Promise
by Keleka

She shifts in her sleep, unconsciously squinting her eyes in irritation.  I realize that the morning sun is in her eyes, disturbing her rest.  As quietly as possible, I rise and cross the room to adjust the blinds.  My brief glimpse of the cloudless Arizona sky tells me that today is going to be a scorcher.  How do people live here?

I turn when I hear her sigh in her sleep.  Maybe she's dreaming.  Peaceful dreams, I hope, not anxious dreams of abductions and alien bounty hunters.  When I'm certain she's not going to awaken, I let my eyes wander around the room for the twentieth time.  There's nothing remarkable about this room.  It's indistinguishable from the other hospital rooms I've visited her in.  This time is different though.  This time she won't wake up to find the face she expects.

Quietly I return to my chair beside her bed.  Over the years I've made so many trips to the hospital to see either Mulder or Scully--or both--that I've lost count.  Visiting Scully has always been worse. Maybe that's because her hospitalizations have always been more serious.  The abduction.  The cancer.  The gunshot wound to the abdomen.  Mulder may get hurt more often, but his injuries pale in comparison to hers.

I remember the first time I thought Scully was going to die.  It was after her abduction.  I dressed up in my Sunday best and brought her flowers.  Machines kept her alive.  Mulder was already there when I arrived.  He looked like he was going to die, too.  He was already in love with her, he just didn't know it yet.

That night, after we got The Thinker's opinion on Scully's branched DNA, Mulder and I had a heart-to-heart over a few beers.  He'd never been much of a drinker and it wasn't long before my half-hearted attempts to reassure him were drowned out by the sound of his sobs.  I don't know which was worse, seeing Scully near death or listening to Mulder's heart implode.

Now, listening to the faint beep of the heart monitor connected to Scully, it occurs to me that someone has to tell her what she doesn't want to hear.  I suppose I'm elected because there's really no one else she'll listen to.  Knowing what I know now, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't at least try to make her face reality?  Besides, I have a promise to keep.

Scully's fingers twitch at her side and she lifts her arm, sliding her hand gently down to rest above her abdomen, spreading her fingers out protectively.  Her eyelids flutter gently as she struggles between wakefulness and sleep.  I reach for her other hand and take it gently in mine.

"Mulder," she sighs softly and I feel a sharp tug at my heart.  I wonder how many times she has fought her way back to consciousness in a hospital bed to find him waiting for her.  She turns her head and pulls her eyes open to meet mine.  I know I shouldn't take it personally, but I cringe inside when I see her disappointment.

"Frohike?" she whispers, her disappointment replaced by confusion.  Her lips are parched and I suspect her throat is dry so I bring a cup of water to her lips and let her take a few sips through a straw.  "Where's Mulder?" she asks after she regains her voice.

I don't say anything for a moment.  How can I answer that?  Before I can find the words, the memory comes to her.  She sinks back into her pillow, suddenly looking even smaller and more fragile than when she was asleep.

"I'm sorry," I say.  I'm sorry he's not here.  I'm sorry I'm not him.  A painful silence stretches between us for several moments, but she doesn't move her hand away from mine.  Suddenly the gentle beep of her heart monitor grows more insistent.

"Skinner?" she asks urgently, trying to pull herself up.  "I shot Skinner."

"He's okay," I say, gently stopping her from sitting up.  "He's two doors down.  He was exposed to the 'green goo' but he'll be fine."

"I shot him," she says again, more insistently.

"You shot...something else.  Not Skinner," I reassure her.  I can see her mind working to make sense of my words.  Finally she remembers everything.

"The Alien Bounty Hunter."

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?" she asks, making me smile.  At least she didn't say 'what the HELL are you doing here?'

"Kersh summoned Doggett back to D.C.," I explain.  "They couldn't reach your mom.  Skinner told the hospital to call me.  We...uh...had to resort to a little subterfuge."  She narrows her eyes at me.  "We told them I'm your father," I whisper.  Hospitals always take your word for it.  They must think all short people are related, though how they could think a plug-ugly wank like me could beget a beautiful woman like her is beyond me.

Her hand moves again to her stomach.  Suddenly her eyes widen and her heart races again.  "My chart," she says sharply.  "Hand me my chart, Frohike.  I need to see it."

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "The baby's okay, Dana," I say softly, waiting until her eyes meet mine again.  "The baby's okay."

She sighs.  "It's impossible to keep a secret anymore," she says.  "You don't even seem surprised."

I can't help chuckling.  "Nothing surprises me anymore," I say somewhat cavalierly.  That earns me a soft smile so I decide to press my luck.  "I assume it's not a Reticulan."  I say it as a joke, but we both know that I'm deadly serious.

The smile fades from her lips.  "No, it's not.  I made it...the normal way."

"Made it all by yourself, did you?" I quip.

Her eyes fill with tears and just as quickly, they're gone.  "No.  I made it...with Mulder."

"I sorta guessed that already."  I wait for a moment for her to continue but she doesn't.  "Does he know he's going to be a daddy?"

She looks at me blankly.  "No.  He doesn't.  I didn't know until after.... "Her voice trails off weakly.

"That's why you passed out, isn't it?  That's why you've been sick."

"I don't want Doggett to know.  I don't know him.  I don't *trust* him," she says emphatically, her eyes deadly serious.  "Only Skinner knows.  I haven't even told my mother yet."

"You told Skinner before you told me?  I'm hurt."  I do my best pout, though frankly, pouting isn't my thing.  I don't have the lips for it.  She chuckles and makes a pained face.

"Don't make me laugh," she says.  "It hurts."

"I'm not surprised.  Doggett told Skinner you got thrown around pretty good."

She nods and suddenly finds a loose thread on her gown very fascinating.  After a moment she says softly, "I wish Mulder were here."

Was that the sound of an emotional barrier crashing at my feet I just heard?  I try to remember the last time Scully let me see her so vulnerable but nothing comes to mind.  I steel myself for what I have to say next.

"If Mulder were here, what would he want you to do?"

She looks at me sharply.  "He isn't here," she says in her curt, no-nonsense voice.  This isn't going to be easy.

"You didn't answer my question."

I've been on the receiving end of many patented Scully glares, and the one she gives me now is among her best.  She's about to tear into me when there's a soft knock at the door and a nurse comes in looking far too cheerful for this gloomy place.

"Good morning, Dr. Scully," she says, smiling first at Scully, then at me.  "I bet you were surprised to find your father here when you woke up."  She busies herself with a tray of supplies that she pulls close to the bed.

"Very surprised," Scully says cooly.

"I need you to roll over on your side, sweetie," the nurse says.  "I'm going to change the dressings on the lacerations on your back."

"I think I'll wait out in the hall," I say, making a hasty retreat.  I know Scully will only let this 'father' thing go so far before she'll kick my ass; seeing her bare backside is definitely out of bounds.  I wander down the hall to Skinner's room to look in on him. He's lying still under the sterile white hospital blanket.  His eyes are bandaged so I can't tell whether he's asleep.  If he is, I don't want to wake him so I stand quietly just inside the door.

I don't know Skinner very well, but he's a fellow Marine and I know what Mulder and Scully think of him.  That's enough for me.  It's been a hard week for him.  Dealing with Krycek and Kersh, losing Mulder, protecting Scully's secret and serving in the field at her side, running around in the 120 degree desert heat, and being 'gassed' by the Alien Bounty Hunter.  Yet, he still had the presence of mind to have the hospital call me.  A weaker man would have folded his tent long ago, but not Skinner.

"Is someone there?"  Skinner's voice startles me.  I haven't made a sound.  Obviously, he still has his jungle instincts.  I move quickly to his bedside.

"It's me, Walter.  They're changing Scully's dressings...."

"She's awake?  Have you talked to her yet?"

"Only a little.  Not about...not about that."

"I can be there when you do, Melvin.  If you want me to be.  You've got to make her listen."

"Yeah, I know.  Listen, you worry about getting better yourself.  Let me worry about Scully.  How're the eyes?"  We chat for a few minutes about his prognosis.  He expects to be well enough to leave in a day or two, but won't be fit for duty for several weeks.  I'm actually a little glad.  He could use the time off.  Jesus, when did I become the FBI's babysitter?

I drift out into the hallway and stop at the nurses' station to find out when Scully's doctor will make his rounds.  I don't want to start this conversation if we're going to get interrupted again.  When I return to Scully's room, she's reading her chart.  I shut the door behind me to give us some privacy and move to her bedside.  She continues reading, but I sense she's just trying to avoid me so I take the chart from her hands and return it to the foot of her bed.

"I told you, everything's fine."  She gives me one of those looks she normally reserves for smelly lab specimens.  I try not to take it personally.  "We have to talk."  Relieved that she doesn't interrupt me, I take her hand and try to decide how to begin.

"What is it, Frohike?" she asks, softening a bit at my obvious discomfort.

"Two years ago, when you got shot in New York--"

"Peyton Ritter," she says softly with a faint distaste.

I nod.  "Yeah, by Peyton Ritter.  Mulder was in pretty bad shape that first night.  He called me and I took the next metroliner up.  I don't think you know how hard he takes it when you get hurt, Scully.  He falls apart.  It wasn't the first time I had to hold him together when he thought you were gonna die."

"Frohike--"

"Let me finish," I interrupt, remembering that painful night in New York.  "He blamed himself for you getting shot.  Said if he hadn't been such a screw up the Bureau wouldn't have taken the X-Files away and he would have been with you in New York."

"He always blames himself," she whispered.  "Whether it's his fault or not."

That's true.  Mulder carries more emotional baggage than anyone I've ever known.  Not exactly a tribute to his mom and dad's parenting skills, but then most families aren't wrenched apart by an alien abduction.   I barge ahead.  "Mulder asked something of me that night."  She looks at me with puzzled blue eyes.  "He made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I'd look after you."

"I don't need anyone to look after me, Frohike!" she snaps.

"I think you do.  And Skinner agrees with me.  Look at what you're doing to yourself.  What you're doing to your baby.  Mulder's baby.  You could have lost it yesterday."

"Damn you.  Get out."

She tries to pull her hand away but I won't let go.  I wait until she stops struggling before I continue.  "I won't go, Scully.  I made a promise to Mulder and I always keep my promises."  She looks at me with eyes full of fire, but I can tell that I've reached her.  She values loyalty, and she knows how few people Mulder would trust with this.  "Mulder's been fucked over too many times in his life, and I'm not about to let him down now.  I'm speaking for him because he's not here to do it himself.  I can't make you do what I say, but I think you owe it to Mulder to hear me out."

She sighs and visibly relaxes a little, resigned to what's coming.  "Fine," she says after a moment.  "Say what's on your mind, Frohike."

I pull the chair close to the bed and sit down, still holding her hand.  I'm relieved I don't have to call in the big guns to make her listen.  I meant what I said.  I intend to keep my promise to Mulder, and if I have to have Skinner pull rank on her, I will.

"Earlier I asked you what Mulder would want you to do if he knew you were pregnant."

"He'd want me to have it for God's sake, Frohike!  Surely you don't think he'd want me to have an abort--"

"No!  That's not what I mean and you know it.  He'd want you to take a leave of absence or go on desk duty.  He wouldn't want you to do anything that would put your child at risk."

"I don't have that luxury," she whispers, angrily wiping tears from her eyes.  "I can't just sit by and do nothing.  It would kill me to do nothing, Frohike.  I have to find him."

"No.  You don't.  Let us find him.  You need to take care of yourself and the baby."  I shift forward on the chair, trying to emphasize my point.  I've never been very good at this touchy-feely stuff; maybe that's why both my marriages ended in acrimony.  It's always been much easier to hide behind a wall of cynicism and sarcasm.

"You don't have the resources the Bureau has, Frohike.  I need your help, but you can't do it alone."

"We may not have the badges and guns, but Skinner and Doggett do.  We'll work with them.  If he can be found, we'll find him."

"Doggett doesn't believe.  And I don't trust him.  He has his own agenda."

"Doggett will believe eventually, just like you and Skinner.  As for his agenda, Skinner thinks he's clean.  If he isn't, we'll find out soon enough."

She looks away from me.  I figured out Dana Scully a long time ago.  When she doesn't want to face something, she pretends it doesn't exist.  She knows I'm right, so she's pretending I'm not.  Deep down she agrees with me, so she's pretending I'm not here.

"Look at me," I say.  When she doesn't, I say it again, more firmly.  Finally, slowly, she turns and her tear-swollen eyes meet mine.  "Scully, we might never find Mulder," I continue, my voice cracking with emotion at the admission.  "And if we don't, that baby is the only thing left of him.  His family was destroyed by the X-Files.  You can't let it happen to his child too."

There's a long silence while she struggles with her internal demons.  She doesn't remove her eyes from mine and I'm able to watch the battle raging within.  Her lower lip begins to tremble and I squeeze her hand tightly, encouragingly.

"I can't," she finally sobs, the tears beginning to flow at last.  "I can't, Frohike.  I can't...."

I stand and pull her to me, fighting my own tears as hers pour out onto my sleeve.  I've never seen Scully cry before.  Few people have.  It's not who she is.  Gradually, she cries herself back to sleep and I lay her head on her pillow and pull the blanket up around her.  I watch her sleep for a moment before leaving quietly, wondering how many more hospital rooms she will wake up in before this is all over.
 

The End