moving easily beneath his hands. He grabbed it up, putting it in his lap, and rolled over to the window where Day-na already sat in the chair that was always there for her. Fox got as close to her as he could, and smiled to himself when she put her arm around his shoulders like he had hoped she would. He looked over and down at her belly, but could not see any kicking. Maybe after the book she would help him move his hand all over, chasing the movements inside. Day-na opened the book and began reading. She always went first, because that's how it should be, just like when the book had been new. He read along inside his head with her, but did not say the words out loud. The next page was his turn to read. He knew the whole book, from front to back, could read it to himself, but he liked it best when they read it together. He snuggled into her as they got near the end, resting his head on her shoulder. He was getting tired. Day-na read the last page and closed the book, which was still in his lap. He didn't feel like moving at all, he just wanted to sit there with Day-na. He let his eyes close, but they popped open again when Day-na spoke his name. "Fox," she said in her quiet voice. "Can you tell me who Scully is?" A picture in his head... Day-na and the dark-haired man, lying in a bed together. He squeezed his eyes shut again quickly, very tight, his shoulders scrunching up, and pushed the picture away. He didn't want his head to hurt. He could feel Day-na move, and his eyes opened once more. He did not look up at her, even though he knew she wanted him to. She said his name again, and finally he lifted his head and turned to look at her. "I...I don't...I don't know," he whispered. "When I try to think about it, my head starts to hurt." "Are there...are there other things that make your head hurt?" Day-na asked, still talking in her quiet voice. Her arm around his shoulders felt heavy, like she wanted to move it but couldn't. Like when he had a bad dream and wanted to get away and couldn't. He nodded, and looked down again. He would try to tell her about the dark-haired man, the man who he thought sometimes was him. "Sometimes I see...I see a man, and he looks like me. He goes into this circle of light, with all these other people. It makes me feel scared." He didn't like talking about that, it made his head really hurt, so it was hard to explain what he meant. Day-na was making those funny breathing noises, and he knew somehow that this was important to her. He talked some more, even though his head was hurting. "Other times the man is with you, Day-na, and..." He had to stop and swallow the big lump in his throat. "He calls you Scuh-leeee." He wanted the bad thoughts to stop. He wanted his head to stop hurting. "Day-na?" he said, and his voice was wobbly. She hadn't said anything else and he was scared. He turned his head to look at her, but she was looking down. "It's okay, Fox," she said then, and lifted her head. He could see that her eyes were shiny. "Everything's going to be okay." He felt a little better when she said that, and because she didn't ask any more about the bad thoughts. Her hand came up from his shoulder, and pushed his head back down into her neck. He sighed and rubbed his nose there. She was warm and soft and smelled pretty. He let his eyes close when he felt her hand tickling his hair. They sat together like that for a long time, and Fox remembered again about touching her belly. But when he was going to ask her if they could feel the baby move, the nighttime orderly came in. Day-na moved away, and he heard her sniffle a little. Dave came over and took him to the bathroom to get ready, and when they came back, Day-na was sitting in her chair by his bed. She waited until Dave had left the room before pulling her chair closer. Fox moved his arm and stuck his hand out, and Day-na took him, her thumb rubbing the back of it in the tickling way he liked. Sometimes he could close his eyes and fall asleep while she did that. Sleep sounded like a good idea, so he let his eyes close. "Fox?" Day-na said real quiet. "Did Katy tell you about your tests tomorrow?" "Uh-huh," he said, and nodded against the pillow, keeping his eyes shut. He didn't really like having to go for tests, but at least he got to ride in the ambulance. Maybe they would even turn the sirens on for him. "You know I'll be there with you, right?" Day-na said, after a few minutes of quiet. "Glad," he whispered, and yawned really loud. He heard her little laugh, and smiled to himself. It was quiet again for a bit, and he was starting to think about racecars, when he heard Day-na's chair move. Then he felt her lips on his cheek. She whispered, "Good night, Fox." "Night...Day...na." The touch on his hand was gone, but that was okay, because he was pretty sure he had just won the race. He rubbed his cheek, the one she had kissed, into the pillow, and smiled. *** Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. March 1, 2001 4:45 am Scully shifted around on the mattress, and was unsuccessful in her attempt to find a position that eased the ache in her back, despite the pillow she had stuffed there during the last of many such futile efforts. Sighing harshly, she stared unblinkingly at the bright red glow of numbers on her alarm clock and felt the bitter sting of tears as her eyes protested the abuse. It was time to face facts. She was not going to get any sleep tonight. With that admission, Scully sighed and hauled herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her feet dangled slightly until she inched her body forward, her toes now touching the roughness of the throw rug. She rubbed her back and then her belly before slowly standing, and reached for her cotton robe. Shrugging it on, she looked about briefly for her slippers, and not spying them immediately, decided to go without. She padded barefoot to the bathroom, relieved her bladder and washed her hands, and then continued down the dark hallway towards the kitchen. She bumped into the little deacon's bench halfway there, and could not contain a sharp cry of surprise and even fear. She then cursed herself, low and harshly. She had become clumsy during the second trimester of her pregnancy, and knew better than to be walking around in the dark; she should have turned at least her night lamp on, it would have illuminated the hallway enough until she had got to the kitchen. Her nerves were shot too, which didn't help, and the few times she had managed to drift off, she had horrifying nightmares in which Mulder suffered irreparable damages due to the induced coma. Each nightmare had left her wondering if she was doing the right thing, or if she was courting disaster by proceeding. Despite the support from everyone she had spoken to - her mother, Skinner, the Gunmen, even Doggett... she was still terribly afraid. But she could think of no other options. And she was not prepared to abandon the man who had been Fox Mulder. The father of her baby. Scully sat on the bench and rubbed her shin, feeling a slight bump there, shaking her head as she thought of the bruise it would be in a few hours. With a slight groan she got to her feet again and proceeded to the kitchen with more caution, sliding her hand along one wall until she was there. She flicked on the overhead light, squinting at the sudden brightness until her eyes adjusted, and headed for the stove. She filled the kettle and put it on the burner, and then went about retrieving a mug and the herbal tea she had taken to drinking on occasion. While the kettle boiled, she made herself some toast and peanut butter, knowing there would be no sleep for her now. She put the plate with the toast on a small tray and poured her tea, inhaling the aromatic steam with a deep sniff. Putting the mug on the tray as well, she moved slowly out to the living room, the light in the kitchen illuminating the room well. Placing the tray on the coffee table, she sank down into the couch with another grunt, something she had noticed she had started doing recently. Leaning forward with effort she snagged first the TV converter, which she placed beside her for the moment, and then the plate of toast, before sagging back into the cushions. Several mindless seconds of channel flicking found nothing worthwhile, so she turned it to MTV, a station she rarely watched. She lowered the sound until it was nearly inaudible and stared blankly at the glowing screen as she nibbled unenthusiastically at her snack. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Fox, as they so often did, and she pictured him as he had looked when she had told him of the 'tests' he was going for the next day. It had pained her, that it was a necessity to lie to him, but she could not contemplate having to tell him what she planned. He had grimaced, for he was not overly fond of the hospital, and of the tests, and really, who could blame him? In his child-like mind, they were scary events that he did not fully comprehend, and had to accept because the grown-ups demanded them. Here Scully grimaced herself, for it was she who demanded them, in her driving need to find some sign of improvement in his condition. Of which there had been none, making her feel even worse for having subjected him to them... there had never been any change. Yet he had lightened her spirits seconds later, as he so often did with a look or a smile or a gesture that was Mulder to the core, all unknowingly of course. He had snuggled into his pillow and replied that he was glad to her statement that she would be there with him. It had not assuaged her guilt, the only thing that would do that would be for Mulder to awake healthy and whole from the coma, but it had helped her feel just the tiniest bit better. Scully finished her tea and toast and looked at the clock. Not quite 5:30 yet, and Fox was not scheduled to be at the hospital until 8 am, but she might as well get ready now. There was nothing else to do but wait, anyway, and going about her morning routine would keep her occupied until it was time to go to the hospital, at least. With that thought in mind, she rose slowly from the couch and carried the tray back into the kitchen. She did the dishes quickly, and put away the tray and the box of tea, and then headed back to the bathroom for her shower. *** Georgetown University Medical Center Georgetown, D.C. March 1, 2001 12:45 pm Scully stifled yet another yawn, ducking her head down to hide it from her mother's steady regard. The effects of her nearly sleepless night were catching up with her... her eyes were red-rimmed and blurry and she knew she could easily lay her head down on the edge of the hospital bed and be asleep in minutes, if it even took that long. It did not help matters that the steady drone of the respirator was quite hypnotic. At the thought of the respirator, Scully looked up again and over at the apparatus, and frowned slightly. She had not been present when the doctor had induced coma, unable to watch Fox slip away into unconsciousness, and it had surprised her when she had come back in the room and seen him hooked up on the machine that assisted his breathing. The reason had come to her in seconds - because one of the drugs necessary for the induced coma was a paralyzing agent, the respirator was required - but it simply had not occurred to her until then. The IV, which she had been present for, because Fox had told her beforehand that he didn't like needles and wanted her to hold his hand, and the EEG machine and heart monitor, she had expected. Scully winced now, as she had at that moment when she had first seen it, as she looked again at the tube protruding from his mouth, and the tape used to hold it in place. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, an assurance that he was still alive, one she desperately clung to. She blinked and let her eyes unfocus as she stared at him, drifting back to earlier that morning. She had sat with Fox until the nurse had come in to begin administering the sedative in his IV, stroking his hand and talking softly. And still holding a faint smile from his story about his ambulance ride, and how the driver had indeed used the sirens for him. Once she realized why the nurse was there, she had risen with a grunt that had made Fox giggle, leaned over to kiss his cheek and then told him she would see him later, walking quickly from the room before he could see the tears that were already rolling down her cheeks. Straight into her mother's comforting arms, where the walls and all her defenses had crumbled, and she had been soothed and rocked as she had been so many times as a child. And where she had wailed her grief and fear as the enormity of what she had done sank in. Scully felt tears welling again, and sniffled, ducking her head once more, squeezing her eyes shut to try and stop the flow. A hand touched her shoulder, and she opened them again to see a tissue waving gently in front of her. Lifting the hand that had been cupped around her belly she took it with a whispered thank-you and wiped away the tears. "Dana, honey," her mom began, and returned her hand to Scully's shoulder, which she then squeezed, before shifting to crouch before her. "You can't sit here like this all day. It's not good for you." She paused, her hand moving down to rest on the bulge of Scully's belly, and then added, "Or the baby." Scully avoided her mother's gaze, until her mother reached out and gently but firmly grasped her chin, the quivering of which Scully could not halt, and tilted it up. Scully bit her lip as she looked into the blue of her mother's eyes and saw her own weariness and pain reflected there. She knew her mother was right, just as she knew her mother would not leave until she did. Scully nodded slowly, and sniffled, rubbing her nose in an entirely unladylike manner that made her mother smile slightly and turn to dig through her purse for a fresh tissue. "Blow," she commanded, after handing the tissue over. Scully did, loudly and fully, and they both smiled at the sound and then as one said, "Foghorn!" The word was an old family joke that referred to the sound Ahab and his youngest daughter both made when they blew their noses, and it brought about a fit of laughter that was soon tinged with hysteria on Scully's part. The laughter turned to tears, her hold on her emotions tenuous at best, and then Scully was once again in her mother's arms, leaning forward awkwardly in her seat, and her mother now on her knees on the floor. They rocked together, her mother's hands stroking her back in slow up and down sweeps that also helped to ease the ache there. Moments passed, and slowly her sobs ceased. Scully pulled back and her mother released her, angling her head back to stare into Scully's eyes, her own watery and red-rimmed. "Okay, honey?" she said softly, and Scully nodded, swiping at her wet cheeks. The laughter and tears had been a catharsis, a cleansing one. She really did feel a little better. Her mother straightened, her knees creaking, and held out a hand. "Come on then, Dana. Let's get cleaned up, and then we'll go out and get some lunch. And then you'll lie down for a nap." Scully opened her mouth to protest the nap, wanting to return immediately after lunch, but her mother continued on with a glint in her eye and the tone of her voice implacable. "We'll tell the nurses we're going and to call you if there is any change whatsoever." At Scully's frown she added, "I'm sure I saw those three friends of yours, those Lonely Gunmen or whatever they call themselves in the hallway earlier. Fox won't be alone, Dana." Not that he would know anyway, Scully thought fatalistically, and then pushed the dismal thought away. She nodded then and placed her hand in her mother's, grateful for the assistance in rising. "Okay, mom," she said. "Let's go then." Her mother picked up her own purse and Scully's overcoat, handing the coat to her, before slipping into her own jacket. Scully threw it over her arm for the time being, she was too warm to wear it inside. She called out to her mother, "I'll be out in a second, Mom," and smiled slightly at her when her mother turned to look, her concern obvious. "I'm okay," she added, and watched as her mother's eyes flicked from her to the man lying in the bed and back, and then filled with understanding. After a moment, her mother nodded and left the room. Scully waited until the door had closed before turning and making her way back to Mulder's bedside, her hand coming up to lightly stroke his arm, the one not hindered by the IV. She frowned slightly at terming him 'Mulder' so quickly, not having realized she had somehow already said goodbye to the boy that had been Fox. Maybe that was a positive sign, that her conscious believed he was Mulder once again. She hoped so. It was as she was rising to her feet that Scully had remembered her mother telling her something long ago. Something about when she had been in her coma after her mysterious return from the still unexplained abduction. Her mother had told her that during one of her visits to see her in the ICU, she had found Mulder sitting by her bedside, holding her hand and talking to her like it was a normal everyday conversation. Scully had told her mother that many people believed that despite the fact that the individual was unconscious, they were still aware of things around them. She had never really given it much thought, or put much credence in such a theory, but if it were true, she did not want Mulder to feel all alone, wherever he thought himself to be. Bending closer to his ear, she softly said, "Hey, Mulder, it's me. I'm just going to get something to eat and walk around a bit, but I'll be back. I promise." She leaned even closer and pressed a kiss on the same cheek she had earlier kissed when he had been Fox, careful not to disturb the respirator tubing, and then added, "The guys will be coming in to see you, okay?" She started to pull away and then leaned back in, putting her lips right against his ear. "I love you, Mulder." She straightened slowly, one hand at her back, the jacket still tucked in the crook of that arm, and the other on his arm. She gave his arm one last stroke and headed out of the room to rejoin her mother. *** Georgetown University Medical Center Georgetown, D.C. March 3, 2001 2:15 pm Two days after Mulder was medically induced to a coma, Billy Miles awoke from his. Scully was sitting in what had already become her usual spot - a lounge-type chair brought in by the nurses after her mother had spoken to them about her condition... and realized after that she must have actually dozed off. The shrill ring of her cell phone, tucked in the pocket of her coat, was loud in the room otherwise disturbed only by the hiss and whoosh of the ventilator machine. Scully lunged upwards with a gasp, one hand going to her belly in a protective gesture, the other reaching out and clutching the arm of the chair tightly. Certain something was wrong and that Mulder's heart monitor was signaling an alarm, she pushed to her feet and took a step closer to the bed. Only to realize he lay as he had for the last two days, still and seemingly at peace, and that the sound was her cell phone. She fumbled to pull it out of her pocket, and finally did, hitting send and bringing it to her ear to gasp out, "Scully." "Dana, it's John." She heard Doggett's voice through a burst of static. He did not wait for her to respond, and added quickly, "Billy Miles is awake." Scully blinked slowly, her breathing still ragged from her abrupt awakening, and moved the few steps backwards necessary to lower herself back into her seat. She did so, carefully, her free hand searching and finding the arm of the chair to aid her descent, and landed with a soft exhalation. Her eyes stared unblinking at the floor in front of her, the cell phone held to her ear, as her mind processed the words John had spoken. 'Billy Miles is awake.' Where once the news might have filled her with a faint hope and sent her flying across the country, it now only stirred the vaguest of interest, and was not enough to induce her to leave Mulder's bedside. "Dana? Are you still there?" John's voice was a little louder this time, full of concern. "Um...yes, I'm still here," Scully replied, finally, and shifted a little in her seat. The baby had been disturbed by the suddenness of her rising, and was moving quite aggressively, jabbing her quite painfully. Her initial adrenalin rush from that awakening had faded as well, and she was weary again. "I'm sorry, I wasn't...I didn't...I didn't expect... " "I know," John interrupted. "Listen, you're at the hospital, right? I'll come get you." Scully opened her mouth to reply, and closed it again without speaking. She knew John would understand when she told him she would not be going, that she could not leave Mulder, but found herself without the words. "Dana? Did you hear me?" Scully took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and blurted out, "I'm not going to go!" There was another burst of static and then John's voice, rather loud, and more than a bit surprised. "Did you say you're not going?" Scully sighed a little, rubbing at her belly, and said, "John, I'm sorry, but I can't leave Mulder. I won't." She glanced over at Mulder then, stared at the constant motion of his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the respirator. Her second sigh was a little harsher, and her next words were evidence of her frustration and fear and pain. "Besides there's no point, Billy's not going to tell us anything." Silence from the other end for a moment, and then John said, "I understand, Dana. But I still think I should go, just in case." A pause, during which she rose once more and went to stand beside Mulder, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm, feeling the need to touch him. His skin was soft, and warm, the baby fine hairs there tickling against her fingers, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to crawl into the bed with him. And to have him wake up and know her as his Scuh-leeee. John continued, "I'm going to head over to the Hoover building. Skinner will be there even though it's Saturday, I'll make arrangements through him. I'll call you if I have any news." "That..." her voice broke just a tiny bit as she stared at Mulder's still face, expressionless in his unnatural slumber. She cleared her throat. "That's a good idea, John. I'll talk to you later." He disconnected immediately, she was much slower in pressing end and folding up her phone. She laid it on the mattress to put away later, content to stand as she was for now, watching Mulder. A sudden yawn surprised her, and she shook her head slightly. As was her habit of late, she ran her eyes over every visible part of him... his spiky hair that her hands itched to smooth down, and did, his stubbled cheeks and chin, that also invited her touch, the pulse that beat steadily in his neck. She talked softly to him at these times, telling him she was there, and that she missed him. Another habit, an almost compulsive one, was checking all the equipment and wires that were running to and from his body. She talked to him then too, explaining what she was doing at each step. She shifted her stance slightly, and inspected his IV, his Foley catheter and the leads to his heart monitor. The respirator was examined as well, with a careful touch so as not to disturb the tubing. Her next stop was the EEG machine, on the other side of the bed, where she lifted the strip that printed out continually, and glanced at the lines that represented his brain waves. The printout looked blurry, and she blinked to clear her eyes. Yet the blurriness remained, now looking somewhat like a smudge. She blinked again and brought the strip closer to her face. One of the lines actually looked like it had a hint of an echo, almost like when a faxed copy of a report had faint shadows on certain words. Frowning, she went back a few pages, and spotted the same blip, or irregularity, every so often. Then back even further. It was still there, and always on the same wave. A chill ran through her, and she realized she was quite possibly holding more evidence of the brain abnormalities Mulder had and was apparently still suffering. She wondered if it would be the same on the EEG's of the other abductees. She cursed then, angry with herself for having missed this sign too if it were true; she would have to check the other EEG's as well. Although she had to admit it was not easily spotted, it did look like a smudge, or like the ink had smeared. But still, her own carelessness at not catching this earlier was galling, and a bitter pill to swallow. It was not until she felt paper crinkling did she look down to see that she had fisted her hands, the printouts clutched within. She opened them quickly, smoothing the strips out and replacing them, before coming around the bed back to Mulder's side. Of course she had not brought her briefcase with her to the hospital, she would have to go home and get all the medical files. She glanced at her watch; it was just after 2:30. Her mother had said she would come by before 3, so Scully would wait until she arrived and then go home to check the EEG's. What she would do after that, she did not know. *** Georgetown University Medical Center Georgetown, D.C. March 5, 2001 11:15 am Scully moved slowly along the hospital corridor, thankful it was mostly empty at this time of day. That way she did not have to smile or perhaps engage in small talk with anyone. She did not feel up to being polite or friendly right now. Her back was aching already, and it was only mid-morning, and the baby had managed to find a spot within her that compressed a nerve leading down her right leg, which was alternately numb or sore from the pressure. Walking helped a little, and it also allowed her to get the kinks out from sitting in the same position for the last hour and a half, since she had first arrived at the hospital. The nurse was in with Mulder at the moment, checking his vitals, and she had used the opportunity to get out and stretch a bit. Ever since she had confirmed that each of the other abductees' EEGs had the same irregularity on their printouts, she had been reluctant to leave Mulder alone. She was afraid she would miss something, some sign or indication he was improving. She had already arranged with Skinner before Mulder had been induced into coma for a leave of absence of undetermined length, and spent the majority of her time at the hospital by Mulder's side. If it had been at all possible, she would be there all the time, despite the protests of both her mother and Skinner. But the health of the baby had to come first. No matter how much she loved Mulder. During the day, if she was not there monitoring him and the EEG for any sign of change or the disappearance of the smudged wave as she had now begun to call the irregularity, one of the Gunmen had that duty. Though it was not really a duty to any of them, herself included. As for the nighttime, she had spoken at length with Mulder's doctor, and he had arranged for a nurse to check the EEG results on a bi-hourly basis. And to call her if there was anything to report. So far there had been no change. It was worrisome. She had not thought there would be immediate evidence that the coma had been the right thing to do, despite her fervent hope that would be the case, it had been far too unrealistic an expectation. But it had been five days now, and there had been absolutely no sign at all. Scully stopped and moved closer to the wall, putting one palm flat against it to support herself, as the baby kicked her quite vigorously in the side. With her free hand, she pushed gently on the spot that had been abused, and thankfully the baby shifted once more. As she turned to head back to Mulder's room, sure the nurse would have completed her check now, she heard a voice call out her name. She looked down the corridor to her right, to see Skinner heading towards her, his black trench coat billowing around him as he strode purposefully towards her. "Hello, si-, I mean Walter," she said when he caught up with her, and then smiled wryly at him, as she had nearly greeted him as 'sir'. It had gotten easier as time passed to call him by his first name away from the Bureau, but upon seeing him in his FBI attire the title had automatically come to her lips. "Dana," he responded, a quirky smile on his own face. He had also gotten over his difficulties with terming her 'Dana' instead of 'Scully', and rarely slipped up. "How are you feeling?" "A little tired, a little achy." She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "The usual." She had given up on trying to pretend everything was all right, most of the time the person who had posed the question didn't believe her anyway. It was just easier to go with the truth. Mulder would have been surprised, and very likely amused, that she had finally admitted to having weaknesses like everyone else. That for once, everything was not 'fine.' She was sure he also would have had some wisecrack to celebrate the moment. Walter's next words pulled her from her thoughts of Mulder, both his voice and expression serious. "Don't stress yourself, Dana," he said. "If you need help, you ask for it. Anything you need, I'm here. So is Agent Doggett." "I know, Walter, and I thank you for that. But being tired and achy is normal, and I'm being very careful not to overdo it." Scully lifted one eyebrow at him as she spoke, an almost uncontrolled habit of hers when she was speaking earnestly. Also when she was angry, as Mulder had been witness to on many occasions. There he was, slipping into her every waking thought again, much as he had taken up permanent residence in her sleeping ones. That made her recall her many dreams of the night before. All of them sexual in nature, and all involved Mulder. As one particularly hot event popped in her head, she felt herself flush. And then felt Walter's hands gripping her by the arms. "Dana? Are you all right?" His voice was louder than normal, and very concerned. The flush deepened. Oh, dear. She imagined herself replying, 'I'm fine, Walter, just having an erotic visual of Mulder and myself', and closed her eyes for a minute. That only worried him further obviously, for he muttered a curse as his hands tightened on her and he pushed her back until she was against the wall. Her eyes popped open at that, to see him looking rather wildly up and down the corridor, the muscle in his jaw twitching rapidly. He then said, "Hang on, Scully, let's get you to a chair, I'll get some help." Even as she was opening her mouth to tell him she was all right, she noted how he had reverted back to his once usual form of address. "Walter...sir...I'm fine, honestly. I just...ah, I just got a little light-headed for a moment. It's passed. I'm fine." His head swiveled to face her again, and his grip on her arms lessened. "Are you sure? You're okay?" Other than being embarrassed as hell, I'm fine, she thought. She nodded and said, "I'm sure." She was not sure how to apologize, or if she should. Or how to at all. He solved her dilemma by smiling suddenly, his hands leaving her arms completely. "You know, Dana, I don't know if I'm exactly the best back-up for your birthing coach. This," and here he indicated her with a wave of his hands, "was nerve-wracking enough." She had asked him to be her back-up coach, with her mother as actual coach, a few days after Mulder had awoken from his first coma and she had realized he might never be okay. It was an unspoken and silently acknowledged fact though that both of them were holding those positions only until Mulder recovered. Until, not if. Scully laughed then, picturing him pacing up and down the hallway as she labored to deliver her child. The picture turned her mood, which had been sliding towards depressed with her thoughts of Mulder unable to be her coach. "You'll do fine, Walter. A big, tough ex-Marine such as yourself, it'll be a walk in the park." He grunted out a laugh, and then surprised her by pulling her into a gentle hug. "I'll be there, don't you worry," he said softly. "I know," she replied with equal softness, and lightning-quick, tears were forming in her eyes. She blinked them back before he could see them, not wanting to alarm him again. Walter cleared his throat, and released her. "Well, now that I know you're okay, I'll tell you why I came by. I had an appointment that didn't last as long as I had expected, so I thought I would come by and take you to lunch." He shifted and lifted his arm up to glance at his watch. "I know it's a little early, but I figured you could use a break." At the mention of lunch, her stomach rumbled. "That's very nice of you, and you're right," Scully replied, smiling once more, and patted her stomach. "We could use a break. One of the Gunmen should be here any minute, and then we can go." Walter cupped her elbow, and they walked together down the hallway to Mulder's room, to await the arrival of a Gunmen. *** 8:20 pm Despite the fact she had gone home and taken a nap after her lunch with Walter, Scully could feel the exhaustion creeping in again already. Of course she had been at the hospital for the last 5 or 6 hours, with only a small break for dinner with her mother midway through that time. Visiting hours were over at 8:30, and though the nurses made an allowance for her if she stayed a bit longer, she thought that tonight she would leave then. She shifted in her chair, arching her sore back slightly, and had to bring a hand up to cover a huge, sudden yawn. Her jaw cracked with the force, and a tiny noise escaped her mouth, and she was embarrassed at the sound. Until she realized the only other occupant of the room was most likely totally unaware of her presence. But in case he was aware of the things around him, his very self locked inside his own mind, she continued to talk to and touch him with frequency, and a growing ease at doing so. She had brought the portable radio from his room at the Bakersfield Home, along with some of his own CD's and some of the ones they had listened to at her apartment, and she played them periodically. She had had the Gunmen bring in a VCR, so that she could play the videotape of basketball games Frohike had made for him during his disappearance. She had even begun to move his arms and legs twice daily through some of the passive exercises Mary Anne had shown her how to do when the therapist had begun Fox's physiotherapy upon his arrival at the Home. She still left a majority of the tending of his personal needs to his nurses, feeling slightly uncomfortable with that aspect of his care. This was because of her innate sense of privacy, not only for herself, but for him as well, despite the fact that she was quite familiar with every inch of his body, and he of hers. Although she did continue to monitor and check all the equipment, and the accompanying tubes and wires, that he was hooked up to, on a regular basis. It had become a constant need for her... to connect with him physically, and perhaps even to atone for not finding the results in the medical files sooner and having him put into this coma. For playing God with his life. Which so far appeared to be for naught, she thought with bitterness. And then quickly chastised herself for her negativity. He would get better. She had to believe that. Scully sighed and shifted a little once again, her hand rubbing her belly in slow circles, the gesture having become her physical version of a mantra. Just like she had to touch Mulder. She glanced at her watch and decided to check things one last time before leaving for the night, it was almost 8:30. She planted both feet firmly on the floor, slightly spread for balance, and with her hands also planted firmly on the arms of the chair, hoisted herself up and out. A grunt escaped this time, and she made a face, glad no one was around to witness it; she got a little tired of the grins and cute comments at her bulk and her increasing difficulties in getting to her feet. In quick, economical movements, she checked his IV lines and his catheter, ensuring his output was normal, which it was. After a brief look at his heart monitor leads, she allowed her hand to rest on his chest for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the steady and reassuring thud of his heart against her palm. "Hey, Mulder, it's me," she said quietly. There was still this irrational hope within her that she would feel his heart rate increase when she spoke to him, but it did not. "I'm getting ready to go home for the night, and I'll be back in the morning." Her hand slid reluctantly away, and she readjusted his hospital gown before moving it to rest briefly on his cheek, her thumb stroking there gently. His stubble was rough and scratchy, and she could see signs of irritation on the skin around his mouth from the tape that held the respirator tube in place. She touched it lightly, a moue of distress on her face, and made a mental note to ask one of the nurses tomorrow for some sort of ointment for him. Leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek and to whisper 'I love you' in his ear, her eyes happened to glance over at the EEG machine. She shook her head slightly, annoyed at herself, for she had almost left without checking the printouts of the last little while. Another yawn cracked her jaw as she made her way around the bed, and she rubbed at her eyes before reaching for the strips. She was not expecting to see anything different, and therefore almost missed it. Almost put the strip back down, said her goodbye, and left. But it caught her eye somehow. The blip, or smudge, was gone from the printout. Sure she was just not seeing properly, Scully blinked rapidly to clear any trace of weariness from her eyes and looked again. It was still not there. She quickly grabbed the moveable lamp over Mulder's bed and swung it closer to herself, angling it directly over the strip of paper in her hand, studying it intently. Her heart began to pound, heavy thumps she could feel in the pit of her stomach, while her hands were icy cold and trembling. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, and looked back over the strips of the last hour. Hope blossomed. For in between her last check of the monitor, which had probably been well over an hour ago, and just now, the anomaly on Mulder's EEG reading had disappeared. Her eyes left the evidence before her, her head lifting slowly, and shifted to the man lying on the hospital bed. The strips of paper fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as she stumbled around the machine and to his side. "Mulder?" Scully half-whispered, one shaking hand coming up to touch his arm, tears building in her eyes. She blinked them back, and shifted her stance, her belly pressing uncomfortably against the bedrail. This enabled her to lean closer, and she moved her hand from his arm to his face, the other coming up to rest over his heart. The thumbs of both her hands moved automatically, caressing gently, stroking his cheek and his gown-covered chest. "Mulder, can you...Mulder, oh God, Mulder, if you can hear me..." Her voice trailed off as her mind began to process what she had just learned. They needed to order a CAT scan to confirm that Mulder's brain functions were normal again; she had to contact his doctor to arrange for one. She cursed out loud as she realized they probably would not be able to do so until the morning, flinching at the crude word she rarely uttered. Her teeth clenched on another curse; morning seemed so very far away at that moment. And if the scan showed that they were normal...if they were, the medication that kept him in his coma had to be stopped. But not until then. Her eyes flicked from his face to his IV, to stare at the lines entering the veins in his arm... for nutrition, and to administer the drugs on a predetermined schedule. The hope continued to grow; maybe very soon, even tomorrow, the IV would no longer be necessary. Scully lifted her hand from his cheek, stroking it through his spiky hair in one last caress, and stretched on tiptoe to press a kiss on the spot where it had lain. She lowered herself back down and leaned back a little, the guardrail had begun to hurt. This time she did not whisper her goodnight in his ear, instead speaking out loud. As if vocalizing what was going to be. "Mulder...God, I hope...no, I know I'm going to be telling this to you soon." She paused, and then let all her emotions pour forth into her next words. "I love you, Mulder." She studied his face for a moment and then shuffled over to her chair, plucking her coat off its back. She threw it over her arm for now, and headed from the room, purpose in every stride, as waddling as those steps might have been. She had a call to make. *** End Part 4 of 12