From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Wed, 18 Oct 2000 01:54:29 -0500
Subject: Weeping Sumac by Piper Maru
Source: direct

Reply To: pipermaru@about.com


Title: Weeping Sumac
Category: MSR, Scully POV
Spoilers: follows beyond season 7.
Rating: G


Disclaimer: These characters, Skinner, Scully and
 Mulder, are not mine.  I use them with deep 
respect for the  X-Files show and hope that Chris 
Carter will honour them with a similar respect this 
coming year.

**This story is for Demerol Diva who inspired 
me to try this out...**

~~~~~~~
Weeping Sumac by Piper Maru

I looked out the window at the world rushing by.  
Inside the car we were silent, not knowing what to 
say to one another anymore.  Too many of these 
moments had passed without success, too many 
hopeful glances had been exchanged.  So instead 
we sat, silenced by our past disappointments.

A while ago I had stopped calling him Sir.  He was 
now just Skinner, as I am Scully and Mulder is Mulder.  
It had been a terrible time these last few months- for 
both of us.  Skinner insisting that he was only concerned 
about me, my health and happiness, when I could clearly 
see the stress eating at him too.  I know he felt guilty for 
Mulder's abduction.  I saw it written on him every time 
he peered over the rims of his glasses to tell me a new 
lead had popped up.

It was the same old story yesterday.

I heard the knock on my door just after 10 o'clock and 
knew what was coming.  I let Skinner in and we sat at 
my kitchen table for over an hour, mulling over what we 
should do.  A report of a 'Mulder-sighting' had come to 
him from Canada.  I fought the overpowering urge to run 
and pack my bags instantly but there had been so many 
leads, so may lost hopes.  The only way to proceed was 
with caution and so we decided to drive to Canada, 
leaving first thing the next morning.

That night I had a dream.

At least I *thought* it was a dream.

I was sitting in my bed, reading and rubbing my hand 
over my tummy, trying to soothe the baby.  Like 
Mulder, this child was fond of waking me from a
dead sleep to call me out to play.  I was smiling, 
thinking of those many occasions where our escapades 
had led to in-depth discussions and heated debates in 
his car just as dawn crept over the earth.  It seemed no 
matter the topic, no matter the circumstance, Mulder 
always paused to point out the rising sun.  

So, I lay there, whispering to my unborn child about 
the strong likenesses to his father when in a flash of 
light, I saw Mulder's face right above me.  He looked
happy- he was smiling (which is why I believed it to be 
a dream) and I was suddenly filled with joy .  

When I awoke, or snapped out of my reverie, the 
baby had stilled and an eerie quiet had fallen over 
my apartment.  I rested, but did not sleep until it 
was time to get ready for Skinner's early pick up.

As we made our way across the boarder at the 
Rainbow bridge I found myself more anxious than 
on our recent follow-ups.  I felt different this time 
but kept it disguised, not wanting to draw Skinner into 
my delusions.  I was, after all, just over six months
pregnant and could no longer be sure if my hormones 
were to blame for my mood shifts and honed intuition.  

I stared at the magnificent Canadian Niagara Falls, 
one of wonders of the world, and cupped the swell 
of my belly beneath my overcoat.  I knew Skinner 
was watching me do this but did he know I was 
thinking that this baby was yet another of the world's 
wonders? Did he know just how desperate I was for 
this lead to produce something real this time?  Did 
he know just how broken I'd be if we, again, failed 
to find Mulder?

By the soft look on his face, I think he *did* know.

I checked the map again once we passed the heavy 
highway traffic of Toronto.  We were headed north 
to a town called Peterborough.  We made few stops 
along the way.  We grabbed our food for the road, 
preferring to eat in silence than clutter the car with 
idle chit chat.  He'd already given me the details the 
night before. 

A nurse had emailed the FBI with a match on a man 
fitting Mulder's description.  She had been on the 
graveyard shift in the ER when the man was brought 
in.  When Skinner spoke with her over the phone the 
young woman had mentioned that the patient was 
largely unconscious but had experienced brief moments 
of lucidity where he was distressed and irritable with 
the hospital staff.  

It sounded like Mulder.

Then again, many of the accounts had a familiar 
ring to them.  

It was late in the afternoon, nearly dusk, but that 
didn't detract from the view from my car window. 
Fall was certainly best enjoyed here, north of the 
boarder.  The brightly coloured trees and fallen 
leaves we like an autumn rainbow and the sumac 
bushes bled long red tears along the side of the road.  
I bled with them, feeling very much like a dying leaf 
inside- falling from my home to the cold earth,
only to be picked up on the wind and later be buried 
by the coming snow.

By the time we reached our destination I had no 
interest in finding a motel. Despite Skinner's protests 
that I needed some quality sleep, I reminded him 
that real rest would not be forthcoming until Mulder
was returned to me.  He conceded with a heavy 
sigh and we proceeded directly to the hospital.

As the automatic doors to the admitting area slid 
open I suddenly felt ill and had to brace an arm 
against the desk as Skinner announced us as 'Agents 
Scully and Skinner.'  It still sounded wrong in 
my ears.  

We were led to the ICU ward as the nurse who'd 
made the report explained that the patient had not 
been conscious since she last spoke with the FBI. 
My heart was in my throat and the baby did flip 
flops in my belly, sharing my anxiety.  When we 
reached the doorway, the nurse stepped forward 
and drew back the curtain.  I fainted.

***

I could hear Mulder in my head, he was calling to 
me, beckoning me back to him.  He sounded distant, 
like an echo and his pleas fell in time with a soft 
beeping rhythm.  I opened my eyes to first see a 
monitor- the steady and strong beat of a heart 
danced before me.  Then I turned and he was 
there...  Mulder.  It was really Mulder!

He was whispering my name over and over and 
his beautiful sunken eyes were rimmed with tears.

"You're home..." I managed to say through my 
smile as I stood shakily and grabbed hold of his 
hand.

His grip was fierce.  Alive.  At the foot of the bed 
I noticed Skinner wipe a tear from the corner of his 
eye, much like he'd done that day when he'd come 
to my hospital bed to announce our impending struggle. 
A struggle that, at long last, had brought us here to 
this wonderful moment.  

Skinner nodded to Mulder, then to me and strode 
down the hall to talk with the doctors and staff.  I 
pulled a chair to the bedside, never letting go of his 
hand, letting my own tears rain on his skin.  He 
smiled, like in my dream then his eyes fluttered 
shut as he sunk into undeniable sleep.  After a 
time I slept too, lulled by the beat of his pulse 
beneath my fingers. 

I dreamt of the weeping sumac bush along the 
drive through Canada- its natural beauty and deep 
rich red colour.  Only now, I did not regard it as sad.  
It was, instead, the red carpet laid out for Mulder's 
safe return. 

                              
THE END 


~~~~~~~~~

Please send any feedback (which would be greatly 
appreciated) to pipermaru@about.com

(Diva darling, let's see how the experiment goes ;)