Author's Notes:
Sorry for the longer break. A combination of writer's block, holidays and too much work kept me away. But Finally got back into the game and it turned out to be a really long chapter this time...
Warning:
Somewhat gruesome depictions in this part.
"Closet of Eternal Sorrow, Part Seven"
"You know what?" Brylee Sanders asked.
"What?" Scully wondered why she was with Brylee in a playground. She was certain they both had to be someplace else.
The girl produced a lollipop out of thin air and Scully was even more confused.
"This is for you." She uttered gleefully and handed her the piece of candy.
She smiled at the joyous girl and took the sweet. She wanted to pocket it but it had no cover and she didn't want her pocket to get all sticky, so she just stood there with the lollipop in her hand and wondered what to do next.
It was Brylee who told her what to do. "You're s'posed to lick it, Dr. Scully."
Not wanting to offend the child, Scully began licking the candy, all the while thinking it was odd that Brylee was addressing her so formally. "You know you can call me Dana."
"I know," Brylee said, but didn't elaborate any further.
She continued licking the sweet and wondering how she had arrived in that garden. As she pondered the situation she followed Brylee around through the playground.
The child had found a piece of chalk and had begun drawing hopscotch squares on the concrete path that meandered through the playground. Once she had completed the drawing, she grabbed a pebble from the ground, and began tossing it and jumping back and forth. All of a sudden she looked up at Scully. "Dr. Scully, now you look more like yourself."
Scully felt her right eyebrow arching, and her face twitching as she tried to figure out what the child was referring to, when she suddenly got a glimpse of her arms. They were covered with green pustules and the pustules were multiplying by the millisecond before her very eyes. To add insult to injury, she also felt possessed by a terrible need to scratch the gross puss-filled blobs. Despite feeling repelled by their appearance and knowing full-well that scratching the horrid things would just make things worse, she wasn't able to resist the urge. She half-closed her eyes, then set her fingers free to dig into the gooey texture that was once her skin. The more she tore into her flesh, the stronger the urge became. In her mind she screamed at herself to cease the destruction of her body, but that same body would not obey.
She felt a strange high the more she scratched and at the same time she also felt panic and disgust and the opposing sensations made her heartbeat race. "Brylee," she cried out to the child through gasps and pants. "Get help!"
"You don't need help, Dr. Scully. You are doing very well on your own." The child said, matter-of-factly and resumed her game of hopscotch to Scully's unmitigated horror.
"Please," Scully pleaded with the child.
But Brylee seemed oblivious to her plight. She dashed further away from her and hopped on the first swing she happened upon, screeching with total delight, just as she used to do back in the day, when she was still undamaged by the illness and its treatment.
Her logic was still intact and it was telling her not to believe her senses. It was hard to do, though. She could smell the foul odor of rotting flesh as she looked down at her decaying body. She continued picking at her skin. Whole chunks of flesh tore away. Her fingers had lost their covering and the more she worked her way through her body the less skin and flesh protected it and patches of bone were revealed.
Think, Dana, she ordered herself. This isn't real. You have to snap out of this!
In the background Brylee was laughing with sheer joy, ignoring Scully. She gave up begging her for help and succumbed to her fate. She wanted the nightmare to end, yet it kept on going. She closed her eyes. As her eyelids met, she could feel tears escaping them, rolling along her cheeks. She sensed pain as the salty fluid hit her exposed sores. She released a cry of agony through clenched teeth. The torture refused to be gone.
"Scully! Wake up!"
She turned towards the voice. Who was calling her? She saw nobody, except for Brylee, who had now moved to the carousel. "Who is it?" she called to the disembodied voice.
"Open your eyes!" the voice ordered her.
She didn't want to open them. She didn't want to watch as she destroyed herself. "No!"
"You're dreaming! You have to wake up."
She felt somebody grab hold of her shoulders. That somebody was on top of her and he was shaking the hell out of her.
"Let me die!" she cried out.
"You're not dying. You're having a bad dream." He shook her again. "For heaven's sake! Open your goddamn eyes!"
The guy wouldn't stop shaking her. Why wouldn't he just leave her and let her dwindle away into oblivion? She drew in a deep breath, squinted her eyes, then forced herself to open them, scared to think of what was left of her body. But she had no time to delve on that subject because there was an even worse scene before her.
She now stared into the face of a man, or was it a creature? She couldn't really tell. His skin seemed decayed, as if he were a corpse. His touch was cold, almost freezing. He smelt like mold and rotting flesh. But the worst part were his eyes. He had none. Only two gaping sockets filled with maggots. Some of the maggots were losing their grip as the creature/man/thing continued shaking her body. As the first maggot hit her body, she let out a horrified gasp. The next thing she heard were her own deathly shrieks as she tried to get the monster off of her. She kicked it with all her might and he let out a painful groan. Good! It felt pain and she was going to let it feel some more of that.
"Scully! Stop!"
No. She wasn't going to be fooled by his apparent human voice, albeit having a distinct familiar tone to it. She wasn't going down without a fight. She wanted that thing off of her, and sooner rather than later. She pushed her knee up and the creature let out a painful yelp as her kneecap made contact with his abdomen.
"Scully! It's Mulder! Stop kicking me!" the thing cried out in pain.
Mulder, my ass! Nice try! She gave it another kick, this time in its scrotum, and the impact made him recoil to the left and he let go of her right arm. Well, nice to know that zombie scrotums worked the same as human ones, she mused. Now, if she could just deliver a final blow and get the hell out here or at least get that creature out of her hair instead.
The thing still had a strong grip on her left arm and she realized it was preparing for its next move. She had to think fast. Glancing to her right she caught sight of the bed stand light. It was the closest she could conceive of for a makeshift weapon. She stretched her right arm and got hold of the lamp's stand. She gripped it hard, then yanked it from the wall. The bedroom went dark as the lamp's cable came out of its socket. Good. She wouldn't have to look at his disfigured monster of a face as she hit him.
She could feel him moving beside her, repositioning. He was probably going to get back on top of her. It was her only chance. She flung the lamp as hard as she could at him, but he managed to break her strike. He caught the propelled object just as it neared his face.
Fuck!
"Ouch!" the creature cried.
Wait. That wasn't a creature. She felt the tension in her muscles leave, and she plummeted back into her pillow. The room was dark but she finally realized she was in her bed, and that the so called 'creature' was…"Mulder!" Oh Shit!
She heard him exhale. "And hello to you, too." His voice sounded hoarse.
Her heart was still racing and she began to shake as the adrenaline began to loosen its grip on her. What had she done? "What happened?"
"You. You happened."
She felt lost. Just a moment ago she was certain her life was in grave danger and now she had no idea what made her believe such nonsense. "Mulder?"
"You went all gung-ho on me."
"I'm sorry. I—"
"You thought I was somebody else."
"More like something else."
She could hear the sheets rustling as he moved. There was a clicking sound and the room was flooded with orange light.
He turned back to face her. She now took in his haggard features. He seemed weary and he had a nasty gash above his left brow.
"You're bleeding" they said in unison.
"What?" she was surprised by his remark.
"You're covered in blood." he told her.
She looked down at her hands. He wasn't wrong. The bed seemed like a crime scene covered in crimson smears. Her fingers were coated with the sticky red substance and her arms appeared to have been scratched so badly until their skin gave way.
Mulder lifted his hand and he seemed about to touch her face. She recoiled from his touch, but he persisted. She could feel his warm finger tip caressing her cheek; then he brought his finger before her. She peered at it in disbelief. A red spot marred it. Was that from her face? Her hand flew to her cheek but she couldn't tell if she was injured because of the stickiness of her already sodden palm. It was then that pain registered when she removed her fingers from her face. Her fingers felt glued to her cheek and pulling them away literally tore the 'glue' and pulled some skin cells with it. She let out an involuntary whimper.
"Go wash yourself up. I'll fix the bed." Mulder told her gently.
She felt like an automaton. She rose from the bed and padded softly to their adjoining bathroom. She was assaulted by her reflection in the mirror as she entered and she almost took a step back as she viewed her grizzly features. Her face was tarnished with scratches and blood. She couldn't fathom that it was her own doing.
"Scully."
She jumped with shock. Mulder was now right behind her. She hadn't heard him approaching her. She was still coming to terms with her gruesome reflection.
"Sorry," he told her.
She started as she felt him touching the small of her back, then forced herself to relax. He was only trying to help, she told herself.
He gently guided her into the bathroom, then stopped as they drew near the sink. With one hand still on her back, he used the other to pull the faucet up and to adjust the water. He then grabbed the nearest hand towel and shoved it into the water stream, removed it, squeezed it gently and then he moved to her side and applied the warm cloth to her face.
Pain consumed her as the supposedly soothing material met her exposed sores. She bit her lip as she forced herself to refrain from moaning in agony, but she couldn't control every aspect of her reaction and her eyes squinted each time Mulder touched another aching spot on her face.
He moved swiftly and when he was done with the washcloth he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a pack of steri-strips and applied a few to the larger gashes on her face and arms.
Once he was finished attending to her injuries, he tended to his own. She just kept on standing and staring at him, glued to the ground, unable to move.
"It's OK, Scully," he assured her. "You can go back to bed now." He told her as he was finishing with his facial dressing.
Like a dutiful robot, she turned on her heels and strode back to their now, freshly-made bed. As she sat on the bedside, she heard Mulder's footsteps approaching her. She looked up at his towering form as he gradually lowered himself to her level and proffered her a cup of water and a pill of Ambien. She gave him a quizzical peer.
"It's for the sake of my family jewels," he said and offered her a weary simper.
She felt herself responding with a nod as she took his offerings.
"You need a good night's sleep, Scully."
She had no argument for him and she downed the sleeping pill with a single gulp. He took the cup away and she got under the covers. Her eyes remained open and she stared at the ceiling. It was strange; despite all that had just happened, her mind seemed like a void. She had no lingering thoughts or feelings about her dream and its aftermath. She knew it was odd, but the pill was beginning to take its effect on her, and her eyelids slowly began to droop just as she felt a warm body snuggling beside her.
"Good night, Scully."
A tiny smile began forming in her mind, and then the room went dark as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"It's always that girl, Brylee."
"What do you mean?" Scully screwed her face at Mulder as their cab turned into the hospital driveway.
"In your dreams." Mulder replied, then turned his face from her to gaze out of the window. The sun was setting and casting an amazing orange glow on the hospital's brick facade. The warm colors were very soothing, he mused.
"In my dreams?"
The cab came to a full stop and the driver turned to face them. "That will be twenty five dollars and thirty cents."
He peered sideways at Scully who seemed to read his mind and obediently opened her bag, dug her purse out and quickly plucked a fifty dollar bill from it. The driver grabbed the money, went through his stash and gave Scully the change. She gave him two dollars and then opened the cab door and got out. Mulder followed her lead and with two strides reached the spot where she was waiting for him.
She looked up at him. "What did you mean: 'in my dreams'?"
"That girl, Brylee. She's in all of your dreams," he answered as he walked towards the hospital lobby.
"So?"
He could hear her scurrying behind him, trying to match his step. "I'm just pointing out a fact."
She was now right beside him. "Stop beating about the bush, Mulder. I know there's a point lingering somewhere behind your so-called 'fact mentioning'."
He snorted. "Possibly."
They stopped by the elevators and as he looked down at her, she glared up at him, completely riled by his obnoxious attitude.
Teasing Scully was one of his favorite pastimes and it had been a while since he had the luxury of indulging in this rewarding activity. He wanted to savor every moment. Unfortunately, it seemed Scully wasn't quite in the mood, and she did have good reason.
She had ten more minutes before her meeting with her oncologist regarding the scans and tests they had discussed the day before. She seemed tense and despite having a long chemically-induced sleep, she still appeared fatigued. The fact that her face and arms were covered with cuts and scratches, the result of her nightmare, didn't help one bit. Mulder realized he had to stop pissing her off, or she might explode.
"I'm thinking this might not be a coincidence, that's all."
She gave him a crooked stare. "What? That a sick child I happen to treat appears in my dreams?"
"Yes."
A couple approached the elevator and she lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "Mulder, people dream about things from their everyday life, you know. I don't find this very unusual or of any significance here."
He was amused at how quickly they had fallen back into the old pattern of skeptic/believer. He had a hunch and he wanted to follow it through and for now, he felt it would be better for Scully if she remained in the dark. She had too much on her plate already. He figured he could go snooping around while she had her appointment. He resorted to his old tricks and abruptly changed the subject. "Scully, you don't really need me with you right now, right?" he asked as they entered the elevator.
"What?" she sounded surprised. "Mulder? What do you mean?"
"I want to check on something." He didn't want to look at her. He knew she had now switched to her irritable frown.
"On what?"
Oh yes, she was pissed, and he couldn't resist fanning the flames. "Oh, it's probably something of no significance." He said with feigned indifference.
The elevator doors parted on the third floor and they got out. He followed her along the corridor, noting that she had hurried her pace. Suddenly she halted and he almost ran into her. She turned around and this time he wasn't able to avoid her enraged scowl. She was almost a head shorter than him, but when she gave him that admonishing glare of hers, it made her seem much taller than she actually was.
"This is why I stopped sharing things with you, Mulder. You can't just listen and do nothing. No. You have to get involved and then you get hurt and I have to save you, and then I have to deal with the aftermath—"
"Whoa! Wait a minute! Aren't you jumping the gun just a little bit?" Sheesh. Talk about mass hysteria. "I'm not going to do anything rash, if that's what you're implying. I have a theory and I want to check on a few things, that's all."
She gave him a dubious stare. "You have a theory?"
He didn't want to reveal anything before he had more solid evidence. He had to get her off his back before she would grill him to death. "Not really."
"So what is this all about?" she demanded.
He needed a diversion. Something to send her off of his track and he needed it now. "Nothing. I... I just don't feel comfortable about going in with you. It's a private matter. I think I'll wait outside."
"That's what this is all about?" She sounded upset now.
He nodded, hoping she would bite the bullet.
"OK." She said with obvious dejection. "But it's going to take some time. I have a CT scan scheduled and an MRI. What will you do while I'm inside?"
Yes! She swallowed the hook, line and the whole damn sinker. Now for the final touch. "Do you mind if I'll wait in your office?"
"My office?"
He adored her frowned face, but he managed to catch himself before he let out a silly smirk. "You have a computer in your office, right?"
She gave him an incredulous glower. "It's not enough that you spend almost every waking millisecond on the laptop at home, you have to use my computer here as well?!"
"I'll just be a phone-call away if you'll need to hold my hand." C'mon, Scully, set me free. It's for your own good.
Her eyes flared up and Mulder knew he'd gone too far. He had to appease her but he really needed some time to prowl the hospital grounds if he was to test his assumption. "OK. I'm sorry. I'm just not comfortable with all of this. I don't really need your computer, just a quiet place to wait for you."
Her stance softened and she opened her mouth to respond when they heard the sound of a door opening. Mulder almost let out a hearty sigh of relief.
"Dana Scully?" A black-haired woman wearing a doctor's coat peered from the open door.
"Yes? Dr. Granger?" Scully turned around and began walking towards her.
Mulder blinked and then rushed behind Scully and tapped her on her shoulder.
She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "What?!" She hissed through gritted teeth.
He gulped. "Your office keys?"
She rolled her eyes. "OK. Take them." Angry resignation filled her voice as she retrieved her keys from her bag. She shoved them warily into his stretched out palm and turned back towards the oncologist's office.
"Err, Scully?"
"Jeez!"
He swallowed hard. "Just need the room's location?"
She huffed. "Fifth floor, second room to the right. Can I go now?"
"What about your computer password?" he asked sheepishly.
"Don't push your luck, Mulder!" she uttered, then entered the room and shut the door in his face, making it quite clear that she wasn't exactly pleased with him.
Mulder didn't waste time. He pocketed the keys Scully had left him and hurried back to the elevator. When it seemed that it was taking its time to arrive, he continued down the corridor until he found the emergency stairwell. He climbed two steps at a time and quickly located Scully's office once he had reached the fifth floor. His first item on the menu was those dolls Scully had mentioned. As he unlocked her office, he took in the bunch of gruesome looking homemade dolls and he recalled Scully's sentiment. She was spot on. There was something sinister about them. He closed the door behind him and went to get a closer look at the scruffy creations.
There were a dozen dolls; all had matted yellow wool strands for hair and blue buttons for eyes. The nose, mouth, eyebrows and eyelashes were all done in needlework. The dolls' bodies were stuffed and made of burlap and each doll was dressed with a different kind of fabric. Scully said that the fabric came from actual clothes Brylee used to wear.
He picked one of the dolls. Its stuffing felt soft, like classic pillow wadding. He turned it around and then he noted that there was a tear in the back of the doll's head and some of the white foamy packing was sticking out of it. It seemed like somebody had cut through the burlap with a pair of scissors. He picked another doll. It, too, had a similar cut and as he went through the entire dozen it was clear that a pattern was emerging.
Somehow he had a feeling that when the dolls were originally given to Scully, they were intact. Scully did mention that somebody had rearranged the dolls a few days ago. He suspected that that same person had cut into the dolls, but for what purpose?
He dug deep into the first doll and began removing its filling. The polyester fluff gave him an itchy sensation as he plucked it out of the doll. At some point, as he was removing the filling from the third doll he found a thin shard of paper. He picked it up in his hands and examined it. The shard was finely cut but one side seemed torn. The paper was slightly thick. He believed it to be a cutting from a photo based on its thickness. He put the cutting in a safe place on Scully's desk, and then resumed the doll-plucking process. When he was done with all twelve dolls, he had two more such shards.
Scully's, once tidy office, now looked as if somebody had had a rough pillow fight in it and Mulder knew he had to get things in order before she came looking for him. He searched the cupboards until he found some plastic bags. He collected the stuffing in to two bags and the now empty doll casings in a third bag and placed them under her desk. He found a clean empty test tube in one of the drawers and shoved the three photo cuttings into it, and then he tucked it into his jacket pocket.
It was time for the next phase in his theory testing, but first he had to find out what Scully's status was. He took his cell out of his pocket and stared at it. It was strange using a cellphone to call Scully. How many years had it been since he last called her on a cell? Was it six years? Scully kept a second cell at home just in case he did choose to venture out, but up until today he remained cooped up in their home and the phone remained in its charger. It was a model he had never used before. It was a lot smaller than the FBI-issued phones he used to carry in his jacket. This model actually fit into his pants' pocket. It was a flip phone which made him feel a bit like Captain Kirk and its screen had color. There was also a camera in the phone. If only they would have had cameras back in those days, he mused.
He shook his wrist, flipped the phone open and pressed hard and long on the Number Two button. The contraption rewarded him with the presence of Scully's name on its screen. He held the device to his ear and waited for her to answer.
"Mulder?" her phone-muffled voice rang weird in his ears.
"Beam me up, Scotty," he chuckled.
"What?" He could hear she was puzzled.
He tittered. "Nothing. Just amused with this phone you gave me."
"Oh. OK." Understanding dawned on her. "Where are you?"
"In your office, playing with your dolls," he teased.
"What are you playing with?" bafflement resonated in her tone.
"Your dolls, Scully. I was giving them an extreme makeover." He braced himself for her retort.
"Mulder? What are you up to?"
"Nothing too exciting, just helping some dolls lose weight and returning them to their original slim figures."
There was silence on the other end of the line where a counter was obviously being formed; one which Mulder knew contained an extremely displeased tone. He waited for Scully's expected response patiently.
"Mulder, are you referring to the dolls Miranda Sanders gave me?" her attitude was filled with suspicion.
"Is Miranda, Brylee's mother?"
"Um-Hm," her suspicious manner didn't abate.
"So, yes, I'm referring to those dolls. How attached were you to them?" He suspected he knew what her answer would be.
"Mulder…"
"I have a feeling you wouldn't mind 'losing' them, now, would you?"
"Mulder—" she sounded upset.
"Don't worry, I didn't throw them away, and if you really want them back, we can sit together and have a lovely arts'n'crafts session. I've been watching some amazing YouTube videos at home. I think it would be a great opportunity to try and put this new-found knowledge to good use."
He could hear her letting out a desperate sigh on the other end of the line. "Mulder… It's not so much that I'm attached to them. It's just that they were a gift from the mother of my patient. What do I tell her if she pops by my office and sees that they're gone?"
He had already prepared an answer to her expected query. "You can always tell her that you adored her handiwork so much that you decided to take it home and put her creations on your mantelpiece."
"I guess so." Scully didn't sound too cheerful about his suggested solution.
"Besides Scully, you know what they say about Greeks and their gifts."
"Huh?" She sounded clueless. "Miranda isn't Greek, as far as I know."
"Maybe she isn't, but her dolls were definitely Trojan."
"Trojan? Mulder, what are you implying?"
"There was more than chocolate in your Surprise Eggs, Scully."
"Dammit! I've had enough of your innuendos. Just spit out what you have in mind already!" she barked at him.
OK. Playtime was over. "I believe the dolls came with an added bonus. There was something in them when you received them."
"Was? What exactly?"
"I don't know. Not yet at least."
"So what are you basing your assumptions on?"
"When you received those dolls, did you happen to notice if they all had a cut in the back of their heads?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. After a few seconds she finally replied. "I don't remember. It's not like I was looking for something like this. It seemed like an innocent gesture at the time. What exactly did you find?"
"I am quite certain that there was something inside each of these dolls and that this item was retrieved recently, probably on the day you found the dolls had been rearranged." He told her.
More silence ensued as Scully processed this new information.
"Look, Mulder… What you're saying… She's the mother of a very sick child! You can't just go accusing people like this—"
"I haven't accused anybody of anything. At least not yet."
"But what you're saying…" she trailed off.
"It might be nothing, Scully. I'm going to test my theory before I act upon it."
"Test your theory? Mulder! Don't! You can't go around the hospital making queries like this. You're not an FBI agent anymore. You could get arrested if you try poking too much into other people's business!"
He couldn't resist snickering at her expected rebuttal. If it were up to Scully, she would have had him cuffed, shackled, gagged and tethered to a chain slung around her waist. She'd be toting him wherever she'd go, making sure he was out of harm's way, for his own good sake and for the sake of the surrounding world.
"Mulder!" she yelled into the phone's speaker. "You there?! Mulder?"
"Yes, mom," she deserved that.
"Dammit Mulder!"
He sighed. "I promise not to get into trouble, OK?"
"Seriously, Mul—"
He disconnected before she continued her tirade. It was a pointless debate. He'd had such arguments with her a million times before and most probably she was right; whenever she told him to stir clear of trouble, he'd do the very opposite and end up in a hospital bed. The only good thing about this case was that he was already in a hospital anyway. He sniggered, virtually patting himself on his back for his wisecrack as he left Scully's office and headed for the elevators.
As he walked down the corridor he realized two things: Their conversation had ended so abruptly, he hadn't actually asked Scully how she was doing and how much longer she would be caught up with scans and tests. This meant he had no idea how much time he could spend on his theory-hunting before Scully got in the way. The other issue he realized was that he was headed for the pediatric oncology ward but he was clueless as to its whereabouts. Well, at least there was a simple solution for his second problem.
He entered the elevator and pressed the lobby button. A vibrating sensation jingled his rear and he realized it was his phone. It had to be Scully, since nobody else had this number. Despite desperately needing information from her, he chose to screen her. He knew she would just try to prevent him from pursuing his plan and that he would ignore her anyway, so he figured he might as well cut the middleman and go straight to the ignoring part and get it done with.
Once he'd reached the lobby floor, he headed to the information desk and got the location of Brylee's ward. He took the stairs to the second floor and casually patrolled along the corridor, all the while observing the ward's access method. There were two acceptable ways one could enter the ward: Staff had a card that served both as a nametag and as a key, while patients, relatives, friends and other non-personnel members had to use the intercom to gain access. He opted for the third, unofficial method, i.e., sneak behind a visitor as the door flings open and make yourself right at home.
He shadowed one of the visitors along the ward's hallway all the while glancing sideways at the name plates on each of the patient rooms. Each patient's name was a colored drawing Mulder assumed was created by each child as they entered the ward. The drawings consisted of the child's name made out of giant capital letters and childish doodles all around it. This made reading the names quite easy if one only snuck peeks at them. He read name after name until he found the one he was looking for. He didn't stop right beside it. Instead he went a few steps further and sat down in the nearest waiting area. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait long for his prey. The clock was ticking and pretty soon Scully's tests would be over and he'd have to go home with her. There was just so much ditching he could get away with in one day.
He stared down, first at his hands, then at the yellow polymer floor that adorned the ward's corridor. Somebody, presumably one of the patients in the ward, stuck Asterix stickers all around the legs of his chair in the waiting area. Some of the stickers were almost completely worn out, probably after numerous floor scrubbings, but others, especially those that were stuck deeper under the chair, still retained their original colors and Mulder found himself preoccupied with the tiny scenes in each sticker.
His mind was deeply engrossed with the task of trying to recall the name of the dog character from the Asterix series when he was startled by the whooshing sound of an opening door. Without raising his head, he snuck a peek at the receding form of a short-statured woman who was trudging down the hallway. He quickly registered her floral blouse and black jeans, as well as her hair color and cut. He now had an image etched in his brain. He still didn't have a face, but her clothes and hairstyle were quite enough. When she was out of his line of sight, he rose from his chair and began walking quietly along the ward's corridor until he caught sight of her again. She was about to exit the ward. He changed to a more determined pace. He didn't want to lose her once she left the ward. His instincts told him she would probably not go too far, but he had too much riding on this hunch, and he preferred to be safe than sorry.
As he followed her from afar he knew that what he was about to do next was somewhat risky. What worked in his favor was his excellent understanding of human behavior, and he was willing to put good money where his mouth was.
He kept a respectful distance from Miranda, but she was never out of his sightline. As she was of a rather short form, even shorter than Scully, despite her apparent swift pace, it took her longer to reach her destination and Mulder was forced to keep to an almost snail-like stride. Once his stalking-object neared the end of the floor's corridor, Mulder realized her destination was the small coffee shop. He sped up his pace, passed Miranda and grabbed a spot in the shop's queue. When he was almost at the cash registry, he gave a quick glance behind him, caught the floral blouse in his eye but made sure not to make eye-contact. He just needed to be sure Miranda was indeed there. He ordered an Americano and a Cinnamon Danish, paid and then went to sit at the nearest available table. He made sure he was now facing the queue.
All the unoccupied tables were behind his and that meant that should Miranda opt to sit with her coffee, she would have to pass by him. Since she spent most of her hours confined to her daughter's room, he was inclined to believe she'd most likely choose to take a break and remain within the coffee shop's vicinity. As usual, he was right. The flowery blouse and black jeans were heading his way. OK, his moment of opportunity had finally arrived. He had to grab it now, or else.
Just as Miranda approached his table with her steaming jumbo cup of coffee, he got up and made his advancement. "Excuse me, Ma'am?"
The short woman was caught off guard by Mulder's sudden approach; she started and almost lost her grip on her coffee. Mulder quickly lent a helping hand and steadied her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
She half-nodded, her body language sending a clear message of extreme impatience; Mulder realized he had to promptly get to his point or he'd lose her. "Can you possibly help me out with something?"
"What do you need?" she asked gruffly; no 'off course, Sir' or 'sure, why not', just a curt response which meant she had no time to dawdle around with trite business.
Mulder resisted the urge to heave in a deep breath. It would send the wrong message. Instead he just plowed on with his query. "I just saw you coming out of the Children's Oncology ward. Are you a relative?"
"Why? What's it to you?" Gruff and suspicious. Lovely woman, Mulder sighed inwardly.
"It's just that I'm having my daughter admitted the day after tomorrow. She starts treatment for Leukemia and well, I need some information regarding those living arrangements provided by the insurance? You know anything about this? We're from out of town, you see." Mulder lied through his teeth. Luckily, he was obviously a very good liar or Miranda was just very gullible as she seemed to be buying his sob story and her aggressive demeanor relaxed.
"I'm staying at the double room condos on Rose Street, just two blocks from here. Talk to your insurance. They should have them listed. Ask about Rose Condos. I believe they still have a couple of vacant apartments."
Bingo! "Thank you very much. You've been very helpful," he offered his million-dollar smile, picked up his coffee, swallowed the remaining stub of Danish and headed for the elevators.
"You're welcome," Miranda called out from behind him.
No. You're welcome, Mulder replied to her in his mind.
Dana Scully dragged herself out of Dr. Granger's office. It had been almost four hours since she and Mulder had arrived at the hospital and while it seemed Mulder was having the time of his life romping about the place, she'd been subjected to a battery of pokes, pricks and scans, and she felt completely devoid of energy. Now all she longed for was her bed, but there was still one little item left on her menu that she wanted to pursue before they went home.
In the waiting area opposite Dr. Granger's office Mulder sat, a guilty smirk plastered to his face. She let an angry puff through her nostrils. She had thought he'd wanted to come with her to the hospital to show his support. Instead, it seemed he had some crazy theory regarding her condition. For him everything was just an X-File in the end. She goes a little haywire and he can't wait to launch an investigation. Well, she wasn't happy. Not one bit. Especially since his idea was downright absurd.
How could he even deem to imagine that a miserable mother of a dying sick child would try and harm her in any way? Maybe he should go back on his meds if his level of paranoia has reached this state.
"Well?" he asked eagerly.
"Well, what?" she spat back at him, feigning ignorance.
"What did the doctor say?"
She let out an angry huff.
"C'mon Scully, don't do this to me." He begged and she felt somewhat pleased.
"Like you deserve my answer after you hung up on me and screened my calls." She turned away from him and strode towards the elevators. She would have hurried her pace but she was too beat to storm off.
"I'm sorry about that, but you were being a…" he stopped short as he obviously took in her fierce glare.
"I'm sorry."
"You should be."
He didn't say a word and she couldn't resist his miserable face any longer. "I'm fine. The tests all came back negative."
To her dismay, he didn't seem the least bit surprised. Instead, his facial expression had a distinct 'I told you so' feel to it.
"Get that damn smug look off your face, Mulder!"
"What?" he challenged her with his assumed innocence. "You're not pleased?"
"Not as pleased as you seem to be." She retorted grudgingly. "Now the only remaining logical explanation is that I'm going crazy. You happy with that?"
"Ah! You said it Scully!" he continued smugly.
"What? That's I'm crazy? Yey me." She countered despondently.
"Not that. You said that that was the only remaining logical explanation, and since I am a trained psychologist who can tell you right out that your faculties seem intact to me, I believe we can now move on to the illogical explanations." His expression was like that of a magician, finishing a brilliant act.
She coughed. "Right."
"What? You'd rather I tell you that you're crazy?"
He smiled at her but it only served to make her more irritable. She hated when he went about like a stuffy peacock, fanning out its feathers. She released an angry sigh. "Look, I'm tired. I just want to go up to the ward and talk to the Wallace family and let them know I'll be coming back tomorrow and then I'd like to go home so I can get a good night's sleep and get to work and be able to function, OK?"
He gave her an incredulous stare. "You want to go up to the ward? Now?"
"It's just for a couple of minutes. The way I left them yesterday… I really have to get things right." She looked up at Mulder and she could see he was taken aback. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." An air of guilt engulfed him as he spoke. "I'll wait for you in the car."
She knew she should probably follow his reaction with a question but she was too exhausted to deal with Mulder's misdemeanors. She'd have to sit this one out. "Fine."
He gave her a hurried nod and scurried towards the emergency stairwell a little too quickly for her liking.
The elevator chimed just as the stairwell door came to a close. She entered it, took the single flight down and walked slowly to the ward's entrance. She produced her nametag and swiped it. It was quiet at this time of the day. Most of the guests had gone home and so did most of the day staff. The nurses' station, usually manned during the day, appeared deserted and Scully assumed the duty nurse was called to assist with one of the patients. She continued down the corridor, hoping that at least one of Ethan's parents was with him for the night.
She was passing Brylee's room, on the verge of entering Ethan's, when Brylee's door was flung open with immense force and Miranda almost jumped at her. Scully blinked, trying to steady her heartbeat. "Miranda?" she asked, somewhat breathless.
"Why, Dr. Scully." Miranda uttered snidely. "You lookin' rather shabby these days. Guess guilt doesn't do you good, eh?"
Her initial surprise ebbing, she now felt rage forming. She had to keep it under control. This was the mother of a dying child and as such she was entitled to be bitter and miserable and Scully was forced to indulge her. "Hi Miranda."
"It's Mrs. Sanders to you, Dr. Scully. We ain't no friends." She spat with obvious disgust.
"Fine. Mrs. Sanders. I'm just going to speak to Ethan's parents. I won't get in your way," she told her and was about to push forward when Miranda stopped her as she grabbed her wrist.
"You got no business going in there either."
"What?" Scully's heart skipped a beat. "What did you say to them?"
Miranda laughed acidly. "Just the truth. That you were a lying bitch, and this time they believed me."
Oh crap! That woman was trying to murder her reputation. She recalled Mulder's sentiment, then she shook her head. No. Miranda was bitter but that was as far as it went. She might be meddling in Scully's business, but there was nothing extraordinary about Miranda's means.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? You had so many things to say to me back when you were lying through your teeth and promising me that my little baby would get better, and now you can't say anything?"
Miranda was sobbing miserably now and Scully could hear the sound of somebody approaching, probably a nurse aroused by the unusual commotion at this time of day. "I'm sorry," she said, wholeheartedly, and turned away, a horrible sense of gloom flooding her.
As she walked back to the ward's entrance, Sharon Black, the duty nurse, came hurrying down the corridor. She went to a sudden halt as she caught sight of Scully.
"Dr. Scully? Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were on sick leave."
Scully was forced to look up at the prying nurse. "I am. I came for a checkup and wanted to check on one of my patients before I went home." It was basically the truth.
The nurse caught sight of her battered facial appearance and her eyes widened with shock. "Oh my God! What happened to you?"
Scully had almost forgotten that her face still wore the tell-tale signs of her self-mutilation. She shook her head. "It's nothing serious. Bad allergy."
"Are you sure?" Sharon had good reason for suspicion.
"Positive," Scully affirmed, hoping she'd be let off the hook.
"OK. If you say so," the nurse wasn't truly buying into it, but she wasn't about to argue. "You look tired. I hope you're going home. You shouldn't come in tomorrow. Take the week off. You deserve it, and anyway, Slater's got your cases so you don't have to worry. They're in good hands."
Feeling defeated, Scully nodded agreement and thanked her, then headed out of the ward. She took the elevator to the parking lot, located her car and noted that Mulder was waiting for her in the driver's seat. She knew she should probably not let him do the driving. He hadn't driven a car in more than six years but she had no fight left in her and she assumed he'd probably manage it. It's not like one truly forgets these things.
She moved around the tiny Fiesta and got into the passenger's seat and said nothing.
Mulder gave her a sideways look. "You OK?"
No she wasn't. "Tired. Let's go home."
He turned on the engine and slowly stirred them out of the parking lot.
She was grateful for his silence as she turned to her right and faced the window. Gradually the weariness of her body caught up with her mind and she dosed off, a single lingering thought remaining in her mind: It was time to call it quits.
