Washington Hospital Center
Saturday
9:15am
“Mulder, I said no, and I meant it,” said a firm,
feminine voice.
“Aww, but Scully,” whined Mulder.
“Mulder, you went over eighteen hours with no food
or water. You’re dehydrated,
and you have a concussion, not to mention three broken ribs. If you
remove that IV, I
will personally stick it back in, and believe me partner, you won’t
like where I put it.”
Smothering a grin, Walter Skinner entered room 1121
and greeted his two favorite
agents.
“Well, it’s good to see you two are feeling better
this morning.”
“Good morning, Sir,” said Scully. She reached for
the crutches she’d left propped
against the wall and moved as if to rise from the chair beside her
partner’s bed, but he
waved her back down.
“Don’t get up. I just stopped by to see how you
both were doing. I can see that
Mulder’s feeling well enough to be his usual pain-in-the-ass self.”
The pain-in-the-ass
in question smirked in response. “How’s that ankle?”
“Not bad,” the redhead replied. “It’s just a sprain.
It’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to reading your report,”
said Skinner.
“Yeah, so am I,” Mulder interjected cryptically.
“Yes, sir,” she responded, shooting her partner
a sharp glare. “It’ll be on your
desk first thing Monday morning.”
“Alright, well, keep me posted,” he said,
heading for the door.
“We will, sir.”
He was halfway out the door before remembering the
other purpose of his visit. “Oh,
Agent Scully, I wanted to let you know, I asked the crime scene boys
to keep an eye
out, but so far no one has seen that bracelet you lost. I’ll let you
know if it turns up.”
“Thank you sir, I appreciate that.” Out of the corner
of her eye she saw Mulder sit
up straighter in his bed. Once their boss was out of earshot, he raised
his eyebrows in
a silent question.
“I don’t know what happened, Mulder,” she explained
earnestly. “I had it when we
left the tunnel, but by the time we got here it was just…gone. I’ve
asked the hospital
staff to keep an eye out, too. Maybe it will turn up.”
Fully prepared for an all-out Mulder-rant disparaging
whatever cruel twist of fate it
was that forever doomed them to lose, destroy, or have stolen each
and every tiny little
shred of evidence that may possibly be construed as proof of anything
remotely
paranormal, Scully found his softly spoken, “Guess you should’ve gotten
that clasp
fixed, eh Scully?” almost anticlimactic.
Scully looked at her partner in surprise. “You’re
not upset?” she questioned.
He considered a moment before answering. “Well,
it might have been nice to be able
to study it,” he said, “but to tell you the truth Scully, you were
getting a little too weird,
even for me. I mean, that sleep-typing thing? Face it Scully, that
was just plain spooky.”
His obvious attempt to relieve any residual guilt
she felt over losing the bracelet
earned him a dry chuckle for his efforts.
“You’ll get no arguments from me, Mulder. I’m more
than happy to leave the realm
of the strange and unexplained to you.” She stood and slid her crutches
into position
under her arms. “I’m going to get something to eat. Want me to bring
you anything?”
“No, thanks,” he said, reaching for the television
remote. “I hear there’s lime jello for
lunch. I wouldn’t want to ruin my appetite.”
With one hand on the doorknob, she turned back.
“You know Mulder, I just can’t help
but wonder what else we might have done. Who we might have helped…”
she trailed off,
not quite sure how to explain herself. “I know I was resistant at first…”
she started. A rather
loud guffaw interrupted her assertion, followed by a pained, “Ow, my
ribs. Scully, don’t
make me laugh!”
After a minute or two of alternately chuckling and
clutching his side, Mulder
sobered. “Scully, it’s only natural to think of all the good deeds
that could have
been done. To have precognitive knowledge of all the bad things to
come, to have
the opportunity to right wrongs before they even happen, that’s a heady
prospect. But
that’s all it really was, Scully, a prospect. A hope. We don’t have
the slightest idea
what would have happened next if you still had that bracelet. Maybe
it would have
worked, and maybe it wouldn’t. In fact, I believe that more than likely
there would
have been no more predictions. I think Scully, that you did what you
were meant to do.”
“You’re talking about the letter,” she stated.
He nodded. “Think about it. Everything that happened
with that bracelet was
mentioned in Dorothy Williams’ letter. The rapist, Gallant, Neidert…they
were all
referenced at least indirectly. But beyond that, there was nothing.
No “you’re going
to do many good deeds with this bracelet, young lady” or anything.
I think that was
all you were intended to do.”
“You mean rescue my impulsive partner and hopefully
in the process teach him a
lesson about waiting for proper backup before investigating a possible
crime
scene?” she smiled.
“Don’t you start with me about backup right now,
Pot,” he returned. “And I don’t
mean just me. Your warning saved that McIntyre girl from being raped,
and who knows
how many kids that pervert Gallant would have taken if we hadn’t caught
him.” He
shook his head and chuckled again.
“What?” she questioned, curious.
“I just realized, that “someone you love will be
lost” Dorothy wrote you about, that
was me? Gee, Scully, I didn’t know you cared.” His tone was light,
teasing, but in his
eyes she imagined she saw something more, something…hopeful?
Turning back towards the door, Scully could only
imagine the look on his face as she
delivered her parting shot and left the hospital room.
“Well Mulder, I guess now you know.”
End Chapter Twelve
On to the Epilogue...
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