Title: Hollow Places Author: Susan E-mail: touchstone98@tx.rr.com Classification: Scully angst, a "what if" series of journal entries Spoiler: various season one episodes, season two abduction arc Rating: PG Archive: No archive without permission. Disclaimer: On paper, these characters aren't mine. In my head, they are. Summary: What if things were different after Scully's abduction? ********************************************************** Hollow Places by Susan ~~~~ ---- one ---- It's been two years since I was abducted. I still have nightmares about it. I also still have regrets. About how I treated my family when I was returned. About how I pushed everyone away. But mostly about how I treated Mulder. At the time I was taken we'd been partners for a little over a year, and during that time we'd formed a bond I thought would never be broken. I trusted him, and he trusted me, and though we often disagreed on a lot of things, we shared a deep respect and fondness for each other that went way beyond any other relationship I'd ever had before. But then everything changed. Duane Barry kidnapped me and took me to Skyland Mountain, where I was then drugged and taken somewhere else. I don't know where they brought me, and now, two years later, I still don't know. The only thing I do know is that I was gone for eight months, and when I was returned not only had I changed into someone I didn't recognize, but Mulder had changed too. The man I remembered from before I was taken was intelligent, witty, sensitive, passionate, and obsessed with finding out the truth about his sister's disappearance and the government's efforts to conceal it. When I came back, he was none of those things. He was cold and hard and rough, and though he did encourage me to try to figure out what happened to me during my abduction, it wasn't with the same passion I once knew. As for me, I became bitter and depressed, closing myself off from everyone who cared about me and becoming a shell of the woman I once was. Consequently, my emotional descent took its toll on him, and he eventually ended up quitting the X-Files. I think the thing that hurt me the most though was that he didn't even say goodbye when he left. He just went to the office one night, packed up his things, and left town. No phone call, no note. Nothing. In hindsight, I should've seen it coming. After all, I was the one who pushed him away, the one who refused to get the psychological help he wanted me to have. And I was the one who didn't believe him when he told me that he spent every day of those eight months I was gone searching for me. And I still can't believe it, that a man I'd only known for a year would spend eight months looking for me when everyone else considered me dead. I should've known that he would've done anything and everything to find me, and yet I had no idea that he'd go to such extreme lengths, that he'd risk his life for me. And I had no idea that he did it because he loved me. Had I known, I would've done things differently. I would have let him fill the hollow places inside of me and help me become whole again. And I would've loved him back. But I didn't know, and now I'm alone. Sometimes, on the nights I can't sleep, I go outside and look up at the stars, and I think about him. Did he ever find the truth he was looking for, or has he become even more cold and distant? Is he working at a job he loves, or have his days become meaningless like mine? Does he ever look up at the stars and think about me too? I wonder. And I wonder if some day he'll come back into my life and want to start all over again. I want so badly to believe that he will. But does he even want to? I can only hope. ---- two ---- I've been writing in this journal for the past six months, and it still feels strange to me, seeing my thoughts written on paper. My therapist suggested that I type them into the computer, but that just seems so cold and impersonal to me. And so I'm writing down my innermost thoughts and deepest fears with a black Bic pen in a wide-ruled spiral notebook instead. How ironic. I can spill out my emotions onto a damn piece of notebook paper, but I can't share even one of them with Mulder. No wonder he left me. I've always found it difficult to get close to people and let them see the real me, but I really took it to the extreme with him. All the disturbing cases we worked on that first year, all the times we both came close to death, all the times when we only had each other to trust, and I still couldn't open up to him. And then when I was returned from my abduction, I closed off from him even more, thinking that if I didn't actually remember what happened to me while I was gone then it would eventually go away. That was a mistake. I don't think it's ever going to go away. Just as my feelings for Mulder never will. You know, looking back on it now, I guess I even had feelings for him on that first day we met. Grant it, they weren't feelings of love, but from the moment he looked into my eyes and shook my hand, then proceeded to challenge every word I said, I felt something stirring inside of me that I hadn't felt for quite some time. Passion. And he was also so different from anyone else I'd ever worked with. Spray painting a big X in the middle of a road while we were investigating our first case even though he said it was "probably nothing"? Claiming that a boy who'd been in a coma for four years was able to leave his hospital bed because he was summoned by an alien impulse? Jumping around in the middle of the pouring rain claiming that we lost nine minutes of time? Even now, it all sounds completely ridiculous, yet somehow Mulder made it seem like it could be real. And he continued to do that throughout the first year that we worked together. Case after case, he challenged and intrigued me, annoyed and frustrated me, and opened my eyes to a world of possibilities I never would've known existed if I had become a doctor instead of joining the FBI. And for that I'll always be grateful. So, why the hell did I push him away after my abduction? Because I was afraid, that's why. I was afraid to remember what happened to me, afraid that if I did remember the horrendous things that were done to me and I told them to Mulder, he would be disgusted by me. And I was afraid that he wouldn't want to work with me anymore. It's foolish, I know, especially since he'd proven to me many times over that he cared about me, but the more he pushed me to recover my memories, the more I closed up. And the more I closed off from him, the more he started to avoid me. At first I thought that he was just giving me time and space so that I could process everything that had happened to me, but then the times he stayed away from me became longer, the phone calls fewer, and eventually, even the time we spent together at the office dwindled down to only a few hours a day. And then one night about six weeks after I was returned, he decided he'd had enough and he left me. I haven't seen or spoken to him since. My therapist is always telling me that things will get easier as time goes by, that my heart will heal, and that the dull ache of loneliness I feel inside will eventually go away. But how? How can I make it go away when it's buried so deeply inside of me? ------ three ------ I went to see my therapist Lucy again today. This was the fourth time I've seen her, and I'm still not quite sure what to make of her. She's nice enough, I guess, but I haven't really *clicked* with her yet. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised though, considering how difficult it is for me to open up to anyone. Still, I wish I felt as comfortable talking with her as I did with my last therapist. Oh well, maybe after a couple more sessions, things will get easier. Today she told me I should try to write about how I felt after I was returned from my abduction, more specifically about how I felt while I was recovering in the hospital. I don't remember much about it, really, except that it felt as if practically every bone in my body had been broken, and that every time I had to cough, it felt like my ribs were cracking in half. I also remember Mulder being in my room a lot. I was so doped up with drugs that I don't remember much of what he said to me, but I do remember him holding my hand a lot. And I remember him crying. At the time, I thought it was odd that he would cry for me, especially since we were only partners and not romantically involved, but now that I think about it, it makes my heart ache for him even more. I can't even begin to imagine what he went through with me missing all those months, desperately searching for me, only to end up with nothing at the end of each day. Mom told me that she's never seen a man work so hard and give so much of himself to a cause as Mulder did during those eight months. And she told me how he kept my cross necklace all those months while I was gone, bringing it with him all over the country as he searched for me. When I finally woke up after being in a coma for a week, I remember him shyly placing it in my hand and telling me how glad he was to have me back, then quickly leaving the room before I could thank him. At the time I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open so I didn't really mind him leaving so soon, but the next morning when he ended up suddenly leaving again after I brought up the topic of the necklace, I knew there was more to the story. As it turns out, it was guilt. The thing is, I was never really hurt by the fact that he slept with Kristen. But I was angry. Angry that he did something so stupid and dangerous. Angry that in this day and age, he could be so careless as to sleep with a stranger. And angry that he didn't tell me about it sooner. I remember him sitting on the end of the couch in my apartment a week after I got out of the hospital, nervously fiddling with a pillow on his lap and telling me about what happened with Kristen and about how she died in her own house, presumably because of a gasoline explosion she herself caused. And I remember how dark his eyes looked as he talked. It scared me, seeing him like that and hearing him talk about being in such despair over my disappearance that he felt like he had nothing left to lose by sleeping with Kristen. And it scares me still, knowing that he's capable of becoming such a lost soul. Part of me worries that he's continued to follow that same path, that after he left me, he traveled somewhere even darker. And then there's the other part, the part that's afraid he's become successful without me and that he's happier where he is now than he ever was when he was with me. Don't get me wrong. I want him to be happy. But what if he finds that happiness with another partner, or more specifically, another woman? No, I can't think about that. I just can't. And I can't write any more in this damn journal right now. I was supposed to write about how I felt during my recovery, not how I felt about Mulder, and yet once again, I ended up writing about him. When am I going to let him go and let myself move on? Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to. ----- four ----- It's been two weeks since my last entry and two hours since I came home from seeing Lucy. Today's session was brutal. I know that probably sounds like a rather dramatic word to use, but it's the best one I could come up with to describe how I felt about what we talked about today. I don't know how she did it, but after only eight sessions with her, she got me to talk about what happened to me during my abduction. And it was brutal. So brutal that I left her office crying. I know that it's her job to help me let go of my feelings from the past so that I can move on with my life, but I can't help feeling angry with her right now. How dare she force me to feel something I wasn't prepared for. Did she really think that I wanted to talk about how They tortured me, how They strapped me to a table and did things not only to my body, but to my mind as well? Did she really think that remembering how They cut into my chest without using any pain medication would help me feel better? Of course, I know she wasn't trying to hurt me by getting me to talk about things, but still... I hated hearing the words come out of my mouth. I hated listening to myself talk about how helpless I felt. And I hated talking about what it was like having to listen to the other women that were there with me. The crying, the screaming, the begging... The thing that makes it worse though is that I had to listen to myself do the same things. Crying for help, pleading for them to stop, promising them things I could never give them if they'd just stop, just please stop hurting me... I lost complete control of what was happening to me, and in doing so, I lost who I was. I've always been the strong daughter, the rational sister, the reliable employee, but They reduced me to nothing more than a mindless test subject. A lab rat incapable of escaping from the trap They put me in. And now I still feel like I'm in a trap, but in a trap of my own making. I'm the one who hasn't wanted to deal with these memories, the one who hasn't wanted to let my partner or my family help me. I'm the one who closed myself off to everyone and everything and let these memories fester inside of me. And I'm the one who's been alone ever since. After today's session, I know I should feel relieved that I was finally able to let myself talk about some of the things that happened, but part of me can't help wishing that Mulder was here to share this breakthrough with me. And although I know I shouldn't care so much about the opinion of a man I haven't seen in nearly two years, I can't help it. I wonder what he would say if I called him on the phone right now and told him that after all this time I was finally able to start talking about my abduction. Would he drop whatever he's doing and come see me as soon as he could, or has too much time passed for him to even care anymore? Then again, I guess it doesn't really matter what he would do, considering I don't even know where he is now. Still, I can't help wondering if I should try to find him. But how? How would I go about finding someone who doesn't want to be found? I suppose I could call some of my old contacts at the Bureau and ask them to do some checking for me, or I could even call A.D. Skinner if I had to, but I don't really want to do that. No, I have to do this on my own when I'm ready to, just as I have to continue to face more of my memories on my own. And I *will* face them. I only hope that when I do, I'll be strong enough to get past them. ----- five ----- I just finished rereading my last several entries, and I can't believe what I wrote. Every one of them is about Mulder. I know he was an important part of my life for over a year, but since when did what he thought and felt and did become so ingrained in my thoughts? He's the one who left *me* after only six weeks, not the other way around. Yes, I admit I pushed him away and that I refused to get any kind of psychological help while I was recovering, but at the time, it was what I felt I needed to do, and he should've respected that. He didn't. So, what? He couldn't deal with an emotionally and physically damaged woman so he ran away? Or did he leave town for some other reason that has nothing to do with me? For whatever reason he did what he did, it still hurts, and it still makes me angry at him. But even more so, I'm angry at myself. Oh, I know the hurt and frustration will lessen with time just as Lucy told me it would, but sometimes it feels like it's always going to be with me no matter how much time passes. The thing is, I don't know how I ever got to this point in the first place. I mean, I had friends before I started working on the X-Files. I had a life in which I went to parties, had hobbies, and went out on dates. But then I was assigned to work with Mulder, and everything I believed in and everything I thought I wanted for myself changed. He showed me that anything was possible, and in doing so, he made me feel more alive and more satisfied with my life than I'd ever felt before. Consequently, as we spent more and more time together, all those things that were once an important part of my life slowly faded into the background. And yet I didn't miss them. And I didn't miss the person I was. In fact, I liked who I was becoming. I'd worked with other men before, but none of them respected me and challenged me the way Mulder did. And none of them listened to me and trusted my opinion the way he did. Grant it, he didn't always like what I had to say, but he always listened to my theories and considered them, and I liked that. But then Duane Barry came into our lives and took me to a place I didn't choose to go, where procedures were done on me that I didn't choose to have. And after eight months, the person I'd become during that first year we worked together became someone I no longer recognized. Afterwards, when I was bitter and broken and trying to find my way back into the world I'd known before I was taken, I needed Mulder to be patient with me and understand that I simply needed time to get back on my feet. Instead, he pushed me harder and faster than what I was ready for, and all the progress we'd made as partners and friends was gone. The thing is, I still don't understand why he acted the way he did, why he was so insistent that I recover my memories, and why he ultimately ended up leaving me. All I know is that he wasn't the same person I once knew, and I resented him for it. And some days I still do, but unlike those first few months when I was so closed off from the world, I'm learning to better deal with my fluctuating emotions. And I'm learning to like myself again. It hasn't been easy these past sixteen months, getting my life back, but things have slowly been moving in a forward direction for me. Three months ago, I got a job at a small medical clinic in Reston, and just last week, I started taking a yoga class on Saturday mornings. I've also been able to cut my visits to Lucy down to one day a week instead of twice a week, and I'm hopeful that I'll eventually get it down to twice a month. So, what's next for me? More therapy. More hours at the clinic. More minutes each day doing yoga. And more thinking about myself and less thinking about Mulder. And who knows? Maybe, in time, I actually will try to find him, but until then I'm going to stop worrying about what he's doing with his life and concentrate on what I'm doing with mine. ---- six ---- Something happened at the clinic today, and I'm still shaking, thinking about it. I treated a man that looked just like Mulder. Even though I know it wasn't him because of the information I saw on his medical chart, I can't seem to get him out of my head. He was brought into the clinic because of a fall from a ladder while he was painting his house. After x-rays were taken, it turned out that he not only tore some ligaments in his ankle, but he also fractured his leg. Watching him when he was first wheeled into an examination room for evaluation, seeing his face contorted in pain as he held onto his injured leg, I couldn't help thinking back to when Mulder was shot in the leg by Lucas Henry. He'd lost so much blood in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, and he was so nauseous from the pain that it was all he could do to breathe. At the time we'd only been partners for a few months, but seeing him like that scared the hell out of me, so much so that when I finally went back to the motel room later that night, I cried myself to sleep. I never did tell Mulder how upset I was, seeing him lying on the exam table, struggling for every breath as the doctors examined him, and I never told him how I'd lost my temper with Boggs afterwards. Just as I never told him a lot of other things I did while we were investigating that case. And there were many other times that I should've talked to him too, other times when I kept my emotions hidden because I was afraid to let him know how I really felt. Well, no more. Seeing that patient today made me realize that it's been long enough, and I need to be honest with myself about what I want. And what I want is to find Mulder. Not so that we can become work partners again or start up a romantic relationship, but so that we can talk, really talk about what happened before, during, and after my abduction. I've spent the last month working very hard at my job and at my therapy, and I need to show him that I'm stronger now than I've ever been. And I need to prove to myself that I'm finally ready. I'm ready to find him, talk to him, and tell him how I feel, and although seeing him after all this time terrifies me, I know it's what I have to do to truly put the past behind me and move on with my life. I just hope I'll know what to say when I do. ------ seven ------ It's been six days since I started trying to find Mulder, and it hasn't been easy. I guess I shouldn't be surprised though. When a former FBI agent wants to disappear, he pretty much knows all the tricks of where to go and when to move somewhere else if he has to, and since I'm doing this investigation thing completely on my own, it makes things even harder. I've also been working a lot of hours at the clinic so I really haven't had that much time to devote to my search. Still, I'm sticking with it. Making phone calls, searching on the internet, checking around at a few of the places we used to frequent, and although I haven't found any substantial leads yet, I'm confident that something will turn up. As for how the other things in my life are moving along, they're getting better. Steve, the guy who looked like Mulder and who hurt his ankle and fractured his leg, came in to the clinic again this afternoon for a follow-up visit, but unlike the last time when I saw him, I wasn't a nervous wreck, and I didn't stare at him. And now as I'm writing this, my hands aren't shaking either. I take that as a good sign. I'm also taking my morning session with Lucy as a good sign because for the first time since I started talking about what happened to me during my abduction, I made it through the entire hour without crying. In fact, I was so excited about how well I did that I called Mom afterwards and invited her to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate. It was the first time in months that we shared a meal together and didn't end up in an argument, and she even made me a little celebratory cake, white with chocolate frosting, my favorite. All in all, I'd say today was a pretty good day for me, and hopefully, the first of many more good days. I just have to make sure that I continue to take things slowly and not force things to happen that I'm not ready to deal with yet. However, now that I think about it, maybe that's why I haven't been able to find Mulder. Maybe my subconscious is telling me that I need to let things continue moving forward the way they are instead of trying so hard to get back something from the past that will most likely end up hurting me. No, I can't stop looking for him now. There are too many words that have been left unsaid between us, and I can't truly let go of my past until I look into his eyes and say them. Tomorrow after work I'll check my e-mails again, go to a couple of websites, and make some phone calls, and if nothing turns up, well then, I'll just try again the next day. And if there are still no leads, I'll just keep on trying for however long it takes. When we first met, I remember standing in his office and telling him, "The answers are there. You just have to know where to look." At the time, I believed that what I was saying was true, and I still do. I just wish I knew where I was supposed to look. ---- eight ---- I had another session with Lucy today, and I was able to talk to her some more about my abduction. It seems to be getting easier. Not to relive the memories, but to talk about them. There were many times when I thought I'd never be able to discuss them, but now I actually want to. Today we talked about the chip that was implanted in the back of my neck. I first started having flashes of it six months ago and not being sure whether it was a real memory or something I imagined, I never had it checked out. Then about two months ago when I was having my annual physical, my doctor noticed that I had a small scar at the base of my neck. She felt a tiny lump there and took an x-ray of what looked to be a piece of metal, like maybe a fragment of buckshot or something. It wasn't. Once it was removed from my neck, and I examined it under a microscope, I couldn't believe how much it looked like a computer chip. Not understanding how or why I would have a computer chip implanted inside of me, I requested to keep it so I could take it somewhere to get it more thoroughly analyzed. I never did. It's still in a glass container tucked away in the top drawer of my dresser, and though I'm now certain that it was put inside my neck during the time that I was missing, I don't know *why* it was put there. Was it used to monitor my activities or to manipulate them? Either way, the thought that somebody invaded my body and mind like that is something I don't want to think about, which is why I've kept it in the drawer all this time. Maybe once I find Mulder, I'll take it out again, and he can help me pursue a more thorough investigation of it, but for now, I feel safer with it carefully tucked away in my dresser. As far as making progress on his whereabouts, I haven't had any, and I'm beginning to get frustrated. And worried. I know we've been separated for a long time, and I know we aren't partners anymore, but it seems like I should have been able to get some sort of lead on him by now, or that I should have at least had some kind of premonition about where he is. But there's been nothing. Is it possible that he's started a new life with someone else and that he just really doesn't want me to find him? Or maybe it's something even bigger than that. Something he has no control over just as I had no control over what happened to me. No, it can't be that. Anything but that. Or can it? Could it be that I haven't heard from him all this time or been able to find him because he was abducted like I was? No, I'm not going to let myself think that way. I can't. I can't even begin to consider that possibility because if I do, I might start slipping backwards again, and I really don't need that, not after I've come so far. So, what's next then? Do I take a different approach in trying to locate where he is, or do I continue searching the way I have been? I honestly don't know, but I do know this. I'm not going to stop until I find him. ----- nine ----- Two days after I considered the possibility that Mulder may have left me not because of a choice he made, but because of a choice that was made for him, my phone rang. It was nearly midnight, and I had just gotten home from work. Assuming that it was one of the doctors or nurses from the clinic asking about one of the patients I'd treated tonight, I picked it up without a second thought. It wasn't. It was a nurse from Artesia, New Mexico, calling about a different patient. She was inquiring about a man who was brought into the hospital in critical condition earlier in the evening. A tall man with brown hair and a small mole on his right cheek. A man who'd been drifting in and out of consciousness ever since he was brought in, but had been awake long enough to ask for a Dana Scully with the FBI. After I got the phone call, I immediately made my own call to American Airlines and booked the first available early morning flight, which is where I am now. And where I've been sitting in a window seat for the past half hour writing in my journal. I thought that maybe writing would calm me down and help me sort out all the emotions I've been feeling ever since I first got the call last night from New Mexico, but it hasn't. I'm still a bundle of nerves, and I'm still trying to figure out why I'm even on this flight. After all, Mulder's the one who deserted me when I needed his support. And Mulder's the one who's stayed away for the past two years without so much as a phone call, a letter, an e-mail, or anything else. So, why am I even doing this? Why am I flying across the country to see a man who may not even be him? Because despite all that's happened, despite how much he hurt me, I still care about him. And because I need to know. I need to know where he's been all this time. I need to know what he's been doing, what he's been feeling. And why. I've considered before that he may not have had a choice in why he left me, and if it really *is* him in that hospital and he really was abducted and tested on the way I was, then all the feelings of anger and betrayal I've directed towards him will have been based on a lie. But is it really possible? Is there actually a chance that he was abducted two years ago and has just now been returned? And if so, what kind of shape will he be in? When I was gone, it was only for a few months, and I'm still trying to get over the emotional and physical damage that was done to me. But how can he possibly get over having two years of his life stolen from him? And what about his injuries? The nurse I spoke to told me that the man who was brought in not only had bruises and cuts all over his body, but internal damage to his kidneys and lungs as well. So, what will I do when I see him like that? What will I say? But more importantly, how will I feel? When he was shot by Lucas Henry, it was all I could do to keep my emotions in check. And when Deep Throat was killed, and he was dumped out of a van with his hands tied behind his back and his eyes swollen shut, my heart was pounding so fast, I actually had difficulty breathing. So, how will I react when I see him this time? Will all the feelings I have for him come rushing back to the surface, or will I close myself off again? And what if it isn't even him in that hospital? What if I'm getting myself all worked up over something that might not even be true? No, it's him. I know it, just as I know that I'll do whatever I can to help him recover. When I was returned four months after I was taken, it took me weeks to heal from my injuries and years to put my life back together again. After being held captive for two years, I can't even begin to imagine all the emotional and physical baggage he's going to have to deal with. Muscles and joints that ache in the middle of the night. Nightmares. Questions. Anger. Fear. Therapy sessions and endless hours spent trying to make sense of everything. And the thing is, it'll all never completely go away. Despite how strong and determined he is, he'll always carry it with him, and it'll always be a part of who he is. Just as it's a part of me now. Then again, maybe going through this will end up making our partnership even stronger, that is, if we even have a partnership left. Neither one of us is officially in the FBI anymore, and after what we've both gone through, maybe staying away from it and trying to build a life that doesn't include paranormal phenomena and government conspiracies is what we both need. But again, I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't know if this man I'm going to see is Mulder, but if it is, I have no idea what he's been through over the past two years or how he'll react to seeing me. I just know that I have to deal with all of this slowly, and I have to do what feels right to me. And for now, what feels right is to keep myself busy writing until this flight lands. Only one hour more to go... ---- ten ---- I'm sitting in a chair beside a hospital bed, still trying to understand how it's possible that the man lying in front of me is Mulder. It doesn't even look like him. The man I'm looking at has a red puffy face that's covered with bruises and cuts, and he's about thirty pounds lighter than the man I know. His hair is also really short and a darker brown than I remember it being. Then again, I haven't seen him in two years. Two goddamn years. How could I have known that something was wrong and that he was taken from me? All this time I thought he left me because I closed myself off to him and wouldn't let him help me with all the emotional turmoil I was going through after I was returned, but instead he was facing his own personal hell. The thing is, I should've known. During the year we worked together, we were able to communicate more to each other with a look or a gesture than with words. So, how come I wasn't able to sense that something had happened to him? Because I was desperately trying to patch up all the broken places in my own life, and I couldn't think about anything or anyone past that, that's why. But now I'm here and trying to become whole again, and I want to do whatever I can to help him feel whole again too. That is, if he'll let me. You know, in a twisted way, it's almost funny, how things seem to have gone full circle with us now, though I still don't really know if he even was abducted and dumped here or if his injuries are from something else. Judging from the abuse his body seems to have taken, I don't see how they could be from anything else though. Still, I won't know for certain until I can look into his eyes and talk to him, and so far he hasn't opened them even once since I arrived here. According to his doctor, he's been in and out of consciousness ever since he was brought in yesterday, and though he doesn't seem to be in pain, his body's not responding to the antibiotics they've been giving him for the puncture wound in his kidney. And he's not responding to me either. When I touched his cheek before, there was no response, and when I bent down and whispered his name in his ear, it was as if I wasn't even in the room. I'm scared for him. When I was in the hospital recovering from my own injuries, I remember his voice telling me that I believed it wasn't my time to go yet and that I've always had the strength of my beliefs. And I remember how hearing those words helped me make it through the night when everyone else thought I was going to die. But what words could I possibly say after all this time that would make him want to fight for his life? That I care about him and want him to open his eyes so I can see his smiling face again? That I know he's a strong person and that if anyone can recover from the ordeal he's been through, he can? Or maybe he doesn't need to hear me say anything at all. Maybe the best thing I can do for him right now is to simply let him know that I'm here. And so I do. Writing today's date and time at the top of this entry, I close the journal, then gently curl my fingers around his hand. And I wait. ------- eleven ------- Still no change. I've been sitting with Mulder for the past two hours, and despite all the doctors and nurses that have come in here, he hasn't responded to anything that's been done to him. I was told he'd been in and out of consciousness, but ever since I got here, I haven't seen any sign of him being aware of his surroundings. It concerns me. The longer he stays unconscious, the more chance there is of damage to the brain, and that's a part of him I couldn't bear to see changed in any way. Not that I want to see his body permanently scarred, but to take away that brilliant mind of his is to take away *who* he is. I don't know how he could live with that, and I'm not sure how I'd be able to either. ~~~~ Took a break and walked around the hospital, then stopped to sit in the sunroom for awhile and collect my thoughts. When I called my boss at the clinic before my flight left, I told her not to expect me back for a few days, but now that I've seen Mulder and what his condition is, I can't imagine leaving here in only a few days. And when I do go back, I can't begin to imagine what my life will be like. Will I continue working at the clinic or try to get my job back at the FBI? And what about Lucy? Am I ready now to start dealing with things myself, or will I need to talk with her now more than ever? Right now I feel like I could fall apart at any moment, and yet I know that I have to be strong not only for myself, but for Mulder too. But for how much longer? How much longer do I have to pretend that I've got my emotions under control when I feel as if I could break into a million pieces at any moment? ~~~~ I feel a little better now. Taking that walk around the hospital, writing down my thoughts, and letting myself feel my emotions instead of keeping them inside was good for me. Then again, Lucy's been telling me that for months now. "It's okay to be afraid, Dana. It's okay to let your guard down and let the people who are close to you see that you're not always the strong one." How many times have I heard her say that? Too many to count, but she's right. It *is* okay to be afraid, and right now, I'm terrified, not just of what I'm feeling about my own fears, but of how I'm feeling about Mulder. Despite what happened after my abduction, despite the things that were said, the accusations that were thrown, and all the other turbulence between us, I still care about him. God, help me, I do. In theory, he's completely wrong for me, but in my heart, I could no more push him away than tell myself to stop breathing. So, how did he become so important to me so quickly? Because he's strong and intelligent and sees people for who they are. Because he's determined and self-assured and has a relentless passion for the truth. And because unlike most people, he doesn't think twice about taking up for the underdog. And even though he's impulsive and selfish at times, he's the most kind-hearted and sensitive man I've ever known. Which makes it all the more difficult for me to understand how things went so wrong for us two years ago. Yes, he pushed me to remember things I wasn't ready to remember. Yes, I fought him every step of the way as he tried to get me to open up. And yes, he gradually began to pull away from me when I didn't. But why? At the time, I thought he picked up and left simply because he'd had enough, but how could the same man who once told me I was the only one he trusted do that to me? Is it actually possible that I've been wrong all this time, and that he left me that night because of other reasons, reasons that weren't meant to hurt me but to protect me? After all, he's tried to protect me from the truth before. And is it also possible that he wasn't abducted a long time ago like I originally thought he might have been, but that he was taken more recently? Some of the wounds on his arms look like they've been there a while, but most of them look raw, from last week or from even a day or two ago. And what actually happened to him during the time that he was gone? Was he strapped to a table and tested on? Did he beg for his life, or was he completely helpless? Did they put a chip in the back of his neck like they did to me, or was something even more heinous done to him? And what if he doesn't want to talk about any of it the same way I didn't when I was returned? How will it make me feel, watching him go through the same emotional turmoil I did? God, there are so many things I want to know about him right now, so many things I *need* to know. And there are things I need to tell him, about my own abduction, about how I struggled for years to come to terms with what happened. About how much stronger I am now because of it. But when will I get to tell him? When will I finally get the chance to show him the person I am? Two years ago, I wasn't able to, but I'm ready to now. I only hope that he'll wake up soon so that I can. ------- twelve ------- Six hours after I arrived at the hospital, he woke up. It was only for a few minutes, and he said more to me with his eyes than with his mouth, but he knows I'm here now. Of course, we need to talk, and he needs to heal, but just knowing that he recognized me and that he feels comforted by the fact that I'm here means more to me than I thought possible. So, what happens next? The doctor's in there checking him over right now, analyzing his condition, and trying to determine if the antibiotics are finally beginning to work, and then I'll get to go back in his room. But what will I say when I do? ~~~~ When I was in the hospital recovering from my own abduction, I remember Mulder sitting at my bedside crying. And now I find myself sitting by his bed doing the same thing, not so much because I'm sad or afraid, but because I'm relieved. I'm relieved that he finally woke up and looked at me. I'm relieved that he recognized me and wanted to talk, though that will have to wait until he's stronger. And I'm relieved that the doctor said he's showing signs of improvement and that his kidney finally seems to be responding to treatment. But mostly, I'm relieved that after two years of not knowing where he was or how he felt about me, I finally do. He wasn't able to tell me in words, but the look on his face when he realized that I was in the room with him showed me what I needed to see. He didn't leave me two years ago because I wouldn't let him in. He left because of something else. And though I don't know what that something else is, I'm as certain of that fact as I have ever been, just as I am certain that he will recover from this. But will he let me help him as he puts his life back together, or will he push me away the same way that I did to him? ~~~~ Twenty minutes later, when he was brought back from radiology and when he was strong enough to say more, he held onto my hand and told me what he could. It was about 22 months ago when he was taken. At least that's when he thinks it was. He doesn't remember much more than that, only that he was pulled from his car in a convenience store parking lot one night and taken away. And as for the time before then, he told me he left, not because he was trying to get away from me, but because he was trying to find the truth. He left to find the men responsible for *my* abduction, to make them pay for what they did to me, and it was because of his relentless poking around that ultimately he ended up being taken himself. Part of me is still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he kept all of this hidden from me and that he let me believe the worst of him. There's also the part of me that's trying to understand *why* he risked everything for me. And then there's that third part of me, the part that was just happy to be in the same room with him, listening to him talk, touching his hand. Looking into his eyes. God, I've missed those eyes. Even red and puffy and surrounded by bruises, they expressed all the emotions his words couldn't. And told me what I needed to know. That he's sorry he couldn't do more to help me, that he's glad I'm better now, that he missed me. That he needs me. And I need him too. I tried to fight it, tried to move on with my life, tried not to let him into my heart, my soul. But I can't deny what I feel for him. And I don't want to. Not anymore. "I didn't leave to hurt you, Scully," he told me right before he drifted off to sleep again. "I could never leave you like that." And I won't leave him. No matter what it takes for him to recover, no matter how messy things get as he tries to make sense out of what's happened, I won't leave him. Not now. Not ever. --------- thirteen --------- I haven't written anything in a long time. Then again, I haven't really felt the need to as I think I'm making good progress without having to write down my feelings all the time. The last time I wrote something in this journal was the day Mulder woke up in a hospital bed, his body bruised and broken, and his memories of the events leading to those injuries unclear. A lot has happened in the past seven weeks since then. After spending ten days in the hospital recovering from his injuries, most notably the puncture wound to his kidney, he is now eating and digesting his meals as if he'd never been hurt at all, and although he's still way too thin, he's gained back at least ten of the pounds he lost. As for his emotional and mental recovery, he's working on that too. In fact, we both are. He goes to see Lucy on Mondays and Wednesdays. I see her on Tuesday, and we go together on Fridays. It's been good for us, going to therapy together, working through our memories and trying to fill the holes still left inside, and though there are things he's still not ready to talk about yet and may never be ready to, I think he's made a lot of progress over the past few weeks. As for me, I feel better about myself than I have in a long time. After giving it a lot of thought, I decided to keep my job as a family practitioner at the clinic, and am currently back working five days a week on the night shift. It's not the X-Files, and it's not working with Mulder, but it's a good honest job and one in which I can genuinely (and safely) make a difference. As for Mulder, he's not back at the FBI and has no plans to return there once his injuries completely heal, instead choosing to focus his energy on other paranormal endeavors. And on me. It's strange, not being his partner at work, but being his partner in a more personal relationship, and though we haven't done anything more than hold hands, we've become intimate on an even deeper level. When I walked through the door of his basement office three years ago, and our eyes first met, I knew there was something between us, but I never dreamed it would lead me to the place with him that I'm at right now. It's not a perfect place by any means, but it's a comfortable one, and it's one that's constantly changing. In fact, just yesterday I finally got the courage to take out the chip I've been hiding in my drawer all these months and talk to him about it. About how it was found in the base of my neck, about why it was put there, and what I think it does. At first, he was angry with me for keeping it from him, but then after we talked things through, he told me to do something I never thought he'd tell me to do. "Destroy it, Scully. Smash it into pieces, grind it in the garbage disposal, do whatever you have to do, but get rid of it." Needless to say, I was surprised by the change in his attitude, but I wasn't surprised that it didn't upset me. When I first discovered the chip, I wanted to know everything about it and its implications, but now I'm okay with *not* knowing. And I'm okay with getting rid of it and moving on, so after we discussed it, I smashed it with a hammer, then washed the dust that was left down the kitchen sink. And after that, I examined Mulder to make sure he didn't have one in his neck or anywhere else. I didn't find anything, and as far as I'm concerned, that's the end of it. And it's also the end of his quest to go after the men who were responsible for my abduction, the same men who were probably also responsible for what happened to him. Of course, I don't expect him to give up on his search for the truth about our government's involvement in covering up the existence of extraterrestrials...that's just not who he is or who I want him to be...but for now, he's trying to move past his anger and his need for revenge so he can concentrate on other areas of his life. And as for some of those other areas, I let him read my journal last week. I'm not ready to share all of it with him because some things are just too personal to share, even with him, but I did let him read some of my more recent entries as well as the one I wrote that explained how angry and hurt I was at him for leaving me. When he was done, I expected us to talk about the things I'd written, but instead he stood up and walked over to me, then put his arms around me without saying a word. We must've stood there for at least five minutes, simply holding onto each other, and when he finally did let me go, he looked at me with an expression on his face I've never seen before. And then he kissed me. And it was then that I knew we were going to be okay. A little over two years ago, I went to hell and back, and when I was returned I went through it again, struggling to make sense of who I was and what I'd been through. Not long after that, Mulder also came back from hell and has been slowly working his way through his own set of demons, but somehow through it all, we ended up discovering something wonderful along the way. Each other. And though we both still have a long road ahead of us, I know that I want him by my side when we walk down it. Not just for now, but for always. ~end of the last entry~ **Thank you so much for all the letters and comments you sent to me as I was writing all these entries. Your support and enthusiasm kept me going, especially on those days when I was struggling. And thanks too for taking the time to read a long story with only a couple lines of dialogue in it. I still can't believe I was able to write a 52K story without a single conversation between Mulder and Scully in it! Anyway, if you feel so inclined, drop me a line here: touchstone98@tx.rr.com possibilities http://possibilities.bravehost.com/ Started June 2005. Completed August 2005.