"Closet of Eternal Sorrow", part five
Scully's eyes stung. She could feel moisture creeping out of their corners as she let out yet another yawn. She couldn't shake the awful tiredness from her body. Her eyelids felt so goddamn heavy, she could barely keep them open. She had no idea how she would cope with today's work, and the only blessing she found was that it was planned out to be an easy day.
She took another sip from her coffee only to discover that her cup had run dry. She desperately needed a refill and the hospital was still far away. There was supposed to be a gas station coming up pretty soon. She decided a coffee break was required. With that in mind, she forced herself to keep going. It was only a few more miles.
She let out another jaw-wrenching yawn, and was forced to wipe her eyes this time, destroying her much worked-upon makeup. She grimaced. She had to apply a double coat of concealer, as she looked as ill as the children she was taking care of. She was certain this wouldn't install much confidence in her as a doctor if the parents of her patients saw her like this.
She felt her eyelids turning heavier, slowly drooping until they sealed shut. Shit! She realized she was nodding off, and she forcefully opened her eyes and tried to keep them ajar. Stay awake, Dana, she coaxed herself. Where was that goddamned gas station? She was sure she should have seen it by now.
The sudden blaring of a horn brought her to her senses; her eyelids flew wide open, and she was shocked when she caught site of a van rushing right at her. Instinct took over; she steered the car as hard as she could to the left, barely avoiding the van. As the van's horn screamed behind her, she could see she was speeding right into the road's sideline. She forced the steering wheel back to the right just in time to avoid the ditch. She pushed the brake pedal with tremendous force and the car screeched to a halt, its left wheels slightly dipping into the ditch she barely missed.
Too rattled to move, her heart fluttering and her head pounding, Dana Scully just sat there, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Absent-mindedly her hand reached for her necklace but when she touched her collarbone she was bewildered when she couldn't feel her cross. Her already racing heart skipped a beat. It was irrational, she knew it, but the tiny gold cross made her feel safe and some silly illogical notion was telling her that her near-miss just now was a result of said missing necklace. She shook her head, feeling annoyed that she would allow such nonsense into it, and yet, she felt a creeping sensation slithering into her. Oh, get a grip on yourself, Dana! It was stupid, but she couldn't shake the terrible feeling of dread.
She tried to force rationality back into her mind. It was just a necklace, she was probably too tired to notice that she had forgotten to don it after her morning shower, but when she lingered on that thought further, she wasn't quite sure. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall her steps from that morning. She was quite certain now that she had put the necklace on. So where the hell was it? Maybe she just didn't close its latch properly and the near-collision's drastic movement caused it to fly off of her? Maybe. It was a possible scenario.
With her head still vigorously pounding, Scully released her seatbelt buckle and pushed her car seat back. She bent forward and squinted at the car's carpeting. She sent her hand searching under her seat and then checked the adjoining compartments and crevices of the car. She found nothing. Her headache was getting worse and the adrenaline that had washed through her system right after the near-accident was now losing its effect and her weariness returned.
Finally defeated, she pushed her seat back, buckled up and slowly returned to the right side of the road. There were no signs on that particular part of the way and for a second she felt lost and confused. It was absurd, of course. She travelled to work via this road on a daily basis, but suddenly something about it felt different. She took in the scenery. She recognized the barnyards she was passing, and she also knew she'd passed by that particular chapel she was now looking at, so why did it feel so strange to her? As she neared the chapel, she suddenly did a double take. Her eyes widened as she figured out what felt odd. The gas station. She was certain there was a gas station just by that chapel. Leaving one hand on the steering wheel, she rubbed her eyes and blinked. She couldn't be that tired, now, could she? She couldn't have misplaced an entire gas station. She felt a strange sensation of panic rushing through her heart and glimpses of the catastrophe from the night before came back to her. She shuddered, trying to clear her mind of those memories; the nightmares, her gasping for air and Mulder's shocked and horrified expression. And now this gas station. Could she be…? No. She couldn't think like that. She had too many people relying on her and depending on her. She couldn't afford to go crazy.
So if she wasn't crazy, where the hell was that damn gas station?
She had no idea.
She continued driving, then, suddenly, she turned her right indicator on and carefully drove to the sideline. Now at a full stop, she turned around and was stunned when she saw that the gas station was indeed there, where it was supposed to be. Dammit, Dana. She shouldn't have gone to work if she was this tired. Unfortunately she was already more than half-way there. Shaking her head both in disbelief and despair, she signaled to the left and got back on the road. There were no more places to stop along the way and she prayed she could make it in one piece till she could get her coffee refill at the hospital.
After what seemed like a long and excruciating drive, she had finally reached her destination. She parked her car and with extremely slow moves, she hefted her handbag and pushed herself out of it. She couldn't find it in her power to move any faster, so she slowly lugged herself to the elevator, as she gave in to her fatigued body's wishes.
She was late and the only good thing about it was that she had the elevator to herself, having missed the morning rush. She stood alone in front of the elevator mirror and took in her reflection. Smudged makeup mixed with eyeliner that desperately needed fixing met her gaze. She sighed wearily, promising herself to handle the makeup right after she'd had her coffee. It was then that she noticed the golden shimmer peeping from her neck collar. Could it be? Her eyes widened as her hand flew to her neck. She almost choked with surprise. What the hell? She let her fingers trace the tiny object's shape as she stared with utter dismay at her reflection. It was one thing to not see an object standing right in front of her. It was a totally different thing when one couldn't feel that object as well. Could the necklace have been so deep within the folds of her blouse she'd not been able to find it? She shook her head once again.
Scully didn't have time to figure out what was going on. The elevator doors opened and a gurney surrounded with an entire team almost came crashing into her. She shuffled to the right, making way for the large party that now accompanied her. She huddled in the corner, endeavouring to avoid eye-contact with the medical staff filling the elevator. Two flights later and she was once again left on her own. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when finally the elevator doors parted and she was at her office's floor.
As she neared 'The promised Land', aka, her office, her phone buzzed. She fumbled through her handbag for the intrepid device, snatched it and stared at its panel. She released an unhappy sigh as she read the number on the screen. It was Peds Oncology. She knew she was late. She just had to have some coffee in her, or she would possibly kill a patient, and it wouldn't be due to malpractice.
With great displeasure she answered the call. "Hello?"
"Dr. Scully, I'm sorry to bother you, but you have two families waiting at the outpatient clinic and there should be a third arriving anytime soon. Are you coming in?"
Oh fuck! She hadn't noticed just how late she was. "Yes. I'm here. I'll be there in five minutes."
She clicked the disconnect button and hastened her stride to her office. She unlocked the door, threw her handbag on the desk and yanked a new lab coat from the hanger. She removed her jacket and tossed it by her handbag. Then as she dashed out of her office, she remembered her temp tag was fastened to her jacket. Her face contorted at the thought of the blasted tag, then she hopped right back into her office, riffled through her jacket folds and retrieved it.
She hurried down the corridor but when she reached the elevators she realized one was out of order. She thought it was strange since it had been operational a few moments ago but time was too short for her to contemplate on the subject. To her utter frustration the second elevator seemed to be stopping at every floor possible and taking forever to arrive. She lost her patience with it and decided to go with the stairs. At least she'd be going down and not climbing them this time, she consoled herself.
She shot down three flights of stairs, taking two steps at a time, and almost missing a step but managing to recover at the very last second. Her mind was in shambles; a mixture of memories from the night before, the events on the road and thoughts about messed-up makeup and very much missed coffee. Finally she plunged through the second floor's stairwell door and rushed along the bustling corridor towards the outpatient clinic at the Pediatric Oncology ward.
She threw a quick glance at the queue that was now forming before her room at the clinic and her expression writhed. Two sets of parents and two kids. She checked her watch. It was nine thirty AM. The first patient was scheduled for eight thirty. What a brilliant start.
She brushed the reprimand to the back of her mind. It was pointless now. She also knew she couldn't rush any of these checkups, so she approached the two waiting families and apologized for her tardiness. "Car problems," she told them. Sort of a white lie, she figured. It was more like a driver problem, she told herself, but heck. She convinced the second family to go have breakfast while they waited. There was no point in waiting for her as she wasn't going to accept them before she finished up with her first in line.
As she was showing the first family into the exam room, she heard the ward's charge nurse calling after her.
"Dr. Scully."
"Hmm…?"
"Ethan Wallace's test and scan results are here. Do you want them now?"
The mentioning of Ethan's name made her catch her breath. She quickly recovered. "Yes. Yes, please."
The nurse came up to her and handed her Ethan's chart. The half empty chart from yesterday gained in size now that the results had arrived. Despite truly wanting to riff through them, Scully had to hinder her curiosity till she had some free time. At the moment she had to give her undivided attention to the family of Jeffery Hung who were now staring back at her from their seats in front of her desk.
She closed the door behind her, dropped Ethan's chart on the desk and grabbed Jeffery's. As she read through Jeffery's recent tests she noted that something was out of order. The six year old had been in remission for the past two years and up until today all of his results came up negative. Now, one test made her suspicious. One of the cancer markers was elevated. What struck her as odd was the fact that this marker usually had accomplices and didn't show up on its own. She pinched her chin in deep thought and gave the results an additional reading. She had to make sure she hadn't missed other signs of a possible recurrence. She could hear the Hungs fidgeting in their chairs with unease. She had to tell them something, but she truly wished she didn't have to do this.
"What's wrong?" The dad, Simon Hung, asked.
She couldn't stall any further. She'd gone over the results thrice now. HVA was elevated but VMA and chromogranin A appeared normal. "One of the test results came back positive." She explained.
Jeffery's mom let out an almost inaudible gasp. Jeffery himself seemed to feel the tension in the air. He looked at his mom with deep concerned eyes, then switched to his dad, who responded with a pat on his head.
"Does this mean-?"
"It might not mean anything," Scully cut into Simon's question. "It's only one result and usually I expect this result to appear with other markers, so I'm actually hoping this is just a false positive."
Simon's face didn't show any sign of assuredness. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"We need to repeat all the tests again, immediately, and I would like to examine Jeffery now, before I send you off." Scully got up and offered her hand to the young boy.
Jeffery didn't seem too happy about the turning of events. The usual checkups didn't include a physical examination. The test results were enough of an indicator for Scully. She didn't see any reason to perform an unnecessary physical if the tests didn't suggest it, or if the parents or the child didn't complain about something out of the ordinary.
"C'mon," Scully smiled at the now cowering child. When he didn't seem persuaded, she gave his mother a pleading look. "Sandra, I think it would be good if you helped Jeffery."
Sandra got up and held her hand to her son.
"No!" the child bellowed.
Scully held herself. She had to maintain a calm disposition or the child would sense her tension.
Sandra looked at Simon for help. The father got up with obvious reluctance and grabbed his son's hand.
Jeffery did not go down without a fight. He cried bloody murder as his father first dragged him by the hand, then finally picked him up as he kicked and screamed and landed him on the examination bed.
"I'm sorry Jeffery," Scully apologized. "This won't hurt, I promise."
But the agitated boy refused to lie down and Scully had to ask his father to restrain him while she held her examination. As Jeffery's body contorted and thrashed, Scully tried to give him a thorough physical. She palpated his abdomen, and searched for any form of enlargement, then she tried to remove his shoes so she could take his pants off and was rewarded with a sharp kick directly at her ribcage.
Tears formed in her eyes as her brain registered the impact. She let out a miserable grunt and felt her body fold on itself. She tried to breathe through the sudden pain and regain control over her keeling body. It was excruciating.
She felt somebody getting a hold on her arm and guiding her to a chair. She plopped down unceremoniously and gathered her senses.
"Doctor? Are you alright?" It was Sandra Hung. "I will get you something to drink maybe?"
Scully was still catching her breath, but she put up her hand hoping that Sandra would let her recover without fussing about her too much.
"Doctor?"
"It's OK," Scully panted as she spoke up. "I just need a minute."
The rest of the examination was accompanied by a nurse who assisted in holding the uncooperative six year old down while the Hungs repeatedly apologized for their son's unruly behavior.
As the door closed behind the boy and his parents, Scully slumped into the chair behind the clinic desk and wondered why she thought this was supposed to be an easy day. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have too much time to wallow in self-pity as her next appointment was already knocking at her door.
She groaned and then straightened herself as she called them in.
It was one thirty in the afternoon when Scully finally got a chance to get another cup of coffee and a cream cheese bagel. She hadn't much time to get the food and drink downed. She was running late as it was and had to sit with the Wallaces on their son's case. She sat at the second floor café and skimmed through Ethan's chart as she nibbled her bagel. The results seemed inconclusive. The scans didn't show mets but the blood stream indicated otherwise. She will have to treat him as if she had found actual mets. The question remained, will John and Lillian agree to any form to treatment. She will soon find out.
She put Ethan's chart down and took another slurp of coffee. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She was still exhausted but the food and coffee did help somewhat. It had been a long morning at the outpatient clinic. After examining the test results of all four outpatients as well as examining the patients themselves, Scully had come to the conclusion that there was some lab malfunction. All the test results had shown an elevation of the same marker while the patients and their other test results seemed fine. She was upset that she was the one to catch the kink in the system and that it wasn't caught sooner. Now all four patients had to endure another batch of tests to make certain everything was OK. She asked the desk clerk to handle the referrals and to make sure all were sent to a different lab. She would have to inform the hospital of her findings and she wanted to be sure before she did so.
She guzzled the bagel remains and was busy wiping her hands when her phone chirped. She dug into her lab coat pocket and retrieved it. She checked the number; it was the ward again. "Dr. Scully," she answered.
"Errmm… Hi Doctor Scully. This is Jenine."
"Hi Jenine. I'm just about to come over to see Ethan Wallace. Is everything OK?" Scully noted the desk clerk sounded uncomfortable and she felt a small knot forming in her belly. What was going on now?
"It's about the outpatient referrals."
Scully frowned. "What about them?"
"I think you should get over here. I will show you."
The knot just got tighter. "Sure," Scully replied and ended the conversation. She got up, grabbed the Styrofoam cup with her leftover coffee and tried to control her strides as she returned to the ward. It was probably nothing, she tried to calm herself down, but her gut feeling was telling her otherwise. She hurried her pace.
As she approached the front desk she was having trouble catching her breath and she knew it wasn't from the walk she just took back to the ward. What was it with all the overreacting she was having to everything? In the back of her mind her logic was trying to make sense of her obscure behavior but her emotions pushed those thoughts aside. Instead, all she could feel was deep trepidation, as if the worst was about to come. She had to relax her breathing or she would relapse into another panic attack. It was bad enough Mulder had witnessed one. She had no idea what her colleagues would think if they saw her like that. She didn't want to know. It was hard to relax with her mind in such disarray. Breathe slowly, Dana, she ordered herself. The thought of having a major breakdown at work was obviously scarier than whatever else made her feel so distressed at that moment. Her breathing obeyed her command and slowed down.
Now somewhat more calm and composed, she approached the desk clerk, ready for whatever she had to throw at her. "Jenine?"
The petite desk clerk raised her head from the charts she was working on. "Hey." Again discomfort ebbed from her voice.
"What did you want to show me?" she asked as she joined her at the desk.
"Well…" the clerk stalled and Scully was losing her patience.
She prompted the clerk to continue with a gesture of her eyes.
Jenine heaved a deep breath. "It's just that you asked me to make these referrals and I was going over the results so I can prepare all the paperwork. You know that I usually highlight the problematic results?"
Scully nodded, and urged her to continue.
"So I was going to mark the elevated HVA result, but I couldn't find it. I checked and rechecked but HVA seems within the norm."
Scully frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes—"
"Can I see?" Scully almost yanked the chart from the clerk's hand.
"Wait. There's more." Jenine interjected.
More? Scully felt her right eyebrow arching as she wondered what else was wrong.
"I checked the other charts—"
"And?" Scully asked impatiently.
"None of these patients have elevated HVA."
It was like a bomb had been dropped. How could this be? She shook her head in dismay. "No. This isn't possible." How could she have misread all four charts? This was not like her.
Jenine proffered her the four charts. Scully took hold of them and walked to the waiting area. She plummeted into the first empty couch and riffled through them. She mulled over the results over and over, feeling beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she went over the results again, only to discover she had obviously read them wrong. All four of them. Somehow she willed herself into seeing the same elevated marker in all of them. It was absurd. She was certain she'd read them right. How could she have made such a gross error?
The headache from the morning was returning with a vengeance. She kneaded her forehead, pressing her fingers as hard as she could to her skull. The pain wouldn't budge. Her trepidation also returned. She checked the results again with shaking hands. She couldn't control her trembling and the chart she was holding dropped to the ground, spreading itself all around her. She couldn't find it within her to pick it up.
"Doctor? Are you alright?" It was one of the nurses.
"Yeah…" She knew she sounded dazed. She felt the nurse was scrutinizing her, then she dropped to a squat and went about gathering the fallen chart and its notes.
"I'll get you a cup of water." The nurse said as she got up and handed her the chart she'd collected.
Scully didn't say a word. She felt numbness taking over her body. She found solace in it. Maybe she would just sit there and not move anymore. She might do less harm if she stopped taking action. She thought of those four miserable kids and their parents whom she scared and also about Brylee. No. That wasn't fair. She tried to do everything for that girl. So why did she feel she had wronged her? She didn't understand.
Somebody shoved a cold object into her right hand and then brought her left hand to help support the object and prevent it from falling. She didn't look at what was now in her hands, nor did she take in the person who had given, whatever it was, to her.
"There you go, doctor." It was the nurse.
Scully finally regarded her hands. She was holding a plastic cup with water in it. She stared at it, as if it were the strangest thing in the world and she had no clue what to do with it.
"You should drink something," the nurse told her.
Scully wondered why she should do that. It wasn't going to help her feelings, nor would it change the fact that she now had to apologize to all four patients about giving them such an unnecessary fright.
"C'mon, now," the nurse urged her.
She brought the cup to her lips and sipped the cold liquid. In a strange way, she did find that simple basic act, relaxing. She gulped the water until the cup was empty and finally glanced at the nurse who seemed satisfied with her actions.
"Feeling better?"
"Um-hm," she nodded.
The nurse smiled and turned around and finally let her be.
She leaned forward, holding her head between her hands while resting her elbows on her knees. She strove to make sense of things. People can make errors, she rationalized, but four times in a row? She knew she was tired, but to make such a blatant mistake meant she was incapacitated. She should take the day off, maybe even more than a day, but could she afford this? There were two surgeries scheduled for the day after tomorrow. She was supposed to assist. Possibly she could ask somebody to replace her. If she missed a simple test result, she didn't want to imagine what havoc she might conjure within a human body. Just the thought made her cringe.
But before anything else she had to make those dreaded phone calls. She just hoped the parents won't sue. It could end her career, or at least hinder her advancement within the field of medicine. Maybe she deserved that, she thought, considering she couldn't read her charts properly.
She got up, about to take off to her office so she could have some privacy during the shameful calls she was about to make, when she heard footsteps approaching her. She tilted her head sideways and saw that it was Jenine. She released a miserable sigh and looked at the clerk irritably.
"Dr. Scully? What about Ethan Wallace?"
She face-palmed. Oh crap! She'd totally forgotten her original reason for coming to the ward in the first place. She nodded. "Right. I'll go over to them. Thanks."
You shouldn't be talking to them, Dana, she berated herself, but what was she to do? She'd already begun processing the child and it would take at least another day until another doctor would be able to see them, let alone study their case. The boy's parents were barely holding on as it was. She had to make the effort.
As she walked down the corridor she felt as if she were touring the Via Dolorosa. The burden her soul was carrying became heavier as she neared room 201. She vowed not to even slightly incline her head towards Brylee's room this time. But her heartbeat began rushing the closer she got. She felt nauseous and she swallowed hard and forced herself not to relieve herself of the bagel she had just eaten. She could feel the stingy taste of bile erupting down her throat and she gulped for air. Dana Scully! What the hell is wrong with you? She felt as if she were about to faint. It was absolutely ridiculous. Where did her self-control disappear to?
Her heartbeat was now running at hyper speed, her head was pounding, she was having a hard time catching her breath and her skin felt clammy. Was she having a heart attack? She shook her head. Dana! You are having another panic attack! A voice within her said.
Instead of continuing to Ethan's room, she made a sudden turn and hurried her stride. She was not going to have a fully-blown panic attack in front of the ward staff if she could help it. She walked fast, trying to somehow keep the attack at bay, at least until she could find her hiding place.
She saw the narrow green door looming a few more steps from her. Please be open, she pleaded in her mind. She was reaching the end of her tether when she finally arrived at the closet. She anxiously tugged at the handle and to her great relief it gave way. She nearly collapsed into the tiny closet. She shut the door behind her and expertly slung a broom through the handle so people won't be able to open it from the outside. Her head was spinning and her breathing was becoming more labored. Her eyes darted around the closet shelves in a crazed frenzy searching for some form of bag. She found none, so instead she tore through a pack of surgical gloves, turned the first glove she grabbed inside out and shoved it over her mouth and nose, albeit its strong rubbery whiff attacking her nostrils. She slumped to the floor and leaned hard on the uncomfortable shelves, too weak to support her own body weight at that stage.
Gradually her symptoms subsided. First the tingling sensation in her hands diminished, and gradually her heart rhythm calmed to a regular steady beat and her breathing returned to normal. She felt exhausted, as if she had run a state's marathon. Every muscle in her body ached and she had no idea if she could find the strength to pick herself off of the floor. She rubbed her temples, and got to thinking about what had just happened. It didn't make any sense to her. She was making silly mistakes and she was seeing things or not seeing them, and she was having strange sensations of fear and desperation. She couldn't be so out of control. She didn't feel out of control at that moment. She almost felt… sane, and that was despite the fact that she was sitting on the floor of a supply closet.
The drastic changes in her emotions felt odd. Right now she couldn't understand why she went overboard just as she approached Brylee Sanders' room. This wasn't the first time she had to support a dying child and a pissed-off grieving parent.
Something wasn't right.
She realized that this was the first clear thought she'd had all day. The first logical notion. The only problem was, she couldn't explain what was wrong. She only knew that it was. Her first inclination was to call the one person who would understand what she was talking about. Then she thought better of it. What could Mulder actually do with this information? He wasn't working on the X-Files anymore. Worse, possibly if she told him that she felt something was not alright with her, he might get all overprotective or even more paranoid. He might go into fully-blown mania trying to help her, thereby destroying himself in the process.
Unable to resolve the issue and aware that she was still needed on the ward, Scully gathered her meager strength and pulled herself to an upright position. She quietly removed the broom that held the door shut and exited her tiny recluse.
Despite her rather shabby appearance, Scully felt she was now able to tackle the issue of Ethan Wallace. With new-found enthusiasm, she strode confidently to Ethan's room. She didn't even think about Brylee or her mom as she passed by their cubicle. She knocked on Ethan Wallace's door and without waiting for a response, entered.
John Wallace seemed surprised. "Dr. Scully. I'd thought you'd given up on us."
His accusation didn't make her flinch. She took it in stride. "Doctors' days tend to be somewhat unexpected, Mr. Wallace."
"If you say so," John Wallace wasn't too happy with her response.
Scully gave him a curt smile, then pulled up a chair and sat with the parents. Young Ethan was fast asleep which was just as well. "So, after running all the tests, I'm afraid to say that it's possible the tumor has metastasized."
"Possible?" Lillian interjected. "What do you mean, possible? You're not sure?"
Lillian's reaction was to be expected and Scully dove into the explanation. "First of all, medicine is not an exact science. There's a lot we are still learning and many things we are still unable to explain. In Ethan's case the scans did not show metastases, but his blood work indicated otherwise, so my assumption is that the tumor is spreading but the new growths are not large enough to be clearly seen in the imaging." Scully took in both parents' distressed reactions; Lillian holding her hand over her mouth, her eyes agape, moisture beginning to form in their corners and John, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry about all of this. If Ethan's tumor is spreading, then I'm afraid that the disease is now considered terminal." Deeper shock was now setting into the parents' stance as Scully proceeded with her grim predictions. "Without treatment, I believe Ethan won't have more than two months."
"Oh Lord," John blurted. "And if he gets treatment?"
"Well…" Scully was about to reply and explain treatment possibilities when a sudden strange feeling rushed through her. "Uhmm…" she suddenly couldn't find the right words. Everything was clearly slated in her mind just a flicker of a second ago and now she felt muddled and unsure. What was she about to tell them? She felt fear lurking within her, ready to snap at any moment. What was happening to her? She was fine just a minute ago. She was holding her own, completely in her element just like she usually was and suddenly she was reduced to a blabbering git. She looked up at the expectant stares of Ethan's anguished parents and felt her expression mirroring theirs. Oh No. She was supposed to provide them with answers and suddenly she had none.
She returned her gaze to the chart she was holding, opened it and pretended to read it. She tried to stall until her brain came back to its senses. She stared at Ethan's test results and as she bore her gaze into them, the letters and numbers started to swim out of focus. She felt faint as a bout of dizziness took her over. The text in the chart was now almost completely illegible to her. She blinked, hoping she could somehow re-focus both her sight and her brain but the dizzy spell was getting worse and she let out an involuntary moan of despair.
"Doctor? Are you alright?"
In the back of her mind, Scully registered that this was the third time today that she was asked this question and it was really getting old. Then, as if things weren't bad enough as it were, the dizziness now brought its best friend to join in the fun; good old nausea. Oh hell! Why was this happening to her?
"I—I'm s-sorry," she didn't recognize her own voice. It sounded frail and shaky. It was obvious that she couldn't continue the discussion in her current condition. She tried to get up. The sudden movement made her lose her balance and she sagged to her right. This only served to enhance the woozy feeling afflicting her.
"Doctor?!" the, now, incredulous voices of both Lillian and John converged onto her as they lunged to steady her and prevent her from crumpling to the floor.
John grabbed her with such intent, his grip made her wince in pain.
"Sorry," Ethan's father said as he lessened his hold on her and helped her back into the chair.
She felt breathless. "I—"
"Shshsh…" Lillian cut through her attempt to speak. "You're not well. Don't exert yourself. I'll get help."
Scully gave in. She felt too weak to argue. She could feel John's strong hand patting her back, obviously trying to help her as best he understood. It was a humbling experience. She was supposed to be this omnipotent figure, the Goddess come to save the day, the fearless and all-knowing doctor. They were supposed to be the grateful worshippers, thankful for their benevolent Goddess. Instead, the roles were now reversed and she was basically at their mercy, as she sat there, unable to even move away and save what little was left of her dignity.
The door to Ethan's room burst open and Scully could hear somebody approaching her with great hurry.
"Dr. Scully?" it was Janice, one if the ward's charge nurses. "What's wrong? Mrs. Wallace here was saying you collapsed?"
Scully was about to answer when John did it for her. "She almost fainted."
Janice now crouched before her. "Honey? What's wrong?" she reached out and grabbed Scully's arm. Scully resisted the urge to pull it back. The nurse, expertly, traced her wrist and located the radial artery and took her pulse. "Your pulse is racing," she stated what was already a known fact for Scully. "C'mon, sweetheart, I'll help you," she said as she took hold of Scully's arm and with John Wallace's assistance, she managed to get her into an erect position. "Don't you worry now. You just lean on me and I'll get you to a room where you can rest and maybe one of the other doctors should have a look at you, ey?"
Oh brother. That was the last thing she needed. To be examined by one of her colleagues. What a fucking mess, she thought as she was paraded through the ward, barely managing to keep a semi-upright position while the nurse guided her to the nearest exam room.
'The walk of shame' seemed to last forever. Scully took comfort in the fact that she was so weak, she wasn't able to keep her head up; she had no idea who was witnessing the ordeal. For the most part nobody uttered a word, but she did hear somebody snickering from behind and muttering quietly "How the mighty have fallen". Scully knew that voice. It was Miranda Sanders. She felt properly humiliated now and her head bowed even lower.
They finally arrived at one of the empty exam rooms. Janice helped her get on the bed and fussed about getting her a blanket and a cup of tea. Scully wanted her to just leave.
"I think Dr. Slater's here. I'll ask him to hop in and get a look at you," the nurse said as she stood at the door.
Good God! No! Not Slater! Actually, she didn't want any of the doctors near her. Her instinct was telling her this wasn't a matter for a doctor to handle anyway. "Janice," she called out to her.
"What darling?"
"Could you just call me a cab?"
"What?" the nurse seemed dumbfounded. "Why?"
"I… I just want to go home. Get some rest. That's all."
Janice turned to face her, her demeanor told Scully that she disapproved of her request. "I really think someone should examine you. You're so pale and you can barely support yourself."
"I'm just exhausted. Haven't been sleeping too well…" She pleaded Janice in her mind to let her off the hook.
Janice harrumphed. "As you wish. I'll get you a cab."
Scully gave her a pitiful excuse for a smile and the nurse left. As she was closing the door behind her, Scully could hear her muttering "Doctors. Sheesh".
By the time Janice returned to inform her that her cab had arrived, Scully felt somewhat recovered. She even debated the possibility of staying at work working on some paperwork, but when she looked at Janice's disapproving expression, she decided that it would truly be pushing it.
The nurse had sent somebody up to get her bag and jacket and as she handed Scully her stuff she mentioned to her that she'd forgotten to lock her office up.
"Really?" She wasn't quite sure of anything after today. If the cab wasn't already waiting for her, she would have rushed upstairs to check that nothing was taken, but there was no time. She hoped that it was just something she forgot to do and not another incident of somebody rearranging her personal belongings.
She had to endure Janice's company a little longer, as the dutiful nurse insisted on accompanying her to the cab.
When the cab door closed behind her and she saw Janice's form getting smaller in the distance, Scully finally let herself fall back into the cab seat, hoping for an uneventful journey home.