TITLE: Torn
AUTHOR: Gabi Fisher
SPOILER WARNING: Slight reference to War of the Coraphages (or however you spell it...)
CLASSIFICATION: A, AU, UST
SUMMARY: Scully gets several visitors while in the hospital, one being a very late Mulder.
DISCLAIMER: If I did own the story and characters instead of CC, Fox, 1013 and whoever
else has their foot in the money pot, the show would be just a bit different. *g* Or maybe
more than "just a bit..."
* * *
Mulder opened the desk drawer and found a piece of a plane ticket stub.
Obviously it had been overlooked in the hasty departure of the people who had Samantha.
There was little legible information on the torn ticket, but Mulder could make out the
destination of the flight Boston, Massachusetts.
With a small pang of guilt that he carefully ignored, Mulder pulled out
his cell phone and called the airline. After giving them his badge number and assuring
them of the utter importance in the fact that he needed to be on the next flight to
Boston, Massachusetts, he had a ticket for the flight which would be leaving in half an
hour.
Driving a minimum of fifteen miles over the speed limits, Mulder
reached the airport, checked in his car, and boarded the plane a mere five minutes before
its scheduled departure time. As the plane sailed down the airstrip, Mulder stared out the
window and silently promised that he would go back to Washington to visit Scully as soon
as he found out all he could from Boston.
* * *
"Honey, do you want me to see if Estelle can come? Some company
might make you feel better. And a few years ago, she had cancer and also went through
cancer treatment, so she knows what it is like," Mrs. Scully asked.
Under her breath, so softly that she wasn't sure she had even spoken
them out loud, Scully whispered, "Yeah, so have I." That wasn't what her mother
needed to hear. Scully wasn't quite sure which of the two of them was stronger at the
moment. To her mother, she said, "Sure. It couldn't hurt. And she seemed really nice.
I wouldn't mind talking with her again."
"Alright. I will call her in a moment and see if he can come over
sometime tomorrow. Technically, I think that visiting hours are over by now. Do you care
what time?"
"Sometime after lunch. I think Mulder said he'd try to come
earlier in the morning," Scully replied, somewhat wistfully. She wished that he was
already with her.
"Where is Fox? He's usu--" Mrs. Scully stopped herself,
though Scully was sure that she was going to end the sentence with "He's usually with
you in the hospital." Yeah, he usually was. But those times weren't right after he
had seen Samantha.
Scully's reply was simply, "I'm not really sure. He was following
up a lead in New York last I heard."
"Well, I hope he is having luck," Mrs. Scully said. "If
you wait a moment, I'll call Estelle now and see if she is free tomorrow afternoon."
* * *
Mulder had already disembarked in Boston by the time he realized he had
no idea what to do once he was in the airport. Samantha and the men who had taken her, one
of which was surely the Smoking Man, could be anywhere. He was certain that they would not
stay in the area for long. They would be afraid that Mulder would be able to find them
again.
At the ticket counter, Mulder described his sister and the Smoking Man,
hoping someone would recognize their description but the only answers he got were
"I'm sorry, I just started my shift" or "I'm sorry, there are too many
people coming through here for me to notice them all." Mulder asked the security
guards in the area as well, but got the same answers. Any other person who was in the
vicinity of the gate and looked as if they had been there for a while, though none of the
travelers had seen anyone he was looking for either.
Discouraged and unsure of what to do next, Mulder left the airport and
hailed a taxi, asking to go to the closest motel. The cab driver spoke with a thick accent
that Mulder could not easily place. "Are you sure, mister?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Mulder replied, testily.
"There is a big convention going on at the convention center right
near here since yesterday and for another two days. All the motels are basically booked.
Have you tried calling ahead?"
"No, I hadn't. I wasn't expecting them to be booked. I'll try
calling a few of them now, hold on a second. While I'm calling, could you please take me
to the nearest motel that you think would have some vacancies, please," Mulder
replied, pulling out his cell phone.
After the fifth or sixth call to motels in the near area, Mulder gave
up his hopes of there being a vacancy, he tried the closest suburb. After four calls, he
found a room. It was at what he assumed would be the crummiest motel in the state, but at
least it was a place to sleep.
He gave the driver the address and leaned back, watching the city roll
beside him. He saw families walking, talking animatedly; joggers, a few running with dogs;
an old couple, walking hand in hand, silent but smiling; and several other, younger
couples entering and exiting restaurants.
Seeing all those people living normal lives, doing normal things,
Mulder tried to think back to the last time he did something like that. Something normal.
Thinking back practically to the beginning of time, he remembered his last family dinner.
Their parents had taken Fox and Samantha to their favorite restaurant, Pasta Pasta, as a
treat. The only time the Mulders went there was when there was something to celebrate or
as a really special treat since it was so costly.
It had been a little more than a month before Samantha disappeared.
Mulder had just turned twelve and the Mulders had taken out for a birthday dinner. Thanks
to his photogenic memory, Mulder remembered what they were all wearing that evening. He
even remembered what they ate. It was almost as if somehow Mulder had known that it would
be a day to remember...
That night was the last time an entire staff of waiters and waitresses
had brought out a birthday cupcake and sang for Mulder's birthday. It was the last happy
memory he had of his family. Until he had started working with Scully, it was also the
last happy memory of his life.
"Hey, mister, we're here," the cabbie told him, twisting
around in his seat. Mulder looked at the electronic counter and paid the appropriate
amount before getting out.
"Thanks," he said as he walked through the poorly lit motel
parking lot and into the office. It looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in months. It was
grimy and just about every surface except for the counter had a layer of dust. Mulder
looked around, hoping that the rooms were at least slightly better maintained. A bell sat
on the counter, and Mulder pressed it, eliciting a sharp 'ding.'
A reasonably young man emerged from a back room, carrying a book with
his finger marking his page. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Hi, I'm Fox Mulder and I just made reservations over the phone
about ten minutes ago..."
"Yeah, I just had your key..." the man said, bending down to
look under the counter, most likely where the keys were kept. "Ah, here it is. You
are in room 13, it's right around back. You can't miss it. How many days will you be
staying?"
"Just one night," Mulder replied. "I'll pay now,
cash."
"Alright. That'll be seventy dollars, including tip," the man
said, hitting a few keys on the old cash register. The tray opened with a metallic click
and he took Mulder's money and handed him a poorly printed receipt. "Enjoy your
stay."
"Thanks." Mulder hoped that the man's comment implied that
the rooms might make the stay enjoyable, though he doubted it.
Rooms branched from either side of the office, forming an L. There were
stairs close to the exit of the office, but Mulder walked around them. The man had said
that the room was impossible to miss, though due to the bad lighting, it took Mulder five
minutes to figure out which room was his.
His stay in the motel was already off to a bad start, and he had barely
just arrived there.
* * *
"Ok, I'll see you then. We'll be looking forward to it. Bye,"
Mrs. Scully said into the phone as she hung it up. To Scully, she said, "Estelle said
that she could come by around one or so."
"That's fine. I'm going to try to sleep now, if that's alright
with you, though. I'm really tired," Scully said. She wasn't really all that tired,
but she didn't want to talk with her mother because that would eventually lead to talking
about Mulder, and she wasn't up to that.
"Isn't it a bit early?"
"No, not really. I've had a busy few days," Scully told her
mom, punctuation her sentence with a yawn. "Pull up a chair or something and sit. You
look beat."
"Well, truthfully, I am. I think I will. Later, I'll see if I can
get a cot or portable bed or something to sleep on in here. You just go to sleep,"
Mrs. Scully replied, pulling one of the chairs in the corner of the room to the bed as
Scully rolled over and closed her eyes.
Feigning sleep, Scully slowed her breathing, taking breaths at even
rhythms. She did her best to stay still, only moving every now and then. She knew that her
mother wouldn't go to sleep until she knew-at least think-Scully was.
Twenty minutes after Scully "fell asleep," when Mrs. Scully could barely stop
yawning, she went to ask a nurse for something to sleep on. A few minutes later she came
back toting a small, cream-colored cot. Mrs. Scully set it up next Scully's bed, lay down,
and practically within seconds was asleep.
Scully tried her best to sleep as the night progressed, but couldn't
for more than a half an hour at a time and spent most of the time tossing and turning
restlessly. Sometime during the night she had to get up to stop a nosebleed, which seemed
to take forever. With each new nosebleed, every new symptom of cancer Scully found herself
sinking a little lower into the pit of despair that resided somewhere between her head and
heart. She feared that if her cancer couldn't be cured or sent into remission again she
would become an empty shell of a person, devoid of emotion, for all her emotions would be
sucked into her black hole of despair.
* * *
"Any sign of him?"
"No, sir. We thought we spotted him at the airport, but just
briefly, so we do not think that it was actually him," a man replied, almost
reluctantly.
"So are you saying that you don't *know* where he is?" the
first man said, obviously worried.
"Well, technically, yes. But we will find him very soon, I can
assure you of that."
"You *lost* him? How could you lose him?" the first man
boomed, his worry shifting to anger.
"He... We weren't sure which flight he boarded," the second
man replied timidly.
"Really?"
"Yes. The airport was crowded and no one we talked to would
disclose passenger information to us," he replied, slightly more sure of himself.
"Very well," the first man replied, ending the conversation
by hanging up the phone. For a moment he surveyed his surroundings. Better than some
places he had been, worse than others. At least it was carpeted here. He hoped he wouldn't
be forced to leave again. The few people in the room with him looked at him expectantly.
To them, he announced, "He has proven incompetent. He must be dealt with."
"Yes, sir. Right away," a man in the room answered, leaving
the room to make a phone call. The rest of the people went back to their work as quickly
and efficiently as before.
The first man lit the cigarette he had been twirling between his
fingers and took a seat by the hospital bed. "I'm sorry we keep moving you, but it's
for your own good. I promise. Possibly one day you will realize that. I hope that all this
movement has not been detrimental to your health. If your brother had not interfered, I
would have been able to guarantee it, but now I'm not so sure," the man's words fell
on deaf ears, however. The patient was kept in a near-comatose state with I.V. drugs so
that she would not be aware of the experiments that were being conducted on her.
* * *
Mulder stepped into the bathroom, turned on the light, and jumped back
as a huge roach scuttled to safety in the wall. He shuddered. He'd had more than his share
of roaches in his past dealings with Dr. Bambi. Every now and then he wondered what had
happened to her...
He splashed some water on his face, it would pass as washing his face
for now, and hurried out of the bathroom. Between being too tired to remove his clothes
before lying down and the fear of putting his clothes back on in the morning only to find
a huge insect in them, Mulder slept with his clothes on.
He slept through the night, but only because the nightmares that
tortured him would not relent and let him wake. Around seven Mulder woke to find sunlight
streaming through the worn curtains. For a moment he was disoriented, until the kink in
his back worsened and he awoke fully. He sat up and did his best to massage his back. His
body had long ago gotten used to sleeping on his couch, so he didn't get kinks from
sleeping at his own apartment. Strange, hard, motel beds never failed to give him kinks
and cramps when he woke, however.
Mulder called the airport to see when their next flight to Washington
D.C. was. The woman who answered the phone put him on hold for a moment before returning
with the information, telling him that it wouldn't leave until eleven fifteen. Mulder
booked a seat on that flights, once again charging it to his card, aware of how close to
the spending limit he had to be.
Taking one last, disgusted look around his small room, he decided that
it would be better to wait at the airport than in his motel room, so he called a cab
company. They promised to pick him up within twenty minutes. As quickly as physically
possible Mulder could, he attempted to unwrinkle his suit as best he could before exiting
his room to drop off the key and wait outside for the taxi. At least it wasn't grimy
outside. Gray, overcast, and almost damp, sure, but at least not dirty.
Moments after the taxi finally came and Mulder was inside the car, it
began to rain. The old saying "When it rains, it pours" seemed very accurate for
the situation. Mulder could barely see out his side windows, but knew that it had to be
worse for the driver. He hoped that his flight would not be delayed. He didn't want to
wait any longer than absolutely necessary to visit Scully.
* * *
Although Scully was tired from the few hours of light sleep that she
got, she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep for any longer, so as the sun began to
stream through the window around seven o'clock she did not bother to try. Using the
pillows, she propped herself into a sitting position after getting up to grab a couple of
the magazines that were sitting on the tiny table near her bed. People was on top of the
pile. Under it were Entertainment Weekly and Cosmopolitan. None of the magazines
particularly appealed to her, but she decided that Cosmopolitan would most likely be the
most interesting.
After flipping through about five thousand make-up ads, she finally got
to the first article. It was titled "How to Put Together an Entire Wardrobe with Four
Items." There were several shots of a really tall, really thin blonde model wearing
the same top, skirt, pants, and jacket in different combinations. 'How on earth is this
supposed to relate to the real world if those four items cost more than an entire wardrobe
bought elsewhere?' Scully thought to herself after glancing at the total price of the set.
Scully read the articles on "Perfect Hair, Everyday" and
"Make-up Application for the Artistically Challenged." By the time she got to
"Secrets Between the Sheets," Scully was tired of looking at articles that had
absolutely no bearing on her life, as abnormal as it was, but that article was the last
straw. She didn't need any more tips for something she wouldn't be engaging in any time in
the foreseeable future. She closed the magazine and half threw it onto the table, knocking
over a cup and pitcher, which were luckily empty. The clatter, however, woke up Mrs.
Scully, whose first waking words were, "Is everything alright, Dana?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Mom. I just accidentally knocked some things off
of the little table. I didn't mean to wake you up."
"What are you doing up so early, honey? You are practically up
earlier than the sun?" her mother asked.
"Actually, I usually get up around this time to get to work on
time. I guess my body is just used to that," Scully replied, not wanting to tell her
mother that she couldn't sleep. She knew that her mother would only be more worried, and
she felt that her mother didn't need any more stress at the moment. Neither of them did,
but Scully's could not be helped. "Since you are up, may I turn on the TV? I had
wanted to watch the news."
"That's fine with me. If you don't mind, I actually think I might
run home really fast and get a change of clothes and anything else you wanted from you
apartment before the day really started. What do you want, honey?"
"Uh, I think you got just about everything when you came here
earlier... No, actually could you get the book that is on my nightstand? The magazines
they have here are really boring," Scully commented.
"I know how you feel. I was flipping through them earlier. There
aren't any good ones in here. I'll look and see in the gift shop if there are any ones
that seem interesting," Mrs. Scully said, standing up. She bent over Scully's bed and
kissed her daughter's cheek. "See you in a little bit."
"Bye, Mom."
As soon as Mrs. Scully was out of earshot, Scully sighed. For a little
while she wouldn't have to add to her façade of being better than she was. Physically,
she didn't feel too sick. She had virtually no pain. After a while, she got used to the
nosebleeds; notice blood, hide it from the people she was near, wait until it was done,
clean up her face, pretend nothing was wrong. It had gotten to the point that Scully could
do it almost automatically, no thought involved. Her emotional pain and stress hurt much
more than she believed her body ever could. Emotional scars last much longer than any
physical ones do.
True to her word, Scully tuned the tiny television hanging from the
ceiling to her favorite news station and watched the daily morning show. Though she was
staring at the screen and appeared at first glance to be paying attention to the latest
details about the multiple murder/suicide, Oakland hills fires, or most recent kidnapping.
In reality, Scully's mind was a million miles away, doing her best to block all thoughts
of illness, hospitals, and cancer.
* * *
Unfortunately, Mulder's flight was delayed. He sat an extra hour and a
half in the tiny airport waiting area in his rumpled, now wet, suit, anxiously alternating
between tapping his feet and drumming his fingers on the plastic armrests. Other customers
flashed him annoyed glares, but he did not even acknowledge them. His thoughts switched
between Samantha and Scully. He envisioned what each of them had to be going through, each
going through their own, private hells from which he could do little to free them. Fearing
that the events that transpired in his dream might actually prove true, in a sense, he
attempted to decide whom he would save, and whom he would leave to fend for herself. The
harder he thought, the farther into the depths of his mind the answer hid. He sighed.
The flight attendant finally called for boarding of his flight, and he
was one of the first on the plane. The flight was not long enough to warrant a meal,
though Mulder wished they were serving one. Since he had hardly anything to eat in the
last twenty four hours, he was starving. He decided that he would have to stop and get
some food before he visited Scully. A little more delay before seeing her hopefully would
not instill any homicidal ideas in her head... If it did, he'd be in trouble.
To his amazement, he fell asleep for a little over half the flight. For
the past couple days he had been functioning only because of adrenaline, so had not
noticed how exhausted he really was. He woke up only when the stewardess gently shook him
awake, telling him to fasten his seatbelt and put his chair in the upright position.
Mulder groaned and attempted to rouse himself, though he was not very successful; he was
only half awake when he disembarked.
After entering the "food court" at the airport, Mulder
entered the first restaurant he saw and sat down to eat.
* * *
Nurses drifted in and out of Scully's room throughout the morning,
making half-hearted attempt at small talk, all acting as if they really cared about her
well being, though few did. She occupied her time watching television and flipping idly
through magazine after magazine. When she finished looking through all the magazines in
her room, she looked through them again. She hoped that someone would bring her a few new
ones... The ones that were left in her room were boring the first time she went through
them and worse each time after that.
Mrs. Scully arrived at noon with a duffel bag, Scully's book, and
lunch. "Sorry I didn't stop by McDonalds, honey. I know how much you love their
food," she said with a smile as she held the bag of food tantalizingly in front of
Scully. "Instead I stopped by that little Chinese shop by my house that you love so
much. You rarely come to my house without it. I got your favorite."
"Thank you so much, Mom. You know just what to do to make me feel
better," Scully said with a smile of her own, this time sincere.
The two of them ate and made fun of the soap that was on TV. Although
she did not have her usual appetite, Scully did eat almost one half of what her mom
brought. When they were done eating, Mrs. Scully scooped the take-out containers into the
garbage and they turned off the television and talked for a while. They were interrupted
by a light rapping on the door.
"Yes?" Scully called.
The door opened slightly and Estelle popped her head in. In one hand
she carried a beautiful bouquet of pink, white, and yellow carnations and baby's breath.
When she saw who it was, Scully urged her to come in. Mrs. Scully stood up to give her a
hug, then sat back down again. "I'd stand up, but I'm afraid I'd pull out too many
cords out of me!" Scully said.
"That's quite alright," Estelle assured her. She placed the
flowers on the table (after rearranging the magazines to have room) and bent down to hug
Scully. "How are you feeling, Dana?"
Slightly ruefully, Scully answered, "Well, if I felt *good* then I
wouldn't be here." Estelle chuckled. "Though I don't feel too bad. I've seen
worse days."
"I'm glad to hear it. Cancer treatment is the worst, I know, but
things always get worse before they get better," Estelle commented sympathetically.
"I know, I've gone through it before. It's not much fun, but it's
bearable."
"Yeah... That's true. Dana, Mark hadn't left town yet, so I
brought him with me. I wasn't sure if that was OK with you, so he's in the waiting
room..." Estelle said, waiting for Scully's reaction.
"That's fine, I'd love to see him again. Just warn him I don't
always look this horrible!" Scully said, though the joke passed with weak smiles from
all three women.
Estelle left to bring Mark in, and Mrs. Scully reached up to the bed.
Scully placed her hand in her mother's and gently squeezed. Both turned their heads to the
door with the sound of footsteps outside it.
Mark walked into the room, Estelle right behind him. He looked nervous.
He walked to the hospital bed and offered his hand to Scully. She released her mother's,
and shook his hand. "Hi, Dana. I'd have brought you something, but Mom insisted on
carrying the flowers," he said with a small, nervous smile. "How are you
feeling?" he asked.
"For being in the hospital, not too bad. What about you?"
"Sorry, stupid question. It's just automatic sometimes. I'm
actually pretty good. I have to go back home tomorrow, but I love coming down here to
visit Mom."
"I'm glad," Scully responded. "If there were more seats
here, I'd offer you two a seat. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it, Dana. You already have enough on your mind.
I was actually going to get a cup of coffee. I hope you don't mind if I leave for a
minute, even though I just got here. Did anyone else want any?" Estelle said.
"No thanks," Dana replied.
Mark shook his head.
"Yes, actually I would enjoy some coffee. I think I'll go with
you," Mrs. Scully said, standing up.
As soon as they left the room and were, hopefully, out of earshot, Mark
and Scully laughed. Scully said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they are
playing matchmaker!"
"You know, I bet they are. That's something my mother would
do," Mark replied with a smile.
* * *
Mulder ate as quickly as humanly possible, which was easy because if he
ate any slower, the food tasted like cardboard. He was almost to the long-term parking lot
before he remembered that he had to get something for Scully. He raced back to the gift
shop, picked up a few items, and walked as fast as he could without actually running to
his car, running into several people on the way.
Luckily, the hospital was close to the airport, so Mulder was not on
the road for very long, and his chance of harming someone with erratic driving was
decreased, though not by much. He circled the hospital parking lot twice before finding a
parking space.
Mulder knew where the oncology department was, and headed there first.
That would most likely be where Scully was.
* * *
Mark had shifted the chair so that it was parallel to the bed, but so
he was facing her. It was much more comfortable when he could stretch his legs out. To
break the ice, they had shared some funny job experiences then talked about what they
normally did.
"Sounds like you and your partner work well together," Mark
commented. He could sense that if not currently, at one point, she and her partner had
been more than partners. He could hear in her voice when she spoke of him and the way her
eyes lit up when she thought of him.
Scully smiled, "Yeah, I like to think so. He can be a real pain
sometimes, but I love working with him. No two days are ever the same. He's actually
supposed to be coming soon, so you will get a chance to meet him."
Mark looked at his watch. "You know, I really should be going in a
little bit. I have a long drive and I still have work to when I get home..."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, though it was really nice seeing you again. We should have
dinner like the other night again. It was fun," he reached out and took Scully's hand
in his. "I hope you feel better fast."
* * *
Though he usually just opened the door, Mulder stopped to look in the
window. He didn't want to wake Scully if she was sleeping or interrupt Mrs. Scully and
her. The blinds were twisted open, so they were easy to peek through. Instead, he saw
Scully and a man in a chair holding hands and smiling. He felt the same clench of his
heart as he always did when Scully was with another man. He didn't like to think of it as
jealousy, but knew that's what it was. Before either of them could see him, he moved past
the window and into the waiting room. Later, when that man left, Mulder would go see
Scully.
* * *
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