Chapter Twelve

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
 

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