Title:  Joy and Sorrow



Author: Vickie Moseley



Spoiler:  DeadAlive



Warnings:  Doggett free zone



Summary:  Maggie gets a late night call.



Category:  MSR, Maggie Angst



Rating:  G



Disclaimer:  I still feel the characters have been abandoned, so I

will continue to give them all a good home.  If you ever want to

retrieve them, Chris, I'll meet you in Family Court any day of the

week.  Until then, you count your gold, I'll keep them safe and

everybody will be happy.



Comments:  They flew her all the way from Vancouver to LA and they

didn't give the woman a single line???  Just another example of the

ineptitude that has been season 8.   So I gave her a bunch of lines to

say.



Write me, I love mail.  My new addy is 



vmoseley@i-made-this.com



 



Joy and Sorrow



By Vickie Moseley



vmoseley@i-made-this.com



 



"Mom?"



 



I squint at the clock by my bed, then fall back on the pillows.  Just

after three a.m.  For once the nightmares let her get a little rest

before they ripped her from her slumber.  Unless she's taken to

staying up until two like she did the month after the funeral.  



 



"Mom?  Are you there?" she asks again.  



 



"Yes, baby, I'm here.  It's all right, it's all going to be all right.

 All this, the nightmares, the restlessness, it will all pass.  I know

it hurts . . ."



 



She doesn't let me finish my little litany.  "Mom, that's not it. 

It's not a nightmare this time."



 



There's something about her voice.  I can't place it but there is

something different in the timber.  



 



"Dana, what is it?"  Getting information out of her has always been

like pulling teeth, but since the funeral, it had been getting a

little better.  Without Fox to confide in she confided in me, her

mother.  Now, she's back to being cryptic again.



 



"Mom, how quickly can you get to Bethesda Naval hospital?"



 



I sigh.  Not this time.  I refuse to go running off without knowing

what I'm about to face.  But then, the thought occurs to me.  "Dana,

is it the baby?  You're six weeks from your due date.  And I thought

you were going to GUMC, why are you in Bethesda?"



 



"It's not me, Mom and it's not the baby.  Mom, Mulder is alive."



 



My heart sinks.  She's been dreaming and now she thinks her dreams are

real.  I remember this time, I went through it.  I would wake up in

the middle of the night and I would be convince me that Bill was on a

ship in the South China Sea and that he would be home in just a few

weeks.  I would be so sure of it that I get out of bed, and write him

a letter.  And then when I would start to address the envelope, my

eyes would fall on his wedding ring, sitting in the glass box on my

dresser.  And I would remember the hospital, the morgue, the funeral. 

And I would go back to bed and cry myself to sleep.



 



"Dana, honey, I know how much you want to believe that, but sweetie,

he's gone . . ."



 



"No, Mom, he's not.  He's back and he's here and I'm holding his hand.

 Mom, he just woke up.  He just looked at me and said 'Who are you?'

and then he grinned at me and I knew he was just teasing me.  I've

never heard a more beautiful joke in my life!  And then he asked if

anybody missed him.  Mom, only Mulder would wake from the dead and ask

if anybody had missed him!  Mom, I want you here, I need you hear. 

Please say you'll come."



 



I swallow hard.  How could this be?  I was at the funeral home, I

remember helping Dana pick out the tie he would wear in the casket.  I

remember her leaning over the casket and gently kissing him goodbye. 

I remember the tears that stained that very conservative tie we chose

and I remember thinking that Fox would be appalled to find he was

wearing him most conservative tie for the rest of eternity.  How could

he survive  being buried alive?



 



But my questions would have to wait.  My baby needs me and I have no

choice but to go to her.  To him.  To them both.



 



"I'll be there in an hour."



 



Bethesda Naval Hospital



4:14 am



 



Mr. Skinner is standing in the hall just off the elevator.  His

expression is . . . wondrous.  The man is the picture of amazement and

awe.  He tries to look more professional when he sees me, but it just

doesn't work.  He's glowing.



 



"Right this way, Mrs. Scully.  Second door on the left.  They're

waiting for you."



 



I nod, but before I go forward I stop and grab his sleeve.  "Are you

sure . . . are you sure that it's Fox in that room?" I stammer.  I

hate what I'm thinking, but in the last few months Dana and I have

talked about so many things.  Things that happened years ago and

things that have happened just recently.  Stories, at least I wish

they were stories, about men who could change their appearance and

clones and aliens . . .



 



Mr. Skinner covers my hand with his own.  "It's him, Mrs. Scully.  I

can't explain what's happened.  But it's definitely Mulder in that

bed.  And he's very much alive.  It's a miracle."



 



I can only nod again.  Some miracles you have to see to believe.



 



I rap lightly on the door and open it a crack.  The sight before me is

so incredible that my greeting to Dana sticks in my throat.



 



Before me sits my daughter, my unborn grandchild heavy in womb.  She's

got a smile on her face that would light the state of California for

the next 50 years.  There are tears still staining her cheeks, but she

makes no attempt to clear them away.  More slip past her lashes as she

gazes adoringly at the man in the hospital bed.



 



Any doubt I had that this man is not Fox Mulder vanish when our eyes

met.  "Hi, Mrs. Scully.  Long time no see," he rasps and that famous

Fox Mulder twinkle shines brightly from his eyes.  His face, his poor

face is ravaged by scars and his skin has a, dare I say it, deathly

pallor.  But his eyes, his eyes are more alive than I think I've ever

seen them.



 



I can't help my reaction.  I start to cry.



 



"Oh, Mom, it's all right," Dana stands up awkwardly and comes around

the bed to enfold me in a hug.  "I know it's a shock, but it's all

right.  This is real."  She pulls back a little and looks at me

seriously.  "You thought I was imagining this, didn't you?" she

scolds.  Then her eyes soften.  "But I wasn't, Mom.  I know, with all

certainty, that he is alive.  See, we, uh, exhumed him two days ago. 

He's been on life supports and then we had to give him massive

antivirals, but finally, tonight, he opened his eyes.  I just wanted

you here, to share that with us."



 



I can do nothing but shake my head up and down, an eternity of

agreement.  As I'm standing here by the door, Fox reaches out his hand

to me.  With trembling fingers, I take it and pull it close to my

chest.



 



"Welcome home, Fox," is the only thing I can think to say.  "It's so

good to see you again."



 



"Good to be seen, Mrs. Scully," he replies, but his eyes are starting

to droop and neither Dana nor I miss the yawn that breaks the smile

from his face.



 



"You're tired.  I should go," I mutter, pulling away toward the door.



 



"No, stay.  I'll get another chair, Mom."  Dana pushes me toward the

chair she just left and she twists slightly to brush a finger across

Fox' forehead.  "You, go back to sleep.  We'll be here when you wake

up."



 



I expect a struggle and I'm not disappointed.  With every breath, I'm

more convinced that it's really him, the Fox Mulder I know and have

grown to love as a member of my own family.



 



"You said I've been 'asleep' for three months, Scully," he whines.



 



"Yeah, that doesn't come close to making up for 27 years of insomnia,"

she tells him in mock sternness.  "Sleep or we leave."



 



He closes his eyes.  "I just get back and already you're picking on

me," he mumbles, but barely five seconds later, he's sound asleep.



 



Dana leaves the room and I'm left to stare and wonder.  His face has

so many scars on it, running in lines down each his cheeks.  They look

sore, not healed, and very painful.  I can only imagine what was done

to the rest of his body.  I wince just thinking about it.



 



But I can't get over this overwhelming feeling of joy at the sight of

him.  When we lowered that casket into the frozen ground, I felt like

I was burying another of my children.  Not since Missy's death had a

felt that bereft, that much heartache.  I knew I needed to be strong

for Dana and I held up fairly well, I guess.  But later, after I

finally got her to sleep in her old room, tears still soaking her

pillow, I let myself go and cried as I've only cried two other times

in my life.



 



If only those other times could have ended like this one.



 



Dana returns with an orderly and another chair.  She directs the young

man to put it on the opposite side of the bed next to the one I'm

sitting on.  Through all the commotion, Fox doesn't make a sound.  I

feel the fear growing in my stomach and search the monitors above his

bed.



 



"He's fine, Mom.  Well, a ways from fine, but he's just exhausted and

the meds are putting him under.  He wakes up when they start to wear

off and then he's awake until they kick in again.  Your timing was

perfect.  Skinner had to wait four hours to see him."



 



"Dana," I start, but I have no idea where I'm going to go.  "I don't

understand.  None of this makes sense . . ."



 



She smiles a sad smile that she's acquired in the last six months. 

"In a way, Mom, it makes perfect sense.  He was not dead.  He was,

well, in stasis is the only way I can explain it to myself."



 



I look at her sharply.  How can she rationalize a miracle?  But this

is my baby girl.  Should I expect anything less?  



 



"Is this why you refused to abide by his last wishes?"  It had been a

short but bitter argument with the Assistant Director.  Fox had left a

will, very short, with his personnel records at the Bureau.  He left

Dana everything, including his apartment that we discovered was a

condo and paid in full.  But he asked that he be cremated and his

ashes scattered along the seashore near his family's summer house in

Rhode Island.  Dana had adamantly refused and no one could persuade

her otherwise.



 



"He told me once 'never give up on a miracle'," she said softly, her

chin trembling and her hand coming to rest on her bulging stomach.  "I

just thought, maybe . . ."  Tears streak down her face as she rises

out of the chair and stands next to the bed, reaching out to stroke

his face as she rubs her hand over her unborn child, their unborn

child.  "I just couldn't believe he'd ever leave me like this," she

says and turns to grin at me through her tears.  "What was it in that

movie you dragged me to, Mom?  He's not a 'conceive and leave' kinda

guy."



 



I can't help but grin back at her.  



 



She stands there a little while, I can tell she needs the reassurance

as much as he needs the rest.  But I hear the tiredness in her sigh. 

She's exhausted as much as he is at this point.  They've both been

through a terrible ordeal.  And knowing the two of them, they won't

give themselves the time to heal before they're back at it again.  I

have to use this time to the fullest.



 



"I'm going to teach you the greatest secret of motherhood, Dana," I

tell her firmly, as I stand and inspect the chair she'd been sitting

in.  Just as I thought, it was like the ones I'd seen in other

hospital rooms, like the one in New York when she'd been shot.  With a

little effort, it pulls out into a thin single cot.  I take her hand

and lead her to the cot, pointing to it dramatically.  "You sleep when

the baby sleeps," I say with all seriousness.



 



"I'm going to tell him you called him a baby," she grins, but lowers

herself down to the cot.  I find a pillow lying on the bedside table,

some nurse had thought ahead.  Placing it under her, she turns on her

side so she can still see him.  



 



"I'll stay.  You sleep," I command.  



 



I go out in the hall and ask for a blanket, which the nurse supplies

me with a grin.



 



"I knew it was a good idea for her to call her mom," she says and

gives my hand a squeeze as she releases her hold on the blanket.



 



When I return, they are both sound asleep.  I cover Dana with the

blanket, tucking it around her and my grandchild.  Then I turn and

straighten the blankets over Fox, tucking his arms under them so he

won't be cold.



 



Finally, I sit down in the chair and allow the tears to flow down my

cheeks, rejoicing in all I've regained, grieving again for all I've

lost.



 the end



Vickie



********************************

And ye shall know the Truth

and the Truth shall set you

Free

--inscription on the walls of

the CIA lobby in Langly, VA

********************************