From math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!chi-news.cic.net!nntp.coast.net!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!bloom-beacon.mit.edu!spool.mu.edu!news.sol.net!newspump.sol.net!homer.alpha.net!usenet Mon Jul 1 10:37:28 1996 Article: 20711 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!chi-news.cic.net!nntp.coast.net!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!bloom-beacon.mit.edu!spool.mu.edu!news.sol.net!newspump.sol.net!homer.alpha.net!usenet From: Scooby Doo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Middle of the Night Date: Sat, 29 Jun 1996 17:17:46 -0700 Organization: Alpha.net -- Milwaukee, WI Lines: 428 Message-ID: <31D5C7AA.513B@nomad.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: 156.46.104.232 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.01 (Win95; I; 16bit) Status: RO This is my first attempt at writing.....God help us.... I’ve been lurking a.t.x.c. for a while so I think this is how it’s supposed to go: DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Samantha, Skinner, Bill, Charlie, and Margaret Scully belong to CC, 10-13, Fox, etc. Everything else contained herein belongs to me. “Talitha Cumi” spoiler... WARNING: If the idea of a M/S romance and/or the death of either of them disturbs you, read no further. PG for language. All right: On with the show! “Middle of the Night” by Heather Bakula October 13, 2012 1:13 AM The clap of thunder woke me from yet another sleep filled with nightmares. One of many around this time of year. Instinct told me to check on my children. Knowing the light would disturb my sleeping husband, I lit a candle I kept on my nightstand. Wrapping a warm robe around my pajamas, I crept into Katie’s room. She slept lightly, and I was surprised to find the thunder had not woken her. The twins were also asleep; like the dead, as usual. David’s room was my final stop. I tiptoed around the paper plates and magazines and various pieces of electronic equipment, finally reaching the bed with some difficulty. He really needed to clean the place up. I sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the candle on his bedside table. I looked at my sleeping son; he was so peaceful. I brushed a stray lock of dark hair off his face. So much like his father. The father he never knew. May 2, 1997 10:21 AM I drove mindlessly around D.C., deep in thought. After Mulder’s mother had died last year, a lot had happened. He had thrown himself into the work, not thinking of anything that didn’t deal with the X-Files. His behavior had started to worry me. I had insisted that he go see a therapist, and, surprisingly, he had agreed. His feelings had changed as well. Last year, on the Fourth of July, we had driven down to the Potomac to see the fireworks. Amidst the bright colors and dazzling display, he had confessed his love for me. I did the same. After that, the relationship moved quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. I had just left my doctor’s office. I was pregnant, and I was contemplating how to tell Mulder. We weren’t married; not even engaged. There was no way I was going to have an abortion. Or give the kid up. My mother was going to have a cow. Big time. My cell phone rang. Figures. “Scully.” “Agent Scully, your partner was just brought in. Gunshot wound to the head.” “I’m on my way.” I sped all the way there. Screw the cops. I was having one hell of a day so far. At the hospital, I sat in the waiting room for what seemed like an eternity. What had he gotten himself into? Always so damned reckless. But then, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be Mulder. The man I loved. My Spooky. I fidgeted with my cross, trying to keep my head clear. So many thoughts, so many emotions filled my mind I simply did not have room for them all. He saves me countless times, but he gets shot and I’m halfway across town. Murphy’s Law. I rubbed my temples. Damn headaches. The same one I always get when Mulder’s in trouble. Cripes Mulder, you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days. One of these days. I had no idea how right I was. A man in greenish scrubs approached me. “Agent Scully?” “That would be me.” “I’m Dr. Davis. I’ve been working on your partner.” “And?” “We need to speak privately.” He led me into his office. Not bad for an ER doc. I sat down in a chair in front of the desk. Dr. Davis sat in his chair, his hands folded. He cleared his throat. “Agent Scully, Agent Mulder was brought in with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The bullet entered his brain just above his right ear--apparently he knew exactly where to shoot. We worked on him in surgery for 45 minutes...but...he died. I’m sorry.” “Thank you, Dr. Davis.” I left the hospital numb. Gone. Just like that. Suicide. But why? I hadn’t seen it comnig; I don’t think anyone had. He had been putting up a pretty dam good front, though. Real good. “Why Mulder? Why?” I didn’t know I was driving to Mom’s house until I got there. She answered the door immediately. “Hi Dana...I wasn’t expecting you at this time of day...What happened?” I walked into the house. Mom sat down on the couch next to me. “Don’t try and hide it,” she said. “I know something’s wrong.” I couldn’t fake it any longer. I broke into sobs. “Mom...Fox committed suicide.” “Oh Dana.....” She pulled me close. “And...and I’m pregnant. I don’t know what to do!” I had never cried like this before. “Shh....it’s going to be alright....I’m here for you....you know that.” All I could do was cry. Fox’s funeral was a week later. AD Skinner did the eulogy; I would have broken down completely if I had been chosen. Mulder looked so peaceful. I stood by the coffin and told him about the baby. “David Fox if it’s a boy...Katherine Samantha if it’s a girl...” The months before David’s birth were probably the worst of my life. Thank God for Mom and Bill and Charlie, I couldn’t have made it without them. I fell into deep depression after the funeral. Skinner ordered me to stay home, he knew I couldn’t work. I lost my will to do anything. I stayed at Mom’s house, wallowing in pain and sorrow. Bill and Charlie were over a lot. I started therapy a few weeks later; to this day I wonder if it really helped. As the weeks rolled by, I began to think about what I was going to do. I couldn’t just quit the FBI, but I was definitely leaving the X-Files. I was not putting my child’s life in danger. December 24, 1997 9:56 PM I was crawling into bed when the first one came. It was very sharp, very strong. I called for Mom. Bill floored the gas pedal on the way to the hospital. Mom helped me with the breathing. “It’s going to be OK; you’re doing just fine,” she said. But I wasn’t so sure. I was scared. I didn’t know if I could go through this without Fox. 2:41 AM “OK Dana...push on the next one.” I gritted my teeth. Here it comes...not that I could do anything about it. My body made me push, whether I wanted to or not. I let out a cry of pain. “You’re doing great.” Mom squeezed my hand. Breathe. Just like they taught you in class. Jesus, here it comes again. Another push, another wave of pain. “We’ve got a head...” “Oh God, it hurts like hell....” “Keep going honey....almost there...” I squeezed Mom’s hand so hard I could have sworn I broke a few fingers. “Just one more....” Last one. Come on.... Then I heard the most wonderful sound. The cry of a newborn baby. “Congratulations, it’s a boy.” I sank back into the pillow. Mom brushed a lock of hair off my face. “You did great.” I smiled weakly. The nurse handed me a small, warm bundle. “He’s beautiful.” Mom smiled. “He sure is.” I kissed my son for the first time. “Merry Christmas, David Fox Scully.” October 13, 2012 1:21 AM I kissed my son on the forehead, just as I had when he was born. He looked exactly like Fox. He had girls falling at his feet, and I knew about it. Unlike most other 14-year-olds, he was mature for his age. He had long abandoned the practical jokes and activities his friends called “fun.” Thank God. “Good night, David,” I whispered. I headed into the kitchen and made myself some hot tea. I curled up on the couch, savoring the warm brew. 51. He would be 51 today. What would have happened if he was still alive? For a minute, I wondered if he would look the same as he had on that ship in Norway.....he seemed so old then, we both had. The strange thing was, now that middle age had crept up on me, it no longer seemed scary. It was almost....*comforting*, in a bizarre and twisted way. But where would Mulder be? With me, hopefully. And David. Happily ever after. *Sigh* Fairly tales Dana. Mere fairy tales. So much had happened since David was born. Skinner shut down the X-Files, this time for good. I was transferred to Pathology. As I was packing up the last of my things in our basement office, the phone rang. I would never forget that call. February 23, 1998 8:16 AM I walked over to Mulder’s filing cabinet. I needed one final thing. My own X-File. I pulled it out, afraid to look at it. How much were they covering up? How much had they *really* known? *Rrrrring* The phone on Mulder’s desk. Who would be calling at this time? It took all the guts I had to pick it up. “Scully.” “Is Fox Mulder there?” I had to improvise. Quickly. “I’m sorry.....he’s--not available at the moment.” I couldn’t tell the woman he was dead. Not now, anyway. “May I ask who’s calling?” “This is his sister. Samantha.” I could have sworn my heart stopped. “When could I reach him?” Cripes. “Samantha, I’m his partner, Dana Scully. He’s--well, it’s a long story.” “We could do lunch. I’m only across town.” “How’s Aunt Martha’s at 11:30?” “Sounds fine. See you there.” I hung up, still dazed. I noticed a picture on Mulder’s desk. It was the two of us, on one of our last cases together. The whole thing had been bogus, so we spent some time sight-seeing. The picture had been taken on a bluff overlooking San Francisco Bay. It had been the perfect day: warm, sunny, beautiful. We were so happy then. What went wrong? “Dammit Mulder, why?” I said, to no one in particular. 11:35 AM I sat in a booth at Aunt Martha’s, waiting for Samantha. I didn’t even know what she looked like. All I had was her second-grade picture, which I now held in my hand. I scanned the restaurant for someon even *remotely* resembling the grinning child. Then I saw her. She was tall, like her brother. Her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Even from across the restaurant, I could see her powerful hazel eyes. Again, just like Fox’s. I knew it had to be her. “Samantha...” She looked at me. “Dana?” I motioned for her to come over. She slid into the seat across from me. For a few minutes, we just sat there, unable to speak, until a smile broke across my face and we burst into laughter. “This is so *weird*,” she said. “I’ve been spending half my life waiting for this. The big moment. So, where’s Fox?” I took a deep breath. “Fox--couldn’t make it.” Samantha seemed unfazed. “That’s OK--I didn’t really expect to see him right away, anyhow.” “So, Samantha....where have you been for 25 years?” Samantha laughed. “I was waiting for that one. I ran away from home that night. I was sick of everything--my family; my home life; the whole town. My 8-year-old mind was convinced I didn’t belong there.” “Where did you go?” “I made it to New York City. A teenage girl found me--in Central Park. She took me to her house. It felt wonderful to be in a nice warm home again. She was an only child; her parents were the nicest people I ever met. Her dad worked for the government; that kind of made me feel at home, oddly enough. “I was there for months; eventually, they adopted me. When I was 13, we moved to Baltimore. Around that time, I began to wonder about the family I had left back in Massachusetts. What were they doing now? Did they forget about me entirely? I wanted to know. But something kept me from searching. I remembered the pain I left there. My search was dead, more or less, until college. “It was my senior year, I had already been accepted to law school. I wasn’t doing much; just counting the days until graduation. By that time, I had completely forgotten about my old family. Or so I thought. “I was in a toy store somewhere, buying a birthday present for my niece. I came across a game of Stratego. I felt a chill run down my spine. I started my search the following day. “When I wasn’t holed up in the sorority house, studying, I was going through countless microfilm reels. Just when I was starting to get somewhere, I met John. “We dated steadily for a while, and on my 25th birthday, he proposed to me. We got married the following June and moved to Chicago. By that time, I had passed the bar, so I joined a small firm there. Two years later, our daughter Michelle was born. All of that put a hold on my search. Until two years ago. “I was once again at the library, looking through old newspapers. I found a copy of the Boston Globe from May 1995. In it was an obituary for William Mulder. I just stared at the photo. Somehow, I knew he was my father. “From there I found out Fox worked for the FBI. I got his number from my dad several months ago, but I didn’t contact him right away. I was too scared. So today, I finally got the courage to do it, and here I am.” By that time, I was finishing off my grilled chicken. “Tell me about Fox, Dana. What’s he like?” I took a drink of my iced tea. “I’ll just start from the beginning. I met Fox in 1992, when I was assigned to the X-Files. They called him ‘Spooky’ at the FBI Academy, and he was rumored to be a little.....*strange*. I thought so too. “On our first case, he told me about his sister’s disappearance. It really touched me, how a man like him could be hiding such a terrible secret. I’ve always been skeptical of what he believes in, but he taught me to keep and open mind. “My father died around Christmas of 1993, and Fox was my emotional rock. He was there whenever I needed support. When I disappeared, and later turned up in a coma, he was there. “Things started to change about three years ago. His father was murdered in cold blood in Fox’s apartment, and Fox was there. Later on, the murderer also killed my sister. “I knew Fox was deeply hurt by this. He tried to be happy around me, but I knew him better than that. Just when it looked like he was starting to come around, his mother suffered a stroke. She died a few days later, and that was the last straw. Fox became very depressed. Still reeling from our losses, we turned to each other for support. “Last year, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. The same day, I got a call; Fox was in the ER with a gunshot wound. I didn’t much of it at first. “Fox died that day. He had committed suicide by shooting himself in the head. Our son David was born on Christmas Day.” Samantha was speechless. She just sat there. Thank God for miracles. Samantha had managed to get in contact with several distant relatives. Over the years, she had come to terms with his death. Somehow, so had I. May 10, 1998 It was the perfect spring day. I took David for a walk in the park. He was enjoying it thoroughly. I sat down on a bench and took a break. David was hungry. Again. I pulled yet another bottle out of the bag. Such an appetite. I wondered if he would be living on pizza and Chinese food later in life. A man approached me. Very good-looking. Blondish hair, blue eyes. “Is this seat taken?” “No, go right ahead.” I moved over slightly. The man looked at David. “He’s beautiful.” I smiled. “Thank you.” “What’s his name?” “David. And you would be...?” “Chris. Chris Hunter. You?” “Dana Scully.” He looked up at me. “Do you come to this park often? I think I’ve seen you before.” “Only when it’s nice out, which isn’t very often around here. Ususally I’m holed up in an office.” Chris laughed. “Me too. Working at the Smithsonian isn’t nearly as exciting as everyone makes it up to be.” “Neither is the FBI.” “You work for the Bureau? Seriously? Which department?” “Pathology. I uses to work in the X-Files, which deals with paranormal phenomena, but.....” I spilled out the whole story. Chris listened intently. “I’m so sorry,” he said when I had finished. I held David a little closer. “So am I.” We sat in silence for a minute. “You know Dana,” Chris began, “and forgive me if this sounds kind of corny, but you’re one of the nicest people I ever met. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” I grinned. “I’d love to.” We went out the following weekend. Chris had a great sense of humor. He was also an excellent listener and therapist. A year later, he proposed to me. Before I knew it, we were getiing married. September 25, 1999 “Sam, I’m nervous.” Samantha turned to me. “I know,” she said. “That will be the longest aisle you’ll ever walk down in your life. But don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” “I hope so.” I walked over to the mirror one last time. Sam had helped me pick out the dress. It was off-the-shoulder, cut just right to show off some curves. The bodice was decorated with sequins and lace. The train was God-only-knows how long. Truly fit for royalty. Sam adjusted the veil. Ellen handed me the boquet of white roses and wildflowers. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was it. The organ began the familiar tune. I took Bill’s arm. “You look gorgeous, Dana,” he said. “Dad and Melissa would be so proud. So would Fox.” When he said that, I had an eerie feeling come over me, like someone else was there. I thought I was losing it, until I realized who it was. Mulder. Not in body, but in spirit. He was there, just as he had been for a year and a half, and would be, always. The twins, Melissa Maureen and Benjamin William, were born on our second anniversary. Katherine Margaret followed on July 25, 2005. By that time, Skinner was Director and I was head of Pathology. Four years ago, he had retired, and I was elected as the replacement. Through unofficial channels (what else?) I heard Cancer Man croaked. I don’t know what happened to Krycek, nor do I care. The Lone Gunmen are still hanging around, and I talk to them now and then. The X-Files remain closed. I have no intention of re-opening them. Ever. October 13, 2012 1:41 AM I was refilling my mug when the phone rang. Only one person would call at this hour. “Hi, Sam.” “Hi, Dana. Well, another year has gone by.....” “Yeah.....” “51 this year. I’m starting to feel kind of old myself.” We talked for over an hour, catching up. Sam’s daughter had just gotten engaged, and her son was thinking of joining the military. We finally hung up at quarter to three. I got up, ready to head back to bed, when Katie walked in. “Mommy, the thunder is scaring me.” “Come here.” She curled up next to me. “It’s OK, it’s just the angels bowling, remember?” Katie giggled. “I remember.” She was out like a light in a few minutes. I carried her back to bed, and subsequently crawled into my own. I blew out the candle and set it back on the nightstand, next to the picture. The one I had seen on Mulder’s desk, so long ago. “Good night, Mulder,” I whispered. Somewhere, far above the clouds, a voice whispered back, “Good night, Scully.” FIN ********************************************************* So how did I do? Comments, criticisms, flames, death threats, whatever, should be sent to insane@nomad.net “Don’t answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know.” ---Lestat, Anne Rice’s _The Tale of the Body Thief_