Disclaimer: characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.
Production: January, 2009 – August, 2010
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…
Extra: a different take on I Want to Believe, considering an Alternative Reality post-Fight the Future. Spoilers from the episodes.
A/N: English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
OUT FROM UNDER
Chapter II:
No cures
Being a doctor is not an easy job. But that's something everyone already knows.
Being a doctor is being available 24/7, when all you want to do is forget the rest of the world for just five minutes and put yourself in first place. It is trying your very best for other people, their stories and their problems, while forgetting that in you inhabits a human being with unsolved questions too. It is having a smile on your face to everyone around you, even when everything is falling apart inside. It is losing your personal identity in exchange of a professional one.
In fact, now that she was thinking about it, being a doctor isn't much different from being an FBI agent.
Scully woke up from her trance with a light knock at her office's door. Caught in surprise, she clicked the X placed in the right superior corner of her computer screen and watched the internet page disappear in one second. Not even a trace from her research work. Better this way.
"Come in!"
Laurie Wood's blond head took a peak from the door. One look was enough to notice her somewhat worried expression.
"Dr. Scully?"
"Yes?" Scully moved her head from behind the computer, searching for the face of her colleague. "Dr. Wood, is there a problem?"
"No, not really," said the other woman, entering the office and closing the door behind her. "Father Ybarra asked me to talk to you. He says that the conference room is available for today's meeting and all the equipment is ready to use. He also says he won't be able to be present at the beginning, but he'll be there as soon as he can."
The red-haired nodded. Even though she would never admit it out loud, she was relieved with the possibility of not being forced to face Father Ybarra's cold and distant figure.
"Ok, thanks for the information."
"Hum..."
Scully frowned when she noticed that not only Laurie didn't seem willing to leave her alone, but she was also looking around as someone who's trying to start a conversation but has no idea how. She started wondering if she was also looking for answers regarding Christian's future.
"Do you have something else to add, Dr. Wood?" Scully was trying hard to sound as warm as possible.
"Actually, it's just a curiosity. You know that there are people disappearing, right? That last victim, a woman named Monica Bannan..."
Well, that was an unexpected twist!
"Yes, I saw it on the news," she confirmed. "Why are you...?"
"Do you know her?"
"Me?!"
Laurie's eyes, dark as coffee grains, were shining and for a brief moment Scully felt a tightness in her chest. She didn't like to gossip, and she definitely disliked the idea of being the center of it. That was also the reason why she wasn't any closer with her younger colleague, or pretty much everyone else in that hospital: she had never felt comfortable enough to exchange any dialogue that was more than strictly professional with them.
"Why would I know that woman?" However, she already knew the answer to that question.
"Oh, Dr. Scully, people are saying that she is an FBI agent. And everyone already knows that you were one too, before you became a doctor."
Why wasn't she surprised with this conversation?
Scully dragged her revolving chair through the floor and got up slowly, with a serious expression on her face and without facing her colleague in the eye. She could feel her stomach twitching after hearing the mention of the forbidden subject.
"I'm a pediatrician, Dr. Wood." Scully's voice tone was cold, just like the one she hadn't used in years. "Who I was has no interest to who I am right now."
"But what's the big deal?" It was as if Laurie had finally found the courage to speak and let her know everything she thought about the matter: "You know, I think it's amazing! It must be so impressive, carrying a gun in your hands, chasing criminals and murderers! And trying to imagine you, Dr. Scully... you're always so calm, so... normal! In fact, it doesn't sound like you at all! I guess it's only natural that people would like to know more about what it's like to work for the FBI, but you never talk about it!"
"Dr. Wood..." Scully sighed. Sometimes, the adults were the ones who needed an extra dose of patience. "Are you familiar with the concept of privacy? It's one of my favorites."
Laurie understood the message. Obviously, she wouldn't get anything from her. At least no one could blame her for not trying.
The other woman came closer to her colleague and opened the office's door.
"I have patients to see," and motioned her to leave. It marked the ending of the first round and Scully had been an easy winner.
However, she couldn't avoid the weird feeling that this was only the first battle of a war that was about to burst...
"On the Fearon case, I reviewed the exams that were sent to us with my team of neuropediatricians. We were alarmed by two situations..."
"The deficiency on lipid metabolism and the diminished enzyme output."
"That's correct."
"Both are indicators of a lysosomal storage deficiency."
Dr. Hawkins agreed with a nod. With Christian's clinical file opened in her hands, and facing the results of several exams already done to the boy, Scully tried not to pay attention to the presence in the room of her other colleagues and the priests who were part of the administrative board of the Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital. They were like strangers to that exchange of information.
"I'm keen to suggest a type 2 degenerative brain disease, like Sandhoff disease," she continued, searching for the specialist's serious and professional eyes on the screen. "The defective gene blocks the normal function of the enzymes that are responsible for the disaggregation of lipid molecules. As a result, fat accumulates in the organism, causing the progressive destruction of the central nervous system, which leads to motor and mental atrophy."
"Are you the boy's primary physician, Dr...?"
A noise made her look away from the screen: Father Ybarra had just arrived. For some reason, it felt as if he had brought the cold to the small conference room. It was already too late for her not to notice what was happening around her.
"Scully, Dr. Scully," she answered as soon as she noticed that the specialist was still waiting for an answer. "And yes, I'm responsible for the Fearon case."
"And have you asked for his levels of hexosaminidases A and B? A deficiency of those could support your hypothesis."
"I've done that!" Scully closed the file, with the results still echoing on her mind. "I'm not looking for a diagnosis, Dr. Hawkins, I'm looking for a treatment."
Dr. Hawkins' mouth seemed to open in surprise. For a brief moment, Scully believed she was taking her for a crazy person.
"Dr. Scully, surely you know that there is no treatment for Sandhoff disease," she explained with the same patience of a person who explains to a child that two plus two is four.
"I know, but I researched on the matter and there are currently experimental therapies that..."
"The key-word is exactly that one, Dr. – experimental!" Sheila Hawkins came closer to the camera. "Our problem here is that we're talking about human beings, not lab rats!"
"I know that too, but..."
"I don't think that's something to be discussed!"
"So, what are you suggesting me, Dr. Hawkins, to leave the boy to die?"
Scully felt the harsh stares from her colleagues and priests weighing on her back and she could almost swear that some of them had stopped breathing as tension grew in the small room. She tried not to care about them. Dr. Hawkins' answers were all that mattered now.
The specialist shook her head in disbelief. Before answering, her lips formed a little sad smile on her face:
"We're not here to play God. Being a doctor is accepting that sometimes we can't save the lives in our hands."
Just like an FBI agent...
"Being a doctor is doing our best for the patients under our care!"
"And what do you think it's the best thing to do for the boy in this situation, Dr. Scully?"
A heavy silence fell in both sides of the video-conference. What was the best thing to do for Christian? Please, the boy had just turned seven! What could be better than a chance to grow up?
However, Scully was aware of the fact that she couldn't fight against Sheila Hawkins. She hadn't even blinked while telling her to give up. No need to think twice, no break in her voice, no detour to an unrelated point. Was she an ice queen incapable of deeper feelings? Or, quite the opposite, was Scully the one losing control, risking her rational thinking and professional ethic?
"There is no cure for Sandhoff disease," said the other woman, concluding her opinion. The image displayed by the screen trembled slightly. "But I'm sure you'd let me know if there was one."
Scully lowered her eyes, as a child caught doing a mischievous action. The golden cross pending from her neck was shining.
"Sure!" The whisper that came out from her mouth gained a new strength while adding: "Thank you for your time and your opinion, Dr. Hawkins!"
"I'll be available in case you need me again. And, Dr. Scully," her face seemed gigantic in the small screen of the video-conference, "I'm sorry I can't help you!"
Of course she was sorry. Everyone was sorry. They were sorry of Christian's condition, sorry of the Fearons' nightmare, sorry of the fact that they were all innocent players that couldn't do anything to change the natural course of the situation. But being sorry didn't help anyone – Christian was still dying, Blair and Margaret were still horrified by the possibility of losing their only child, and they kept on doing nothing.
The screen turned dark when the connection between both hospitals was lost. The silence was still heavy on the small conference room. Scully looked around, facing those who were staring at her and those who pretended not to care about her or her struggles. Why weren't they speaking? Why were they reacting as if she was the wrong one?
Alex St. Matthew was staring too. His expression blocked her from seeing beyond his gray eyes and discovering on which side he was. And Father Ybarra... Scully wasn't able to face Father Ybarra right now.
"Excuse me," and she left the room, without bothering to close the door behind her.
It was done. She was alone.
She rested her head against the white, naked and cold wall in the middle of the corridor and covered her mouth with both hands. There was no need to lose her posture, they weren't there anymore to harass her with their stares and unspoken words. So, she lifted her chin and got ready for what was coming next. She knew she was strong enough to deal with it.
Scully walked through the corridor like a ghost, being there but not there, as if stuck between two worlds, so distant yet so close to each other. Doctors and nurses walked by her, as did assistants and visitors who carried flowers and balloons on their hands. So close... so far away...
Sister Beatrice smiled gently as she passed nearby, walking together with Sister Claire. Scully tried to smile back at her, but then she noticed who was coming behind them: Margaret and Blair Fearon, pushing the wheelchair where Christian was sitting. They saw her and walked towards her.
With a sigh, she approached them.
"Hello, Dr. Scully, how are you?" asked Christian with his usual sympathy and politeness.
"I'm just fine, thanks for asking. Feeling better?"
He nodded.
"So, Dr.," Blair took advantage of the moment of silence to satisfy his curiosity, "is the reunion over? What did the specialist say?"
"She said what we already knew, that there's nothing left to do. Science is powerless to help you. All we can do now is put our faith in God and wait for His final decision."
She noticed the expectancy on Blair's face. She saw Margaret's shy smile and Christian's straight look. They were still hoping. They still wanted to believe.
What could Scully say?
"Nothing new," she said at last, trying a smile. "We need to do some more exams, okay?"
"I don't like needles!"
"Oh Christian, I know! But this is really important!" Scully squatted next to her young patient and took his fragile hands. "Hey, I'll ask for Nurse Madeline to be with you! I've heard that she has this magic needle that doesn't hurt..."
"Hum, it doesn't hurt much."
With a smile, Scully got up and watched while the Fearons walked away with Christian. Blair looked behind once, as trying to read her now that they weren't facing her. As if, deep inside, he knew that something didn't go the way she had planned.
She saw the distance grew bigger and then they disappeared. She could stop pretending now. The smile died on her face. If her peers already thought it was wrong of her to find another way out, what would they say if they knew she didn't had the courage to take away their last hope?
Her eyes focused on the shrimp salad in front of her. She hadn't eaten a thing for seven hours but she wasn't hungry. She could hear the other people at the cafeteria, talking, laughing, commenting on their kids' school play or last soccer practice, and frowned. How could they not worry? How could they take interest in such trivial subjects? How could they be so...
Normal?
Lost in her thoughts, Scully got scared when she felt a hand falling over her shoulder. Then she saw Sister Beatrice's face appearing behind her, her lips smiling as a ray of light in the obscurity of her dark clothing.
"You know, Dr. Scully," she said with her harmonious voice, "God gives straight through twisted lines."
She nodded in agreement.
"I just wish I could understand His message."
"I know," Sister Beatrice came closer, as if ready to share a secret with her, "but that's why we have faith on His work!"
Scully smiled at her and she walked away, almost as fast as she had come. Before someone noticed it, she dried the tears that were threatening to expose her feelings and tried not to think about that day, the moment when she had reached the same conclusion as Sister Beatrice.
"Maybe that's what faith is..."
«In other news, the searches for the missing FBI agent are being carried on. Monica Bannan has been missing for four days and the Federal Bureau of Investigation is not giving up in the search of her whereabouts.»
The reference to the FBI and Monica Bannan captured her attention, which lead Scully to look at the television screen exposed at the wall behind the counter where she was having her lunch. Trying to focus on the reporter's words and not on the noises produced by the people still at the cafeteria, she was finally able to forget the Fearons for the first time in that day.
«According to the information collected by our channel reporters, it was suggested that, after facing several difficulties, the FBI has searched for a special help outside of the agency...»
They were now showing images from what appeared to be the Bannan residence. An anonymous audience, police officers and the dark-blue jackets that she knew so well were shown surrounding the place. Scully caught herself searching for familiar faces through the crowd. A man was writing furiously on his notebook. Another one was in the middle of the snow holding a fragile old man, who was shivering due to the cold. A journalist with a microphone was running after a young woman with long dark hair who didn't look at him twice.
«... a special help...»
There was something strange about that choice of words, something that caught her attention. 'Special' was a word with so many meanings behind it... 'Special' as unusual, as an expert? 'Special' as paranormal?
Without knowing why, Scully's mind made her focus at the image of the old man. Maybe she was wrong, but could that not be a reaction to the cold? She examined what she was seeing, his eyes blinking, his body shaking without control while kneeling in the snow and falling over himself. That was what was bothering her: that old man wasn't hypothermic, he was having some kind of a seizure!
And what about the man next to him? Why was he so familiar? Why was she under the impression that, behind the chunky jacket and the thick dark beard, there was someone she knew well?
Why were her hands so sweaty?
Why was her heart beating like crazy?
Somewhere, someone let a dish fall on the floor. The sound of glass breaking got to her and broke the walls she had built over time, the same walls that were stopping her from admitting what, deep inside, she already knew.
Mulder...
That man was no other than Fox Mulder.
TBC