"The cancer hasn't spread?" he asked, apprehensive.
The doctor shook her head. "No, it hasn't spread—not so
far. But I was hoping to see some marked improvement over
her last blood tests, and that hasn't happened. So, what we're
going to do is look at some alternative drug therapies."
"You're stopping the radiation treatment?"
"Not yet. I'm talking about something to go along in
conjunction with the radiation."
Mulder slumped down in his chair. "She's so weak from
that, I can't even imagine what increasing her chemo is going to
do with her."
"Mr. Mulder, we have got to attack this cancer
aggressively if we're going to beat it. I wish I had another
alternative, but I don't." She smiled at him. "I know now why
Samantha wanted me to talk to you for her."
He nodded, lost in thought. All of a sudden, he asked the
doctor, "Samantha?"
"Your sister. It's what she asked me to call her." Dr. Miller
stood and picked up some charts on her desk. "I admit that it
was rather sudden, but she requested it. She's asked to have
all of the personnel on the floor refer to her as 'Samantha
Mulder.'" She smiled warmly at Mulder. "She said it was a long
story."
"She wasn't kidding," Mulder said, under his breath. "Can I
see her?"
The doctor strode to the door and opened it. "She's not in
treatment right now, so she's probably in her room. I'm sure
she'd be happy to see you."
He stuck out his hand. "Thank you for telling me."
"Of course. If there are any questions that you have, don't
hesitate to ask me. And try not to worry. She's very perceptive,
and it's not good for her to worry. Or you, as a matter of fact."
"I'll try," he said.
He stood in the doorway and watched her for a few minutes.
She was writing intently in the small coiled journal that she'd
been keeping over the past few weeks. He didn't want to
disturb her—it was good just to see her. She seemed fine—as
well as she had been, but he realized that she'd been getting
more and more tired as the days passed, and she weakened.
He hadn't seen it before only because he hadn't wanted to.
As if by telepathy, her eyes raised, and she smiled at him.
"Hey."
He stayed in the doorway. "Mind if I come in?"
Samantha waved him over. "Of course."
He sat on the chair by her bed, reaching into his pocket
and pulling out a small keychain before he did. "I got you a
present."
She looked at it. "Tetris?"
He shrugged. "It was the best thing in the giftshop."
"Thanks," she laughed. "I have been going a little
stir-crazy in here."
"I thought it might help." He paused. "I talked with Dr.
Miller this morning."
Samantha nodded her head. "I know. I asked her to
explain things to you." She smiled. "It's all going to be okay,
you know," she said. "I have a feeling about it."
"Far be it for me to question your feelings."
"Good boy. How's Alex?"
Shades of a goofy grin came into his eyes. "Wonderful."
"As always." Her eyes clouded a little. "Hold on to him."
"I intend to."
She nodded. "Do that. Don't take him for granted. Don't
let anything—or anyone—break you up."
Her tone of voice started him in it's intensity. "Are you
trying to tell me something?"
She shook her head, plastering a smile on her face. "Of
course not. Just trying to give you some sisterly advice." She
picked up the tetris game. "Want to play high scores?"
"Sure." He couldn't shrug off the nagging feeling in the
back of his mind, but decided to leave it alone for a while. "The
doctor told me you've changed your name," he said, casually.
She glanced up, the smile in her eyes genuine this time. "I
thought it was about time to admit to the world who I really am.
You don't mind?"
"I'm thrilled." He matched her smile. "Mom will be, too."
"I know. It was mostly for her that I decided to do it—for
the both of you. I know how important it was for you to have
Samantha back—even though I'm not 'really' the little girl you
lost—"
"You're my sister. That's all that's important."
She nodded. "I hoped you'd say that." She handed the
game over. "Your turn."
Dana Scully put her jacket back on and sat down in the chair
directly across from the doctor's desk. Her examination was
finished and she was waiting for the doctor to give her the good
word—she hoped—but mind was racing with a thousand and
one things that could possibly be wrong with her. Despite her
assurances to Walter, cancer was definitely one of them.
But it couldn't be, could it? Not when things were actually
settling down for a minute? Beth was found, Mulder wasn't
missing, Walter was trying to cut back on work, her mom was
fine. Now was definitely not the time to be sick.
Not that she was sick, of course. It was probably just
stress—
The doctor came into the room and leaned against his
desk. "Well, Agent Scully, I'm happy to tell you that there's
nothing wrong with you. I'd suggest that you take it easy on
your workload, but I try to tell that to all of my patients who work
at Quantico, and it usually falls on deaf ears."
Dana smiled. "Occupational hazard."
"So I've heard."
"So, these symptoms that I've been having have all been
caused by stress? I've never had such a violent reaction
before."
"Well, no, as a matter of fact. I said that there was nothing
wrong with you, and there isn't, unless you weren't planning on
becoming pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Dana was stunned.
"Congratulations. You're about eight weeks along." He
looked at Dana in alarm. "I take it that this wasn't planned?"
"No. I mean, we've been trying. I'm just wondering what
kind of doctor I am that I couldn't figure this out for myself."
" 'Physician heal thyself'," he smiled at her. "I've been
trying to get a handle on that one myself, for years now."
Dana grinned. "If you figure it out, give me a call, okay?"
"Only if you'll do the same for me."
"You've got a deal." The news suddenly hit her. "I'm
pregnant." She jumped up. "I've got to go tell people."
The doctor laughed out loud. "Congratulations again,
Dana. Tell Walter that he doesn't need to send me those ball
tickets—this is the sort of thing I'm glad to re-arrange my
schedule to do."
It was perfect—there was nobody there, nobody around. He'd
had to wait for several hours outside in his car—for afternoon
visiting hours to be over, before evening hours began—but he'd
timed his entrance perfectly. Rounds had just been made, and
the nurse would be at least thirty-five minutes before she came
anywhere near the room.
It was all going to be so simple.
He saw at the glance through the door that she was
asleep. He'd learned over the last few days of observation that
she slept a lot—a side effect of the treatment that they were
giving her. She'd be asleep for another hour, probably, until the
last visitors of the night arrived. Probably Sarah, maybe Mulder
again. Possibly both of them, although they usually came
separately.
He couldn't decide whether he wanted her awake or
asleep. Better for her if she never knew what was happening to
her, of course, but once the drug entered her system, she'd be
unresponsive, anyway. There would be no way for anyone to
know that her condition was not caused by the cancer that was
ravaging her body, but by a subtle fast-acting poison—not until it
was too late, and probably not at all. He thought he might be
justified to give her a moment of absolute clarity, to let her know
just what was happening to her—to let her understand that it
was all going to be all right, and her suffering—and that of the
people whose lives she'd touched so recently—was going to be
over.
In the end, he slipped into the room, silently, and let her
continue to sleep. His shoes made no noise on the floor, and
she didn't hear the prick of the needle entering her i.v. The
steady drip of fluid entering her body continued, unabated.
This time, he waited until the automatic doors of the
hospital's front entrance had slid shut behind him before he
struck the match and cupped it over the cigarette in his mouth.
His crepe-soled shoes stepped carefully over the discarded
match. As he left, he looked instinctively around, pulling the
collar of his overcoat up a little higher to disguise his face.
There was absolutely no-one noticing him—only regular hospital
personnel and people coming to visit their loved ones. He
smiled, took a deep drag on the cigarette, and started to walk
away from the hospital.
Oh, it was going to be a very good night, indeed.
Dana lingered in the doorway of her husband's office, watching
him work, the pen in his hand flying across the reports that lay
open across his desk. It was after six, and most of the floor was
deserted, including the desk that Kimberly usually sat at. Only
Walter Skinner remained, ever-dedicated. Her smile echoed
across his face as he glanced up and saw her standing there.
He stood and met her halfway across the floor. Some of
the tension had eased off of his shoulders when he saw her
smile. He enveloped her in a hug.
"So how was your doctor's appointment? Did everything
check out all right?"
"Fine." She looked at him, the smile dancing up into her
eyes. "I was just trying to remember—did we ever decide on a
name?"
"A name? For what?"
Dana just kept grinning at him, and finally the light dawned
in his eyes. "You mean you're—we're—"
She nodded. "Congratulations, daddy."
He squeezed her again, in a massive bear-hug, and then
abruptly stepped away. "Oh—you should be sitting down.
Come here," he almost dragged her over to his leather chair
and gently pushed her down into it. "Do you need anything? Do
you feel all right? We shouldn't stay here. I should get you
home—"
She laughed, trying to get a word in edgewise. "Relax,
Walter. You have seven and a half more months to be crazy,
and I'm fine. I'm perfect. I'm wonderful." She was beaming.
"You can say that again." He dropped down to his knees
and rested his head against her stomach.
"You're not going to be able to see or hear him without
equipment, you know. Not for a while."
"Him?"
"Or her," she amended. "Better than 'it', don't you think?"
"I wouldn't even care if it was an 'it'," he said. "As long as
it's our 'it'."
"No way," she said. "I want a 'he' or a 'she'. I'm not
having our child become another X-File. If it's an 'it', Mulder
and Alex will have to raise it."
Walter laughed, his deep bass ringing through the office.
"Agreed. She—or he—but definitely not 'it'."
Sarah Mulder chatted with a few other parents and family
members on her way to her daughter's room. She'd come to
know some of these people as familiar faces during the hours
that she'd spent on this floor, and regarded some of them as
friends. They were all in very similar situations, worrying,
bucking each others' spirits, waiting to see if their loved ones
would improve.
There was a nurse in Samantha's room when she opened
the door. "She's still asleep?" Sarah whispered.
The nurse who was taking Samantha's pulse nodded her
head, smiling across the bed at Sarah. "The doctor increased
her treatment dosage today. It isn't an usual side-effect."
Sarah nodded. Something—something just didn't look
right about Samantha. She never usually slept so soundly—the
treatments were terrible on her system, and she was often quite
violently ill after them, sleeping often but quite lightly, awake
with every turn of her battered body, or every sound that hit her
ears. Still, she was prepared to be grateful for anything that
afforded her daughter some much-needed rest.
She dropped into the seat beside the bed, nodding to the
nurse on her way out. They should have been able to come up
with something more comfortable, but never had. She pulled
open her purse and drew out a book that she'd been reading—
just something to pass the time until Samantha woke up.
"Alex?"
"Hey, where are you?"
"Just pulling up to the hospital now. I wanted to stop off
while mom was here and tell her and Sam about Scully in
person."
"What about Scully?"
Mulder grinned. "She's going to be putting on some
weight for about the next nine months."
"She's pregnant? That's fantastic!"
"Yeah, she just called me. I figured they could use some
good news, and Scully gave me the okay to go ahead and tell
them."
"Great. Bring some dinner on your way home, would you?"
"What do you feel like?"
"Oh, I don't know—what goes with naked F.B.I. agent?"
Mulder groaned, his pants suddenly much tighter at the
crotch. "Alex—"
Alex's voice grew even more silky. "C'mon. We haven't
had phone sex in ages."
"One, I'm driving, and two, I'm about to see my mother
and my sister. Walking in with an erection is not something I
really want to do in that company."
Alex laughed. "I think they both know that we have sex."
"Yeah, and I'm sure they picture it every chance they can,"
Mulder added sarcastically, a shudder going through his body at
the thought.
"Fine, no phone sex. Just come home as soon as
possible and we can have real sex."
"Promises, promises. That's what you said last night."
"And you didn't get in until after eleven."
"I didn't know you had such an early bedtime."
"Only when my partner ditches me and I'm forced to write
up our reports for four hours. It's enough to send anyone to
sleep early."
"Sounds like a real slavedriver."
"Oh, he is. I could be enticed to drop him and hook up
with you if the price is right."
"Rentboy."
"I love it when you talk dirty, Mulder."
Mulder laughed. "I'm in the parking lot, and I'll see you in
about an hour."
"You've got a date."
He was happy, thinking about the little Scully on the way,
smiling to himself as he got off the elevator. He wasn't
expecting the room to be empty when he entered it. A tingle of
something fluttered across his mind, and he chose to believe
that it was happiness. Maybe Samantha was feeling so well
that she'd gone for a walk. Maybe their mother had taken her to
the sunroom, to get some exercise, to get away from the same
four walls—
He strode to the end of the hallway, where the sunroom
was located, but there were only two patients there, reading,
and neither was Samantha. The tingle shifted, raising the hair
on the back of his neck.
He walked to the nurses' station, and opened his mouth to
ask. The desk nurse, recognizing him, simply said, "Mr. Mulder,
we've been trying to reach you. It's about your sister—"
He knew the way to ICU without being told. He could see Sarah
standing in the hallway, shoulders slumped, from halfway down
the hall. A cold trickle of dread iced through his veins and he
instinctively ran towards her, brushing roughly past the people in
his way. "Mom?"
Her face was stricken, and she turned towards him. "Fox,
thank god you're here. They told you?"
He shook his head. "I just got here. What's going on?"
She looked through the glass into the small room. There
was a doctor and a nurse inside, cutting off Mulder's view of the
patient in the bed. "She's in a coma," she said.
Mulder shook his head. "I was talking to her not more than
three hours ago. She was fine. She was joking with me. It
can't—"
"They don't know what happened to her. A nurse came in
to get her ready for her treatment, and found her unresponsive."
"What did the doctor say?"
"I haven't had a chance to talk to her. They rushed her
into ICU and have been with her ever since." She looked at
him, brushing her hand against his cheek. "It was almost an
hour ago, Fox. I tried to call, but the line was busy."
"I was at work, and then—" he cut himself off. "I don't
understand how this could have happened so fast." Memories
of watching Dana deteriorate rushed through his mind. They'd
been on the very cusp of losing her before she'd been brought
back. "She told me it was going to be fine."
They stood there together, side-by-side, watching the
doctor go through a check of Samantha's vital signs.
The doctor finally emerged five minutes later, and gestured
them over to an alcove with a few chairs in it.
"I want to know what's going on here," Mulder said. "She
was fine."
"Mr. Mulder, please. Sit down and I'll tell you everything
that I know." Mulder ignored her, continuing to pace.
Sarah Mulder addressed the doctor. "How did this
happen?"
"Your daughter has been very sick for several weeks now—
the interruption of her treatment seems to have had a more
severe effect on her than we'd first thought. Although we have
changed her treatment, it's had very little effect."
"And now she's in a coma!" Mulder added.
"Which might have been caused by several things—an
allergic reaction to the drug combination, general system failure.
We're doing bloodwork, and we've taken x-rays. When I know
anything else, you will be the first to know."
"Is there anything that we can do?" Sarah asked,
anguished.
The doctor shook her head. "Talk to her. Tell her to fight.
And pray." She squeezed her hand, then walked off to the
nurses' station.
They took turns talking to her. Mulder called Alex, who came
straight to the hospital, and Dana, who was persuaded to stay
home only with the threat of bodily harm and the promise of
hourly reports on Samantha's progress.
He told her stories, repeating the childhood memories that
he'd never had a chance to reminisce with her about, so
ridiculous their lives had been over the last few months. Alex
told her dirty jokes, and Sarah stroked her hand and kept
repeating her name, over and over again, begging her to open
her eyes.
Finally, at three thirteen a.m., she did, just for a second.
Mulder's heart jumped into his throat as she stared at him, for a
second that dragged across his mind, and then the eyes rolled
back and were closed again. Alex tore out to get a doctor, but
the team was already in, signalled by the monitors at the desk.
She went into cardiac arrest. Alex had to bodily remove
Mulder from the room as they worked on her, frantically
pumping drugs and pulsing shocks through her body, but
nothing could be done.
It felt as though it had taken hours, but she was dead
within minutes. Mulder didn't even hear the doctor who came
out to the hall to tell them. Sarah collapsed in Alex's arms, but
for Mulder, the entire world was silent. He could see lips
moving—the doctor's, his mother, Alex—but he heard nothing.
He stayed in the chair he was sitting in, unable to move, unable
to think. Finally, Sarah sat down on the chair beside him. "The
nurse asked me if I wanted to pack up her things from the room,
but I don't want to leave her. She said that she'd do it, if—"
"I can do it, Mom." Mulder stood up.
Alex stood as well, intending to follow him, but Mulder
shook his head. He didn't want his mother to be left alone, and
communicated this wish with his eyes. Alex nodded and sat
back down in the chair that Mulder had been in, beside Sarah
Mulder.
He needed to do something, and he walked back to
Samantha's room, as if he could transport him back a few hours
- a few hours ago, she'd been there, awake—alive. His own
lack of any sort of a reaction to this was starting to frighten him—
he could see the fear in Alex's eyes, too, but he let him alone.
Mulder knew that he'd have to be quick, though, or his lover
would be there behind him, to make sure that he was all right.
As if anything would ever be all right again.
He opened the door gingerly. The room was quiet, the bed
already remade. There were only a few things beside the bed—
a couple of books, some flowers, the coil notebook that she had
been using as a journal.
He picked up the book and flipped through it
absent-mindedly. It didn't even occur to him what it was he was
looking at, it was just something to do with his hands. The tetris
game he'd given her lay beside it on the bedside table.
A loose piece of paper fluttered out of the book and landed
on the floor. He bent over to pick it up, and when he had it in
his hand, he saw that it had "Fox" written on it. He unfolded it.
There was only one word written on the inside.
"Believe."
Seven
by Mona Ramsey
"I want to thank you for coming in to see me this morning, Mr.
Mulder. Your sister asked me to talk to you about her
condition." Dr. Miller leaned back in her chair. "She's not
responding as well as we'd hoped to the treatment," she
continued.
