Beginning to Repair
September 2014
Maggie sat back down at the table after Dana left for the hospital. She needed a few minutes to collect herself after their conversation. Aliens invading and taking over the world … it all sounded completely preposterous and like something straight out of a science fiction movie.
Fox and Dana had done some amazing things and been in incredible situations during their time at the FBI. Stories she heard over the years were strange indeed. But this? Even if it was just a story, told to make a fool of him, Fox seemed to believe it as fact. That meant whatever he believed, in his search for answers, it led them to separate and that was not right.
Maggie locked her fingers together and rested her chin on top of them, closing her eyes. She thought of Dana and Fox, of the past, and the different types of couples she had witnessed over the years.
The Navy wife who l lost her husband and could not go on. The man who was devoted to his wife and labeled whipped and wore the name with honor. People who should never have married, those who should have had more time, and those who were first loves until the day they died.
"It's not right," Maggie said out loud, slamming her hand down on the table. "Not right. That man better answer the door today."
She stood up and went to the fridge, pulling out the items she purchased to make a small casserole to take with her today. She turned the oven on to preheat, and began to combine the ingredients. As she did she thought of the first time she had met Fox.
She heard about "Mulder" and been intrigued. The exuberance in him that Dana described, made him sound like a puppy they had when the kids were younger. No matter how often, how long, or how many times they took him out to play, the puppy always wanted more.
After Maggie received a phone call from Dana from a quarantine camp somewhere in Washington state, she said she would like to meet this "Mulder." She knew Dana could handle herself, but she would like to meet this man who pulled her daughter into a dangerous situation. Dana sighed but relented.
They came over a few days after they returned. Fox, for Maggie could not call him Mulder, had not been who she was expecting. He was young and incredibly handsome. He was also kind, attentive, and good mannered. He was funny and made both of them laugh at his corny jokes.
When it was time for them to go, he put on his jacket and held Dana's for her. He turned to Maggie, taking her hand and holding it, looking in her eyes.
"I am sorry for any worry it may have caused you knowing we had to be quarantined," he said to her. "I assure you, that doesn't happen all the time." Dana snorted, and he glared at her, before glancing back at Maggie. "Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome," she said, smiling at him. He nodded and dropped her hand, turning to Dana with a smirk as she rolled her eyes.
As she watched them walk to the car, his hand on the small of Dana's back, she came to the realization that he could be the perfect match for Dana. Witty, smart, and very handsome. Maggie was not ashamed to admit that she had fallen in love with him a little that day.
Maggie sighed as she put the casserole in the oven and grabbed the kitchen timer. She set it for forty five minutes and went upstairs to get ready for the day, anger seeming to rest just at the surface.
But anger for whom, she wondered as she stepped from the shower. They were both hurting and placing blame and being angry would not solve anything.
Still, with a glance at the timer as she began to blow dry her hair, she was angry. Angry that she had not pushed to know more when Fox was no longer showing up for family events. Angry at Dana for not being more forthcoming and letting someone help her. Angry at Fox for putting Dana in a place where she would be forced to leave him in order to care for him.
She sighed as she set the hair dryer down and closed her eyes. Of course Dana had not asked for help. That was not her way. Stubborn and determined to do things on her own, had been the way she was since she was five years old, and insisted on walking into kindergarten by herself, her red head held high.
Maggie opened her eyes and glanced once more at the timer. Seven more minutes to go. She finished her makeup and got dressed, arriving downstairs just as the the timer went off. She took the dish out of the oven and let it cool for a few minutes while she put on her shoes and picked up her purse. She placed the dish in the carrier she had purchased years ago, grabbed her car keys, and headed out the door.
The dish placed securely on the back passenger floorboard, she set off for Fox and Dana's. Her fingers gripping the steering wheel, Maggie thought of how she had felt after that first meeting with Fox. Every time Dana would discuss him, Maggie listened and watched for any hints. She never mentioned it, never made it seem like she was looking for more than a friendship, but she watched.
Anytime she saw them together, which was not very often, she paid attention. She saw how Fox looked at Dana, how he watched her, and she saw how Dana smiled at his jokes or rolled her eyes, but she watched him, too. Maggie saw it. She said nothing, but she saw how they watched each other.
When they were separated and Dana was back to teaching at Quantico, Maggie would not admit it, but she breathed a sigh of relief. That job was not demanding the way her work was with Fox. There were no calls from quarantined places when she was teaching. Maggie felt better, but Dana was not happy.
The nights when Dana would come to dinner, or they would meet for coffee and a catch up, Maggie could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. She missed working with Fox. She missed her friend.
Over the years, Dana had not had many friends or even dated many men. She was focused on her schoolwork and then her career. If she had a serious boyfriend, Maggie and Bill never heard much about him. She kept her relationships private and her feelings for people even more so.
With Fox though, she seemed to be unaware of how much she talked about him or how often she smiled when she discussed places they had been and things they had seen. Maggie was sure that if Dana knew, she would have stopped immediately, not wanting to let too much be known about her private feelings.
Maggie sighed and shook her head, thinking to what lay ahead, as the car whipped down the highway. She was not dishonest when she told Dana of her and Bill's tiffs. No matter how much you love someone, anyone, there can still be days when you want to leave.
Sometimes Maggie would be so angry with Bill, she could have walked out the door and left. Never forever, but just to show him she could and to cool down. She never did and they always worked through their problems. There was not ever a time when it was a mental issue problem, as it seemed it may be with Fox. This was different, but she was not going to let that deter her.
All too soon, she was exiting the highway and driving down the roads to the house. She pulled up and turned off the car, taking a deep breath before she stepped out and closed the door. As she walked up the steps she looked to the right and saw the basket was empty of the food she brought and in its place was the bottle of vodka.
She blinked back tears and blew out a breath as she opened the screen door. She knocked and got no answer, so she pounded harder. Once more, and the door was opened, her heart falling when it did.
Standing before her, blinking and squinting in the light of the sun, stood a man she would have passed on the street and not known to be Fox. He was thin, pale, and half his face was covered by a dark beard in desperate need of a trim. She felt like weeping at the sight of him, so far removed from the man she knew for so many years.
In the seconds it took before he could focus on her, she made a decision. No doubt he would say he was fine and that would not be met with her approval. She was staying and she would be helping. When his eyes met hers, for a second she faltered, but only for a second. Gone was the brightness from his eyes and it pained her heart.
Steeling herself, she stared at him, putting her keys in her bag to show she was there to stay. Not waiting for an invitation, she pushed past him into the house.
It smelled stale and almost choked her. She saw the dishes and mess she saw from the windows. Her gaze fell on the bed he made on the couch and again she wanted to weep. Her heart was breaking for this man who had become like a son to her.
The mess, the hopelessness she could practically feel, made her think of the day when she met her own lifeline in Evelyn so long ago. She thought of the words Evelyn had spoken as she stood in the middle of that filthy house, facing Maggie as she stood there equally filthy, and she repeated them now to Fox.
"Well, Fox," she said, giving him a small smile. "It looks like we have our work cut out for us."
"Mrs. Scully," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. He cleared his throat as she set her purse down on the table.
"I think we should open the doors and the windows to let this old air out, first and foremost," she said already stepping to the windows and opening the curtains. He stepped beside her and unlocked and opened the window.
She smiled at him and moved to the next one. He dutifully followed her and opened the window after she had opened the curtains. She walked to the back door and opened it, letting the breeze blow through the house.
"There, that's better," she said, looking at him again. His hair was sticking up and he looked at her with sad eyes. She walked over to him and without asking, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and closing her eyes.
He remained still for a couple seconds, but then his arms went around her and she felt him shudder. She knew he was crying but she said nothing about it, just held him for a few minutes.
When she pulled back, she did not look at him, but gave him a chance to wipe his face and collect himself. She stepped to the office doorway and looked inside the room. This must have been the epicenter of it all as the room was trashed. She took in all that was beyond repair, and stepped back. This was not the place to start.
She looked at him now and he had his head down, taking deep breaths. She watched him until he looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak.
"If you're going to tell me you don't need help and that you're doing just fine, you can save your breath. I'm not going anywhere," she said, shaking her head at him.
He closed his mouth and swallowed, before he cleared his throat. "Thank you for the food," he said, his voice hoarse again, as though he had not spoken in days. He cleared his throat again and shook his head.
"You're welcome. Thank you for doing as I asked," she said pointedly, watching his face.
He shook his head again. "It's not what you thought. I did drink some but .. not .. it was just the once," he said beseechingly. "I don't really like it, but .." He dropped his head again and she watched him.
"Thank you regardless, Fox," she said quietly, and he nodded. He raised his eyes to hers and she smiled at him. "Why don't you go shower, and I'll heat you up some food. What would you like? I have a different dish in the car, would you like that one?"
"I … Mrs. Scully …" he began, but seeing the look on her face was one that would not accept anything besides what she asked, he sighed and his shoulders dropped. "Anything sounds fine to me, thank you." He took a towel from a chair, and disappeared into the bathroom.
When she heard the shower start, she covered her mouth and allowed herself a minute to cry. Then she began to straighten up the living room, folding his blanket and placing it on the couch. She took a pair of clothes from the coffee table and laid them on the floor by the bathroom. She gathered up the dirty dishes and put them on the side of the sink.
She went out to the car and grabbed the casserole she made and found it to still be a bit warm. She brought it inside and scooped up a serving for him and put it on a plate, warming it slightly in the microwave. Looking in the fridge, she began to make a mental list of all the groceries he would need.
Closing the fridge, she saw her note to him on the door. A part of her wanted to take it down and throw it out, but if he stuck it up there, maybe it was for a reason. The shower turned off and she turned away and walked to the sink, filling it with warm water, adding the dishes to be washed.
She heard him walk into the room a few minutes later, the majority of the dishes finished, as he was quiet behind her.
"There is a plate of food in the microwave for you," she said, gesturing toward it with her chin as she turned to look at him. He nodded and went to take the plate out, grabbing a fork from the drawer on the way.
He sat down and she resumed her task of cleaning the dishes, rinsing down the sink, and wiping down the counters. He ate in silence, but once got up to get a glass of water, and go into the living room for some medicine on the coffee table. He sat back down and finished his food, rising to take his plate to the sink.
"I've got it," Maggie said softly, taking his plate and fork, pushing him on the shoulder to sit back down. He did so with a sigh and she smiled as she turned away. "How about some of the lemon cake? I know it's your favorite."
"Okay," he said in a low voice.
She took the container from the fridge and grabbed a plate as she heard him say to get a plate for herself as well. She smiled again and took out another plate, two forks and a knife, before slicing two decent sized pieces. Bringing them to the table, she took a seat, pushing his toward him. He took the fork and pulled the plate closer, taking a bite and sighing.
She watched him as he ate. He was quiet and withdrawn, not at all like the exuberant puppy she usually saw. Of course the situation more than called for his countenance, but it was more than that and she could not put her finger on it.
She took a bite of her cake and she heard him choke. Looking up at him, she watched his face crumble, his head drop, and his left hand raise to his face, covering his eyes. She immediately reached for his right hand and he grasped it tightly in his own. She said nothing, but let him cry, both of their desserts left untouched.
He cried for a few minutes, squeezing her hand at intervals and she responded with squeezes of her own. He began to calm down, but she did not let go of his hand, letting him decide when to do so. When he gave her one last squeeze, she loosened her grip and he stood up, leaving the table.
She heard the bathroom door shut softly and she let her own tears fall quietly, quickly wiping them and knowing when she left she would have a proper cry. She could hear him blowing his nose and the water running, before the door opened again.
He came back in the kitchen and opened a cupboard, taking out a box of tea. He picked up the kettle and filled it, setting in on the stove and turning it on. Two mugs were taken from the cupboard and a bag of tea was added to each of them. He kept his back to her as he waited for the water to boil. When it whistled he turned off the burner and poured water into the mugs.
He brought the mugs to the table and set them down, turning to pick up the honey and the sugar, and adding them to the table. He sat down and rocked back and forth slightly in his seat as he waited for his tea to steep.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his head bent and his arms crossed on his knees. She put a hand on his arm and said nothing. He covered her hand with his own and and they sat in silence.
He looked up at her and she felt her heart break for him yet again. This man, whose eyes she had seen filled with turmoil, with rage, and now with such sadness, made her want to weep. Hearing Dana's story this morning and her own sadness had been hard, but this, this was almost too much. She felt his pain rolling off him and she wanted to fix it, to take it from him.
She reached over and brushed his hair back from his forehead, his eyes closing as she did. She stroked his hair and stood up, pulling him in for a side hug, kissing the top of his head, as she closed her own eyes. He did not embrace her back, but she did not expect him to. She remembered again holding him this way and how he would remain rigid, not accepting her embrace.
Today it was not the same. Today he simply let her hold him, leaning into her, and allowing her to comfort him. She ran her hands up and down his arm and then stepped back, kissing his temple as she did.
"Fox," she said quietly, and he raised his head to look at her. "I know you're sorry. I know how much you love Dana, and have for a very long time. I know you would never willingly and in full knowledge, push her away and want her to leave. Fox, you know I know how her disappearance affected you. Affected both of us."
He looked down and nodded his head. She sat back down and reached for his hand. He looked up again and she gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand as she did.
"When she was gone, there was nothing you could do, Fox," she said, holding his gaze. "We didn't know where she was, where to begin to look, or how to help her. When she came back, we still had to wait. We had to wait for Dana." He stared at her, letting her words sink in, before he nodded again. She smiled again and held his hand in both of hers.
"But this time, it's different," she said, still smiling. "She isn't gone, Fox. And there are things you can do. She's not the decider this time. You both are. You need to decide, Fox."
He watched her face, his eyes searching hers, before he nodded again. Dropping his head, he took a big breath, and then raised his head again.
"I'm so tired," he whispered. "I ... I am thankful you're here, but I'm so tired, Mrs. Scully."
She smiled again and nodded, taking her hands off his, and standing up. She touched his back and he stood up, walking toward the couch with her following behind. When he got there, he turned around and pulled her in for a hug.
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair, before pulling back and sitting down. She covered him as he lay down fully, and she sat on the coffee table, watching him settle into the couch.
He was asleep within minutes and she stared at him as he took deep breaths, his body resting. She shook her head and looked around. Her eyes landed on the bottles of pills beside her and she picked them up. She read the names and understood why he was tired. Setting them down, she got up and went upstairs to their bedroom.
Opening the door, she walked to the dresser and opened drawers until she found his sweats and underwear. She took out a few pairs and then found his shirts in the closet. Seeing the closet half empty hurt her heart and she understood why he made a makeshift bedroom downstairs.
Carrying the clothes, she closed the door and headed downstairs. She placed them on the coffee table and then began to straighten the house. She collected the clothes she found in the room and the bathroom, added them to a load of clothes already in the laundry room, put them all in the washing machine, added some soap and turned it on.
She glanced over at him on the couch and saw he was still sleeping. She cleared off the table and washed the dishes they had used. Putting away the containers of food, she wiped down the table, and glanced over at the office. She sighed and walked over to it.
In the next couple of hours, she straightened up papers, picked up broken glass, and took dishes to the kitchen, filling the sink to let them soak. She put the clothes she washed in the dryer and went back to the office.
The computer was too heavy for her to lift, so she did everything but that, leaving it for Fox to pick up. Once the room was clean, she stepped out and looked around at it. So many clippings were stuck to the wall and most were about topics she would roll her eyes at if she saw them in the paper. Fox, of course, would find them interesting.
She went to the laundry room and took the clothes from the dryer, folding them, and stacking them on the dryer. She found some of Dana's clothes- some leggings, underwear, and a couple of shirts. She decided to take them upstairs and put them away, no need for Fox to see them right now.
Once she put them in an empty drawer in the dresser, she came back downstairs and watched him sleeping again. He seemed to be sleeping soundly and she was relieved. She walked back to the kitchen, washed the dishes, and then took out the trash.
She closed and locked the back door, used the bathroom, picked up her purse and her keys, quietly opened the front door, and headed to her car. She drove to the nearest grocery store, bought him some groceries, and headed back to the house.
Quietly she opened the door, and found him still sleeping. She quickly put away the groceries and put the bags under the sink, before finding some paper and a pen in the the office. She sat at the table and wrote him a note, stating that there was food in the fridge, and she would be back next Wednesday to see how he was doing. If he needed anything, he should call her, but she was confident he would be okay until she came back.
She left it on the table, with an alien mug holding it in place. The windows were still open, but the breeze felt good. She closed the curtains, but left the windows open, not wanting to wake him. Brushing his head, she whispered goodbye and walked out the door with her things.
Driving away, she let her tears fall. Her heart was breaking for the two souls who were not where they should be right now. She cried for the pain they were in, for the sadness in both their eyes, and the long road she knew was ahead for them both.
It would be worth it in the end, she was sure of it. Fighting for what was right, for love, and for the person who means the most to you, was always worth it.
Always.