SPOILER WARNING:  Redux II
Category:  V A MSR (but not more than the show)
Rating: G
Summary:  Mulder gets a call to come to the hospital right after
the meeting with Blevins.
Disclaimer:  10-13 owns them, I just play with them.
EMXC rules apply
Archives:  Please post this anywhere you want to.
Comments: To me--vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Miracles Do Happen
by Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

FBI Headquarters
3:45 pm

Kimberly looked up at a very dazed Fox Mulder as he stood in the
hallway outside Section Chief Blevins office.  "Agent Mulder?" she
asked, hating to intrude.

Mulder didn't hear her.  He watched, stunned, as the paramedics
removed the deceased Section Chief from the floor, preparing the
body for it's trip to the morgue.  In the background, he heard the
first rounds of reports being delivered to Assistant Director
Skinner.  

"The gun was in his hand, sir.  Bullet to the chest.  Powder burns
indicate extremely close range.  At first blush, it sure looks like a
suicide."  

Suicide, Mulder thought.  The memory flashed in his own mind of a
gun in his hands, slowly raising it to his head--

"Agent Mulder?" Kim repeated, slightly impatiently.  He turned at
the sound of her voice, suddenly back in the present.

"I'm sorry, Kim," he said shaking his head.  "You're looking for
me?"

"Yes," she answered.  "Mrs. Scully just called a few minutes ago. 
Your cell phone is turned off," she accused with a grin.

"Mrs. Scully," Mulder repeated, his eyes wide and his stomach
dropping out from under him.  "Did she say what it's about?"

"No, sorry.  She just asked me to find you and tell you that you
should come over to the hospital as soon as you can."

He swallowed hard.  "Thanks Kim," he said over his shoulder.  He
was already half way to the elevators.

His hands were shaking hard as he got to the parking level.  He
dropped his keys twice as he tried to unlock his door.  If she were
dead, her mother would have said something, wouldn't she?  She
would have prepared him, wouldn't have left him walking in to that
nightmare blind.  He prayed that was the case.  But in light of the
recent disagreement over the implantation of the chip, maybe he'd
finally worn out his welcome with Maggie Scully.  God knew her
son didn't have a very high opinion of him right now.

He got into the car and drove out of the garage.  The sunlight hit
him like a spotlight.  He'd had no sleep the night before.  Crying
before Scully's bed, talking to her sleeping face all through the
night.  And their talk this morning, before the meeting, when he'd
once again refused her offer to sacrifice her to save himself.  She'd
told him that he would be in her prayers.  Were they the last words
she uttered--prayers for a soul now untethered?

His chest hurt.  It was a familiar pain.  He could remember
distinctly the times his chest had hurt this much and it had nothing
to do with physical abuse.  He'd experienced it the moment he
awoke with the memories of Sam's abduction, out of a trance he
been put in by Weber.  Then again, when he'd found Scully's cross,
broken and bloody in the trunk of Duane Berry's car.  

He'd felt it most deeply the morning he'd come back to his
apartment after sitting up the night beside Scully's hospital bed. 
He'd been so certain that he'd lost her, then, to a coma and a
poison that no one would admit to--branched DNA.  Maybe it
would have been for the best.  Then he wouldn't have watched her
go through the pain of losing her sister, of discovering about the
abductions of the other women.  Of watching Penny Northern die
and knowing the she, too would be receiving the same fate.  Maybe
it would have been better for all concerned if it had ended back
then, two years ago.

It hit him at a stoplight that even when Samantha had been pulling
her hand out of his grasp just a day before, the pain hadn't been as
tangible or as deep as it was right now.  Maybe that was because a
small part of him didn't really accept the woman who had come to
him as the real Samantha.  He'd seen the clones, knew how
convincing they could be.  They fooled his mother, seemed to fool
his father, too for that matter.  The only one they hadn't fooled was
Scully.  "Mulder, are you sure it was her?"  He remembered
Scully's words, spoken on a lonely stretch of bridgeway while he
searched the waters below them, looking for a sign of life, of
rebirth, of hope.  Scully had been right.  Had he ever remembered
to tell he that?

Will I get the chance to tell her? he wondered to himself.  The light
changed and he stomped a little harder on the gas, leaving a peel of
tires behind him.  He really didn't care at this point.

The hospital wasn't that far from the Hoover Building.  It was the
closest to the offices, in fact, because of Scully's collapse.  Even so,
it seemed to take forever for him to get through mid afternoon
traffic and finally into the visitor's lot.  He pulled the car
haphazardly in two spaces, his stomach in knots.  He tried to get
the keys out of the car and they wouldn't budge.  He left them
there, hitting the double sliding glass doors at a dead run.  

He walked more slowly off the elevator.  What was it with him and
hospitals?  He gave them enough money, they just didn't seem to
appreciate him or his sudden intense demands.  They dealt with sick
and injured people all the time, but when he was here, he was
dealing with something so real, so incredibly personal to him that it
took all his efforts to remain coherent, much less the social being
required in such institutions. 

Luckily, he knew Scully's room this time.  As he approached,
Maggie was sitting on one of the waiting chairs outside the door. 
He slowed his pace to a crawl.  She was sitting, a rosary clutched in
her hands.  He wasn't that up on the trappings of Catholicism, but it
looked like one he'd seen in Scully's hands earlier in the day.

Maggie didn't see him.  She was lost in whatever prayers she was
mumbling under her breath.  There were tear tracks down her face
and he could see a depth of emotion there--but wasn't sure what
emotion it was.  Why was she sitting outside Dana's room?

He choked back a sob as he started walking again.  She heard him
and looked up, a purely classic Scully smile gracing her features. 
"Fox.  I'm glad they found you," she said, standing up to give him a
hug.

He was so close to losing it now, that the hug actually hurt.  He
pushed away after just a second.  "Mrs. Scully.  You said to
come--"

"Yes.  I think you should be here.  I don't care what Billy thinks. 
He's always been so protective of his sisters.  You must
understand, Fox, sometimes older brothers--" she stopped and
looked at the young man in front of her, mistaking the agony on his
face for a pain of memory and not one of current experience.  "I'm
sorry.  Of course, you understand about older brothers.  But never
mind what he says.  I know how you feel about Dana.  And I know
she feels the same about you.  Just don't get too close to Billy when
he's in one of his moods.  I don't want any more fights breaking
out," she warned in a voice both affectionate and stern.

"Mrs. Scully," Mulder rasped.  "Why did you call?"

She smiled at him tenderly.  "I think it's something Dana should tell
you.  I'm sorry, Fox, for being so mean.  But here, let's get you
inside.  My heavens, Fox," she said, seeing the tears streaking down
his face.  "Let's get you fixed up here first."  She reached into her
pocket and pulled out a tissue.  Not bothering to give to the grown
man facing her, she gently wiped the tears from his cheeks.  For a
moment, he was afraid she'd tell him to 'blow' his nose.  He
reached up and took the tissue from her, giving her a grateful smile. 
She blushed as she realized the personalness of her gesture.  "Sorry. 
Old habits die hard."

"Well, you do grow tall boys, Mrs. Scully, but I thought I at least
'looked' grown up," he said with an affectionate grin.  He squared
his shoulders and waited as Maggie opened the door.

Bill Scully was leaning against the window sill, laughing.  "And
then, the Captain decided that he just didn't want roast beef--he
wanted Beef Wellington . . ." he stopped in the middle of the
sentence and his whole demeanor changed to that of just barely
concealed rage.  "Well, look what the cat dragged in," he sneered.

"William Andrew Scully.  I will not have you referring to me as 'a
cat'," Maggie intoned sternly.

The offender immediately mumbled his apologies.  "Gotta go get
some coffee," he added, sheepishly sulking past his mother and his
sister's partner, but not before sending a few hate daggers directly
at Mulder.

"Come here," Scully said, breaking the tension.  She patted the area
of the bed beside her.  "No offense, Mulder, but you look worse
than I do at this point."

He stood rooted to his spot for a moment, trying to take in the
room.  Somehow, it all looked different than it did the night before. 
Brighter, more alive.  Like her room when she'd come out of the
coma.  When that thought struck him, all color bleached from his
skin and his knees buckled.

"Fox!" Maggie cried out and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him
over to sit on the bed.  "Put your head down, Fox.  Sweetheart,
pour him some water," she directed Dana.

"Mulder?" Scully asked, doing as her mother had ordered and
getting him a cup of water.  "Mulder, are you all right?"

When he found his voice, it was much softer than he remembered. 
"You're all right, aren't you?  The chip worked, didn't it?"  He was
sheet white and grinning like a fool.

She grinned back at him, and then happily shook her head.  "You
still got it, Spooky.  Always two leaps ahead of the rest of us," she
teased and reached up to squeeze his shoulder.  "Mulder, I don't
know what turned it around.  The doctor did some extreme
treatments during the last few days--new cutting edge procedures. 
And then, I can't discount the very real possibility that it was just--"
she looked over at Maggie and graced her mother with a
heartwarming smile.  "I don't think _miracle_ is too strong a
word."  

The color was coming back to his cheeks, and he finally could
breath.  "Always the skeptic," he chided warmly.  "I'll buy miracle. 
I'll buy treatment.  Hell, I'll buy the fuc--" he stopped short and
glanced over at Maggie's disapproving gaze.  "I'll buy the whole
hospital," he amended.

"Too late, Mulder.  I think you already have," Scully laughed at
him.  "Several times over in insurance claims alone."

"Yeah, well, you're starting to rival me, and I don't like that," he
teased in return.

"All right, you two.  I think I'll go join Billy in some coffee.  That is
if I can have your guarantee that this discussion of rivalries won't
result in any fist fights," Maggie said, her eyes glowing with
amusement.

"Scouts honor," Mulder said with a three fingered salute.  "I never
hit a woman who carries a gun," he added and waved to her as she
left the room.

Scully watched her mother leave, then turned again to her partner
growing serious for a moment.  "Kim told Mom that you were in a
meeting and couldn't be disturbed.  How did it go?"

He drew in a lungful of air and slowly let it dispel.  "I fingered
Blevins."

"What?!  How did you know?" she demanded, intrigued.

He shrugged.  "I didn't.  Not really.  But the more I got to thinking
about it, the more sense it made.  It was Blevins who dreamed up
the whole scheme to send you to spy on me.  And it was him who
called the inquiry into my 'suicide'.  I just couldn't get past the fact
that in reality, I, and more importantly, we, were no longer under
his supervision.  We've been reporting directly to Skinner for a long
time.  Why should he care if I killed myself?  Unless it was to cover
for what I might have found out.  So I accused him."

"What happened?  What did he say?"

"He halted the proceedings, excused himself and ended up dead in
his office about five minutes later.  His secretary heard the gun go
off, but by the time she got through the locked door--he was dead."

"Ohmigod," Scully muttered in shock.  "He committed suicide?"

"That's the official report," Mulder said noncommittally.  

She looked at him with a jaundiced eye.  "And you aren't buying it?"

"As you so eloquently pointed out, I just bought the hospital, I
don't have the money to buy such a pat story as that," he replied
with a grin.   He too grew serious.  "No, I think the Section Chief
was executed for his sins."

"Hurting us, all the lies, complicity with the Consortium?" Scully
asked.

Mulder snorted.  "Oh no, Scully.  Nothing so grand.  He was
executed because he had the great misfortune to be caught red
handed.  They can't have that kind of shoddy workmanship in the
conspiracy.  Which, I dare say, is why we received the cure, just in
time."  He grinned at her scowl.  "You say potato, I say potahto,"
he sang completely off tune.

She grinned back at him and brushed the hair off his forehead. 
"Mulder, you're delirious.  You need to get some sleep."

"There's this little matter of a big blood stain on my carpet, Scully. 
And a landlord who is royally pissed at me," he pointed out.

"Then go crash at my apartment, Mulder.  I know you have a key,"
she said pointedly.

"And have Billy find me there?  Then _you'd_ have a big blood
stain on _your_ carpet and you'd have to move again," he retorted. 
"No, Scully, if you don't mind, I'd like to just hang out here for a
while.  Try to repair my damaged reputation as bad patient and
even more horrible visitor," he shrugged.

"Stay as long as you want.  As a matter of fact, I had some dreams
last night.  I wanted to tell you about them.  I kept hearing you in
my sleep--you were crying . . ."

As luck would have it, Bill Scully took that very moment to
reappear.  "Oh.  Mulder.  You're still here," he observed sourly.

"Still here," Mulder smiled in reply.  "That coffee smells good. 
Think I might get a cup."  He leaned over and kissed his partner on
the forehead, ignoring her brother's disapproving scowl.  "I almost
forgot to tell you how very happy I am that you're going to be
OK," he whispered in her ear.  She smiled and her eyes twinkled.

"Miracles do happen, Mulder.  Even in the darkest hours," she
whispered in return.

"Scully, I think that's when we notice them the most," he answered
with a nod and squeezed her hand once more.

the end.
Vickie

"Poems, prays and promises,
Things that we believe in.
How sweet it is to love someone.
How right it is to care.
How long it's been since yesterday, 
And what about tomorrow,
And what about our dreams and 
All the memories we share."

Goodbye John.

 John Denver, 1944-1997
 Singer, songwriter, poet