CHAPTER 11: SCULLY'S MOM
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The ride is quiet and uneventful. I regularly glance at him to check that he is okay. His eyes are fixed somewhere in front of him at the emptiness of the road. He sits very straight in spite of his tiredness and pain. He hasn't touched the blanket that I had placed on his knees before leaving but his arms are crossed on his chest, and he's keeping them tightly around him without moving them a centimetre.
"We're almost there, Mulder."
He simply nods his head. I can understand his reaction: after all he's been through -and I don't know all the details yet- it is normal that he would act strangely. But something in his eyes worries me: an emptiness that I feel unable to be filled, for now.
I know perfectly well that I will have to *fight*, fight so that he'll talk to me, and so that he won't build new walls around him, like he's used to.
There's something in my head that keeps on yelling: "It isn't fair, it isn't fair, it isn't fair." and it is exactly what *I* want to scream every time I look at him and see his bruised face and body. Why did *it* have to happen now? Now that we've tasted a sweet peace I'm sure he never knew existed.
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I stop the car in front of my mom's house, turn toward Mulder and swallow hard before speaking.
"This is it. I know that the only thing you probably want to do right now is try to get some rest and lie down, but I want to make sure that your wounds are not *too* serious. You've got a big cut just above your eyebrow that probably requires stitches . but I'm sure you'll be a good patient."
He didn't even *try* to smile at my last comment, like I secretly hoped he would. He blinks, so as to show me that he understood, and opens his door. I sigh, and do the same. As he stands there in front of the porch looking lost and unsure, he really reminds me of a kid. He turns toward me very slowly and winces, his ribs probably crying to be left alone and asks in a broken voice.
"Scully . hum. Where are we?"
I think my jaw must be somewhere near my feet when the door is abruptly opened.
"Dana! (yep, I woke her up when I called her before) My God . Fox?!! (here it comes . ) Come, come in quickly."
She seems even more panicked than me, which makes me feel pretty uncomfortable, after having witnessed Mulder not far from slipping on the ground when she (not so gently) opened her door.
When she put her hand on his shoulder to hurry him in, we both heard him grit his teeth and moan with pain.
"Sorry! Oh, I'm so sorry . Fox?"
He doesn't answer but holds his arms even more tightly around his ribs, halfway bent.
"Dana? Wh . what happened to him?"
I take a deep breath, feeling Mulder's pain deep inside my soul and urge my mom to let us walk in.
"He's hurt. Help me sit him in the kitchen, and please go get your first aid kit."
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Six stitches and a butterfly band-aid later, Mulder was still sitting on a kitchen chair, with his eyes fixed somewhere behind me.
With a wet cloth I had managed to clean the dirt and the dried blood from his face but he still needed a good shave and a shampoo to look *alive*. I rapidly decided against the shave, realizing that his swollen bruises and numerous cuts would hurt like hell afterwards. It would have to wait for a few days, and he'd probably look like a grizzly then. I smile at the picture but quickly I'm back on doctor-mode when I feel a trembling under my hands that are resting lightly on his shoulders.
"Are you cold? Do you want me to get you a blanket or something?"
He nods in the negative. Mum had already given us some very hot tea but Mulder didn't touch it. I suspect he feels nauseous, but I know he wouldn't tell me even if he is about to throw up.
I lower my gaze and saw the deep cuts on his hip and knee. The beige cloth of his pants was torn, but fortunately the cuts had stopped bleeding. He follows my gaze and knows what I am going to say even before I speak:
"I need to look at them too, Mulder. They need to be disinfected."
"I really could use a shower right now Scully. They can be disinfected afterwards."
Every time he spoke, my blood ran cold: his voice was so broken that it was tearing me in a thousand pieces.
"Right. But not before I have seen those ribs of yours."
I tried to sound nonchalant about it, knowing that what he was covering underneath his shirt was probably the worst, given his reactions concerning its every move. But when I saw his face becoming even paler, I flinched.
"What?"
"Hum . you don't want to see them."
"But . "
That's when my mum decided to come back from upstairs, where she had gone in order to find a change of clothes.
I stop my sentence and look at Mulder right in the eyes. He seems to understand pretty quickly what I wanted him to understand. *She doesn't know about us* Thank God for the mute conversation we can share!
I sigh again and hope that my mum's presence would make him act reasonably.
"Come on Mulder . The shirt is coming off, I have to take care of the cuts if they are any." As if *cuts* were my first or biggest worry.
The look he gives me then is more powerful than the broken voice. His eyes seem to beg me *Scullyplesasenononononono* again and again. Crying wouldn't be a good idea right now, but I feel like the desperate longing of last week, the pain, the unshed tears are coming full force. I close my eyes, unable to watch the pleading look of Mulder anymore.
"Darling, are you okay?"
That's my mum alright . always there to remind me that she is able to read every look on my face. No mum, I'm not *okay*, and Mulder is FAR from it too. Why didn't I take him to the hospital? I can't do it . I can't watch him suffering every time I try to ease his pain, I can't, I can't .
NO! I've got to be strong, strong for him. He needs me right now, and every time *I* needed him to be strong for me he was.
When I finally open my eyes, I can see that something change in his look, too. His eyes are full of love and tears. He lowers his head, remembering what I made him understand when my mum came in.
"I'm sorry for all the things you've been through because of me, Scully . "
No. I can't stand it anymore, the hell with what mum will think, I can't leave what he said hanging in the air like if it were true. I sit in front of him on the kitchen table so that our eyes can meet. I take his chin in my hands and force him to look at me while I'm speaking:
"No, Mulder. Don't you go there . I won't let you take the blame one more time."
I hear him sob and I then can't suppress the urge to hug him as tightly as I can allow myself to given his state. My arms are around his neck, his face buried against my shoulder. I can feel our tears mixing on my shirt but he's not trembling anymore.
I've got you, Mulder . I won't let you go .
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When we finally let go of each other, mum is still standing in the same spot, and she hadn't moved at all. Our eyes are puffy and red but no more tears leave wet tracks on our faces. I realize that we needed that hug, we needed to console each other before dealing with the consequences of those five horrible days. I should have done it earlier but well . first he flinched, then he fainted, and he finally almost fell asleep. I smile briefly and I let out a relieved sigh when I watch him do the same.
I can see in his eyes that he knows that I'm not done with him, and that the faster he does what I'm asking, the faster he will be able to get some rest.
"Whatever you're trying to hide under that shirt, Mulder, I'll have to see it eventually. I promised you earlier that we won't go to the hospital . not tonight anyway, and I won't break that promise now."
He seems to finally understand, but swallows hard before adding something.
"Scully I . I don't want you to be terrified or anything. I don't want to cause you any more pain. I just want you to remember that everything is *over* and that I'm okay."
"Right Mulder. Now, please . "
But he is already disengaging his arms from one other very slowly, and tugging at his T-shirt. His jaw is clenched, and I can see that he is holding his breath. I place myself behind his chair and help him removing his shirt as gently as I can. He winces numerous times but every time I stop he urges me to carry on.
The black shirt is off . now it's the T-shirt's turn, and I won't be able to help him remove it. I can see him closing his eyes briefly, taking a long shuddering breath and, in one certainly awfully painful move, it's off.
His eyes are still closed, and I'm standing in front of him. I let out the breath that I, too, was holding.
It could be worse but the view of his chest is nonetheless hard to see without having my throat feeling constricted. Its different colours prove that all the kicks he's been given were spread over the days: from the recent red to the ancient purple-blue, all the shades are visible. When I reach for a clean wet cloth that I'm going to use to clean the dried blood coming from his cuts, I hear mom gasp. She is standing behind Mulder, and I can see that she has put her trembling hands on her mouth.
"What have they done to him, My God, Dana . he was, he was ."
I walk toward her in order to reassure her that everything's okay now, and that Mulder is going to be fine . But as soon as I'm standing by her side, I realize why she reacted the way she did, and it's my turn to gasp and to put my hands on my mouth.
Blood red, vertical strokes cover his entire back. There is no place for imagination here, we both know what it means and what caused it.
Mulder's sigh take me back to reality.
"I told you that didn't want to see it."
"Mulder . " my voice is even more small and more broken than his "Why didn't you tell me that they . that they *whipped* you?"
"You don't have to tell me what they did to me, I know it. And you don't have to know all the other things they tried on me. Can I please take a shower, now?"
I can't say anything more so I just nod, completely numb. Mum seems to have recovered more quickly because she leads him toward the bathroom, with the change of clothes and a towel in her hands. I listen them making their way upstairs and then sit on Mulder's vacant chair.
TO BE CONTINUED
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The ride is quiet and uneventful. I regularly glance at him to check that he is okay. His eyes are fixed somewhere in front of him at the emptiness of the road. He sits very straight in spite of his tiredness and pain. He hasn't touched the blanket that I had placed on his knees before leaving but his arms are crossed on his chest, and he's keeping them tightly around him without moving them a centimetre.
"We're almost there, Mulder."
He simply nods his head. I can understand his reaction: after all he's been through -and I don't know all the details yet- it is normal that he would act strangely. But something in his eyes worries me: an emptiness that I feel unable to be filled, for now.
I know perfectly well that I will have to *fight*, fight so that he'll talk to me, and so that he won't build new walls around him, like he's used to.
There's something in my head that keeps on yelling: "It isn't fair, it isn't fair, it isn't fair." and it is exactly what *I* want to scream every time I look at him and see his bruised face and body. Why did *it* have to happen now? Now that we've tasted a sweet peace I'm sure he never knew existed.
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I stop the car in front of my mom's house, turn toward Mulder and swallow hard before speaking.
"This is it. I know that the only thing you probably want to do right now is try to get some rest and lie down, but I want to make sure that your wounds are not *too* serious. You've got a big cut just above your eyebrow that probably requires stitches . but I'm sure you'll be a good patient."
He didn't even *try* to smile at my last comment, like I secretly hoped he would. He blinks, so as to show me that he understood, and opens his door. I sigh, and do the same. As he stands there in front of the porch looking lost and unsure, he really reminds me of a kid. He turns toward me very slowly and winces, his ribs probably crying to be left alone and asks in a broken voice.
"Scully . hum. Where are we?"
I think my jaw must be somewhere near my feet when the door is abruptly opened.
"Dana! (yep, I woke her up when I called her before) My God . Fox?!! (here it comes . ) Come, come in quickly."
She seems even more panicked than me, which makes me feel pretty uncomfortable, after having witnessed Mulder not far from slipping on the ground when she (not so gently) opened her door.
When she put her hand on his shoulder to hurry him in, we both heard him grit his teeth and moan with pain.
"Sorry! Oh, I'm so sorry . Fox?"
He doesn't answer but holds his arms even more tightly around his ribs, halfway bent.
"Dana? Wh . what happened to him?"
I take a deep breath, feeling Mulder's pain deep inside my soul and urge my mom to let us walk in.
"He's hurt. Help me sit him in the kitchen, and please go get your first aid kit."
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Six stitches and a butterfly band-aid later, Mulder was still sitting on a kitchen chair, with his eyes fixed somewhere behind me.
With a wet cloth I had managed to clean the dirt and the dried blood from his face but he still needed a good shave and a shampoo to look *alive*. I rapidly decided against the shave, realizing that his swollen bruises and numerous cuts would hurt like hell afterwards. It would have to wait for a few days, and he'd probably look like a grizzly then. I smile at the picture but quickly I'm back on doctor-mode when I feel a trembling under my hands that are resting lightly on his shoulders.
"Are you cold? Do you want me to get you a blanket or something?"
He nods in the negative. Mum had already given us some very hot tea but Mulder didn't touch it. I suspect he feels nauseous, but I know he wouldn't tell me even if he is about to throw up.
I lower my gaze and saw the deep cuts on his hip and knee. The beige cloth of his pants was torn, but fortunately the cuts had stopped bleeding. He follows my gaze and knows what I am going to say even before I speak:
"I need to look at them too, Mulder. They need to be disinfected."
"I really could use a shower right now Scully. They can be disinfected afterwards."
Every time he spoke, my blood ran cold: his voice was so broken that it was tearing me in a thousand pieces.
"Right. But not before I have seen those ribs of yours."
I tried to sound nonchalant about it, knowing that what he was covering underneath his shirt was probably the worst, given his reactions concerning its every move. But when I saw his face becoming even paler, I flinched.
"What?"
"Hum . you don't want to see them."
"But . "
That's when my mum decided to come back from upstairs, where she had gone in order to find a change of clothes.
I stop my sentence and look at Mulder right in the eyes. He seems to understand pretty quickly what I wanted him to understand. *She doesn't know about us* Thank God for the mute conversation we can share!
I sigh again and hope that my mum's presence would make him act reasonably.
"Come on Mulder . The shirt is coming off, I have to take care of the cuts if they are any." As if *cuts* were my first or biggest worry.
The look he gives me then is more powerful than the broken voice. His eyes seem to beg me *Scullyplesasenononononono* again and again. Crying wouldn't be a good idea right now, but I feel like the desperate longing of last week, the pain, the unshed tears are coming full force. I close my eyes, unable to watch the pleading look of Mulder anymore.
"Darling, are you okay?"
That's my mum alright . always there to remind me that she is able to read every look on my face. No mum, I'm not *okay*, and Mulder is FAR from it too. Why didn't I take him to the hospital? I can't do it . I can't watch him suffering every time I try to ease his pain, I can't, I can't .
NO! I've got to be strong, strong for him. He needs me right now, and every time *I* needed him to be strong for me he was.
When I finally open my eyes, I can see that something change in his look, too. His eyes are full of love and tears. He lowers his head, remembering what I made him understand when my mum came in.
"I'm sorry for all the things you've been through because of me, Scully . "
No. I can't stand it anymore, the hell with what mum will think, I can't leave what he said hanging in the air like if it were true. I sit in front of him on the kitchen table so that our eyes can meet. I take his chin in my hands and force him to look at me while I'm speaking:
"No, Mulder. Don't you go there . I won't let you take the blame one more time."
I hear him sob and I then can't suppress the urge to hug him as tightly as I can allow myself to given his state. My arms are around his neck, his face buried against my shoulder. I can feel our tears mixing on my shirt but he's not trembling anymore.
I've got you, Mulder . I won't let you go .
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When we finally let go of each other, mum is still standing in the same spot, and she hadn't moved at all. Our eyes are puffy and red but no more tears leave wet tracks on our faces. I realize that we needed that hug, we needed to console each other before dealing with the consequences of those five horrible days. I should have done it earlier but well . first he flinched, then he fainted, and he finally almost fell asleep. I smile briefly and I let out a relieved sigh when I watch him do the same.
I can see in his eyes that he knows that I'm not done with him, and that the faster he does what I'm asking, the faster he will be able to get some rest.
"Whatever you're trying to hide under that shirt, Mulder, I'll have to see it eventually. I promised you earlier that we won't go to the hospital . not tonight anyway, and I won't break that promise now."
He seems to finally understand, but swallows hard before adding something.
"Scully I . I don't want you to be terrified or anything. I don't want to cause you any more pain. I just want you to remember that everything is *over* and that I'm okay."
"Right Mulder. Now, please . "
But he is already disengaging his arms from one other very slowly, and tugging at his T-shirt. His jaw is clenched, and I can see that he is holding his breath. I place myself behind his chair and help him removing his shirt as gently as I can. He winces numerous times but every time I stop he urges me to carry on.
The black shirt is off . now it's the T-shirt's turn, and I won't be able to help him remove it. I can see him closing his eyes briefly, taking a long shuddering breath and, in one certainly awfully painful move, it's off.
His eyes are still closed, and I'm standing in front of him. I let out the breath that I, too, was holding.
It could be worse but the view of his chest is nonetheless hard to see without having my throat feeling constricted. Its different colours prove that all the kicks he's been given were spread over the days: from the recent red to the ancient purple-blue, all the shades are visible. When I reach for a clean wet cloth that I'm going to use to clean the dried blood coming from his cuts, I hear mom gasp. She is standing behind Mulder, and I can see that she has put her trembling hands on her mouth.
"What have they done to him, My God, Dana . he was, he was ."
I walk toward her in order to reassure her that everything's okay now, and that Mulder is going to be fine . But as soon as I'm standing by her side, I realize why she reacted the way she did, and it's my turn to gasp and to put my hands on my mouth.
Blood red, vertical strokes cover his entire back. There is no place for imagination here, we both know what it means and what caused it.
Mulder's sigh take me back to reality.
"I told you that didn't want to see it."
"Mulder . " my voice is even more small and more broken than his "Why didn't you tell me that they . that they *whipped* you?"
"You don't have to tell me what they did to me, I know it. And you don't have to know all the other things they tried on me. Can I please take a shower, now?"
I can't say anything more so I just nod, completely numb. Mum seems to have recovered more quickly because she leads him toward the bathroom, with the change of clothes and a towel in her hands. I listen them making their way upstairs and then sit on Mulder's vacant chair.
TO BE CONTINUED
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