Page 8
They had suggested
that an autopsy be performed on the body, but Mulder declined. The thought
of them cutting up Dana’s body any more than it already was made him sick
to the stomach. Besides, he figured the autopsy would just come up empty
like the last one. He sighed. We should have enough evidence to make
those bastards pay. They deserve to die… No, death is too good for them.
They deserve life in prison. They deserve to suffer for what they’ve done.
Mulder’s anger
toward these people- no, these sons of bitches- could hardly be contained.
They had raped and tortured Dana, not to mention the fact that they killed
her. That was unforgivable. He was tempted to go over to the prison and
just rip their throats out. Very tempted. But justice needed to be served.
Mulder shook
his head as he walked out of the morgue about another hour later. Maybe
it was better that Dana had died. At least she didn’t have to live with
the memories of what she had to go through. He imagined living with that
always in the back of your mind would almost be like reliving it every
day. Dana had been strong, but would she have been strong enough to live
with those memories? Maybe it was for the best.
“Hey.” Mercy
was leaning on Mulder’s rental car, eating pumpkin seeds, shell and all.
“Want me to drive? You’ve had a bad day.”
He gave a small,
sad smile, nodded, and climbed into the passenger seat. Mercy got in and
started the car. It was very silent.
“You know,” Mercy
spoke up. “that imprint’s never gonna go away if you keep clutching that
necklace.”
Mulder looked
down at his hands. He hadn’t realized that he had been holding the cross
so tightly.
She smiled sadly.
“Everyone lives life hoping to be loved and remembered by someone. I think
Agent Scully died happy.”
Mulder didn’t
answer.
Mulder glanced
at him for a second then turned back to the road. “You’re really hurting
a lot, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
His throat choked
up slightly. He didn’t say anything.
She nodded. “I’m
sorry that I can’t give you much comfort. That’s not really my department.
And, I’m sorry to say, it’s not really going to go away either. It’s get
better, though. It’ll definitely get better. It just won’t totally go away.”
She shook her head slightly. “See? Here I am, trying to make you feel better,
but all I’m doing is making it worse. Like I said, it’s not really my department.”
“Don’t worry
about it,” Mulder mumbled.
“We’re almost
to the police station. You don’t mind if we just stop there and I let you
take over, do you? I don’t exactly want to take your car.”
“That’s fine.”
She hesitated
for a bit, then opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again.
They pulled into the station parking lot. She parked the car and turned
to look at him. Her head cocked in a slightly curious manner then she said,
“I don’t know if this makes you feel any better, but Dana Scully is among
us now.” She said nothing more and climbed out of the car. Mulder sat staring
after her for quite a while as she walked into the building before he finally
switched to the driver’s side and drove to the motel.
He arrived at
the motel at only 9:03, but he was already exhausted. He went into his
room and turned on the light. There everything was, just the way he had
left it that morning. It seemed so long ago that he left that morning to
get the DNA test results. He looked at the bed. Being as tired as he was,
he really wanted to sleep, but knew he couldn’t. Not tonight. So he began
packing to leave for DC first thing in the morning.
He sorted through
his things. In his suitcase under some clothes, he found the magazine he
had hidden there the morning after Dana was kidnapped. He was overwhelmed
with disgust for himself. Dana was dead. And the magazines he had been
looking at made him seem to have no respect for women. But he had nothing
but the utmost respect for women. He respected Scully more than any man
he’s ever known. He was just pathetic. A pathetic man with a pathetic
life. But there was no use trying to justify it. He took the magazine
and dumped it in the trashcan. Without another thought for it, he went
back to packing.
By the time he
was done, it was only 9:52. The whole night was ahead of him and he had
nothing to do. And sleeping was still out of the question. He thought for
a moment and reached into his pocket. The key to Scully’s room. So he left
his room and entered hers.
Everything was
still a mess. He righted the nightstand and picked up the broken lamp pieces.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he started picking up her things.
As he was putting
everything back into her suitcase- which had been dumped out all over the
place- he let his thoughts run away with him and sighed. Besides going
out to eat together on occasion, they never did anything remotely recreational.
They had spent their off hours and vacations apart, and never really talked
about anything but work. It bothered him that he actually didn’t know Scully
all that well. Actually, in his defense, he did know all about what
she liked and disliked. For instance, what she liked in her coffee, what
kind of cars she liked, what sports she liked, and so forth. And he knew
how she came to be in the FBI. But he didn’t know any stories of her childhood
experiences or teenage years, or what she was like in college, or other
important aspects of her life. Everything before her arrival to the FBI
was sadly lacking from his memory. But it was far too late to remedy any
of that.
He cleared off
her bed. Or what would have been her bed if she had ever gotten a chance
to sleep on it. He sighed. He stared at it for a moment when his eyes wandered
to the phone. He had to call Scully’s mother. She deserved to know immediately.
It was the least he could do. He also had to call Skinner, but that could
wait.
Mulder picked
up the receiver and hesitated. He didn’t even know the number. He rummaged
through Scully’s things and found a small, simple address book. Even her
little black book was practical. He went back to the phone and hesitated
again. How the hell do you tell a woman her daughter is dead? He
ran a hand through his hair nervously. Do what you have to do. It’s
your fault she’s dead. Now you have to pay the consequences. He picked
up the receiver once more and dialed the numbers.
“Hello?” a slightly
familiar voice said.
“Mrs. Scully?”
“Yes? Is this
Fox?”
He blinked at
his name. He really hated it. “Yes, ma’am.”
She paused for
a moment. “What happened? You wouldn’t call if nothing was wrong.”
He hesitated.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“What’s wrong?
Is Dana okay? What’s happened to her? Is it her cancer again?” she asked
in a horrified tone.
Just say it.
She’ll react the same way even if you sugar coat it. “Well, um… she
was kidnapped-“ Mrs. Scully gasped. “-and they cut her across her torso…”
He heard her give a small sob. “We couldn’t… we didn’t…” He choked. “…we
didn’t get there in time.” He heard her whispering, “No… oh, no…” Mulder
cleared his throat a little. “I’m so sorry.” A tear rolled off his cheek.
“Sorrier than you’ll ever know…” he whispered softly.
“Where are you?”
“Verdugo, Nebraska.
We were on a case and…” He briefly explained what had happened.
She was crying,
but her voice was abnormally calm. “You’ll be bringing her body back to
Maryland for a funeral, right?”
“Of course. I’ll
make sure she has full honors.”
She paused. “I
can’t believe she’s dead. My daughter. My last daughter…”
Another tear
rolled off his face. Not again… “I’m sorry I didn’t get there in
time. I’m sorry I failed her, and you. I tried…”
“I’m sure it
wasn’t your fault. I know you tried your best.”
“I did try… it
just wasn’t good enough.” Nothing I ever do seems to be good enough.
There was a pause, then Mulder said quietly, “Mrs. Scully? Could you do
me a favor?” Even though I’m not sure I deserve it…
“Yes, of course.”
He cleared his
throat. “Could you tell Bill and Charles how sorry I am? That I didn’t
mean for any of this to happen?”
She sniffled
a bit. “Yes, I will… Well, it would seem I have some phone calls to make.
Thank you for calling.”
“You’re welcome.”
He hung up and
sighed. He still had another call to make.