As Mulder Saw It

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

If my usual prescience had deserted me before Daniel was shot, it was back in force as Scully and I headed back to Bethesda the next morning.

I had awakened in Scully's arms, feeling both pleasantly relaxed and startled to find that I'd actually slept. Still, I had a sense of dread I couldn't escape. There were bad things on the horizon, and I knew it. It wasn't that Daniel was going to die. I didn't know -- no one knew -- whether he would live or die, but if he died, I knew it wouldn't be today.

No, there was something else awaiting me, and I had a fair idea of what it might be, too. Today was the day Daniel's mother was expected at Bethesda.

Which, I decided, meant that I had a better-than-even chance of being outed if she chose to point fingers and shriek at me like Donald Sutherland in the dismal remake of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

If it hadn't been so dangerous for Daniel, I wouldn't have given a flying fuck. I didn't care if everyone from the director on down got the word that Fox Mulder was queer. Screw the FBI -- I could always do something else.

What that something else might be, I wasn't sure. Teaching seemed the likeliest alternative. That A.B. (Oxon.) after your name impresses the shit out of academic types, and if you have it, they seldom care which side of the street you cruise on. Scully wouldn't have any trouble getting another job, either -- she was more than qualified to teach at a university, even in a school of medicine.

Looking back on it, I find it almost funny that not once did I even consider that Scully might not want to leave the Bureau and follow me into the groves of academe. Whither I went, I was certain, she would go.

It was unreasonable of me to expect it, but I asked unreasonable things of her every day of her life -- such as asking her to let me sleep next to her. I did it even though I know all too painfully well how sometimes she still wants me; I did it because I'm not sure I'd have made it through that night without her. And she was there for me, as she always is.

I'm too much of a louse to give that up.

When we got to the hospital, Scully said she'd go check on Daniel first and then, if he seemed to be improving, we'd tackle Dr. Montgomery about letting me in there.

"Just don't lean on him too hard," I said as we walked toward the main entrance. I opened the door for her and she walked through. "It's not going to help Daniel's career for me to seem too eager to see him. Once he's awake, he'll tell them to let me come in."

"I'll tread lightly, I promise," she said. "It's just that it may be a while before they take him off the ventilator, and they're going to keep him sedated for a good part of that time. It could be weeks before you see him."

"I already go weeks without seeing him, Scully," I said as we approached the ICU waiting area. "There's nothing new about that."

She was about to reply when a young Navy nurse I recognized from the day before stepped out of the ICU. When she saw Scully, she looked troubled.

"Dr. Montgomery's been asking if you were here, Dr. Scully," she said. "He said he needed to talk to you as soon as you got here."

"Thank you, but I'd like to check on Dr. Reilly first," Scully said. "It'll only take me a minute."

"Dr. Scully," the nurse said, and then she hesitated. "I think ... Dr. Scully, I don't think you're going to be able to see Dr. Reilly today. That was what Dr. Montgomery wanted to talk to you about."

"What do you mean, lieutenant?" Scully said, a little more sharply than she meant to, I think. "Why can't I see Dr. Reilly?"

"Because Dr. Reilly is no longer allowed to have visitors outside his immediate family," came a deep voice from behind us. I turned around -- it was Montgomery, looking simultaneously stern and uncomfortable. "Thank you, lieutenant," he said to the nurse. "I'll handle this."

"Aye, aye, sir," the nurse said. With a quick, sympathetic look at Scully, she walked past us, leaving us standing there with Montgomery.

"Dr. Montgomery, what's all this about?" Scully asked him, folding her arms across her chest. "I understood that I was allowed to visit him because he'd designated me as his emergency contact. Has something gone wrong?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, so definitely that I was relieved. "No, Dr. Reilly is in essentially the same condition as before -- stable, but unconscious due to the medications we're giving him. That's not why I called you here."

"Then why?" she said. "What's the problem?"

"The situation has gotten a little complicated," Montgomery said, fingering his chin nervously. "As of this morning, his legal next of kin -- his mother -- has given explicit instructions that no one except family is to visit her son. In the absence of any legal relationship on your part, I'm afraid I have no choice but to follow Mrs. Reilly's instructions."

"Did she give you any reason for making that request?" Scully asked.

"She said that she didn't want her son disturbed," Montgomery said.

"Dr. Montgomery, I promise you, I have not done anything to disturb Dr. Reilly's rest," Scully said. "As for Agent Mulder, he hasn't even been in to see Dr. Reilly."

"That's not my decision anymore," Montgomery said. "Mrs. Reilly is in with her son now. Your only option is to wait here and ask her to change her instructions. Dr. Scully, I'm sorry -- truly, I am -- but Mrs. Reilly's request must be honored, unless Dr. Reilly has an advance directive saying otherwise."

"I don't believe he has any advance directives," Scully said.

"According to his personnel file, he does," Montgomery said. "There is a note indicating a living will, an organ-donor directive and a durable medical power of attorney. We're not sure who has them."

That surprised me. Scully looked at me with eyes that asked, Is it you? I shook my head. Not me, Scully.

Then who? she asked with a look. I shrugged. I didn't know.

"If you find out where those directives are, I'd appreciate your telling me," Montgomery said. "In the meantime, I'll ask Dr. Reilly's mother if we can release information on his condition. I know you'd like to keep up with how he's doing."

And with a quick look at me, Montgomery turned abruptly and walked away.

"Shit," I said, shoving my hands deep into my pockets and leaning against the cold white tiles.

"An understandable but not terribly helpful comment, Mulder," Scully said, dryly. "Do you know what Daniel's mother looks like?"

"She looks like Daniel, only female and about 20 years older," I said. "At least, she does in her photographs. I haven't met the lady myself."

"I think you're about to," Scully murmured as the ICU door swung open and a woman stepped out.

She did look like Daniel -- or rather, Daniel looks like her, since she was here first. She was shorter, of course, and had more than a little middle-aged spread; the dark Irish hair had gone steel gray, and the face was lined and tense, but the eyes -- those were Daniel's eyes, dark and snapping with life. But there was none of Daniel's gentle humor there. She was worried, as you'd expect her to be; but she was also angry, with an anger that had had time to go cold and deadly.

"Mrs. Reilly?" Scully said, and the woman stopped.

"Who are you?" she said, in an unmistakably New England accent. You can hear traces of that in Daniel's speech sometimes -- and in mine, too, probably -- but this was the real thing, broad and flat as a pancake. Under other circumstances, it might have made me homesick.

"Mrs. Reilly, I'm Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder," Scully said. "May we speak to you for a moment?"

"Are you from the police?" Mrs. Reilly said, looking from me to Scully.

"No, ma'am," Scully said. "We're FBI agents, but we're here in an unofficial capacity. Daniel is a friend of ours and we wanted to see if you might let us step in for a moment to see him."

"Friends, are you?" Mrs. Reilly said, and I saw her jaw tense exactly the way Daniel's does when he's getting angry -- not that he gets angry very often, but when he does, look out.

"Miss Scully," Mrs. Reilly went on, "I think I know exactly what kind of -- friend -- your companion here is to my son, and I am here to tell you that he will not be visiting Daniel in the intensive care unit or anywhere else as long as I have anything to say about it."

You think you're used to this stuff, but you never really are. I felt as though she'd kicked me in the stomach. It wasn't just knowing that I wouldn't be seeing Daniel that day or in the foreseeable future; it was knowing how his mother felt about me, and by extension, about him.

I wanted to say something to her, but the only thing that came to mind was, "Mrs. Reilly, you don't understand, I love him," and I was pretty sure that wasn't going to improve matters one damn bit.

"Mrs. Reilly, I can see that you're upset," Scully began, but Mrs. Reilly interrupted her.

"I'm not upset, Miss Scully," Mrs. Reilly said, curtly. "I'm beside myself. My son is lying in there near death and no sooner do arrive here to see him than I'm confronted with his ... friend."

The woman had a way with words. Not everyone could pronounce the word "friend" so that it came out more like "queerboy."

"Perhaps we could go somewhere else to discuss this?" Scully said, in her coolest tone.

"I think not, Miss Scully," Mrs. Reilly said, with a sideward glance at me. "I don't really see that there's anything to discuss. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find a telephone and call Daniel's father."

And I didn't move. I just stood there, leaning against the wall as Mrs. Reilly strode purposefully away, thinking -- in a rather abstract fashion -- that the emotional reaction I was having bore a strong resemblance to the need to vomit. I've lived so much of my life so deep in the closet; it had been a hell of a long time since I'd gotten that hate stare from anyone, let alone my lover's mother.

But I hadn't forgotten how it looked -- or how it felt to be on the receiving end. Some things, you just don't forget.

I was sinking deeper and deeper into the black heart of my own thoughts when I felt that cool, calming hand on my forearm.

"She's upset, Mulder," Scully said, quietly. "She may think better of it after she's had a chance to calm down."

"Somehow, I don't think so," I said.

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

We were silent on the way back to Maggie's house. Scully managed to track down her med-school buddy and get a highly illegal update from Daniel's chart, enough to reassure her that he was at present recovering uneventfully. After that, there didn't seem to be any good reason to hang around Bethesda looking pitiful, because Mrs. Reilly didn't strike me as the kind of person who backed down very often or very gracefully, and a public confrontation wouldn't have done me or Daniel any good.

Maggie was surprised to see us back so soon. She sat us down on her couch and brought coffee, then sat on the coffee table opposite us and insisted that we tell her what had happened. When Scully told her why we were back, she became utterly indignant -- and she looked so much like her daughter in that moment that I almost could have laughed.

It was just that nothing seemed very funny right then, you know?

"Would it help if I went down to see her?" Maggie asked. "Maybe one mother to another ..."

"I don't think so, Mrs. Scully," I said, shaking my head. "It's probably best if we just wait a few days until Daniel's out of ICU and can decide for himself who he wants to see."

"Fox, that could be a long time," Maggie said. "I don't know Mrs. Reilly, but I'm sure she and I have some mutual acquaintances ... maybe I could find some common ground with her and get her to listen to reason."

"Mulder, maybe your mother ..." Scully began, then stopped as she saw the look on my face. "No, I suppose not."

"She's in no condition to help with anything right now," I said, as I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug to warm them. "She's still recovering from the stroke. I appreciate your wanting to help, Mrs. Scully, but there's really nothing anyone can do."

Suddenly, Scully straightened up, her eyes wide. "I'll bet I know where those directives are," she said. "Jill."

"Who's Jill?" Maggie said.

"Daniel's ex-wife," I said, quietly. That surprised her, I could see; I guess the subject just hadn't come up before.

"Do you think they've notified her?" Scully was asking. "We could probably find her ..."

I shook my head. "She probably knows. Daniel says she and his mother are still very close, that Jill spends most of her holidays with the Reillys."

I couldn't tell them what I was really thinking. Daniel is a very private person, and there are things he tells me that he wouldn't want anyone else to know, such as just how badly it hurts him that Jill is welcome in his parents' house and he's not.

"Do you know her at all, Fox?" Maggie was asking.

"I haven't met her," I said. "Daniel talks about her a lot, though; I know he still cares for her."

"Well, she must be very special, then," Maggie said, patting my leg. "Daniel has good taste in those he chooses to love."

"Mrs. Scully," I began, then stopped. I like to think I'm not easily embarrassed, but I don't take compliments well, probably because I never got one I thought I really deserved. I smiled as best I could. "Thank you, Mrs. Scully," I said.

She smiled and, with her usual tact, changed the subject. "Didn't you tell me Daniel has a brother? Is he still friendly with him?"

"Yeah, Jim," I said. "He's on a submarine somewhere in the Atlantic or somewhere."

"Oh, those things are always classified," Maggie said, shaking her head. "No one's really supposed to know where they are. Of course, we know they're all in the Black Sea or in the Persian Gulf, don't we?"

"I've always suspected they were really sitting on the surface off Tahiti somewhere," Scully said, "admiring the scantily clad ladies and swigging Tahitian rum."

"Well, someone's got to tell him about his brother, and he'd certainly be entitled to emergency leave for something like this," Maggie said, "so it's just a matter of finding out exactly where he is right now. Why don't I call Jemison Thorsby and see what he knows?"

"Who's Jemison Thorsby?" I asked.

"Admiral Thorsby -- he's an old friend of Ahab's," Scully said, leaning forward with interest. "He was a sub driver in his youth. Mom, if you do call him, you've got to be very careful about how you put this request."

"Oh, I'll just tell him Daniel's a potential son-in-law," Maggie said, lightly. "Because as far as I'm concerned, thats what he is."

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the coffee table as the meaning of what shed said soaked in and sent my already precarious emotional balance even closer to the edge.

It showed, though; I'm sure of it, because Scully put her arms around me. She's not usually that open about her feelings for me; not with someone else around, anyway. I must have looked pretty goddamn bad for her to do that.

I don't think I've ever felt more like crying in my life, but I just couldn't. I didn't think either Maggie or Scully would think less of me for it; I just knew if I ever started, I wouldn't be able to stop.

Because for the first time, it seemed entirely possible that I might never see Daniel alive again.