From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 29 Jul 2001 04:08:12 -0000 Subject: wonderland by Caroline Source: direct Reply To: angel_chick13@msn.com Title: wonderland Author: Caroline Rating: PG-13 to R, just to be safe. Nothing explicit! Summary: After Mulder ends up in a coma while trying to protect her, Scully has a lot of thinking to do. POV changes a lot. I don't see how this would work in the world of X we know and love, so I guess this is, by default, an alternate universe. Set sometime in the 5th season, after the 'Redux'-es. Spoilers: Not really, mentions of Irresistible and Redux I & II. Feedback/Archive: Both make me feel special. But tell me if you want to archive; I'll want to visit it and pretend I'm famous! Category: MSR, Angst (I hope!) Disclaimer: I own nothing, FOX. Please don't sue little old me I have no money. xxx MULDER xxx She seemed glittering that day. She had the night before, of course, women usually do in bed, but I'm not used to quite this level of infatuation the morning after. Call me a narcissistic pig, but after I've slept with a woman, I lose at least a little desire for her. I'd never just dump her; I'm not an advocate in any way for one-night stands, but it usually feels like I've just run a marathon: glad I did it, but the challenge is over and I don't want to run at least that course again. Scully's course is one I know I'll never tire of. I'm not trying to get all poetic; it's just that it all felt so right, so impossible, so surreally perfect. To have her at death's door and then suddenly back, healthy... I realized one of those endless nights at her bedside in the hospital that I love her, and I realized the night before, sometime between wine and bed, that she loves me back. So, understandably, I was in seventh heaven that morning at work, if a little tired. We'd driven in together, randomly exchanging goofy grins. I don't think either of us read a word in any of the piles of files on my desk. Instead we played footsie and giggled like teenagers. I loved every second of it. Lunch hour was when it all went to hell. Scully offered to pick up sandwiches, and, becauseI didn't want to be alone in the office, I followed her to the main entrance. I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going because I walked right into a nervous-looking man. I recognized his face, but couldn't remember where I'd seen him... or maybe I was to preoccupied with the redhead who'd just turned around to see me crash into that guy. She stopped and laughed at my stunned expression while mystery man confusedly stood some distance behind her, studying my face as if he recognized me, too. His gaze shifted to Scully and he smiled dryly. That was when I noticed the bulge in his pocket, and his hand reaching for it, pulling out a gun, pointing it at Scully... She was still facing me, laughing, but her amused expression changed to an inquisitive one as she looked at my quickly paling face. His finger flicked off the safety and time stopped. I dove on top of Scully, grateful that she was so small and I could easily shield her from that maniac. I knew who he was by then: Scully and I had sent him to jail a few years ago, not a huge offense but he was obviously pretty upset at his small sentence. I could hear her scream as he fired the first shot. A searing pain in my side, but Scully was safe. Another shot, pain now in my leg. Something must have thrown him off... he could definitely have killed me from that distance. No new pain... they must have caught him... blackness. xxx Scully xxx It's ironic; I could finally love Mulder because I was alive and well and then he got critically injured. I was so positive he was dead- he went completely limp on top of me after the shots- that I was actually happy to hear that he was in a coma. A coma isn't dead. Security, along with all the other agents in the corridor, managed to get the gun away from that sick bastard. He was immediately placed under arrest and was convicted later, got life plus 20 years. When I testified, I almost had to be restrained from throttling him with my bare hands. But that's a different story. I felt beautiful that morning, a rare thing after my cancer. I was still very self-conscious from the effects of both disease and treatment although the circles under my eyes had all but disappeared and I was gaining back much of the lost weight. Mulder's fervently whispered words the night before, combined with the way he'd looked at me that morning made me feel like a fairy tale princess. I'd had daydreamed while I was supposed to be working, picturing our perfect wedding (on the beach, on a clear summer night, with white flowers everywhere) and dream house and our happily-ever-after life, but all that disappeared with the thunderous crack of the gun. I finally had a chance to get what I wanted in life and a monster took away the key to bliss. I stayed at Mulder's hospital bedside until I collapsed, and got quite a shock when I woke up in a cold hospital bed instead of his arms. I quickly changed out of the itchy hospital gown and into my clothes, which were folded on the chair beside the bed and found my way back to the ICU, to Mulder. AD Skinner was in Mulder's room, on his cell phone, but he hung up when he saw me in the doorway. "Agent Scully, I'm sure you've realized that your being here is posing a threat to your health. Go home and get some rest- I'll make sure to contact you if there are any changes," he said. I'm sure now that he had only good intentions, but at the time it felt like he was treating me like an incapable child, and that angered me. I certainly acted like a child; I pretended to go home, but I only waited in the parking garage until I saw the assistant director leave. I returned to Mulder's room for more crying and waiting. I woke again in that painfully white room, in the itchy blue gown. This time, Skinner was standing over me, looking pretty angry. He chewed me out several times; apparently I was not welcome at the hospital any more. I was to take a leave of absence for a few days. He'd taken the liberty of making an appointment for me with the Bureau psychologist. I hadn't seen her since Donny Pfaster, and I didn't think that her Bureau-centric mind would approve of the specific circumstances of my pain- that not only was a partner and friend's life on the line, but also a lover's. "Dana, I haven't seen you in three years. How have you been?" /I have lived more than anyone could hope to, loved more passionately than many dream of./ "I've been fine. Busy." "I understand that your partner's injuries have had quite an impact on you. Can you tell me why that might be?" /Until two nights ago, I didn't know beauty. That gunman shot down love./ "I guess... The gun was aimed at me. Mulder was shielding me... I feel that it should be me in a coma instead of him." "You and your partner seem close. It must be hard to see him like that." /You have no idea. Have you ever seen somebody go from life at its most perfect to near death? A matter of hours before, I was in his arms as he shook with our love. He shook when the bullets hit him, but not from love. From hate, from death./ "It is hard. It's always hard to see a friend in the hospital." "Do you think you might be drawing anything from your own experiences with cancer? Relating him to you?" /He is me, I am him. He bore the weight of my cancer with me, so I must be with him now./ "During my cancer, Mulder was always there for me, and it made a world of difference. I feel that if I was allowed to stay with him, he might find it in himself to heal." "You feel that your presence would waken him from a coma? Cause his gunshot wounds to close over?" /Of course. / "Of course not." The next morning, I woke in my own bed. Satin pajamas, not a rough hospital gown, covered my body. I didn't notice the luxuries in my home; I focused only on that which was missing- strong, warm arms around me; soft eyes and laughter. His smile. I dressed and drove to the hospital. Although I wasn't permitted inside, there was nothing they could do if I sat outside. Anything to be near him. Finally, either boredom or spite for the system overtook me and I walked inside the hospital. At the front desk I asked for Fox Mulder's room number; he had been moved out of intensive care. That brightened me up a little. Outside his door, a man in a suit was dozing in a chair. I took him to be the guard posted to keep me out and walked right past. Mulder looked worse than I had ever seen him. Pale, pale skin made his hair and the rings around his eyes look darker than usual. Wires and tubes stuck out of him in so many places... but he's out of intensive care, I reminded myself. A snore from the guard outside told me that I had several minutes at the very least, so I sat in the uncomfortable chair by Mulder's bed and took his hand. I swear, I felt his fingers move, but before I could make sure, I heard Skinner's voice and expensive shoes coming down the hall. Luckily, he hadn't yet turned the corner in the labyrinth-like corridor, and I could slip away down the stairs. I was almost to my car when my cell phone rang. It was Skinner telling me to hurry to the hospital, that Mulder was coming to. Part of me wanted to run back upstairs and revel in his life, but the ever- present logic told me that if I did, Skinner would figure out that I'd been here. So, I went to the gift shop to pick up some flowers and to browse through racks of magazines and get well cards. After an eternal fifteen minutes, I decided that a reasonable amount of time had passed, so the cheery bouquet of summer flowers and I headed to the elevator. I walked in the door and was free from this dystopic waiting, this wonderland of despair. Free. What a difference twenty minutes can make. Already the color had returned to Mulder's face, his bright smile lit up the drab room. "Hi." xxx MULDER xxx "Hi," she said and I was alive. Skinner was in the room, so I couldn't hold her like I wanted- that was probably a blessing in disguise. I don't think that my physical condition was quite up to cuddling right then. But when she leaned over to kiss my forehead, I tilted my face up so that our lips met. The look on Skinner's face will brighten many otherwise lifeless days when I'm old and useless, as will the soft movements of Scully's lips over mine. Standard Bureau procedure, no. But it's perfect. xxxx You like? Feedback would be much, much appreciated. If I get any, I'll make sure to say "Bueno, bueno!" very loudly!