Fic: The Quiet Limit of the World (1/4)
Originally written for 
.
Title: The Quiet Limit of the World
Spoilers: Tithonus to Per Manum
Keywords: MSR, AU.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Scully deals with the aftermath and implications of the Fellig case.
Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or its associated characters.
Feedback: Would be welcomed, here or at pomme_noire [at ] hotmail.com
Archive: Sure, but please ask me first.
Author's Note: Major thanks go out to
glisters, my wonderful beta!
Part 2: namarie24.livejournal.com/66939.html Part 3: namarie24.livejournal.com/67243.html
Part 4: namarie24.livejournal.com/67341.html
~~~~
“I just think that death only looks for you once you seek its opposite.” - Fox Mulder, “Tithonus”
Part 1
~
NYU Medical Center
She comes to gradually; the quiet rhythms of hospital machinery, the familiar sterile scent of her surroundings, and the warmth of a hand holding hers combine to draw her from drug-induced sleep - those, and a dull ache in her belly, which she can tell will only get worse when consciousness fully returns. This does not deter her. She knows who is holding her hand, and she needs to see him. She guesses he needs to see her just as much.
As her eyes open, she hears Mulder shift in his seat next to her, and feels his hold on her hand tighten.
“Scully?” There he is, his gaze focused on her, a slight smile spreading across his face as she continues to look at him. “How are you feeling?” His voice is quiet, tender - a tone that she knows from other unguarded moments like this.
She clears her throat and tries to swallow. In seconds, Mulder has lifted a cup of water with a straw to her lips. He cautions her to only drink a sip, doctor's orders. It only takes a few more seconds for her to understand why: even that small amount of water causes a very noticeable increase in pain when it reaches her stomach, and she frowns and closes her eyes briefly against it.
“Been better,” she answers. Her voice is weak.
“Let me get the nurse,” he says, putting down the cup and standing. Turning back, he presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay, Scully?”
She nods, as memory starts to return like consciousness before it. She remembers a blinding light filling the dark room, a searing agony in her gut, Agent Ritter's frantic shouts, and...she shivers. Fellig's words to her. She doesn't think she actually saw a figure standing over them - he said it was Death - but she did as Fellig told her, anyway. And she is alive.
She blinks slowly. Now is not the time to go into the possible implications of that fact, not when the pain in her gut is steadily getting worse. Thankfully, it is only a few seconds before Mulder returns with a nurse who introduces herself, and adjusts her pain meds. She starts to tell Scully something about how she can control the release of the medicine herself, but Scully is already slipping back under.
~
The next time she wakes, Mulder is gone from his seat. There is a doctor talking to her mother, who now occupies the chair.
“Mom?” Scully says, and her mother instantly breaks off her conversation, moving to take her daughter's hand.
“Dana,” she greets her, smiling anxiously, “how are you feeling, sweetheart?”
Scully considers. The pain is not so bad this time. “I'm okay,” she tells her. “When did you get here?”
“Yesterday morning,” her mom answers. Then, perhaps realizing that doesn't mean too much to Scully at this point, she adds, “You were brought here two days ago, and you've been recovering from surgery since.”
“Mm. Thanks.” She is glad to see her mom, of course, but she is still so groggy. Nevertheless, she wants to know some more about her condition before she drifts back into drugged slumber, so she turns to the doctor. “Surgery?”
“Yes, you came through it very well,” he says. “Fortunately, the bullet passed through without too much damage to your intestines. You have quite a few stitches, and I'm afraid you're in for a long recovery period, but I'm very pleased with your progress so far.”
Scully thanks him, resolving to read her chart later when she's feeling more alert.
“You're welcome, Miss Scully. I'll leave you two alone for now.” The doctor departs after flashing them both a smile.
“Where's Mulder, Mom?” Scully asks.
“He went to get some lunch.” She smiles again, affection coloring her voice. “He wanted to stay here, but he was obviously exhausted, so I told him I'd take this shift.”
She smiles fondly, too. Her thoughts of her partner are interrupted by a yawn, and her mother pats her hand. “Get some more sleep, Dana. We'll be here when you wake up.”
“'Kay. Thanks, Mom.” Once again, it is very few seconds before sleep overtakes her.
~
This time it is an unwise attempt on her part to try to shift her position that brings her out of sleep suddenly, with a gasp at the resulting sharp pain. She puts her hand over the wound site reflexively and tries to breathe.
“Lie still, Scully.” Mulder is already standing over her, taking both of her hands in his. “You don't want to pull out your stitches.”
Her mother enters the room as the pain is slowly receding to a more bearable level. She is carrying a large bouquet of flowers, and stops for a moment at the sight of Mulder holding her daughter's hands. Mulder steps back slightly, but, Scully is pleased to note, does not let go.
“Dana, honey, you're awake!” She sets the vase down on the table next to the bed, and then stands next to Mulder. “Feeling any better?”
“She just almost pulled out her stitches,” Mulder says, “so I'm guessing not, at the moment.”
Mrs. Scully frowns in concern. “What?”
“I just tried to change my position a little in my sleep,” Scully explains, trying not to sound defensive. “I'll try not to do that again.” Before her mom can say anything else, she changes the subject. “Those are beautiful flowers - thank you, Mom.”
“They're actually from Fox, honey.” Mrs. Scully looks at him with a small smile. “I just went to get a vase for them.”
Mulder ducks his head, but Scully just squeezes his hands. “Mulder, they're beautiful. Thank you.”
“Just you wait, Scully,” he replies, grinning, “I have it on good authority that Frohike's planning to go all-out with his bouquet.”
“Oh, great.” Scully returns the smile. If she were a little more energetic, she thinks, she would have thrown in an eye-roll for good measure... but she hopes it goes without saying.
The nurse comes it at that moment and, with some reluctance, Scully lets go of Mulder's hand to allow the nurse to have access to everything she needs to check, and so that her bandage can be changed. The nurse, too, comments that Scully seems to be healing very well. Scully nods in reply, trying not to wonder if she should be worried by this, in light of Fellig's last words to her. She catches Mulder watching her closely during this exchange, and knows he has not missed her lackluster response.
Feeling somewhat like a coward, Scully asks the nurse to show her the mechanism for controlling her own pain medicine flow again, and the woman does so. She apologizes to her mother and Mulder. “I'm gonna fall asleep again as soon as the dosage is increased, most likely.”
“Don't worry about it, sweetheart,” her mom says, smoothing her blankets carefully. “We just want you to feel better.”
Mulder nods. “Go to sleep, Scully.” It is the last thing she hears for a while.
~
Several days pass in a similar manner. Mulder and her mother mostly take turns spending time with her, though more often than not, he hovers in the background during her mom's bedside vigils as well.
She still sleeps a lot. When she is awake and it is just Mulder and her, they talk a little. With some gentle urging from Mulder, she has told him exactly what happened in Fellig's darkroom, even Fellig's words to her before she lost consciousness. However, she still refuses to dwell on the implications of it - if there even are any implications, her rational mind points out. It isn't possible that the man really was immortal, after all, so it definitely isn't possible for such a thing to be passed on. But even so, she can't help but be reminded of Clyde Bruckman's odd comment to her years ago. And the man had been right about so many things...
The doctor continues to be pleased and baffled by her progress: barely a week after the shooting, Scully is able to eat solid food, though only in small, bland quantities. It still hurts to move, so she doesn't move much - but if she stays still, there is little need for more than a baseline level of painkiller.
Between her mother, Mulder, Frohike (just as extravagant as promised), and even Skinner, not a day goes by without a fresh bouquet of flowers sent to her room. The only one that is less than welcome is the arrangement sent by Agent Ritter. When the nurse brings it in from the reception desk, Scully watches Mulder's jaw tighten and wonders idly if he's planning to commit violence on the innocent vegetation. He leaves it alone, although he makes sure that it is pushed to the back of her bedside table. She isn't too surprised that Ritter hasn't actually shown his face in her room. Whenever he is mentioned or alluded to - which admittedly is not often - Mulder doesn't bother to disguise his anger.
However, Ritter's conspicuous absence does not last. During a rare moment when neither her mother nor Mulder are in the room, there is a quiet knock on her door and Agent Peyton Ritter steps inside.
Scully looks at him, saying nothing. He meets her eyes for a few seconds, but then looks down and clears his throat, shuffling over to stand in front of her. He clears his throat again. Finally, he speaks.
“Agent Scully, I... I know I can't possibly apologize enough.”
She feels a twinge of pity for the young agent and waits without comment.
“There is no excuse for-- for my behavior, but I just wanted you to know...” He swallows, raising his eyes to hers briefly. “I just wanted you to know that I'm terribly sorry, and that I'm accepting full responsibility for my actions. And uh, I... I wish you all the best, in your recovery and... everything.”
Scully nods and says a few almost-meaningless words. She has forgiven him; he is not worth the effort of a grudge, and Mulder doesn't need the added encouragement of her anger to induce him do something foolish. He is already waiting outside her room.
Agent Ritter looks at her one last time and turns to leave, shoulders slumped. She watches as Mulder speaks to him and sees that whatever he says causes Ritter's posture to become even more dejected. Thankfully, though, Mulder leaves it at those few words and then returns to her room.
It still hurts too much for Scully to raise her arms past a certain distance. Mulder stands very close to take her hand, so she only has to lift it a few inches. He smiles at her warmly.
The silence is broken after a moment as Mulder informs her of the coroner's report on Alfred Fellig. “Says he died of a single gunshot wound,” he relates, sitting down with care on the edge of her bed. “That's all it said.”
Scully looks at him, furrowing her eyebrows. That was it?
He changes the subject. “I talked to your doctor, and he says you're doing great.” He smiles again. “You're making the fastest recovery he's ever seen.”
She feels her heart sink further at his words. “Yeah.” She decides it's time to get it out in the open, at least somewhat. “Mulder, I don't even know how I entertained the thought. People don't live forever.”
“No, I-- I think he would have,” Mulder says quietly. “I just think that death only looks for you once you seek its opposite.”
She meets his eyes silently, then looks at their joined hands. “Do you think that... if he was immortal, could he have passed it to me somehow, by telling me not to look?” She has tried to keep her voice level, but it wavers slightly.
Mulder tightens his grip on her hand, then touches her cheek with his other hand. “I don't think he passed it on to you, Scully. I think Fellig realized it wasn't your time yet, but that it was finally his. And I'm thankful to him for that.”
Scully closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. “He was so lonely, Mulder... so completely alone in the world.” She sighs.
“But you weren't afraid of death like he first was,” Mulder points out, “were you? You weren't trying to hide.”
“No, I wasn't,” she agrees, thoughtful. She had thought she was dying when Fellig told her to close her eyes - not seeking death, but almost expecting it. If she is going to allow herself to believe that immortality is possible, she reasons, that fact would still seem to make it unlikely that it had passed to her. It isn't too far-fetched, after all, that she could be recovering quickly, even from a serious injury such as this.
There is another short period of silence. Finally, Scully smiles, finding herself reassured at least for now. “Thanks, Mulder.”
He smiles in return. “Hey, any time you want to talk about immortality, I'm your guy.”
~
Washington, DC.
Friday
Scully tries to hold onto this reassurance a week or so later, when her physical therapist back in DC tells her with surprise and pleasure that she has exceeded all expectations, and won't need to come back unless something changes drastically.
Her mother drives her back to her apartment, glancing at her worriedly when she gives little to no response to attempts at conversation. When they arrive, Maggie Scully parks the car and turns to her daughter. “Dana, is everything all right? Did something happen during your session today?”
“No. Everything's great, Mom,” Scully tells her, keeping the irony out of her tone with effort. “In fact, I don't have to go back unless I start feeling worse.”
Her mom looks at her in confusion. “Well, isn't that cause for celebration?”
Scully looks at her mother and thinks about life dragging on so long that you forget your family, and anyone who ever loved you. She tries to smile. “You're right. Are you free for dinner tonight?”
~
According to recently-established tradition, Mulder calls late the next morning to let her know he's on his way over. He has been coming over on the weekends and most evenings to help his shut-in partner keep herself from going crazy with nothing to do. This time, however, Scully almost wishes he were too busy. She knows he'll almost certainly notice her depression and doesn't want to deal with his questions.
“So, I was thinking we should celebrate you being done with your PT,” he says, sounding lighthearted and casual on the phone. “I know for a fact you're getting bored of being cooped up in your apartment.”
“That's definitely true,” she says wryly. “Did you have anything in particular in mind?” This could be good. It's highly likely that being stuck inside for this long has added to her bleak mood, after all. Perhaps going out will help her shake off her foolishness.
Now he sounds somewhat unsure. “Well, um, it's pretty nice outside for January, so I was thinking maybe lunch in the park?”
She walks over to her window to look out. The sun is shining, albeit in a wintry kind of way. “Sounds like a plan, Mulder. I'll put on a sweater.”
“Be there in a few minutes.”
When he knocks on the door, Scully takes the cane that she no longer has to use with her to the door, just so she can toss it away theatrically upon ushering Mulder inside. He chuckles as he closes the door. “Ready for your return to the outside world, I see.”
She looks expectantly at the bag Mulder is carrying. “Yep. Just let me grab my coat.”
The meal is exactly what she needed. They find a quiet area of Constitution Gardens - not that there are many people around at this time of year to compete with - and sit on a low rock wall to eat. They are mostly silent, though as usual Mulder regales her the latest highlights from work, such as they are. Most importantly, Scully manages to forget almost completely about her earlier melancholy.
It is only when she has thanked Mulder for the outing and closed her door after him that she feels her depression return. There is no way that she should have been able to walk around as much as she did today without even the faintest twinge from her injury. Mulder was careful to make sure she wasn't exerting herself too much, Scully knows, but he had followed her lead when she hadn't show any sign of tiring.
Scully sits down heavily on the couch. If it is true - if she is doomed to the same longevity as Alfred Fellig - there will come a time when she will forget moments like today, and even who she shared them with.
She takes a deep breath and rubs a hand across her face. This is absurd, she tells herself. She is drawing too many conclusions from several coincidences and events that are actually perfectly logical in themselves. So she healed quickly. Why is she letting herself worry about this so much?
It's the trauma from the gunshot wound, she decides, from yet another near-death experience. And sure, she had been disturbed by Fellig's tale. It wasn't a pleasant thought, to imagine being as alone as he described, but the man had chased death for years; he was bound to be morbid.
Feeling slightly better, Scully heads toward the kitchen to put away the leftovers from lunch. The last thought she spares on the whole issue is to take it as another lesson that life is to be cherished. To start, she knows she wants to continue doing more with Mulder, outside of work.
She does not allow herself to dwell on the thought that it is the idea of someday losing her memories of Mulder that has been upsetting her the most.
~
It is weeks later - after the disaster at El Rico, and after their first case back on the X-Files - that Scully is forced to question the possibility of her immortality again.
Nothing extraordinary brings it up again, especially in comparison to all the other things they have experienced together over the years. They are stuck in stop-and-go traffic on the way to lunch with Mulder at the wheel. His eyes are on the road, though he and Scully are discussing some mundane details left over from a past case. Mulder rounds a corner, not knowing that traffic is at a dead stop in front of them. Thankfully, he reacts in time and slams on the breaks before they crash into the car ahead of them - but the car following them is not as quick. Scully hears brakes squealing frantically, locks eyes with Mulder for a second, and tries to brace herself.
The impact isn't too severe. She is jerked against the seatbelt roughly, and her right arm slips from where she has braced it, striking against the catch of the glovebox.
Scully recovers from the shock quickly and turns to her partner. “Mulder, are you okay?”
He looks dazed but unharmed as he pulls the car over as best he can. “Yeah, I think so. You?”
There is something wet on her arm, right where it hit the catch. “I--” she starts to say, but is interrupted by the approach of the driver who just rear-ended them.
“Are you guys all right? Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry!” the young woman says, wringing her hands. “I should have been watching - it's totally my fault... Don't worry, though, I have insurance!”
Between the ensuing conversation and making all the proper arrangements (including calls to arrange alternate transport back to work), not only is lunch forgotten, but Scully doesn't get a chance to look at her arm until a good half hour later. She goes into the restroom at work and rolls up her sleeve. There is not a single mark on her. Her arm no longer aches, either. The only proof she has that she did not imagine the injury in the first place is the dried blood on the inside of her sleeve.
Mulder looks at her in concern when she reenters the office. “Scully, are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale.”
She shakes her head. “I'm fine, Mulder. Just still a little shaken, I guess.”
He doesn't look completely convinced. “All right. Let me know if you feel like you need to go home early or anything, though. I'm sure Skinner would understand.” After another moment watching her, he drops the subject.
Scully feels guilty for how relieved she is that he isn't pushing the issue. But it makes it much easier to hold onto her last few shreds of hope that this is all just a string of bizarre coincidences, still explainable in some non-supernatural way.
Not since she saw an image of a murdered college student has Scully wanted so strongly to find a rational explanation. Ironically, then she had been terrified of her mortality; now she is terrified of its opposite.
Later that day, as she is musing on this similarity, she remembers the pain and anger in Mulder's eyes when she finally told him what she had seen. She wonders how long it will take before she reveals this to him.
~
As it turns out, the catalyst for this revelation comes only two weeks later, when Scully is made to experience more agony than she could have ever imagined at the hands of a man who should not even have existed. The pain is worse than when she was shot, even. She struggles and screams, but there is no way to fight him off. Finally, just as the pain is becoming more than her body can handle, as she feels his hands closing around her heart, he just... disappears. She cannot begin to comprehend this before passing out.
She comes awake when someone looms over her. In her stark terror it takes a second to recognize Mulder, but when she does, she grabs for him fiercely. He holds her, and she sobs harder than she has in years. It's Mulder. He's here, she's safe now. She tries to tell herself this over and over, but the fear is slow to leave her.
She has no idea how long she cries into his shoulder, but as she gradually calms, she finds herself leaning against him as he supports her. They have moved to the couch. She takes as deep a breath as she can manage, though she is still shaking.
“Scully?” His voice is almost a whisper. “You okay?”
For a moment, she doesn't respond. She knows that he knows she is not okay. Taking another shuddering breath, she whispers, “Mulder, take me home.”
“Are-- are you sure, Scully? There's a lot of blood, don't you need--”
She shakes her head, still pressed against his chest. “No. Just take me home, please.” Her throat hurts, along with every other part of her. She swallows with difficulty.
Mulder helps her stand up, arm around her waist as she sways a little on her feet. She can't help but look at the blood staining his floor. It is, as he observed, a lot of blood. Her shirt is sticky with it. Mulder's sweater is, as well. Scully closes her eyes and leans against him as another wave of dizziness hits. She touches a hand to her sternum. As she expects from examinations of the previous victims in this case, she encounters no wound. It isn't - it isn't - because of Fellig's parting gift, she tells herself.
One arm still wrapped around her, Mulder leads her over to the coat rack next to his door. He pulls his leather jacket off and quickly drapes it over her. “Let's go, Scully.”
Before she can reply, the door is thrown wide open, and policemen begin to pour in around them. Scully shuts her eyes tightly. She can't deal with this right now.
Everything is a blur for a few minutes. She hears Mulder talking to the police in a low voice, explaining the gunshots which no doubt brought them here in the first place.
Only once does she have to speak, when an officer asks her in concern, “Ma'am, are you sure you're all right? We can get an ambulance here right away--”
“No.” She shakes her head in dismissal. “I'll be fine, thank you.” Her voice is stronger, and she meets the man's eyes steadily.
Mulder hasn't taken his eyes off her this whole time, she notes in a detached way. He says a few more words to the man who spoke to her, and then he ushers her out of the room once more.
~
Hours later, she has showered and changed into pajamas. Mulder has taken off his bloodstained sweater and is preparing to spend the night on her couch; his apartment is a crime scene. He stands when she emerges from her bedroom.
“Hey, Scully, can I get you anything?”
“No thanks, Mulder.” She tries for a smile. “I think I just want to go to bed.”
“Okay. You're sure you're all right?” He takes one step towards her.
Without conscious thought, she reaches to touch where the wound would be. Should be. She falters. “I'm fine. There's-- there's no injury... It's healed, just like with the other victims...” She bites her lip and turns away quickly.
“That's good,” he says, in that same gentle tone. He comes closer, but doesn't crowd her. “But that's not really what I meant.”
Her heart aches, despite the lack of visible wound. It's hard for her to tell if the pain is psychosomatic, or if it's emotional. She turns to Mulder, her eyes still on the ground.
“Scully, if you don't want to say anything right now,” Mulder continues, “I understand. I know you're tired, but I also know you need to talk about what happened today.”
Sighing, she looks up at him. He thinks it is the attack today that is causing her distress - and it is, but not only in the way he assumes. She doesn't know if she can explain it so he'll understand. Then again, she thinks, this is Mulder. He often understands more than she would have thought.
With another sigh, Scully walks over to the couch, sitting down next to the stack of blankets Mulder will be using later. Mulder sits down next to her.
“Do you remember the car accident a few weeks ago?” She meets his eyes again, and sees his puzzlement. This obviously was not what he was expecting.
“Of course.” He opens his mouth to say more, but evidently decides against it.
Scully shifts her attention to her hands in her lap. “I didn't get a chance to mention to you that I'd cut myself when the car hit us. Nothing serious, and there were more important things to do at the time.” She cannot make herself look at him now. “But when we got back to work, I went to check on the cut in the bathroom, and - it was gone. I mean completely gone, not just scabbed over. The only thing left was some dried blood on my sleeve.”
She hears him take a deep, slow breath. Although she has managed to relay the incident without faltering, her composure is now perilously close to collapse. She knows if Mulder is angry at her for hiding this - which wouldn't surprise her at all - she won't be able to keep it together.
“And you're worried about this because of what Alfred Fellig said to you.”
She nods.
He shifts slightly closer to her. “You're still worried that by preventing you from looking at Death, he made you immortal.”
When he puts it into words, it sounds absurd, of course. She gives a weak almost-laugh. “It's stupid, I know. And then, when... I was attacked today, it was completely unrelated, but it brought it all back... He didn't leave a mark on me, Mulder.” She sniffs. The ache in her chest has faded somewhat, but it's still noticeable.
“When were you going to tell me?” Once again, his voice is surprisingly mild and when she finally looks up, anger is not one of the emotions clear in his eyes.
Scully gives a light shrug. “I don't know. I guess I just hoped it wouldn't come up.”
He smiles, reaching for her hand. “You didn't think immortality or rapid healing would ever come up in our line of work?”
She only partially succeeds in returning his smile. “Well, Mulder, it's-- it's not like I wanted to go out and test my theory.”
“No.” He turns serious at that. “No need to follow the scientific method in this instance.” He sighs before continuing, “So, what happens next, Scully? What do you want to do?”
Before she can formulate a reply, she yawns suddenly and hugely. God, she's exhausted. She had already been falling asleep on Mulder's couch during their surveillance of Padgett earlier today, and her energy is just about nonexistent by now. “Can I get back to you on that in the morning, Mulder?”
Mulder squeezes her hand. “I'll be here.”
Almost as soon as her head hits the pillow, Scully begins to drift off to sleep. Despite the events of the day, she has a strong feeling she will sleep well. Perhaps it is because of unburdening herself to Mulder.
~
In the morning, when Scully wakes, it is to the sound of her shower running. Lazily, she turns over to look at the clock by her bed. It is past nine.
Blinking, Scully sits up and runs a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. Even as tired as she was, she hadn't expected to be able to sleep this late. She vaguely remembers Mulder telling the police last night that she would give them her statement today. The thought causes her a twinge of something that might be either guilt or panic, and she quickly gets out of bed.
The shower stops as she goes into the kitchen to start making coffee. A few minutes later, Mulder emerges, wearing a different t-shirt than he had on yesterday and towel-drying his hair. “Morning, Scully. You sleep okay?”
She can't help but smile as she returns the greeting. “Very well, thanks. Was the couch all right?”
He nods. “Good enough to get my beauty sleep.”
Hiding her grin, Scully turns back to the coffee machine. “Right. Well, I'll shower while the coffee brews.” She walks out of the kitchen, then turns back to her partner. “Mulder, did you give the police a specific time for my statement on the attack?”
Mulder looks faintly surprised - perhaps he hadn't thought she had heard that detail. “No. I just told them it would be today.”
“Okay.” She leaves him standing there. She knows he will be wanting to hear the answer to the question he asked last night, and she hopes that when he asks again, she'll know what to say.
.
Title: The Quiet Limit of the World
Spoilers: Tithonus to Per Manum
Keywords: MSR, AU.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Scully deals with the aftermath and implications of the Fellig case.
Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or its associated characters.
Feedback: Would be welcomed, here or at pomme_noire [at ] hotmail.com
Archive: Sure, but please ask me first.
Author's Note: Major thanks go out to
glisters, my wonderful beta!
Part 2: namarie24.livejournal.com/66939.html Part 3: namarie24.livejournal.com/67243.html
Part 4: namarie24.livejournal.com/67341.html
~~~~
“I just think that death only looks for you once you seek its opposite.” - Fox Mulder, “Tithonus”
Part 1
~
NYU Medical Center
She comes to gradually; the quiet rhythms of hospital machinery, the familiar sterile scent of her surroundings, and the warmth of a hand holding hers combine to draw her from drug-induced sleep - those, and a dull ache in her belly, which she can tell will only get worse when consciousness fully returns. This does not deter her. She knows who is holding her hand, and she needs to see him. She guesses he needs to see her just as much.
As her eyes open, she hears Mulder shift in his seat next to her, and feels his hold on her hand tighten.
“Scully?” There he is, his gaze focused on her, a slight smile spreading across his face as she continues to look at him. “How are you feeling?” His voice is quiet, tender - a tone that she knows from other unguarded moments like this.
She clears her throat and tries to swallow. In seconds, Mulder has lifted a cup of water with a straw to her lips. He cautions her to only drink a sip, doctor's orders. It only takes a few more seconds for her to understand why: even that small amount of water causes a very noticeable increase in pain when it reaches her stomach, and she frowns and closes her eyes briefly against it.
“Been better,” she answers. Her voice is weak.
“Let me get the nurse,” he says, putting down the cup and standing. Turning back, he presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay, Scully?”
She nods, as memory starts to return like consciousness before it. She remembers a blinding light filling the dark room, a searing agony in her gut, Agent Ritter's frantic shouts, and...she shivers. Fellig's words to her. She doesn't think she actually saw a figure standing over them - he said it was Death - but she did as Fellig told her, anyway. And she is alive.
She blinks slowly. Now is not the time to go into the possible implications of that fact, not when the pain in her gut is steadily getting worse. Thankfully, it is only a few seconds before Mulder returns with a nurse who introduces herself, and adjusts her pain meds. She starts to tell Scully something about how she can control the release of the medicine herself, but Scully is already slipping back under.
~
The next time she wakes, Mulder is gone from his seat. There is a doctor talking to her mother, who now occupies the chair.
“Mom?” Scully says, and her mother instantly breaks off her conversation, moving to take her daughter's hand.
“Dana,” she greets her, smiling anxiously, “how are you feeling, sweetheart?”
Scully considers. The pain is not so bad this time. “I'm okay,” she tells her. “When did you get here?”
“Yesterday morning,” her mom answers. Then, perhaps realizing that doesn't mean too much to Scully at this point, she adds, “You were brought here two days ago, and you've been recovering from surgery since.”
“Mm. Thanks.” She is glad to see her mom, of course, but she is still so groggy. Nevertheless, she wants to know some more about her condition before she drifts back into drugged slumber, so she turns to the doctor. “Surgery?”
“Yes, you came through it very well,” he says. “Fortunately, the bullet passed through without too much damage to your intestines. You have quite a few stitches, and I'm afraid you're in for a long recovery period, but I'm very pleased with your progress so far.”
Scully thanks him, resolving to read her chart later when she's feeling more alert.
“You're welcome, Miss Scully. I'll leave you two alone for now.” The doctor departs after flashing them both a smile.
“Where's Mulder, Mom?” Scully asks.
“He went to get some lunch.” She smiles again, affection coloring her voice. “He wanted to stay here, but he was obviously exhausted, so I told him I'd take this shift.”
She smiles fondly, too. Her thoughts of her partner are interrupted by a yawn, and her mother pats her hand. “Get some more sleep, Dana. We'll be here when you wake up.”
“'Kay. Thanks, Mom.” Once again, it is very few seconds before sleep overtakes her.
~
This time it is an unwise attempt on her part to try to shift her position that brings her out of sleep suddenly, with a gasp at the resulting sharp pain. She puts her hand over the wound site reflexively and tries to breathe.
“Lie still, Scully.” Mulder is already standing over her, taking both of her hands in his. “You don't want to pull out your stitches.”
Her mother enters the room as the pain is slowly receding to a more bearable level. She is carrying a large bouquet of flowers, and stops for a moment at the sight of Mulder holding her daughter's hands. Mulder steps back slightly, but, Scully is pleased to note, does not let go.
“Dana, honey, you're awake!” She sets the vase down on the table next to the bed, and then stands next to Mulder. “Feeling any better?”
“She just almost pulled out her stitches,” Mulder says, “so I'm guessing not, at the moment.”
Mrs. Scully frowns in concern. “What?”
“I just tried to change my position a little in my sleep,” Scully explains, trying not to sound defensive. “I'll try not to do that again.” Before her mom can say anything else, she changes the subject. “Those are beautiful flowers - thank you, Mom.”
“They're actually from Fox, honey.” Mrs. Scully looks at him with a small smile. “I just went to get a vase for them.”
Mulder ducks his head, but Scully just squeezes his hands. “Mulder, they're beautiful. Thank you.”
“Just you wait, Scully,” he replies, grinning, “I have it on good authority that Frohike's planning to go all-out with his bouquet.”
“Oh, great.” Scully returns the smile. If she were a little more energetic, she thinks, she would have thrown in an eye-roll for good measure... but she hopes it goes without saying.
The nurse comes it at that moment and, with some reluctance, Scully lets go of Mulder's hand to allow the nurse to have access to everything she needs to check, and so that her bandage can be changed. The nurse, too, comments that Scully seems to be healing very well. Scully nods in reply, trying not to wonder if she should be worried by this, in light of Fellig's last words to her. She catches Mulder watching her closely during this exchange, and knows he has not missed her lackluster response.
Feeling somewhat like a coward, Scully asks the nurse to show her the mechanism for controlling her own pain medicine flow again, and the woman does so. She apologizes to her mother and Mulder. “I'm gonna fall asleep again as soon as the dosage is increased, most likely.”
“Don't worry about it, sweetheart,” her mom says, smoothing her blankets carefully. “We just want you to feel better.”
Mulder nods. “Go to sleep, Scully.” It is the last thing she hears for a while.
~
Several days pass in a similar manner. Mulder and her mother mostly take turns spending time with her, though more often than not, he hovers in the background during her mom's bedside vigils as well.
She still sleeps a lot. When she is awake and it is just Mulder and her, they talk a little. With some gentle urging from Mulder, she has told him exactly what happened in Fellig's darkroom, even Fellig's words to her before she lost consciousness. However, she still refuses to dwell on the implications of it - if there even are any implications, her rational mind points out. It isn't possible that the man really was immortal, after all, so it definitely isn't possible for such a thing to be passed on. But even so, she can't help but be reminded of Clyde Bruckman's odd comment to her years ago. And the man had been right about so many things...
The doctor continues to be pleased and baffled by her progress: barely a week after the shooting, Scully is able to eat solid food, though only in small, bland quantities. It still hurts to move, so she doesn't move much - but if she stays still, there is little need for more than a baseline level of painkiller.
Between her mother, Mulder, Frohike (just as extravagant as promised), and even Skinner, not a day goes by without a fresh bouquet of flowers sent to her room. The only one that is less than welcome is the arrangement sent by Agent Ritter. When the nurse brings it in from the reception desk, Scully watches Mulder's jaw tighten and wonders idly if he's planning to commit violence on the innocent vegetation. He leaves it alone, although he makes sure that it is pushed to the back of her bedside table. She isn't too surprised that Ritter hasn't actually shown his face in her room. Whenever he is mentioned or alluded to - which admittedly is not often - Mulder doesn't bother to disguise his anger.
However, Ritter's conspicuous absence does not last. During a rare moment when neither her mother nor Mulder are in the room, there is a quiet knock on her door and Agent Peyton Ritter steps inside.
Scully looks at him, saying nothing. He meets her eyes for a few seconds, but then looks down and clears his throat, shuffling over to stand in front of her. He clears his throat again. Finally, he speaks.
“Agent Scully, I... I know I can't possibly apologize enough.”
She feels a twinge of pity for the young agent and waits without comment.
“There is no excuse for-- for my behavior, but I just wanted you to know...” He swallows, raising his eyes to hers briefly. “I just wanted you to know that I'm terribly sorry, and that I'm accepting full responsibility for my actions. And uh, I... I wish you all the best, in your recovery and... everything.”
Scully nods and says a few almost-meaningless words. She has forgiven him; he is not worth the effort of a grudge, and Mulder doesn't need the added encouragement of her anger to induce him do something foolish. He is already waiting outside her room.
Agent Ritter looks at her one last time and turns to leave, shoulders slumped. She watches as Mulder speaks to him and sees that whatever he says causes Ritter's posture to become even more dejected. Thankfully, though, Mulder leaves it at those few words and then returns to her room.
It still hurts too much for Scully to raise her arms past a certain distance. Mulder stands very close to take her hand, so she only has to lift it a few inches. He smiles at her warmly.
The silence is broken after a moment as Mulder informs her of the coroner's report on Alfred Fellig. “Says he died of a single gunshot wound,” he relates, sitting down with care on the edge of her bed. “That's all it said.”
Scully looks at him, furrowing her eyebrows. That was it?
He changes the subject. “I talked to your doctor, and he says you're doing great.” He smiles again. “You're making the fastest recovery he's ever seen.”
She feels her heart sink further at his words. “Yeah.” She decides it's time to get it out in the open, at least somewhat. “Mulder, I don't even know how I entertained the thought. People don't live forever.”
“No, I-- I think he would have,” Mulder says quietly. “I just think that death only looks for you once you seek its opposite.”
She meets his eyes silently, then looks at their joined hands. “Do you think that... if he was immortal, could he have passed it to me somehow, by telling me not to look?” She has tried to keep her voice level, but it wavers slightly.
Mulder tightens his grip on her hand, then touches her cheek with his other hand. “I don't think he passed it on to you, Scully. I think Fellig realized it wasn't your time yet, but that it was finally his. And I'm thankful to him for that.”
Scully closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. “He was so lonely, Mulder... so completely alone in the world.” She sighs.
“But you weren't afraid of death like he first was,” Mulder points out, “were you? You weren't trying to hide.”
“No, I wasn't,” she agrees, thoughtful. She had thought she was dying when Fellig told her to close her eyes - not seeking death, but almost expecting it. If she is going to allow herself to believe that immortality is possible, she reasons, that fact would still seem to make it unlikely that it had passed to her. It isn't too far-fetched, after all, that she could be recovering quickly, even from a serious injury such as this.
There is another short period of silence. Finally, Scully smiles, finding herself reassured at least for now. “Thanks, Mulder.”
He smiles in return. “Hey, any time you want to talk about immortality, I'm your guy.”
~
Washington, DC.
Friday
Scully tries to hold onto this reassurance a week or so later, when her physical therapist back in DC tells her with surprise and pleasure that she has exceeded all expectations, and won't need to come back unless something changes drastically.
Her mother drives her back to her apartment, glancing at her worriedly when she gives little to no response to attempts at conversation. When they arrive, Maggie Scully parks the car and turns to her daughter. “Dana, is everything all right? Did something happen during your session today?”
“No. Everything's great, Mom,” Scully tells her, keeping the irony out of her tone with effort. “In fact, I don't have to go back unless I start feeling worse.”
Her mom looks at her in confusion. “Well, isn't that cause for celebration?”
Scully looks at her mother and thinks about life dragging on so long that you forget your family, and anyone who ever loved you. She tries to smile. “You're right. Are you free for dinner tonight?”
~
According to recently-established tradition, Mulder calls late the next morning to let her know he's on his way over. He has been coming over on the weekends and most evenings to help his shut-in partner keep herself from going crazy with nothing to do. This time, however, Scully almost wishes he were too busy. She knows he'll almost certainly notice her depression and doesn't want to deal with his questions.
“So, I was thinking we should celebrate you being done with your PT,” he says, sounding lighthearted and casual on the phone. “I know for a fact you're getting bored of being cooped up in your apartment.”
“That's definitely true,” she says wryly. “Did you have anything in particular in mind?” This could be good. It's highly likely that being stuck inside for this long has added to her bleak mood, after all. Perhaps going out will help her shake off her foolishness.
Now he sounds somewhat unsure. “Well, um, it's pretty nice outside for January, so I was thinking maybe lunch in the park?”
She walks over to her window to look out. The sun is shining, albeit in a wintry kind of way. “Sounds like a plan, Mulder. I'll put on a sweater.”
“Be there in a few minutes.”
When he knocks on the door, Scully takes the cane that she no longer has to use with her to the door, just so she can toss it away theatrically upon ushering Mulder inside. He chuckles as he closes the door. “Ready for your return to the outside world, I see.”
She looks expectantly at the bag Mulder is carrying. “Yep. Just let me grab my coat.”
The meal is exactly what she needed. They find a quiet area of Constitution Gardens - not that there are many people around at this time of year to compete with - and sit on a low rock wall to eat. They are mostly silent, though as usual Mulder regales her the latest highlights from work, such as they are. Most importantly, Scully manages to forget almost completely about her earlier melancholy.
It is only when she has thanked Mulder for the outing and closed her door after him that she feels her depression return. There is no way that she should have been able to walk around as much as she did today without even the faintest twinge from her injury. Mulder was careful to make sure she wasn't exerting herself too much, Scully knows, but he had followed her lead when she hadn't show any sign of tiring.
Scully sits down heavily on the couch. If it is true - if she is doomed to the same longevity as Alfred Fellig - there will come a time when she will forget moments like today, and even who she shared them with.
She takes a deep breath and rubs a hand across her face. This is absurd, she tells herself. She is drawing too many conclusions from several coincidences and events that are actually perfectly logical in themselves. So she healed quickly. Why is she letting herself worry about this so much?
It's the trauma from the gunshot wound, she decides, from yet another near-death experience. And sure, she had been disturbed by Fellig's tale. It wasn't a pleasant thought, to imagine being as alone as he described, but the man had chased death for years; he was bound to be morbid.
Feeling slightly better, Scully heads toward the kitchen to put away the leftovers from lunch. The last thought she spares on the whole issue is to take it as another lesson that life is to be cherished. To start, she knows she wants to continue doing more with Mulder, outside of work.
She does not allow herself to dwell on the thought that it is the idea of someday losing her memories of Mulder that has been upsetting her the most.
~
It is weeks later - after the disaster at El Rico, and after their first case back on the X-Files - that Scully is forced to question the possibility of her immortality again.
Nothing extraordinary brings it up again, especially in comparison to all the other things they have experienced together over the years. They are stuck in stop-and-go traffic on the way to lunch with Mulder at the wheel. His eyes are on the road, though he and Scully are discussing some mundane details left over from a past case. Mulder rounds a corner, not knowing that traffic is at a dead stop in front of them. Thankfully, he reacts in time and slams on the breaks before they crash into the car ahead of them - but the car following them is not as quick. Scully hears brakes squealing frantically, locks eyes with Mulder for a second, and tries to brace herself.
The impact isn't too severe. She is jerked against the seatbelt roughly, and her right arm slips from where she has braced it, striking against the catch of the glovebox.
Scully recovers from the shock quickly and turns to her partner. “Mulder, are you okay?”
He looks dazed but unharmed as he pulls the car over as best he can. “Yeah, I think so. You?”
There is something wet on her arm, right where it hit the catch. “I--” she starts to say, but is interrupted by the approach of the driver who just rear-ended them.
“Are you guys all right? Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry!” the young woman says, wringing her hands. “I should have been watching - it's totally my fault... Don't worry, though, I have insurance!”
Between the ensuing conversation and making all the proper arrangements (including calls to arrange alternate transport back to work), not only is lunch forgotten, but Scully doesn't get a chance to look at her arm until a good half hour later. She goes into the restroom at work and rolls up her sleeve. There is not a single mark on her. Her arm no longer aches, either. The only proof she has that she did not imagine the injury in the first place is the dried blood on the inside of her sleeve.
Mulder looks at her in concern when she reenters the office. “Scully, are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale.”
She shakes her head. “I'm fine, Mulder. Just still a little shaken, I guess.”
He doesn't look completely convinced. “All right. Let me know if you feel like you need to go home early or anything, though. I'm sure Skinner would understand.” After another moment watching her, he drops the subject.
Scully feels guilty for how relieved she is that he isn't pushing the issue. But it makes it much easier to hold onto her last few shreds of hope that this is all just a string of bizarre coincidences, still explainable in some non-supernatural way.
Not since she saw an image of a murdered college student has Scully wanted so strongly to find a rational explanation. Ironically, then she had been terrified of her mortality; now she is terrified of its opposite.
Later that day, as she is musing on this similarity, she remembers the pain and anger in Mulder's eyes when she finally told him what she had seen. She wonders how long it will take before she reveals this to him.
~
As it turns out, the catalyst for this revelation comes only two weeks later, when Scully is made to experience more agony than she could have ever imagined at the hands of a man who should not even have existed. The pain is worse than when she was shot, even. She struggles and screams, but there is no way to fight him off. Finally, just as the pain is becoming more than her body can handle, as she feels his hands closing around her heart, he just... disappears. She cannot begin to comprehend this before passing out.
She comes awake when someone looms over her. In her stark terror it takes a second to recognize Mulder, but when she does, she grabs for him fiercely. He holds her, and she sobs harder than she has in years. It's Mulder. He's here, she's safe now. She tries to tell herself this over and over, but the fear is slow to leave her.
She has no idea how long she cries into his shoulder, but as she gradually calms, she finds herself leaning against him as he supports her. They have moved to the couch. She takes as deep a breath as she can manage, though she is still shaking.
“Scully?” His voice is almost a whisper. “You okay?”
For a moment, she doesn't respond. She knows that he knows she is not okay. Taking another shuddering breath, she whispers, “Mulder, take me home.”
“Are-- are you sure, Scully? There's a lot of blood, don't you need--”
She shakes her head, still pressed against his chest. “No. Just take me home, please.” Her throat hurts, along with every other part of her. She swallows with difficulty.
Mulder helps her stand up, arm around her waist as she sways a little on her feet. She can't help but look at the blood staining his floor. It is, as he observed, a lot of blood. Her shirt is sticky with it. Mulder's sweater is, as well. Scully closes her eyes and leans against him as another wave of dizziness hits. She touches a hand to her sternum. As she expects from examinations of the previous victims in this case, she encounters no wound. It isn't - it isn't - because of Fellig's parting gift, she tells herself.
One arm still wrapped around her, Mulder leads her over to the coat rack next to his door. He pulls his leather jacket off and quickly drapes it over her. “Let's go, Scully.”
Before she can reply, the door is thrown wide open, and policemen begin to pour in around them. Scully shuts her eyes tightly. She can't deal with this right now.
Everything is a blur for a few minutes. She hears Mulder talking to the police in a low voice, explaining the gunshots which no doubt brought them here in the first place.
Only once does she have to speak, when an officer asks her in concern, “Ma'am, are you sure you're all right? We can get an ambulance here right away--”
“No.” She shakes her head in dismissal. “I'll be fine, thank you.” Her voice is stronger, and she meets the man's eyes steadily.
Mulder hasn't taken his eyes off her this whole time, she notes in a detached way. He says a few more words to the man who spoke to her, and then he ushers her out of the room once more.
~
Hours later, she has showered and changed into pajamas. Mulder has taken off his bloodstained sweater and is preparing to spend the night on her couch; his apartment is a crime scene. He stands when she emerges from her bedroom.
“Hey, Scully, can I get you anything?”
“No thanks, Mulder.” She tries for a smile. “I think I just want to go to bed.”
“Okay. You're sure you're all right?” He takes one step towards her.
Without conscious thought, she reaches to touch where the wound would be. Should be. She falters. “I'm fine. There's-- there's no injury... It's healed, just like with the other victims...” She bites her lip and turns away quickly.
“That's good,” he says, in that same gentle tone. He comes closer, but doesn't crowd her. “But that's not really what I meant.”
Her heart aches, despite the lack of visible wound. It's hard for her to tell if the pain is psychosomatic, or if it's emotional. She turns to Mulder, her eyes still on the ground.
“Scully, if you don't want to say anything right now,” Mulder continues, “I understand. I know you're tired, but I also know you need to talk about what happened today.”
Sighing, she looks up at him. He thinks it is the attack today that is causing her distress - and it is, but not only in the way he assumes. She doesn't know if she can explain it so he'll understand. Then again, she thinks, this is Mulder. He often understands more than she would have thought.
With another sigh, Scully walks over to the couch, sitting down next to the stack of blankets Mulder will be using later. Mulder sits down next to her.
“Do you remember the car accident a few weeks ago?” She meets his eyes again, and sees his puzzlement. This obviously was not what he was expecting.
“Of course.” He opens his mouth to say more, but evidently decides against it.
Scully shifts her attention to her hands in her lap. “I didn't get a chance to mention to you that I'd cut myself when the car hit us. Nothing serious, and there were more important things to do at the time.” She cannot make herself look at him now. “But when we got back to work, I went to check on the cut in the bathroom, and - it was gone. I mean completely gone, not just scabbed over. The only thing left was some dried blood on my sleeve.”
She hears him take a deep, slow breath. Although she has managed to relay the incident without faltering, her composure is now perilously close to collapse. She knows if Mulder is angry at her for hiding this - which wouldn't surprise her at all - she won't be able to keep it together.
“And you're worried about this because of what Alfred Fellig said to you.”
She nods.
He shifts slightly closer to her. “You're still worried that by preventing you from looking at Death, he made you immortal.”
When he puts it into words, it sounds absurd, of course. She gives a weak almost-laugh. “It's stupid, I know. And then, when... I was attacked today, it was completely unrelated, but it brought it all back... He didn't leave a mark on me, Mulder.” She sniffs. The ache in her chest has faded somewhat, but it's still noticeable.
“When were you going to tell me?” Once again, his voice is surprisingly mild and when she finally looks up, anger is not one of the emotions clear in his eyes.
Scully gives a light shrug. “I don't know. I guess I just hoped it wouldn't come up.”
He smiles, reaching for her hand. “You didn't think immortality or rapid healing would ever come up in our line of work?”
She only partially succeeds in returning his smile. “Well, Mulder, it's-- it's not like I wanted to go out and test my theory.”
“No.” He turns serious at that. “No need to follow the scientific method in this instance.” He sighs before continuing, “So, what happens next, Scully? What do you want to do?”
Before she can formulate a reply, she yawns suddenly and hugely. God, she's exhausted. She had already been falling asleep on Mulder's couch during their surveillance of Padgett earlier today, and her energy is just about nonexistent by now. “Can I get back to you on that in the morning, Mulder?”
Mulder squeezes her hand. “I'll be here.”
Almost as soon as her head hits the pillow, Scully begins to drift off to sleep. Despite the events of the day, she has a strong feeling she will sleep well. Perhaps it is because of unburdening herself to Mulder.
~
In the morning, when Scully wakes, it is to the sound of her shower running. Lazily, she turns over to look at the clock by her bed. It is past nine.
Blinking, Scully sits up and runs a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. Even as tired as she was, she hadn't expected to be able to sleep this late. She vaguely remembers Mulder telling the police last night that she would give them her statement today. The thought causes her a twinge of something that might be either guilt or panic, and she quickly gets out of bed.
The shower stops as she goes into the kitchen to start making coffee. A few minutes later, Mulder emerges, wearing a different t-shirt than he had on yesterday and towel-drying his hair. “Morning, Scully. You sleep okay?”
She can't help but smile as she returns the greeting. “Very well, thanks. Was the couch all right?”
He nods. “Good enough to get my beauty sleep.”
Hiding her grin, Scully turns back to the coffee machine. “Right. Well, I'll shower while the coffee brews.” She walks out of the kitchen, then turns back to her partner. “Mulder, did you give the police a specific time for my statement on the attack?”
Mulder looks faintly surprised - perhaps he hadn't thought she had heard that detail. “No. I just told them it would be today.”
“Okay.” She leaves him standing there. She knows he will be wanting to hear the answer to the question he asked last night, and she hopes that when he asks again, she'll know what to say.