Disclaimer: characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.
Production: January, 2009 – August, 2010
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…
Extra: a different take on I Want to Believe, considering an Alternative Reality post-Fight the Future. Spoilers from the episodes.
A/N: I still apologize for my real life.
English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
OUT FROM UNDER
Chapter V:
Let him go
A morning at the Pediatric Ward was always different from a morning somewhere else. Scully wasn't exactly sure why; whether because of the children waking up more or less energetic, or because of the parents exchanging shifts, it was always different.
In addition, the cold and the snow from that winter were still claiming territory and the consequences could be felt. For that reason, although a lot of patients had already said goodbye to Our Lady of Sorrows, the beds were still occupied and the infirmaries full. Health Care professionals had no time to rest.
"Rita Bell, on bed 11, had a temperature of 101,5ºF at the end of the night shift. We administered the antipyretic at 06:00 a.m. and the last measurement showed that she now has 99,4º," Nurse Felix informed her while pushing the blood pressure monitor down the corridor. "No other kid presented with complications during the night."
"Thank you, Nurse Felix. I'm going to check Peter Baker now. I think soon you'll have another empty bed."
"Just until the flu or the pneumonia bring us someone new..."
They smiled at each other and the nurse went away. His summary of last night was done.
"Dr. Scully! Dr. Scully!"
She stopped, looking for the person who was calling her name. There was a large figure wearing a religious habit exiting the nearby infirmary while blowing kisses to the little girl she was leaving behind. Sister Claire raised a finger to claim her attention and quickened her pace.
"Good morning, Sister!"
"Good morning! I hope everything is going well with you and the little ones!" Scully gave her an open smile as an answer. "Sister Beatrice asked me to talk to you. She wants me to inform you that we have a few novices to start their shifts at the Pediatric Ward and would like to know if you have any problems with it."
"No, of course not," she confirmed with a shrug, "I always leave the spiritual agenda under your care."
"Oh, Sister Beatrice simply doesn't want to bother your work. The novices will always be... novices, you know?"
Scully couldn't help it and laughed with Sister Claire. Her good mood, even at the less fortunate times, would always be something phenomenal.
Then her blue eyes focused on the Sister's figure, on the symbols of her faith and religion: the black veil falling down along the serge tunic, the white coif defining the contours of her face, the silver crucifix displayed over her chest, the wooden rosary hanging from her belt. Sister Claire was a virtuous woman who, in the name of God, following His call and His words, had dedicated her life to seek comfort for those in distress, especially the youngest ones, for whom she had an infinite patience. Sister Claire was the person that people expected her to be.
Inside her head, Skinner's words echoed, revealing Father Joe's disturbing secret. What was she supposed to think about what he had done? What would people like Sister Claire think? What would God think?
"Sister Claire!"
The other woman, who was already turning her back to leave, ceased the movement and faced her again.
"Yes?"
Scully wanted to ask her. She wanted to know what was her opinion on people like Father Joe; her opinion on people who proclaimed God's words and then inflicted such pain over innocent children. But it wasn't worth it and she knew it. Words could not describe the monstrosity behind those people's actions.
She shook her red head and adopted an embarrassed expression.
"It's nothing, I'm sorry..."
"Dr. Scully!" Rachel, the Ward's secretary, peeked behind the counter, holding the phone next to her ear. "You're needed at the ER! There was a car crash involving a six month-old baby, the ambulance arrives in ten minutes!"
With a nod, she removed the stethoscope from her white coat's pocket and put it around her neck. Then she threw Sister Claire a quick gesture of goodbye and left towards the staircase. It was time to get back to action.
Scully appreciated sad stories with happy endings. She appreciated to know that, in the middle of the misfortune that was being involved in a road traffic accident, no member of the family – father, mother, grandmother and baby – had suffered serious injuries. Although the baby had cried, screamed and kicked all through the examination, she was happy to conclude that there was nothing that needed medical care.
But of course she wasn't expecting to leave the examination room and bump into a certain person...
"Good morning, doc!"
Mulder was standing right in front of her, holding a cup of coffee on his hands and an expression on his face that she wasn't able to read. She held her breath for what it seemed like a full minute.
"Hello, Mulder," she greeted, trying to sound the most cordial possible. "You seem very awake and it's not even nine!"
"Yeah, I spook the sleep!" He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. "Busy morning?"
"No, not really. Everything is fine now."
"The kid screams as if someone is trying to murder him..."
Scully couldn't hide a smile.
"No one is trying to murder him, don't worry. It was just a scare, he'll be fine."
Mulder finished his coffee but kept holding the empty cup. His eyes were once again fixated on the tip of his shoes, then on the cup, even on the white ceiling above them, but never on her, on her face, on her own eyes. Scully tried to remember how many times had they ended up like this, being face to face without knowing what to say to each other – whether her memory was failing her or the fingers in one hand were enough.
She had to say something. She had to, because he wasn't going to say a word.
"How's Father Joe?" she asked, feeling her throat suddenly dry.
"Ready for the second round. That old doctor says he's going to discharge him this afternoon." Mulder finally dropped the empty cup in the nearest trash can and put his hands in the pockets of his warm coat. "Just so you know it... he still doesn't know for sure what happened."
Yes, that didn't surprise her; but that was not what Scully wanted to talk about at the moment.
"I already know, Mulder! I know everything!" she said, incapable of hiding it any longer. "Joseph Fitzpatrick Crissman! I know who he is, I know what he's done, I know what's his connection to the missing Agent's case!"
Her interlocutor just groaned.
"Skinner has a big mouth," he grumbled, scratching the top of his head. "He shouldn't have told you! This is a matter of the FBI and you're no longer part of it!"
"Neither are you!"
"But they asked for my help!"
"And who says Skinner didn't ask for my help?"
Mulder closed his mouth before throwing out the next argument, as if the detail hadn't crossed his mind. Apparently, he was having a hard time to understand why would their former boss do such a thing.
"Well, why would he?" he confirmed her suspicion.
She slightly opened her mouth in a grimace of surprise. Had her former partner, best friend, sidekick for the best and the worst forgotten everything they had shared or were his resentments towards her turning him into an idiot?
"What do you think?" Decided not to let him win, she wanted to see where this would take them.
"Okay," Mulder crossed his arms in what seemed to be a very defensive position, "what do you have to say about this?"
Scully snorted. Wasn't it obvious?
"Father Joe is a convicted pedophile! He ruined the life of dozens of kids who trusted him and his intentions!" She was feeling an enormous wave of rage growing inside of her, as if admitting it out loud turned it truer and harder to take than when she had heard it from Skinner. "And now he doesn't have anything better to do than to come to the FBI to claim that God is sending him visions to help them find Agent Bannan! Don't you think there's something very bizarre about this whole thing?"
"Like..."
"God is sending him visions? You don't even believe in God, Mulder!"
"True, I don't, but it still doesn't mean he's not having these visions!" He rolled his eyes in a very characteristic way. "You know what's the problem here? People hear the word 'pedophile' and immediately draw their conclusions! And no, I'm not in any way trying to defend him for what he is, but the fact that he acted like a monster doesn't necessarily imply that he's a liar! At least about he's seeing!"
"And what has Father Joe done for you so far? Found an arm in the snow? C'mon..."
"An arm that can still be related to the case! It can be from the victim, it can be from the kidnapper..."
Scully sighed. For the first time since their reencounter, he was talking with his eyes focused on her and she could notice that, although time had passed and he had suffered some changes, Mulder was still the same boy eager for the mystery and the adventure. In what was linked to the X-Files, he was still the same Mulder she had always known.
"You really believe him, don't you?" she asked in a low voice tone, almost as a whisper.
He gave her back that look. Curious. Enigmatic.
"Let's just say I want to believe."
"Hi, Christian!"
Scully approached her patient's bed with a smile on her face. It had been a while since she had last spent a moment with him, even if it was just to share some small talk, since Mulder's unexpected return and Father Joe's case had occupied a good part of her time. But now she had to put her feet back into the ground and worry about her other problems.
Christian grabbed the remote to lift the head of his bed to an almost upright sitting position. His pale face was being enlightened by the sunbeams penetrating through the infirmary's window and she could notice that there was something wrong with the main picture – the little boy had never looked as stern as this moment.
"Sweetie, are you feeling well?" Alarmed by the possibility, Scully glanced around searching for anyone who could answer her questions about his clinical evolution, with no luck. "Where are your parents?"
"Having lunch." Christian clearly worked on his voice to sound as ordinary as possible. "I wanted to know... when will I leave the hospital?"
She had to laugh with the relief. The only current intercurrence was pure and plain homesickness.
"You know what, I've been wondering the same thing!"
"Dr. Scully... when will I leave?"
Something had radically changed on Christian, which caught her attention. It couldn't simply be homesickness or even an understandable dose of impatience; no, it was something stronger than that. She stared into his brown eyes. Did it make any sense that his eyes were filled with terror?
"What's wrong, Christian?" she insisted, worried about his abnormal reaction. "Are you scared?"
The boy ended up nodding.
Instinctively, Scully looked over her shoulder. Scared of what?
"I'm scared of the man!"
"The man?! What man?"
Christian directed his stare to the infirmary's exit and she followed it. With that she was able to notice the figure in a black cassock that, a few steps away in the corridor, pretended to read a clinical file. He couldn't deceive her, though: Father Ybarra couldn't take his eyes off them.
Bothered by the situation, Scully walked towards him. As soon as he sensed her coming, the priest started browsing the pages of the folder, paying no attention to the information that they held.
"I was looking for that," she announced, pointing at the file in his hands.
"I was revising Christian's evolution. Have you received his latest tests results?"
"With all due respect, Father Ybarra, that information is only relevant to the primary physician."
He raised his eyes at her, cold and haughty, as he usually did. In a provocative attitude, he kept on moving page after page.
"But making sure that the medical staff assures the best conducts for the patients of this hospital is relevant to me, Dr. Scully. And I can guarantee you, my soul can't be deceived."
She frowned, wondering what was he trying to transmit with that conversation.
"I've reviewed the entire Fearon case, including the opinion of the specialists," Father Ybarra admitted, staring at the file again. "I don't think there's anything else we can do for Christian. Maybe it's time to start thinking about transferring him to another institution, one with better options for him..."
"What are you saying, Father?"
Scully was trying hard not to let her anger take over. She knew what he was saying – he was announcing that it was time to abandon the boat, to put the arms down, to give up. Medicine was no place for heroisms and miracles were a figment of the mortals' imagination; avoiding the fall in the pits of madness was throwing the hot potato to the hands of others before it started to burn hers.
"I'm saying," Father Ybarra stared at her as if he had just caught her doing a mischief, "that we're here to heal the sick, not to maintain the suffering of the dying."
A few steps away, an employee from the cafeteria bumped into a nun coming from the opposite direction and dropped a lunch tray on the floor. All the fuss produced by the occurrence had Father Ybarra diverting his attention towards the situation and Scully used the moment to remove herself from that unpleasant discussion without a warning.
She left through the corridor, feeling her temples pulsating in a rage so hard that even her vision was becoming blurred. How dared he? How dared he to give up like that? He was a priest, for God's sake! He should be the one sitting next to those parents and that child, providing them the love and the hope they needed and deserved to hear. Who would they trust now, when their own Lord had abandoned them?
Scully entered her office. Safe, at last. She took off her white coat and placed it at the hook behind the door. Now she could reflect about the Fearon case not as a professional worker but as a person... and a mother. Maybe that was the reason why she was feeling the urgent need to sit down; she knew she wouldn't keep the tears inside for too long.
Her hands went straight to her face once she felt them overflowing. It was stronger than her. Were her actions turning her into a bad doctor, a bad person? Were her actions proving her selfishness, for trying to exorcize her own demons through an innocent someone else? Or were the other ones who were wrong, all of those who didn't seem to understand that Christian was just a child with yet so many things to experience? There could still be a chance, they just needed to fight their fears... they just needed to believe. Christian deserved it. The Fearons deserved it. No one should know the pain of losing a child.
She reached out to her purse, searching for a paper tissue, but while looking inside, her eyes fell over its interior division. Without even thinking, her hand pulled the photography hidden on it. The little girl depicted in the picture wasn't like the other little girls – that little girl never had a chance to grow up. She was a Christian from other times, other stories. The only difference between them was that the little girl from the picture didn't have someone to fight for her; today everything would be different.
Scully put the picture back in the division. It wasn't worth it. The little girl would never change and she would never forget her. She took the paper tissue, blew her nose, cleaned up the tears. Next, she closed her eyes and dived into the darkness. No, she wouldn't hit rock bottom: she would emerge to the surface, explain her point of view and open their eyes to what they were missing, all of this without reminiscing about the ghosts from her past. And then...
Would she finally be able to forgive herself for her decisions?
Would she finally be able to forgive herself for not giving her little girl a chance?
Her pager started beeping inside the coat's pocket. Somewhere, she was being needed. Scully threw the messy tissue to the trash bin under the desk and pressed her knuckles against her forehead. She had to recompose herself and move on. Definitely, emergencies didn't give her the proper time to grief.
For the first time in many years as a Health Care professional, Scully managed to leave the hospital on proper time. However, while walking down the corridor towards the main exit, the problems with which she had struggled during the day blocked her from acknowledging the insignificant fact.
She passed the automatic glass door and left the warmth of the Our Lady of Sorrows to the gelid January cold; her first impulse was to tighten up the long brown coat against her body. While descending the staircases on the way to the parking lot, though, her attention was drawn to the other side of the road – a woman with long dark hair that seemed strangely familiar was walking an elderly man and then helped him to enter the car that was being driven by a serious man with dark complexion. Only when she recognized the third figure waiting on the sidewalk, she understood what was going on: Father Joe had been discharged and was now leaving the hospital with the FBI.
With Mulder.
Scully observed him entering the car right after Father Joe, while the female Agent took the seat next to the driver. When the headlights were turned on and its glow illuminated the road, it hit her too that Mulder was leaving without even saying goodbye. There was a chance he would never return to the hospital, and they might never see each other again... but he didn't even bother to tell her.
But maybe she shouldn't think about it. She and Mulder were over, the end. They were nothing more than two people who had once shared something beautiful.
The car was about to leave, taking away part of her problems from the past days. Goodbye, Father Joe! Goodbye, paranormal! Goodbye, Mulder! Maybe now things would get easier. Maybe now she could go back to the Dana Scully she was rediscovering inside herself. In that case, what was that heavy and unpleasant feeling of disappointment?
In that moment, however, she noticed that the car was leaving but Father Joe's face wasn't moving, practically glued to his side window. And he couldn't take his eyes off her.
The space between them was getting larger, but Scully was still able to see the smile that was emerging on his lips.
TBC