FF: The Rusted Wheel of Things (2/6)
Title: The Rusted Wheel of Things (Chapter 2)
Author: Ellie elliestories
Rating: R
Category: SRA
Timeline: Post-"Requiem", AU
Further headers and information in Chapter 1
***
Chapter 2
Meetings
***
Hannah walked half a step ahead of her, as Scully kept one hand on her tender shoulder. The girl, in her youth and curiosity, knew no apprehension, no fear, taking confident steps that kept her steadily ahead of her mother's worried tread. They stopped together outside the door, surely both forming some semblance of a smile, but it was the child's elated grin that Agent Lee chose to mirror, gracing them with a flash of white teeth and a pleasant good morning.
The door swung easily aside, and Hannah took a pair of assured steps before hesitating, turning back to look at her mother in the open doorway. Scully merely nodded and stepped up beside her daughter, letting the door fall closed until it was, for the first time, the three of them, still and silent but for the rhythmic beep of Mulder's heart.
Hand in hand, Scully and Hannah crossed to the bedside. Keeping one hand wrapped around the girl's smaller one, Scully took Mulder's in her other, fingers slipping together. "Hannah, this is your father, Fox Mulder."
She bit her lip as the girl soundlessly formed syllables, staring down at the man in front of her. Finally, she managed to say, "You can talk to him."
With great formality, her daughter reached out and placed one hand around Mulder's thumb, as close an approximation of shaking his hand as was possible. "Hello. I'm Hannah Clare Mulder. I never thought I'd get to meet you, but I'm very happy to do so now."
Scully could only smile at the achingly proper sincerity; the alternative was tears, which wouldn't do, not today. Their circle of hands held for a moment, until she broke her grasp on Hannah's wrist. "Why don't we sit down? We'll stay as long as you want to."
"I want to stay until he wakes up," said Hannah, nodding authoritatively as she settled into one of the bedside chairs.
"We'll see, sweetheart. We'll see."
*
Most of his memories involved Scully. But occasionally, others came to him, unbidden, but just as vivid and real as those of her.
He sat in the library of his grandparents' Beacon Hill home, a volume of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle open in his lap. Years later, the first edition of Sherlock Holmes had been a high school graduation gift from his grandfather, traveling with him to Oxford and Alexandria. What had become of it now, he didn't want to contemplate.
Across the room, on the divan, Sam and their grandmother were bent over a book bound in bright morocco leather, reading aloud together. He could hear them, faintly, but voices didn't carry in this house. They sank into plush upholstery and hand-woven wool carpeting, the heavy damask draperies keeping secrets.
Now, though, he heard the clear soft soprano of a child, reading with occasional corrections and assistance of a warmer, gentle alto. He could have been seated with them, for as clearly as their voices carried to him.
"'Helen went on to say that Riverview Manor was a d--dup....'"
"Duplicate."
"'A duplicate of Twin Elms mansion. The brothers had been in...inse...in....'"
"Inseparable."
"Inseparable co...companions? Companions, but their sons....'"
It was nothing he could remember hearing before, nothing he could imagine being bound in red calfskin and carefully shelved by his grandfather.
He listened, letting their voices envelop him.
*
By Monday afternoon, Skinner had already started the process of returning Mulder from the lists of the dead, if only to provide some kind of accuracy to the official record of his life, and he was whispering furiously about it to Scully in the doorway of Mulder's room. Scully refused to step further away, dividing her attention between him and the room where Hannah was recounting the latest antics of their terrier to Mulder.
"I'm not worried about the complexities of it, if you can make it happen. I was the executor of his will to begin with, and most of his assets were just placed in trust for Hannah. The hospital costs, now, that's going to be--"
She was cut short by Hannah's escalating cries, and finally the clatter of her chair toppling over. Turning, they saw Mulder thrashing on the bed, pulling at the wires and tubes, as Hannah backed away, her back against the cold glass of the window, eyes wide and face pale. Skinner was at the bedside half a second before she was, holding Mulder's arms down as she placed her palms on both sides of his head and tried to steady him.
"Mulder, Mulder! Mulder, it's me, it's Scully. You're all right. It's okay. Hold still, relax. It's me, you're safe." She tilted his head up, tried to get him to look at her eyes. When he finally met her gaze, the taut muscles under her hands seemed to slacken. "Shh, you're here, you're back home, it's all right. You're safe."
He seemed to collapse against the mattress, the exertion leaving his faint musculature trembling, and his breaths coming in heaving pants. His eyes, though, were sharp, gaze flitting between Scully and Skinner and the little girl standing like a statue by the window. Ultimately, his eyes locked onto Scully's, full of confusion. When he tried to speak, only a choked rasp escaped his throat.
"Shh, Mulder," she said, putting a hand to his chest. "Don't try to talk right now. You're okay, you're safe, but you've been missing for... for a while."
As he took a few more deep breaths, she turned to Skinner. "Could you go get Dr. Norris? And maybe...." She gestured with a faint shake of her head toward Hannah, who was now cautiously righting the chair in which she'd been sitting.
"Yeah, yeah." He stepped back from Mulder's bed, extending one hand to the little girl, who took it eagerly. "Why don't we go find the doctor, then see if there's some good hot chocolate somewhere in this building?"
Both of them looked back from the doorway, Hannah seeming to look right through Scully to Mulder's limp form, eyes still wide. Scully gave her a little wave, only to find that hand captured by Mulder's as she dropped it. Trying not to disturb the now-loose IV line, she squeezed it gently.
Only when she had a firm grip on his hand did she meet his gaze. There was pain in his face, certainly, but the anguish that struck deepest now was not the physical, but the wounded confusion in his eyes. It was the look of one betrayed, though uncertain how deep the perfidy ran. His lips formed questions that fell away, sotto voce, before she raised her free hand to press quieting fingers to his mouth.
"Seven years, six months, and twenty-three days, Mulder."
His eyes widened, and his lips ceased to form unasked questions against her fingers for a long moment. She had forgotten how exquisite it was to watch him think, and she indulged in a moment of study as he processed that bit of information.
Moving her fingers away to rest against his sharp zygoma, she asked, "Do you remember leaving for Oregon?"
She felt rather than saw him nod against her hand, saw from the clarity in his eyes that he remembered not just that, but everything that had come before and since. "And you remember me being sick?"
Again she felt him nod, and watched his brow crinkle with confusion and concern. "I wasn't sick. I was pregnant."
Instantly, she felt his jawbone drop and his gaze flickered over to the chair where Hannah had been sitting. "Our daughter turned seven last week. Hannah."
"Ours." His rasped whisper held her stiller than any embrace in which he'd ever enveloped her. She could only nod at him, trying not to weep at finally being able to share this news with him.
*
Dr. Norris' exit from the room readmitted Skinner, alone. Both their heads turned to watch him. Scully asked the question on both their minds, "Where's Hannah?"
"She's finishing up her hot chocolate with Agent Lee. I wasn't sure whether...." He shrugged and waved his hands.
"It's fine, I think Mulder would like to meet her."
Skinner nodded and disappeared out the door for a moment, before it opened and Hannah came in, clutching a styrofoam cup. The girl looked first to her mother, then watched Mulder as her steps slowed, halting a few feet from where Scully stood.
"Hannah, you met your father the other day, but he hasn't gotten the chance to meet you." Scully, focused on her daughter, missed the shocked realization that flickered across Mulder's face.
With a few more strides, Hannah stepped up to the bedside and once more put her hand on his. "Hi, Dad."
****
Chapter 3
Author: Ellie elliestories
Rating: R
Category: SRA
Timeline: Post-"Requiem", AU
Further headers and information in Chapter 1
***
Chapter 2
Meetings
***
Hannah walked half a step ahead of her, as Scully kept one hand on her tender shoulder. The girl, in her youth and curiosity, knew no apprehension, no fear, taking confident steps that kept her steadily ahead of her mother's worried tread. They stopped together outside the door, surely both forming some semblance of a smile, but it was the child's elated grin that Agent Lee chose to mirror, gracing them with a flash of white teeth and a pleasant good morning.
The door swung easily aside, and Hannah took a pair of assured steps before hesitating, turning back to look at her mother in the open doorway. Scully merely nodded and stepped up beside her daughter, letting the door fall closed until it was, for the first time, the three of them, still and silent but for the rhythmic beep of Mulder's heart.
Hand in hand, Scully and Hannah crossed to the bedside. Keeping one hand wrapped around the girl's smaller one, Scully took Mulder's in her other, fingers slipping together. "Hannah, this is your father, Fox Mulder."
She bit her lip as the girl soundlessly formed syllables, staring down at the man in front of her. Finally, she managed to say, "You can talk to him."
With great formality, her daughter reached out and placed one hand around Mulder's thumb, as close an approximation of shaking his hand as was possible. "Hello. I'm Hannah Clare Mulder. I never thought I'd get to meet you, but I'm very happy to do so now."
Scully could only smile at the achingly proper sincerity; the alternative was tears, which wouldn't do, not today. Their circle of hands held for a moment, until she broke her grasp on Hannah's wrist. "Why don't we sit down? We'll stay as long as you want to."
"I want to stay until he wakes up," said Hannah, nodding authoritatively as she settled into one of the bedside chairs.
"We'll see, sweetheart. We'll see."
*
Most of his memories involved Scully. But occasionally, others came to him, unbidden, but just as vivid and real as those of her.
He sat in the library of his grandparents' Beacon Hill home, a volume of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle open in his lap. Years later, the first edition of Sherlock Holmes had been a high school graduation gift from his grandfather, traveling with him to Oxford and Alexandria. What had become of it now, he didn't want to contemplate.
Across the room, on the divan, Sam and their grandmother were bent over a book bound in bright morocco leather, reading aloud together. He could hear them, faintly, but voices didn't carry in this house. They sank into plush upholstery and hand-woven wool carpeting, the heavy damask draperies keeping secrets.
Now, though, he heard the clear soft soprano of a child, reading with occasional corrections and assistance of a warmer, gentle alto. He could have been seated with them, for as clearly as their voices carried to him.
"'Helen went on to say that Riverview Manor was a d--dup....'"
"Duplicate."
"'A duplicate of Twin Elms mansion. The brothers had been in...inse...in....'"
"Inseparable."
"Inseparable co...companions? Companions, but their sons....'"
It was nothing he could remember hearing before, nothing he could imagine being bound in red calfskin and carefully shelved by his grandfather.
He listened, letting their voices envelop him.
*
By Monday afternoon, Skinner had already started the process of returning Mulder from the lists of the dead, if only to provide some kind of accuracy to the official record of his life, and he was whispering furiously about it to Scully in the doorway of Mulder's room. Scully refused to step further away, dividing her attention between him and the room where Hannah was recounting the latest antics of their terrier to Mulder.
"I'm not worried about the complexities of it, if you can make it happen. I was the executor of his will to begin with, and most of his assets were just placed in trust for Hannah. The hospital costs, now, that's going to be--"
She was cut short by Hannah's escalating cries, and finally the clatter of her chair toppling over. Turning, they saw Mulder thrashing on the bed, pulling at the wires and tubes, as Hannah backed away, her back against the cold glass of the window, eyes wide and face pale. Skinner was at the bedside half a second before she was, holding Mulder's arms down as she placed her palms on both sides of his head and tried to steady him.
"Mulder, Mulder! Mulder, it's me, it's Scully. You're all right. It's okay. Hold still, relax. It's me, you're safe." She tilted his head up, tried to get him to look at her eyes. When he finally met her gaze, the taut muscles under her hands seemed to slacken. "Shh, you're here, you're back home, it's all right. You're safe."
He seemed to collapse against the mattress, the exertion leaving his faint musculature trembling, and his breaths coming in heaving pants. His eyes, though, were sharp, gaze flitting between Scully and Skinner and the little girl standing like a statue by the window. Ultimately, his eyes locked onto Scully's, full of confusion. When he tried to speak, only a choked rasp escaped his throat.
"Shh, Mulder," she said, putting a hand to his chest. "Don't try to talk right now. You're okay, you're safe, but you've been missing for... for a while."
As he took a few more deep breaths, she turned to Skinner. "Could you go get Dr. Norris? And maybe...." She gestured with a faint shake of her head toward Hannah, who was now cautiously righting the chair in which she'd been sitting.
"Yeah, yeah." He stepped back from Mulder's bed, extending one hand to the little girl, who took it eagerly. "Why don't we go find the doctor, then see if there's some good hot chocolate somewhere in this building?"
Both of them looked back from the doorway, Hannah seeming to look right through Scully to Mulder's limp form, eyes still wide. Scully gave her a little wave, only to find that hand captured by Mulder's as she dropped it. Trying not to disturb the now-loose IV line, she squeezed it gently.
Only when she had a firm grip on his hand did she meet his gaze. There was pain in his face, certainly, but the anguish that struck deepest now was not the physical, but the wounded confusion in his eyes. It was the look of one betrayed, though uncertain how deep the perfidy ran. His lips formed questions that fell away, sotto voce, before she raised her free hand to press quieting fingers to his mouth.
"Seven years, six months, and twenty-three days, Mulder."
His eyes widened, and his lips ceased to form unasked questions against her fingers for a long moment. She had forgotten how exquisite it was to watch him think, and she indulged in a moment of study as he processed that bit of information.
Moving her fingers away to rest against his sharp zygoma, she asked, "Do you remember leaving for Oregon?"
She felt rather than saw him nod against her hand, saw from the clarity in his eyes that he remembered not just that, but everything that had come before and since. "And you remember me being sick?"
Again she felt him nod, and watched his brow crinkle with confusion and concern. "I wasn't sick. I was pregnant."
Instantly, she felt his jawbone drop and his gaze flickered over to the chair where Hannah had been sitting. "Our daughter turned seven last week. Hannah."
"Ours." His rasped whisper held her stiller than any embrace in which he'd ever enveloped her. She could only nod at him, trying not to weep at finally being able to share this news with him.
*
Dr. Norris' exit from the room readmitted Skinner, alone. Both their heads turned to watch him. Scully asked the question on both their minds, "Where's Hannah?"
"She's finishing up her hot chocolate with Agent Lee. I wasn't sure whether...." He shrugged and waved his hands.
"It's fine, I think Mulder would like to meet her."
Skinner nodded and disappeared out the door for a moment, before it opened and Hannah came in, clutching a styrofoam cup. The girl looked first to her mother, then watched Mulder as her steps slowed, halting a few feet from where Scully stood.
"Hannah, you met your father the other day, but he hasn't gotten the chance to meet you." Scully, focused on her daughter, missed the shocked realization that flickered across Mulder's face.
With a few more strides, Hannah stepped up to the bedside and once more put her hand on his. "Hi, Dad."
****
Chapter 3