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Mulder waited for
three hours, reading various magazines. Not magazines like before. Hospitals
don’t have those. At least, none of the hospitals he’s seen. And besides,
he gave those up. At one point, he dozed off, dreaming about Carl Sagan
of all people. They were just discussing the scientific impossibility of
the thought that there aren’t other intelligent life forms out there in
space when a doctor woke him up. “Mr. Mulder?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m Doctor MacNichol.”
“You’re the one
who’s treating Scully?”
“That’s correct.”
“How is she?”
“Her condition
is stable, for now, at least. We’ll have to monitor her carefully, though.
Just in case. She’s going to have to stay in the hospital for about three
weeks. She’s pretty sick. She suffered from sleep deprivation, mild dehydration,
mild hypothermia, quite a bit of bloodloss, and a lack of nutrients in
her body due to not eating for 3 or 4 days. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s
still alive. I’m pretty sure that if you had found her any later, she would
have died.”
Believe me,
I know only too well. He simply nodded. “Thanks, Doctor… Can I visit
her?”
“Maybe in a few
hours. Right now, she needs her rest. Besides, we want to transfer her
to Lincoln as soon as possible. They have more staff on duty and have equipment
that may be able to better suit her needs. That’s alright with you, right?”
“Yeah, I was
just about to suggest it anyway.”
“Good. The helicopter
should be here soon. We’ll move her in about 20 minutes.”
Mulder nodded
again, then thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose I could ride with her
in the ’copter?”
Doctor MacNichol
shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just meet us there.”
“It’ll take hours.”
“At least when
you get there, you can immediately visit her.”
“I guess.” Mulder
put on his coat. “Well, I’d better get a head start… Tell her to wait for
me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The doctor nodded as Mulder walked
out the door.
He found the
car he had rented not too far from the main entrance. Wondering where the
keys were, he looked around and bumped into a woman. “Excuse me…” He looked
at her face closely for a moment, then said “Meredith?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh,” he said
intelligently. Meredith was a blonde. Mercy had been a brunette. “Um… I’m
sorry for making you come all this way. I don’t think there’s much for
you to do here now.”
“On the contrary,
sir. There is much for me to do here. They brought the two Whitakers here.
There might have been officers still loyal to the Captain in Verdugo.”
Mulder nodded.
“Good idea.”
“Thanks. It was
mine.”
He smiled for
a moment, then frowned slightly. “I don’t suppose you’ve got the keys to
my car, do you?” he said to her sheepishly.
She grinned.
“Locked yourself out?”
“Something like
that.”
Meredith reached
into her coat and dangled a pair of keys in his face. He smiled as he snatched
them from her.
“Officer Torres
gave them to me to hold on to,” she explained and shook her head. “Some
football game is on.”
“Really?”
She shook her
head again in a disapproving manner.
He smiled.
She hesitated
for a moment. “So how is she?”
His smile faded
slightly, but not so much as to erase the look of relief still on his face.
“They’re going to monitor her for a few weeks. They said she’s lucky we
found her when we did. And they’re transferring her to Lincoln in a bit.
In fact, that’s where I’m headed now.”
“Okay, but before
you go, I gotta ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“How did you
know? About Captain Whitaker, I mean. And his twin?”
Mulder shifted
uncomfortably. “He was outside my motel room. I saw him through the window.
He was wearing the same boots as the man I saw take Scully away.”
“Mm-hmm… But
how did you know exactly where to go? I don’t think he would have told
you unless you did something drastic.”
Like shooting
off toes? He mused. “You’ll be surprised what people will tell you
when you’ve got a gun pointed at them…”
She gave him
a strange look. He took it to mean she didn’t buy it.
Trust me.
You wouldn’t believe the truth. Heck, I’m not even sure if I believe it
myself. He blinked. He wasn’t sure if he had ever said, much less thought,
the word “heck” since sixth grade. He had always said that other word.
Slightly puzzled at his own thoughts, he unlocked the car and got in. “Well,
I’ll see you. Thanks for all your help.”
She gave a strange
smile. “No problem. And thanks for your help.”
Mulder nodded
acknowledgement and shut the car door. He began making his way northeast,
towards Lincoln.
When he finally
made it to the hospital in Lincoln, it was about 4:40pm. He rushed in,
immediately asking to visit Scully. They let him in and ushered him into
Scully’s room in Urgent Care.
Scully was still
sleeping when he came in. She was hooked up to a number of things, including
an IV, a food dispenser, an oxygen tank, and a machine that was monitoring
her heart rate. He pulled up a chair and sat at her bedside.
“You’re just
gonna sit there until she wakes up?” the nurse whispered.
Mulder nodded.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispered back. He waited until the nurse walked out,
then took one of Scully’s hands into both of his. He leaned over, keeping
her hand close to his face. He smiled. I did it. I can’t believe I did
it. I cheated both fate and death. Scully’s alive. He looked at her
face. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed seeing it. Three weeks.
Somehow, it felt much longer. Squeezing her hand gently, he sat
back in his chair. I wonder if it actually happened or if it was just
a really accurate dream. Does Dana really feel the same way I do, or was
that just something I desired made flesh in a dream? And if we do feel
the same way about each other, do I tell her? If she does, I don’t want
to wait until one of us is dying to speak up. But then I don’t want to
ruin our friendship and respect for each other. He sighed quietly and
leaned back further. What was he going to do? Thoughts bombarded his mind,
asking himself questions to which there were no easy answers. His eyes
drooped, and dreamed once more about Carl Sagan. This time, they were playing
chess.
Scully awoke,
aching and slightly numb. She felt warm, warmer than she had felt in some
time. She looked around. She was in a hospital, connected to tons of equipment.
Her memories were foggy, probably from anesthetics. She tried to recall
what had happened. She remembered seeing Mulder, concern practically dripping
from his face. And the ambulance coming to take her. Mulder speaking to
her softly. She spoke back, startling him. He had gone to her funeral.
Her whole family was there and many other people. Bill had blamed him.
He blamed Mulder. Charles had been different, though. She remembered Mulder
speaking at the funeral. He spoke words that both touched and broke her
heart. White flowing flowers and white roses. He had cried beyond sobbing,
his mother comforting him. He would come to visit her almost every other
day. At sunset. With roses, sometimes white, sometimes red. He would talk
to her and cry, making her want to take him into her arms.
Suddenly, she
remembered something important. He said it. He was in love with her.
And he wanted her back so badly that he made a deal with an angel… But
that was impossible. Was it all a dream? What else could it have been?
Obviously, I can’t be dead. Otherwise, how could I be here in a hospital?
She blinked.
Her left hand was stuck. No, not stuck. She looked to her left and
smiled. Mulder was asleep, holding her hand firmly in both of his. She
didn’t want to wake him, so she left it there. Besides, it felt safe.
Scully still
felt the connection. It felt as if it were weakening, but it was still
there. Closing her eyes, she could feel Mulder’s presence by her side.
She felt feelings of happiness, relief, and puzzlement emanating from him.
She blinked, startled. And feelings of love. For her. How is that possible?
It wasn’t real. It was just a dream or a hallucination. Maybe she was
just imagining those feelings from him. But I’m certain it’s real. I’ve
never been this certain of anything before. I’m as sure about this as I’m
sure that I know my name. This is real and he really does
love me. But how is it that I’m so certain, so sure about this? This connection
I’m feeling isn’t real. It’s simply a figment of my imagination. My wanting
to hold onto something familiar after a traumatic experience. It has to
be my imagination. What else could it be? She opened her eyes. He was
about to wake up.