Author's Notes:
Note to the lovely reader who left reviews - I love you people :-)
"Closet of Eternal Sorrow, Part Six"
The scent of the grilled cheese seemed very enticing after not having eaten much since breakfast. He gave the chunk of toast a healthy bite and savored the flavors as he chewed. He was definitely a man of simple pleasures and it didn't take too much to make him content. A TV, a couch, a laptop, wi-fi and a packet of sunflower seeds and he would live happily ever after.
With the toast in his mouth, he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and with his other hand he opened the fridge and took the last carton of tropical juice out. He set the glass on the counter and tore the carton open. As he began pouring he heard the sound of a car approaching the house. He frowned. He wasn't expecting anybody and besides, nobody could enter the yard without him first letting them in at the main gate. The only other person who had the gate keys was Scully and that was definitely not her car.
Now suspicious, Mulder put the juice carton back on the counter, and with the toast still stuck in his mouth, he padded quietly to the front porch window and peered through the curtains.
There was a cab parked in front of their house and from that cab Scully emerged, well, it was Scully but she looked like… Fox Mulder cringed. She looked awful. She was once again early and this time she didn't even drive home. He was afraid to think what had happened to her car.
He gave her a scrutinizing look; she didn't appear injured, she just seemed extremely fatigued, her face the color of chalk, her eyes dull and sunken, her hair matted and untidy, her blouse partially tucked, and her step slow and tired, as if she couldn't carry herself.
He plucked the toast from his mouth and left it on the window sill and then unlocked the door and rushed to give her a hand. She didn't even look up at him. Instead she stared at the ground. When he reached her side, he tried to put his hand around her waist, for support, but she desperately tried to wriggle out of his hold. He didn't let her, but her reaction peeved him. How far was she willing to go with this martyr act of hers? She was collapsing before his eyes, yet she seemed more willing to turn into a pile of mush, than to allow him to help her.
"Don't fight me, Scully!" He held her even tighter as they slowly traversed the three steps to their porch. She ceased her resistance and instead gave in and let her entire body weight be carried by him.
He got her into the house and kicked the door shut, then proceeded to land her on their sofa. She crashed into it like a sack of potatos, not even trying to break her fall, or to move to a more comfortable position.
He stood by and regarded her with concern. He hadn't a clue what was wrong with her; if it was mental or physical or possibly both. She was acting strange and she was so unwell, and it all happened so fast, it was scary.
Maybe he would just help her out of those boots, he thought and bent down before her. He unzipped the right boot and with a slight upward tilt pulled it off of her. She didn't react. He proceeded with the left one, then took her socks off, and with a grunt hefted himself back to a standing position. Scully was still slumped on the sofa, her eyes shut, looking as if she'd been through the wars.
"Maybe you should lie down, Scully, and take a nap." He told her.
Nothing. No response whatsoever. He assumed she was already sleeping.
He gently grabbed hold of her shoulders, got her to lie down and then pulled her legs up. He covered her with the throw they kept on the couch, and then he sat on the opposing recliner and studied her.
As he took in her haggard features, he realized she was wearing a heavy coat of makeup, far heavier than usual. The makeup was now smeared and instead of concealing the dark patches around her eyes, the mixture of makeup and eyeliner gave Scully's eye a somewhat gothic appearance. Her usually meticulous hair, of which each strand stood in line as if scared to break formation, was now strewn all over the sofa in a most irregular disorderly fashion. This was so unbecoming of a person such as Scully. She was the epitome of tidy, organized, and of wits about her. He could accept a certain level of fatigue, even from her, but it was more up his alley to run himself down until he ceased functioning. Scully would never stoop this low. He couldn't accept this. It had to be something external. He just had to get her talking. He was sure this would give him a clue to what she was dealing with.
He ran an entire conversation with her in his mind. Of course, in his mind she listened to him and things worked out perfectly. Somehow he had a feeling that in real life it won't be that simple.
When she didn't seem to be waking up, he decided to have something to drink and to try and get some more reading done. He pushed himself up just as Scully moaned. Taken aback, he dropped back into the seat. "Scully?" Was she waking up?
She stirred. Mulder bore his eyes into her, and waited for her to become aware. Her eyelids fluttered and she slowly opened them, revealing a pair of dim blue eyes. Mulder couldn't resist letting out a sigh.
"Hey," he said quietly and smiled.
"Mulder?" her eyes widened. "Wha—what am I doing here?"
He screwed up his face. "I believe you live here." He went for the lighter approach, despite really wanting to lunge at her with a verbal lashing.
She huffed. "Seriously, how did I get here?"
He gave her a stern look. "You don't remember?" Was this a new symptom he should worry about? Amnesia?
She slowly got up to a sitting position. "I- I'm not sure…"
Mulder winced as he noted the confusion marring her face. "A cab brought you home, Scully. Do you know why?"
Her mystified expression deepened.
"What happened to your car?" he pushed further.
"My car?" she still seemed unable to piece the puzzle.
"Yes. You know; that thing with four wheels you drive every day to work with?" Watch it now; you are beginning to lose it.
At least for that he received a glower. She was still in there.
"Scully? Car?" he prompted her
"My car… right… I left it at the hospital, I think."
"You think?"
She held her hand to her face. "I'm sorry Mulder. I'm having trouble thinking straight."
"I'll say," he muttered quietly. He'd never seen her so dazed. It was so not like her. He should probably take her to see a doctor because this wasn't normal.
"I'm going to get a cab and we'll go back to the hospital. I think somebody should have a look at you."
"No."
Mulder blinked. "No?!" What the hell did she mean? No? He was so fed up of this spiel; of her not letting him do anything for her, while she insisted on doing everything for him.
She straightened herself and then folded her legs under her. "Mulder, I'm just tired—"
He bolted up, feeling rage take over his will to soften his blow. "That's fucking bullshit, Scully!" He approached her and stared down, eyes ablaze. "I don't want you to give me any more of these lame excuses. As far as I know, I'm not stupid, and I think you of all people should agree that when a person such as yourself turns from beauty into the beast in a mere three days, that I'd be capable enough to figure that something is way off, and that's Way with a capital W, Scully, do you get me?!" Oh yes, he was on a definite roll here.
She opened her mouth in obvious protest, but he didn't let her speak.
"Ah-ah! If you are going to tell me that 'it's nothing', or that you're fine or that it's just a problem at work, you might as well not speak at all. I won't accept that. I won't."
"But—"
"No buts!" he hissed. "This is not normal behavior, and I mean not only for a super organized, OCD-like, person such as you. This isn't normal behavior for anybody." He glared at her. She responded with an angry scowl. "Look, if I was behaving so out of it like you've been going on, you'd have tied me down to a bed, or worse, had me committed."
"I don't need this now, Mulder," she told him and made an attempt to get up from the couch, but as she was half way up, she began stooping to the right, and she assumed such a shocked expression; it was quite clear that she didn't expect this to happen. He dove at her and caught her before she fell to the ground, and then gently helped her back to the couch.
She covered her face with her hands, her huddled form sending a message of shame and defeat. Her sight gave him sheer agony. He fumed at her for not sharing with him, yet he couldn't bear seeing her so distraught. She was a proud woman, and to feel this helpless was so degrading for her, this alone made him feel awful. He slumped beside her. "Look. I know you don't like asking for help. I understand it all too well, and I'd much rather have you supporting me than the other way round, but I believe that this is something out of your control, so if this is any consolation, please don't feel so bad."
When she didn't respond, he turned his head and looked at her. She hadn't changed her position and he became concerned. "Scully? You OK?"
"Yes," she answered quietly and let her hands fall from her face to her lap.
"What's going on, then?" he asked quietly, hoping she had come to her senses.
She sighed. "Look, Mulder, I really don't want you to worry about this—"
His anger returned, and he slammed his hands on his knees. "'This'?! Scully, what is 'this' that I shouldn't worry about exactly? And by the way, you have failed miserably in the 'do not get Fox Mulder worried department', because I am worried sick about you right now. Look at you! You can't even stand up. You look like you're deathly ill, you had a wacked-out panic attack, not to mention those creepy nightmares. I'm not willing to play a bystander anymore and watch you spiral out of control!"
He'd hoped she would react to his tirade appropriately. That she'd lash out back at him. She didn't. Instead she remained still and didn't utter a word and this only made him reach boiling point. "I don't get you! Scully! I want to help! Dammit. You are so fucking stubborn, it's downright stupid, you know it?!"
Nothing.
He got up fuming and walked towards the living room windows, then he walked towards her again feeling he'd go crazy if she kept with the silent treatment. He felt like kicking or punching something. His hands balled into fists, knuckles whitening. He was going to explode when suddenly something dawned on him. It was the last thing Scully had said to him before she turned into this frozen statue. He turned to face her, "Scully? Is this all because you are trying to protect me?"
He watched her face crumple, as if upset at being found out. Everything fell into place. All this time; her keeping him out of the loop; not because she didn't feel anything for him anymore, but the complete opposite. He didn't know if he should yell at her for doing this, or hug her.
He stooped before her, and looked up into her eyes. "Why?"
"Why?" she let out a huff. "Mulder, you know why."
He sighed and got up. "Don't you think this is somewhat unfair?"
She leaned back into the sofa. "I didn't have a choice."
Now he was annoyed. "Wrong, Scully! You did!"
"I know that's how you think and I knew you wouldn't understand, but it was the better of two evils, Mulder."
"How is this better?"
"I knew you wouldn't get it."
God! "I think you owe me an explanation, then." She was treating him like a child and he was pissed.
He looked down at her, seeing the discomfort her body language was emanating; the slight fidgeting, the aversion of eyes, the kneading of her palms. Despite seeing her at such unease, he wasn't willing to let her off the hook.
"Mulder…"
"Explanation, Scully." He wasn't going to adhere to her pleading.
Her shoulders slumped and Mulder knew she was giving in. "You are so stubborn."
He snorted. "You're not exactly the complying type, either."
She now looked up at him and something about her eyes registered in his mind. Their gleam had returned. Just a half hour ago Scully seemed wilted and sickly, and now she seemed invigorated. It was a drastic transformation, and it didn't seem right to him. He had to stow that thought in the back of his mind for later use, though, as he noted Scully was finally ready to really talk with him.
"Mulder, you know that you are truly the only person I care for like this. You matter so much to me and I don't want to ever be without you."
Now his heart fluttered. It had been so long since she'd spoken to him in this fashion, it hurt.
"But when we ran away to New Mexico you were broken. I don't know if it was something they had done to you in that prison cell, or something that happened when you were in hiding, or if this was a PTSD reaction to everything that you had gone through. You were so dysfunctional and I couldn't bear seeing you this way. And it just kept getting worse. I wasn't able to get you any professional help and you were deteriorating. You were hardly sleeping due to terrible nightmares and during the day you were talking with phantoms. It was scary to watch you in such a state."
Mulder winced at the memory. He was so much better now, but those days still made his spine quiver.
"And you tried to be supportive of me, despite the fact that you were almost too far gone, and in the beginning, when I still hadn't the slightest idea just how bad your condition was, I still shared my feelings with you. I was having my own problems. Being fugitives was taking its toll, missing William, being scared for our lives… I needed s shoulder and you were it."
He nodded and smiled gently.
"But the more I bore my heart before you, the harder you took it. You slept even less. There were days you were so out of it, living in an imaginary world you'd created. I'd eventually realized that you were now suffering my pain and not just yours. You are so sensitive, Mulder, you aren't capable of just listening and moving on, and as you were so messed up, this just played right into your already convoluted psyche and I felt you were slipping from reality and very soon there would be no way to reach you." She sniveled. "I had to make a decision that I believed would save you from complete insanity. I decided that however it pained me and despite truly needing your shoulder, that I had to stop adding to your burden, and I forced myself to leave you out of my worries and doubts and fears." There was a trail of glistening tears now rolling down her cheeks.
Mulder knew she was right about everything she was saying, but he differed in opinion regarding one issue. "Scully, I understand what you had to do back then, but I am so much better now. So many years have passed and I believe I can handle things a lot better than I did then."
Scully gave him a wan smile. "Can you, Mulder? Really? Because you have shut yourself in this house and you are building this lair of paranoia around yourself as we speak and I fear you are once again standing on a precipice, and all you need is that tiny shove and you will be gone. And I don't think I would be able to live with myself if this were to happen."
He took in her anguished features. She was carrying so much pain on her own. How on Earth had she managed so far? Maybe this was why she was now collapsing. Maybe she had reached her breaking point.
"Scully, I guess I can't promise you that I won't go overboard. I just feel that you have to trust me about this, and that I will cope. Watching you for the past few days, I'm telling you, my gut is doing somersaults right now, and you know that my gut usually knows what it's doing."
He was rewarded with a genuine smile this time, and he responded akin.
She patted the empty space on the sofa, and nudged her chin at him. He hopped beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and he could literally feel as the tension in her body disappeared. He didn't want that moment to end but they still had to talk about what was actually going on with her. He was glad he'd managed to get through the biggest obstacle of all. He felt that it would be smooth sailing from now on. At least he hoped it would be.
They sat on the sofa in silence, embracing each other and Mulder felt the change in the air. It was a funny thought that ran through his mind. He believed he could actually feel Scully's warmth oozing on him. It was like there was eternal winter in that little home of theirs and Aslan had come and broken the White Queen's curse. He laughed at himself inwardly. Had he suddenly become this sentimental guy? All that was needed was for Scully to be Scully again and he turned into silly dough? Jeez, Mulder. But he felt this couldn't be helped.
He turned to face her. "Are you hungry?" he felt his face turn into a silly grin.
She drew a deep breath. "Yes." She breathed out. "I'm… very hungry actually. I've hardly had a bite all day and what I did have was gobbled down. I'm not sure I actually had time to enjoy it."
He grinned, and got up. "I'll rustle us something to eat then."
She laughed and he savored the moment. It had been a while.
"Mulder, you don't exactly fit in with the rustling type, you know."
"Trust, Scully. That's what I'm talking about." He smirked.
"A-ha. Trust indeed. Mulder, I trust the fact that we'd both end up with the runs."
"Really, Scully, you have such a low opinion of my cooking skills?" he feigned insult.
She snorted. "What cooking skills?"
"If you really want to know, I happen to be known to make a mean slice of toast with grilled cheese."
She wore a beatific expression and he felt as if enchanted by her. The silly cliché of lost and now found came running down his mind. It was indeed just that.
She smacked her lips. "Toast with grilled cheese sounds tantalizing, Mulder."
He laughed. "Be ready to be tantalized, then."
He was now in their kitchen, moving about and getting the necessary ingredients for his 'brilliant' cuisine; snapping the breadbox open and taking out the whole-grain loaf from yesterday's grocery order; popping the fridge open and grabbing the cheese; turning on the toaster oven, making sure it was set on grille and taking out two plates for the up-and-coming toast. A silly notion of him as snow-white hopping about the kitchen with birds chirping sneaked into his mind and he was almost appalled that he'd stoop this low, but he did feel a bit like this busy hen.
From the living room, Scully called out to him. "I'll come join you and I promise not to say a word."
Oh no. She really shouldn't get up. The last time she did that, she was lucky he was right beside her when she almost fainted. Now, if she came crashing down, he wasn't sure he'd make it on time. "No! Scully! You might—"
"I might what?" she asked, innocently, as she rose and began walking towards him, nary a waddle in sight.
His eyes widened and his sixth sense was on red alert. Just a short while ago she could barely stand up, her thoughts were muddled and she seemed ill. Now she still appeared somewhat disorderly but she had all her wits back with her, her strength had returned and her complexion seemed lively again. This didn't seem right to him and he was certain that, even though he knew certain moods could affect a person's well-being, that this was more than what a cheery frame of mind could conjure.
Scully was now beside him and staring at him with concern. "Mulder? What is it?"
He grimaced, annoyed that reality was seeping into the little fantasy he'd concocted in his mind, but it was inevitable. "Scully, you know how you were when you came home?"
"I was a mess" she pointed out bluntly. At least she wasn't hiding behind excuses anymore.
He nodded assent. "And now you aren't."
She took her place at the table. "And that's a bad thing because?"
"It's just strange."
She seemed to ponder his words as she didn't respond immediately. "You're right," she finally said and he noticed her features becoming somber.
The cheerful moment was over. It was now time to find out what was going on.
He finished preparing the slices of bread and cheese and shoved them into the toaster oven, then filled two glasses with mineral water and set them on the table. As the cheese began to melt, he sat opposite Scully and looked her in the eye. "OK. Tell me what's going on."
She seemed apprehensive and Mulder was worried she'd go back to the tight-lipped person she was just a mere hour ago, but then she opened her mouth and began telling her tale, and it was one hell of a tale.
He listened as she described the stealing of her lab coat, the rearranging of the dolls in her office, the grizzly details of her nightmares and the events from her day at work until she arrived home in that incoherent state she was in. By the end of her detail, the hair on his back was standing. He was pissed at Scully for keeping all of this from him up until now. She was going through something very unusual and scary and yet she preferred he didn't know because she thought she was protecting him. But he couldn't yell at her. They'd already discussed this and they were on a new page in their book, or rather, they'd returned to the old pages. It was time he did something for her after all she had done for him. Certainly, making her feel bad about herself wasn't the right approach.
The smell of melting cheese filled his nostrils and he quickly turned the oven off, grabbed a towel, picked each slice and plopped it on each of their plates.
They munched the food in silence for a while. He needed time to process Scully's story. He was certain there was probably more going on, and that Scully, possibly, didn't make the connection. It was hard to see clear when the problem revolved around oneself, and especially since Scully was having such a hard time trusting her own senses as a result of what was happening to her.
"Mulder?"
"Mmmm?"
"You have any thoughts about all of this?" she asked and then popped the final chunk of toast into her mouth.
He had a ton of ideas but nothing truly stuck. "Not yet," he admitted. "If you had to make a guess, what would be your take on this?"
She snickered. "First thing that comes to mind?"
He nodded, awaiting her input.
"Dana Katherine Scully has finally gone off her rocker."
He laughed at her remark, then turned serious again. "But you don't think that's the reason, right? Because you don't think you could ever go crazy." Now slight criticism lined his tone.
She gave him a disapproving scowl. "I'm not all that high and mighty, Mulder. It's just that it's all too sudden and it comes and goes, as if somebody was pushing a button or something. As far as I understand madness, it has to be something cataclysmic to bring it on so suddenly, or it is something that builds over time. None of these are relevant in my case."
He had to agree. "OK. I grant you that."
She harrumphed. "Why, thank you, sir."
"OK, I guess I deserved that." He sniggered.
Both her eyebrows rose, her mouth formed a tiny sardonic smirk and she nodded her head in agreement.
He responded with a pitiful pout, the kind he used to soften her blows with, and she was totally defenseless against it, every single time. His magic worked its charm and her stance softened and he felt he could go back to the more serious matters at hand. "So, we've established that this is probably not a mental issue. Any other thoughts?"
She sighed, seemingly disappointed at having to return to discussing her grim situation. "Well… It may be a sign of a brain tumor, or something else brain-related like an infection."
He felt his heart drop to his pants. It did make sense. He should have thought about this himself but for obvious reasons, he avoided that path. He gulped and winced all at once.
She gave him a disconsolate look. "I can't not go there, Mulder," she told him. "I'm definitely having visual hallucinations and these can be attributed to a cerebral cause."
He wasn't convinced. "What about the nightmares and the panic attacks?"
"They, too, can be related to a brain disorder, affecting other mechanisms in the body, triggering sudden unrelated bodily responses by flooding the body with natural chemicals such as endorphins or adrenaline at the wrong time, thus evoking such responses similar to fight or flight, fear, stress and so on."
The cold clinical tone she spoke with was painful for him to listen to. She was talking about her own body, yet she seemed so detached, as if what she'd been speaking to him about had nothing to do with her.
As much as it pained him, he had to address that line of thought. "So how would you proceed if you were the doctor on your case?"
"CT scan and labs to test for tumor markers for starters."
So it must be, then. They had to either prove or disprove this theory. "How soon could you have these done?"
She gave that some thought. "I don't know. I'm not too keen on having these tests done at work. The rumor mill can spread for miles, if you catch my drift, but on the other hand, it might take longer to schedule the scan at another facility."
"I know how you value your privacy, Scully, but I think in this case, since your 'symptoms' are getting worse, you shouldn't delay this. I think you should call in a favor and try to have everything scheduled for tomorrow."
He noted the cloud washing over her face and he realized this wasn't an easy feat for her to carry out. "I was hoping to take a few days off work after today. I thought that resting should resolve things."
He felt bad for her. "You don't have to go to work then, just have the scan and lab tests and go home."
"I guess I can do that," she said half-heartedly.
More silence ensued. This time a quiet glum pause. Scully assumed a sullen look and he felt he was mirroring her expression. He stretched his arm across the kitchen table and she responded in such, her palm now threading into his. He loved the feeling of her soft skin touching his. He rubbed her palm and squeezed it, unwilling to let it go. They remained seated, both in deep thought.
At some point, Mulder recalled his initial reaction to her odd behavior and a tiny smile played across his lips. This wasn't lost on Scully, who became curious.
"What?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing really." But he knew he'd opened Pandora's Box with that mischievous smirk of his and that Scully wouldn't relent until he spilled the beans.
"Mulder?" her eyebrow arched as it usually did when her skepticism took over, which was many a time, he mused fondly.
"OK, OK. But you have to promise not to shoot me."
She put her arms up with assumed innocence. "No gun, remember?"
Her amused expression sort of made up for the fact that she had retrieved her hand from his grasp, but as he looked at the shine her features took, he wondered if he should tell her his initial thoughts. She stared at him with anticipation and he couldn't allow the pause to go full term, so he decided to partially reveal his notions. "I… thought you were… pregnant." It did feel like dropping a bomb.
He was watching her face intently, trying to perceive her reaction. It was a combination of revelation and contemplation that played across her face. Obviously she hadn't thought about this option and Mulder knew this was due to the fact that she wasn't herself, and she was now giving it thought, but what she had in her mind, only she could reveal. Now he was beginning to feel impatient as she kept him in the dark. "Well?"
She swallowed. "Wow, Mulder." She leaned back in her chair. "There's so much I want to say. It's just… hard for me."
He gave her a gentle smile. "I can imagine."
She massaged her right brow absent-mindedly. "If I wasn't the woman in question, your assumption could make sense."
"But?"
"But, we have been sexually active for years and nothing had evolved from that."
"But?"
"But… there's William. It's a funny thing to say but it was inconceivable that he was conceived, yet he was."
He nodded. Indeed he was.
"I don't know what to say, except that maybe I should add a pregnancy test to my labs tomorrow."
He nodded agreement, then got up and began collecting the dirty dishes and cleaning up. He looked back at her from his position by the sink. She was gazing at an obscure point in the wall, deep in thought. He had a twinge of guilt but she took his suggestion with good spirit and she didn't seem upset or sad so he forced himself to get over the guilt trip and move further. "Are you up for a walk, maybe?" he asked her.
She heaved a deep sigh. "Not today. I'm beat."
He nodded. It was expected. "OK, I'll put a movie on for the both of us."
She smiled.
That was good enough for him.