At Gunpoint
End of Redux II - Hallway of the Trinity Hospital - Washington
"Can I see her?" Skinner asked.
"Yeah, she's in there with her family right now, but I'm sure she'd love to see you," Mulder answered.
Skinner got up and walked to Scully's door, each step lifting stones from his shoulders; then, as Scully genuinely smiled at him when entering her room, his heart beat faster and lighter. He smiled back, relieved.
Left alone in the hallway, Mulder was glad Skinner came to visit Scully; A.D. Skinner, always an ally for both of them, despite all. Yet, holding the bloodied picture from his childhood, Mulder cursed his boss for a second, upset by such a gift and the news that went along with it.
CSM shot, probaby to death; spots of CSM's blood on his younger self and Samantha's innocent smile.
How could life be so mysterious and so cynical?
Once, Mulder almost shot CSM to avenge Scully's abduction and dying smile. He didn't and the damn smoking man kept on sticking to them like weird goo on fingers and clothes, so intricately linked to their professional and intimate lives that you could never get rid of his grip.
Tonight, Scully's cancer was gone and lightness had come back into their hearts, true; but the cancer man's chip had been put into Scully's neck, and a dark shadow was now hovering over her life. Had cancer man saved Scully's life? Or was it just a decoy, or a means to control her, then his — their — quest? As always, the truth had seemed within Mulder's grasp for a moment but would turn out to be unreachable. Now that cancer man was dead, or half-dead, access to answers would be harder to find out.
Looking at his younger self, smiling and proudly posing beside his sister, Mulder's conflicted emotions burst out into tears.
Families torn apart, that was all the stained picture was the symbol of. And still, it had accompanied CSM in his last breath. Why? Once, he had sniffed the smoker out, sneaking into the man's apartment and threatening him with a gun. Yet, his own judgment had been fogged by the smoking man's talk.
'Why? Look at me. No wife, no family, some power,' CSM had said to Mulder's eyes over the close gun pointed at him. There could have been some truth in those words — the guy was certainly living alone in a very shabby place.
No family, but the Mulders. No wife, but… Later on, once again over Mulder's gun, the bastard would claim: 'I've known your mother since before you were born.' No family, but preying on each member of one, the Mulders.
Was it always lies and deceit within nice words? While Scully was lying down, dying, in the ICU unit, and as Mulder was gunning the lying man in his den, more half-truths about kinship had been spoken. 'I like you. I like her too. That's why she was returned to you,' CSM had also claimed.
Indeed, back then, Scully had been returned and she came back to life. So, maybe the smoker wasn't lying about the mysterious chip in her neck; wasn't her cancer in remission?
Yes. Scully was alive, very alive. And, right now, that was what mattered the most.
Mulder gasped over his silent tears, putting down the bloodied picture on the seat beside him. A nurse came from the end of the corridor, slowing down when approaching Mulder, then launched him a smile and a silent check. Mulder nodded back, spotting her name on her scrub, Cathy. The nurse passed by and disappeared.
Wiping his wet cheeks, Mulder rose up. He was waiting for Scully's family —and Skinner— to leave her room, craving to see her all by himself, even if she was sleeping. Meanwhile, he could use some coffee, so he followed Cathy's path in the deserted corridor.
A little moment later, slowly sipping his drink by the vending machine, Mulder was staring at the blank wall facing him. Sometimes, he wished he could have the ability to blank out his memories; especially the ones that were wrapped with so much guilt and grief that they were waking him up as nightmares. Though, as long as Scully was in those memories he wouldn't mind keeping them, despite all the bad dreams and the pain.
Facing the blank wall, Mulder remembered.
Hegal Place - Alexandria
'Why don't you go home and get some sleep?'
Scully's wise words were still circling Mulder's mind when he arrived late at his apartment. He grabbed his keys to open the door but suddenly froze, holding them still an inch from the keyhole as his right hand was shaking hard.
Earlier, this very hand shot John Lee Roche.
Mulder should feel relieved, not guilty for the death the man deserved. Plus, it wasn't the first time he was bound to kill such a monster of a man.
Yet, his hand was shaking and bitterness was stuck in his throat.
Because there was still one heart left. Because he wouldn't know for sure about Samantha.
Steadying his hand, he opened the door and entered his apartment. He switched on the TV, dropped his jacket and shoes, and threw his tired body over the couch. He closed his eyes, hoping to earn some rest, but a vision of blood over glass soon jumped in, and all he could hear was Caitlin's frightened scream.
'Why don't you go home and get some sleep?'
Easy to say, hard to claim. Scully's words might have been cursed and he would never be able to properly sleep. There was one possible cure, though; Mulder grabbed his phone.
"Scully, it's me… I…"
"Oh well, I was expecting your call. Why don't you come by? I have some herbal tea for peaceful nights."
"I'm on my way."
When knocking at Scully's door, Mulder felt a pang of remorse. He had already brought Scully down in his Roche rabbit hole; as much as himself, she deserved rest and quietness.
"Come in!"
"Scully, I'm just sipping your magic drink me potion, and I'm out. I don't want to —"
Mulder stopped his tale as he closed the door; he'd just spotted the pillow and the blanket that had been put on a side of Scully's couch.
"Drop your jacket, and make yourself at home for the night. I need a few more minutes and I'll join you in the kitchen."
Scully's muffled voice was coming from the bathroom. Mulder did as told, then headed for the kitchen. All that was needed to prepare herbal tea for both of them was displayed on the counter. Mulder took up the task, glad to keep his hands and mind busy so mundanely.
Mulder was filling two mugs when Scully arrived at his back.
"Should I add some adult drops in it?" Mulder asked while turning around; Scully's hair was wet. "Oh, Scully… I'm sorry if I've interrupted your precious bath time. You should have told me."
"It's okay, Mulder, I've had enough time. And no, no alcohol. Quality sleep time, that's what you and I need."
"If you say so," Mulder said as he handed out one of the mugs to Scully. "Though, you seem to have a great faith in the power of this beverage alone. I admit I'm a skeptic."
"You don't believe in its placebo effect, especially when the pill's coming from your personal M.D.?"
"Well, if you put it that way, I believe… Especially when coming by my personal M.D.'s sweet soothing home."
"Drink and sleep tight, Mulder."
"I guess I just have to follow your prescription, doc. Cheers!"
They slowly sipped their herbal tea and chatted about light casual things for a while, standing against the kitchen's counter and leaving work and concerns outside the room. But they both knew they couldn't behave themselves for too long in such a manner, so they ended up washing and storing the dishes in silence.
Then, still with few words and silent acknowledgement, each one headed to their own resting place after taking turns in the bathroom. The implicit deal was to get as many hours of sleep as possible, before debriefing and being swirled down by all the aftermath of the Roche incident. It wasn't the first time Scully was inviting Mulder to spend a quiet night at her place, yet, tonight gravity was heavy on both their souls.
Hours later, Mulder woke up in a jolt and a scream. He was sweating cold and his right hand was shaking. Sitting up and slowly regaining a calm heartbeat and clear thoughts, he soon heard steps coming from behind. Scully silently sat beside him then grabbed his still shaking right hand, smoothing it with her fingers.
"Well, natural medication is not an exact science," Scully said.
"It worked for a while. I fell asleep surprisingly fast and might have slept like a baby for a few hours."
"What about your hand?"
"Seems it can't be over the trauma of firing the gun on Roche."
"Oh, really?"
"Think so. That's what woke me up. I was in the trolley bus again, gun in hand. Though, the face of the man at gunpoint was blurry at first, then shape-shifted. It was Roche, but also the cancer man. And… there's the screams. Little Caitlin's scream, then Samantha yelling my name, and…"
Mulder stopped, squeezing tight Scully's hand with his right —he wasn't shaking anymore. In the semi-darkness, both were looking straight ahead, needing no more than holding each other's hands and hearing each other's voice.
"And?" Scully softly asked after a few heartbeats.
"You were there, calling my name… a desperate call. I pulled the trigger, and shot the blurred face. All went into darkness, and I woke up."
"Screaming, sweating and shaking."
"Screaming?"
"My name…"
"Oh, I see… But why's my hand shaking? It's never happened before. In this bus I made a right and precise shot. I've saved a young life, and still —"
"You know it's been an utterly upsetting case for you, and that some answers are still to be found. You just need time."
"What if… What if I can't properly shoot anymore?"
Scully turned her head, staring at Mulder's tense profile. He was swallowing hard.
"Mulder…"
Mulder moved his head, stared back at Scully's face, then dived into her eyes. He was thinking of how his bullets had prevented her from being beheaded, or punctured through her eye sockets, or even killed from a Pusher will.
"Scully, what if I can't save you anymore?" he finally asked.
Trinity Hospital - Washington
Still facing the blank wall, remnants of coffee getting cold in the cup he was holding, Mulder suddenly felt someone tenderly touch his forearm. He came back from his reverie.
"Fox, she's yours now."
"Thanks, Mrs Scully."
Without any other word Maggie turned around, leaving the vending enclosure to rejoin her family that was awaiting her further down the corridor. Mulder watched her disappear from his sight, unable to move.
There were so many questions for so few answers.
Had his actions really saved Scully? How to be sure he'd made the right choice?
Tonight, his concerns weren't about a shaking hand holding a gun —it never happened again, and he was confident it wouldn't anymore. And, honestly, firing bullets in a life or death situation was just the easy part.
The hardest part was always to gauge the best next move, would it come from his guts or his rational brain; the hardest part was always to predict the less harmful path when choices were to be made.
Mulder wasn't sure he'd learned anything useful on those matters since Scully came back to life after her abduction. Harm and suffering kept going on her life's path and he hadn't been able to prevent it.
What could have been done instead? What were his wrong choices?
What if —on this very moment when he was holding the cancer man at gunpoint in his shabby den— what if he had pulled the trigger back then?
He would never know, and considering this question was as dizzy as standing at the edge of a vertiginous cliff. Mulder shook his head. Right now, the right choice was to sweep those thoughts away, to walk towards Scully's room, then to just be there for and with her.
Regrets and nightmares would keep coming and haunting him at nights, there was no doubt. But, as long as Scully was by his side, he would be able to face them and hold them at gunpoint.