Song; A Picture of You by Johnny Reid.
Sorry in advance. Enjoy!
The beeping the of the machine was enough to drive him insane. He only wishes he can turn it off, but his partner has slapped his hand far too many times over the years. So for the first since he joined the FBI, he keeps the tubs and wires in without a fuss. Cancer. He has cancer. He couldn't believe it, he thought he was done with that mass in his brain. But this time, it wasn't there. He is sick of cancer, it's plagued him far too long.
Now at age 64, almost ready to retire from his job as an active agent, he's pressured into leaving the FBI for good. His health was too risky for them, they won't take him anymore. Kersh, who has started to warm up to him as he started to slow down, has already called home to explain what was going on, and he was thankful for that. It aches him to have to tell his family that he was dying.
"And how are you doing, Mr. Mulder?" A perky middle aged nurse asks him, coming to check his vitals.
He doesn't give her a smile, maybe a lift of his lip, but not a smile. "Good, I guess. Just wish my wife was here to help me get through it." He pauses, playing with his hands. "She was always the strong one between the two of us. Fought cancer herself, beat it right into remission too." He smiles for real this time.
The nurse smiles fondly back at him. "She did? How long ago was that?" She asks, making sure to check the bag of fluids.
"27 years ago." He looks up to her. "She was so brave back then, I wish I had her bravery now." He pauses again, careful of the needles and wires as he shifts in his bed. "I'm scared shitless. I have a 7 year old waiting for me to come home, and a 24 year old who doesn't know how to raise a little kid." He lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair, wincing as the needle in his hand pinches him.
The woman beside him stands there in shock. "And your wife?" She aks, almost scared to know the answer.
"Recurrence." He says, his throat feeling like it's closing as he speaks those words and he feels tears swelling up in his eyes. "Two years ago, right here in this hospital."
The room goes quiet for a long time, he figures the nurse doesn't know what to say to him. He can't believe he's even telling the nurse this, but someone has to listen to him. He can't tell his kids that he's had this on his mind, he doesn't want to scare his little girl.
"Do yo-" He swallows hard. "Do you want to see her?" A tear rolling down his cheek.
The woman smiles kindly at him. "I'd love to." He points to the bag he has sitting on the chair in the room a little ways off from his bed. She gets up and grabs the entire backpack, handing it to him. He takes a moment to dig through his bag before he pulls out his wallet, inside was his target.
A picture of her.
He runs a finger over the curve of her face before showing the middle aged woman his prize possession of his wife laughing along with him as he took a picture of her on the front porch of their house. "Time goes by so fast, it's hard to believe that it's been 19 years since I took that photo."
"She's beautiful." The women comments, a smile in her gaze, looking down at the small picture. He digs into his bag again, quickly pulling out a large book; a photo album. "You're not the first person I've met who brings albums with them."
"The mem- the memories, of her, our family, are all in here. Anything we could get from working together in the 90s is in here, all the way up until the last time I got our photos printed a couple months ago. The moment I knew I had cancer, I had to go back to her, to Dana, and cherish the memories I had with her once again." He is babbling, and he knows it, but he has to let it all out, or else he'll be crying the moment he sees his kids, and he won't do that to him. "It's not fair, you know. That our little girl has to lose both her parents to the same thing in such little time."
The nurse sits on the end of the bed, listening to him as he pours his heart out, watching as the tears pour down his face.
"I don't want to do this to Sammie, but I can't fight anymore." His lip quivers. "I don't want to leave my family, but I miss her everyday, I miss the times we had together."
He feels the woman grab his hand, holding it in both of hers. "It's ok dear, just let it all out. You're okay here." He holds the album to his chest, his tears soaking his neck. "You're not alone."
There is a knock on the door.
His head shoots up, eyes wide. "Just a minute!" The nurse calls to the people on the other side of the door. She hands him back the photo of his wife and he dries his eye quickly. She waits until he's ready for company before she makes her way to the door and slowly opens it.
"Excuse me," He hears a small familiar voice. "Is my Daddy here?" He wants to start crying again, ashamed at thinking of leaving the little girl behind.
"And who might your Daddy be, sweetheart? We have a lot of Daddy's in the hospital today."
"Mulder." Says another familiar voice, deeper this time.
His kids.
"It's alright, Danielle, you can let them in." The woman steps to the side to let the two in, greeting him with the excited face of his baby girl, and the somber expression of his son. The nurse leaves the three of them alone. "Hey kiddo," He smiles to his youngest, careful is helping her onto the bed. "How was school?"
The child goes into animated version of her day, he does his best to listen, but the pained look on his son's face when he gives him a one-over in concerning.
"Daddy, are you dying?" He was quickly brought his attention back to his daughter at her choice of words.
Wha-what?"
"Daddy. Are. You. Dying?" She spells out for him.
He clears his throat. "What makes you say that, sweetheart?"
She gives him the look, the one his wife use to give him all the time when she had enough of his bullshit. "You have Mama's photo album. She had it too right before she died." Oh. He had nearly forgotten about that, the growing book that has years of photos in it was also her way of feeling connected to the children when his wife was dying too.
"Please don't lie to us Mulder." His son comments from the seat his bag was sitting earlier. "We can handle it."
He looks between his two kids, still shocked at the age gap between the two. "Yes." He whispers. "I am dying. I was diagnosed with cancer this morning." He doesn't meet the eyes of the two.
"Cancer?" The little girl whimpers. "Like Mama?" He nods weakly, wanting to forget the memories that came flooding back from that terrible day. "But who will take care of me?"
The younger man in the room switches his gaze from the oldest to the youngest. "I have it… that… Jackson will take care of you." The little girl looks over to her brother, who nods. "I don't know how long I'll last, but I'll try to be there the best I can."
"Before you join Mama in heaven?"
His heart shatters. "Yeah, before I join her." He feels his lip start to quiver and his throat tighten again.
"Hey Sammie, how about we go get you some dinner from the cafeteria before you wither away to nothing." The young men says standing up from his seat.
The little girl frowns. "Okay." She leans forward to pull her dad into hug. "I love you Daddy."
"I love you too, Pumpkin."
With the room now empty, he was free to look through the photo album. The few pictures they had of the just the two of them in the early days of the X-Files were few are far between, but even less of her smiling. Flipping through the book, he lands on a photo of the two of them together, dancing, her looking back at him from their days after she was in remission.
The time has gone by so fast, that when it's gone it doesn't come back. And he wishes he could bring back the early days, tell her that he loved her way back then. But if he could leave this world with just one memory, it's be a picture of her looking back at him.