From: Buc252@aol.com Date: 17 Jan 2003 20:38:01 -0800 Subject: xfc: NEW: The Darkness Before the Storm 1/1 Source: atxc The Darkness Before the Storm By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com) Category: Written for After-the-Fact's SUZ Challenge (I'd write out the title, but have no idea how to spell it!) First person POV (Scully's voice) Keywords: Angst. A hint of MSR. Rating: PG Summary: What happened after Scully broke the news to Mulder in Skinner's office. Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, and I fully realize this. If I make a dime on this, you can have it! Archive: Anywhere, just keep my name attached. Feedback: Any would be much appreciated. Author's Notes: Okay, I know it's not as popular as the "Mulder crying in his apartment" stories, but I wanted to do something different. And I always felt that Scully's saying, "Your Mom's dead," rather than, "Your Mom's died" made it sound more harsh, so I manage to address that a bit, too. No, it's not anti-Scully. The Darkness Before the Storm By Mary Kleinsmith "Excuse me?" Skinner says, and I know that it's only because he doesn't believe what I just said. Nor how I said it. "It's true, Sir," I confirm, my eyes never leaving my partner. My Mulder. And despite the two of us standing right here, he doesn't move. Doesn't react, doesn't speak, doesn't even look up. "The police just called. Apparently, the landlord was concerned when she didn't pick up her mail - he said she was religious about it. Sometimes even stood by the mailboxes waiting for it. When she didn't answer his knock, he used his pass key. . ." I kneel down next to Mulder's chair, but he still doesn't react. I carefully touch his arm with my right hand, using my left on his cheek to turn him to face me. The blank look there frightens me. "Mulder, they say it looks like suicide. I'm so sorry." Skinner decides to get involved when there's still no reaction. "Agent Mulder, you're dismissed. I'll put you on stand-down for bereavement." "The case . . ." he finally speaks. But his eyes are still vacant. "The case can wait, Mulder," Skinner says, softer than I think I've ever heard him. "Or somebody else can take over." "She's dead . . ." he mutters. "She's dead. . ." And now, the rocking begins. "It's going to be okay, Mulder," I try to reassure him, but the vacancy in his eyes makes my own water, but I swear, I'm not going to cry. He needs me now. Needs me to be stronger than I've ever been before. The rocking continues, back and forth. "Agent Scully, are we going to need some assistance in here?" Skinner asks, and I'm shocked to realize there's fear in his voice. I don't think he knows what to do with my grief-stricken partner, and I'm not sure either. "Let me try for a little bit longer," I whisper, and he takes a step back, allowing us a modicum of privacy. "We need to go, Mulder," I say, hoping for him to simply stand up and walk out with me, but knowing it's unlikely. "Dead . . ." he says again, and there's almost a flicker of consciousness in his eyes. Almost. "Dead.. . . die . . . dying. . . died . . . death. . ." "Mulder, what are you saying?" Okay, I admit, I'm confused. But he's hurting, and that comes first. "I die. . . you die. . . she dies . . . we die . . . they die . . ." He's conjugating verbs now? Only that incredible mind of his would . . . "He can die . . . she might die . . . they must die . . . we will die . . . I want to die . . ." That last statement scares the shit out of me. I feel him slipping away instead of drawing closer to reality. "No, Mulder. We won't die, and you won't die. We'll get through this, I promise." I turn beseeching eyes to Skinner, who clearly understands that I'm beckoning him. He bends down close, putting an ear to my lips, even though I don't think Mulder would hear me if I shouted from the highest rooftops. "I left my medical bag out by Kim. Can you get it?" My whisper is raspy, but he seems to understand. While he's gone, I move my hand from Mulder's arm to his hand, taking it in my own gently. Pushing his sleeve up, I bear the vulnerable crook where the veins are blue and easy to find. He still doesn't seem to know what's happening. "Here, Scully," Skinner says, handing me the bag, and he's helpful enough to have opened it. It only takes a second to find the ampoule I need, and before I can search for a hypodermic, our boss is handing me one. "I had a feeling you'd need this." Quickly drawing the fluid into the hypo's chamber, I administer the injection with as little pain as I am capable, and it worries me all over again when Mulder doesn't even flinch. Almost instantly, the eyelids that have been locked open since I entered the room begin to fall. Fortunately, Skinner is standing nearby, not having moved, when the most important person in my life finally topples over. "Put him on the couch," Skinner says, taking him under the arms. I grab his legs and we move him, now unconscious, onto the leather sofa. I hope, being that it's leather, that it'll make him feel like he's home. And safe. "Will he be okay?" Skinner asks. "His only remaining family member on the face of the planet has died. He's alone . . ." "But will he be okay?" our boss repeats. "Honestly? I don't know." "What can we do?" "Be there for him. The same as anybody else in his position." "I guess I forget that he's just as vulnerable as the rest of us. Maybe more so." I just nod; I can't think of anything else to say. The same isn't true for Skinner. "So what next?" "I'm going to sit with him, watch over him." My eyes meet his. "Just in case." "And what can I do?" "Get us access to the scene. Mulder's going to want to see it when he comes out of this." Skinner nods. "I'll get right on it. How long will he be out?" "The sedative will only last an hour or so; I didn't give him a full dose." I guess he can see the unvoiced concern in my eyes. "He'll be all right, Scully." "I wish I could be sure," I respond, trying to ignore the crack in my voice. "Remember what he was like when his mother had the stroke?" He nods, but doesn't say a word. "It destroyed him. I'd never seen him weep like that over anything. He loved her so much; he'd have done anything for her, despite the way she's treated him. How will he ever deal with having lost her for good this time?" "I don't know, but there's no point in trying to speculate. Take it easy, and stay with him." Like wild horses could drag me away. "I'm going to use the X-Files office to make some phone calls. Feel free to . . . make yourself at home." "Thank you," I say, looking around the huge office. Once he's gone, it occurs to me just how large it is. The black telephone on the desk beckons to me, and I realize that, while Mulder sleeps, there's something that I need. I dial on instinct, not having to think. It only rings a few times before a kind voice says, "hello?" "Mom?" "Oh, my God," she said, and I know she's heard the tone in my voice. "What's the matter, Dana? Are you hurt? Is Fox?" Funny how she knows right away that if it's not me, it's him. "We're both okay, Mom," I manage. "Physically, anyway," I clarify." "I can hear you're upset, baby," she tells me, and I bask in the feeling of once again being a little girl curled up in her lap. "Mom, Mulder's mother was found dead in her apartment today." I hear her gasp, and her sensitivity starts the tears again. Silent ones this time. "How is Fox, sweetheart? Does he want me to come? Can I help?" I take a deep breath, determined to continue. God how much do I love this woman? And how much does she love me? "We're at work, and I had to tell him. Mom, he was so lost. . . I had to . . ." I swallow and try to get moisture into my mouth. "You what, dear?" "I had to sedate him, Mom. He was coming apart right in the middle of Assistant Director Skinner's office, so I had to give him a shot." A pair of sobs breaks free again; I just can't hold them in. "Where are you now, sweetheart? Are you still at work?" "We're still in Skinner's office. He helped me put Mulder down on his couch, and was gracious enough to make himself scarce until he wakes up." "He cares about you two, I think, even if he doesn't admit it." "Maybe. He was in the middle of reaming Mulder out when I came in to break the news. It was so hard, Mom . . . I should have found a gentler way to tell him. I just . . ." "Dana, I'm sure you did the best you could. There is no good way to tell a person that one of their loved ones is gone. Now what do you want me to do for you?" I suddenly feel a bit better. "Nothing, Mom. Nothing more than you've already done." I swallow again, and tear up once again. "I think I just needed to hear your voice. I love you, you know that, don't you?" "Of course I know, darling. I'm your mother." "Thanks, Mom. I guess I should get back to Mulder. You never know how he's going to reactive to a sedative." "That's a good idea, sweetie. Call me when you know what the arrangements will be." "You don't have to come, Mom." "Yes, I do, Dana. For you, and for Fox. When you were missing, Fox was there for me every second of the day until you were found. The least I can do is be here for him. And I'll hear no argument on it." "Yes, Mom," I agree, knowing when not to argue with her. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" "Okay, Dear." "Oh, and Mom?" I say, catching her just before she hangs up. "Yes?" "Would you . . . Would you say a prayer for Mulder? I think he's going to need it." "Of course. I'll light a candle for him, too. But I know him. He'll find his way home." "I hope so, Mom. Good-bye." I hang on the line until I hear it click on the other end, not wanting to sever the connection so soon. I know that my relationship with my mother is nothing like Mulder's, but I also know that he loved his mother just as much as I love mine. I guess it's instinctive to love your parents, no matter what they've done to you. Yes, I confess, I still hold some anger for Teena Mulder. I believe she had the ability to give her son the world, yet she couldn't even give him peace of mind. And now, everything she knew is gone, never to be retrieved. "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and dial your number again." Damn. That's the telephone company's not-so-subtle way of telling me to hang up the phone, so I do. There's a whimper from behind me, and I'm reminded that I need to get back to my partner. "Mulder," I say, sitting on the edge of the sofa and taking his hand in my own. "It's going to be okay." Despite my one-hour prediction, Mulder's eyelids rise. "Scully?" "I'm here, Mulder." It takes me totally off guard when a confused look comes to his face. "What happened? What am I doing . . ." He looks around, taking in our boss' plush office. "What am I doing sleeping on Skinner's couch?" Does he really not remember? It was a traumatic event, but could he have forgotten? "Mulder . . ." I'm not entirely sure what to say. "Your Mom . . ." It's as if somebody has suddenly turned on a light, but instead of a brightness in his face, there's horror. "Is she really gone?" His voice is childlike and small, his eyes beseeching me to tell him contrary to what he already knows. "I'm afraid so, Mulder. The police called." My voice is soft, matching his. It's not a tone to which I'm accustomed. "I need to go to her," he says abruptly, jumping from the couch with surprising energy. He digs around in his pocket and, just as he reaches the door, finally finds his keys. "No, Mulder," I say, running to step in front of him. "You're in no condition to drive." "I need . . ." "I'll drive you. I'll drive, you give directions, and we'll be there before you know it." Surprisingly, he nods his consent. The last thing I want to do is expose Mulder to the prying eyes of every agent and staff member in the hall, but there is no other way out of the office. Fortunately, Skinner appears on the other side of the door, and nobody dares to look at him twice. "Everything is arranged. You'll have full access." "Thank you, Sir," I say as my partner looks at us quizzically. He watches his boss examine him, and something must not quite pass inspection. "I'll walk you to your car, Agents. Mulder, take all the time you need." "Thank you, Sir," he says. I don't ask all the things I want on that ride. I don't ask what possibly could have happened to her, given the powerful people she has protecting her, or why she'd take her own life if that's what really happened. I don't ask him why and exactly when his mother moved closer to DC, taking a comparatively tiny apartment when she could have stayed in her spacious New England home. I don't even ask when the last time was that they talked, and if he ever called her back after she phoned him while we were in California. I know it's not the time. And I know that her fate will be explained to me in due time. What I wish I could foresee and can't is how all this will impact my partner. My love. I can't imagine his being any less than what he is, but if anything could break the strongest man I know, this could. As I drive, and he sits silently beside me, there's nothing to say. So I simply pray. The End