"The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(12/?) by Susan Jameson
(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)
See part 1 for headers, archive info, etc.




~~~~~

Trinity Hospital
As Scully Saw It

~~~~~

"But I don't understand," I said. "How did you know it was Blevins?"

"I didn't," Mulder said. "Not consciously, anyway. I just kind of
guessed."

"Mulder, how could you be so reckless?" I said. "You could have
accused the wrong man. You can't make accusations like that without
some kind of evidence."

"I knew I was right, Scully," he said, calmly. "Believe me. It's
Blevins. Or I suppose I should say it _was_ Blevins, since he's dead
now."

Poor Mulder. Not only was I giving him a hard time, it was late --
very, very late, and he was as tired as I've ever seen him, with a
fatigue that was far more than physical. I don't think he'd slept for
days. He really shouldn't have been there. 

But I was being selfish as well as peevish, and I wouldn't let him go.
So he was there with me, holding my hand, letting me complain and
criticize him without saying a word to stop me, just listening to me,
reassuring me and calmly explaining to me how he'd taken care of
things and that everything was all right now.

I couldn't take any of it in. His hand in mine, his voice, were the
only things that seemed real to me, and it was all for one simple,
unbelievable reason: We'd thought I was going to die, and yet I was
going to live.

Father McCue had come, and he and I prayed together. Dr. Zuckerman had
given me another round of chemo, and then I'd gone for another PET
scan.

That was when the miracle happened. Even while the test was going on,
I could tell that the results were good -- I could see it in Dr.
Zuckerman's eyes. 

He warned me not to get my hopes too high, though; said there were
more tests that had to be done to verify the PET scan. I told him I
knew that, and I did; but somehow, I knew already that this wasn't a
false hope. I was still tired, still weak and still in pain, but I
could feel it, almost like a tingle or a buzz in the back of my
throat.

I was going into remission. 

I wasn't healed yet, not by a long shot. The damage was still there:
My body had been badly injured and weakened by the cancer, the blood
loss, the chemo and the long days of little appetite and no sleep, but
healing would come, eventually.

I would live.

And then when I got back to my room and Mulder was there waiting for
me, telling me that he'd uncovered the spy within the Bureau, that
he'd been exonerated and wouldn't be charged with murder ... well, it
was too much for me. I started smiling, and the smile got bigger and
bigger, but then I started to shake and I broke down completely.


He knelt beside me, and I put my arms around him and held him for... I
don't know, it wasn't long enough and yet it seemed like forever. His
cheek was smooth and clean-shaven again, his hands steady as he
caressed my face and my arms, his lips warm and gentle as he kissed
me, his arms strong as he closed the circle around us that made us
Mulder and Scully again, just the two of us, partners in life and
death, in everything, forever.

It seemed impossible, and yet it seemed inevitable. We had come
through hell together, and we had survived. The liars had lost, death
had lost, and the truth and our love had prevailed.

I could have stayed there forever, kissing his cheek, stroking his
hair, feeling him tenderly wiping the tears that streaked my face ...
but we were both exhausted, and he saw how hard I was struggling to
stay upright in the chair.

He helped me from the wheelchair to the bed and tucked the covers
around me, but I still wouldn't let him go. I made him sit on the bed
next to me and I held onto his hand so tightly I probably caused some
temporary nerve damage, but I had to reassure myself that this was all
real, that he was here, and that I really could feel my strength
returning. 

He stayed there for another hour while we talked things over. I
laughed as much as I cried, and although Mulder didn't laugh, he
smiled a lot, and he touched me gently and lovingly all the while,
just as he used to.

He was just starting to explain to me how it had all happened, talking
about Blevins and the committee, when Dr. Zuckerman came in,
accompanied by my mother and my brother Bill. 

Mom was genuinely happy, and she gave Mulder a kiss on the cheek, but
Bill was his usual glowering self. Not even during a moment as joyous
as this one would he relent and share some of the joy with my partner
and best friend.

Mulder was more generous. He excused himself and said he thought he'd
go home and catch up on some sleep.

I should have let him go, but I couldn't. I couldn't imagine being
without him now; I suppose I was just being selfish, but I had to have
him near me. I needed him near me, and whether Bill could understand
that or even tolerate it wasn't important. I asked Mulder not to leave
yet, to stay until my family had finished their visit and then to come
tell me the rest of the story, and he said he would, but reluctantly.

Mom and Bill and Dr. Zuckerman stayed for about an hour, and I thought
maybe they were about ready to leave when AD Skinner showed up,
smiling almost shyly. I felt a little shy myself, knowing how I'd
accused him and how he'd gone to so much trouble to cover for Mulder
and to take care of me. We couldn't say much with my family around,
but we managed an awkward exchange of "how are you" and "glad to see
you" and all that inane politeness.

It was a start.

Zuckerman left, and then Skinner, and last of all Mom and Bill. They
were headed to Andrews AFB to pick up Charlie, who had finally gotten
here on emergency leave for what he thought would be my death. Now, it
would be a shorter but much, much happier leave.

Mom promised to bring Charlie by just as soon as she could. Bill said
he would come back with them in the morning, but that after that, he'd
better be getting back to the Stennis -- obviously, he's quite sure
they can't run an aircraft carrier without him.

All in all, it was well past 2 a.m. when Mulder came back to my room,
exhausted and pale, tie off, shirt unbuttoned, and with eyes that
looked as though he'd either been crying or had been trying
desperately not to.

I didn't say anything. I just moved over a little on the bed and held
out my arms to him, and he lay down beside me.

We didn't talk anymore that night. I held him and kissed his forehead
and soothed him as best I could, and he slept quietly in my arms. 

The nurses came in a few times and seemed quite calm at the prospect
of finding him there -- I can only guess it wasn't the first time
they'd seen anything like that, and anyway, I was still supposed to be
terminal. I had special privileges.

I didn't sleep. I lay there in a pleasant haze, half narcotic-induced
and half Mulder-induced, running my hands gently through his hair,
hardly able to believe how close we'd come to losing each other, not
yet willing to believe that this stay of execution was real, yet calm
and perfectly at peace with my sweet, sweet lover -- the lover of my
heart and soul, if not my body -- sleeping quietly, perhaps at last
able to find some peace of his own, able to trust at last that love
had come and, this time, would not leave him again.

~~~~~

Trinity Hospital
As Charlie Saw It

~~~~~

This whole trip home was just way, way too much deja vu all over again
for me --or, I mean, I thought it was going to be.

I was on USS Tortuga in the Adriatic with the USS George Washington
carrier group when I got word from the CO that the Red Cross had
written requesting emergency leave -- my sister was terminally ill,
dying in a Washington hospital.

I knew Dana was sick. I'd known, intellectually, that she didn't have
long. I just never really believed it was going to happen ... you
know, not really. You never really believe it. With Dad and Missy, it
was such a huge, unexpected shock, there wasn't time to think about
it. With Dana, there was plenty of time to think -- it just never
really seemed possible. 

And then I got there, and they told me she was going to live, and
suddenly _that_ didn't seem possible either. I got all choked up,
right there at Andrews, and Mom put her arms around me and Bill almost
lost it, told me that was no way for a Naval officer to behave in
public. 

Just my luck -- Billy was catching a hop back to San Diego that
afternoon, and he was in uniform, and acting like King Shit of Turd
Mountain, which he does when he's upset. I just wish he didn't feel
compelled to do it around me. I offered him my apologies, but I didn't
really feel that his chewing me out was warranted or that an apology
was required. 

Hell, he even had Mom apologizing for her public display of affection,
and she was just greeting me and trying to make me feel better. He was
acting like it had suddenly become a crime to hug a sailor who just
returned from the sea.

I mean, I didn't exactly start bawling or anything, you know? I kept
it together. I learned how to do that a long time ago.

Hell, I know he's right about the PDAs, but Jesus ... finding out that
Dana was going to live... you can't imagine. It was a total reversal
of the Scully family luck, I thought. First Dad and then Melissa --
and Bill and Tara seemingly not being able to have children was part
of it, too, although he'd never admit it ... well, I mean, Mary and I
have two healthy kids, but the way things had been going, I kept
expecting something horrible to happen to them just any day, you know?

I'm babbling. I can hear it myself. But goddamn, I'm tired, and so
emotional ...

Mom and Bill hustled me into her car and whisked me off to the
hospital, and when we got there, Dana's partner, Fox Mulder, was
there, looking rumpled and unshaven, like he'd slept there -- which it
turned out he had. He made a few apologies, said hello to Mom, shook
my hand, kissed Dana on the cheek and then hurried out, saying he was
going to go home and change before work. 

Dana begged him to come back before he went to the office, saying he
hadn't finished telling her about some hearing or another, and he
agreed, but he didn't seem really eager to, and Billy kept glaring at
him.

In fact, Bill was furious with the guy, although I really couldn't
figure out why. Mom says Mulder's gay, and if that's the case, then
why Bill should care if he sleeps with Dana is beyond me. 

For that matter, it really wouldn't be any of his business if this guy
were straight, but I got beat up one too many times as a kid to feel
like voicing that opinion now, and if Billy was in one of his Captain
Bligh moods, I wasn't going to give him an excuse to give me another
dressing-down.

Anyway, I gave Dana a big hug, and told her she looked great, although
she really looked a hell of a lot worse than she did the last time I
saw her, but Mom had already briefed me on the situation. She said
Dana actually looked great compared to the way she'd looked a few days
ago, and that I should say something nice about her looks, so I did.
Anyway, she's pretty, I guess -- I mean, I know she is, but she's my
sister, and I'm not really into thinking about her that way, you know?

So there we were, sitting around, Mom and me and Dana all laughing
with relief and talking, Bill still kind of glowering in the corner --
Mr. Grudge Match, that's Bill Jr. -- when the door opened, and I
turned to look. 

I thought it was going to be Mulder, but it wasn't. I didn't really
form any immediate idea of who it was, though -- I just saw the white
uniform, and the shoulderboards, and the three stripes, and I was on
my feet calling "attention on deck!" before my brain could form the
word "commander" or wonder why the hell an officer of that rank was in
my sister's hospital room. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bill snap to, purely in response to
my call. Clearly, he hadn't seen the commander come in -- as the
senior officer present, it would have been his responsibility to call
me to attention if he had.

"As you were," the commander said, quietly, but Dana's head whirled
around toward the sound of his voice like it was a fire alarm, and
when she saw who it was, her eyes got as big as saucers.

"Oh, my God," she said, her voice all shaky. "Oh, my God, is it really
you?"

"Yes, honey, it's me," he said, very gently, laying his cover on the
tray table next to mine and Billy's. "I'm really here."

I have to admit, I took a sort of vicious pleasure in seeing Old
Billy's hat sitting next to one with a row of scrambled eggs on it. It
took some of the sting out of the chewing-out he'd given me to see
Billy suddenly relegated, by the presence of an officer of command
rank, back to the cheap seats with the rest of us junior officers.

Dana wasn't paying one bit of attention to that, though.

"Oh, God," she said, putting her hands to her face, and I could tell
she was about to do that bursting-into-tears thing that women do when
they're happy. It shocked the hell out of me, too. We weren't brought
up that way. Scullys don't cry in public.

Hell, we rarely cry in private. Dad wouldn't put up with it. 

I guess Dana was just tired.

The commander started to walk toward her, but Dana was too quick for
him. She sat up, with no help at all, and climbed out of the bed. She
tried to walk toward the commander, but her legs weren't up to it, and
she started to stumble after she'd taken about four steps.

I didn't think she'd get that far, really. I mean, I didn't think she
had the strength. She hadn't acted very strong since I'd been there --
she'd needed help from Mom just to roll over in the bed, and here she
was getting up without assistance.

I started to go help her, but I wasn't needed. The commander was right
there, and now that I looked more closely, I could see he was wearing
medical corps insignia on his shoulderboards. He looked familiar, too,
but I couldn't quite place him. 

Anyway, Dana didn't seem to want my help. She wasn't even looking at
me. She didn't even seem to know the rest of us were alive anymore. 

I decided the best thing to do for now was just to get out of their
way.

"Easy, sweetheart," the commander said, gently, reaching for her, and
she almost collapsed into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck
and kind of half laughing, half crying. She just kept saying, "Daniel,
Daniel," over and over.

I recognized him then. Daniel Reilly -- my Academy classmate Jim
Reilly's big brother, and a former shipmate of mine, too. I'd served
with him one summer on Arleigh Burke, a long time ago, while he was in
medical school and I was still a midshipman. He'd come a long way
since then -- and apparently, he was dating my sister. 

Strange no one had mentioned that.

"Come on, Dana," Commander Reilly said, steering her back toward the
bed. "You need to lie down. You're weak as a kitten."

"No, I'm much, much better, Daniel, really, " she said, but she got
back in bed anyway, I noticed, and she even let Commander Reilly tuck
her in. "I'm really better, Daniel. Dr. Zuckerman told me yesterday.
The tumor's shrinking. The PET scan confirmed it."

I wish I could describe the look on Commander Reilly's face: Shocked
doesn't do it justice, and neither does relieved. Elated comes closer.
It was all of those things.

One thing is for sure: It confirmed my earlier suspicion. This guy was
head over heels in love with my sister. He grabbed her hand the way
you'd grab hold of the lifelines in a typhoon.

"Dana, is he sure?" he said, like he was afraid to believe it. "Did he
really confirm it? I've never heard of nasopharyngeal CA going into
remission like that."

"Neither has he," Dana said, smiling and sniffling all at the same
time, clutching his hand in both of hers. "But it's true. I'm in
remission, Daniel. I'm going to live a while longer." 

"It's true, Daniel," Mom said, with this big smile on her face, but
she looked like she was about to cry, too.

The commander turned around when Mom spoke, then he let go of Dana's
hand and stood up. 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully," he said, and he walked over to Mom and gave
her a big hug. "I didn't even say hello to you when I came in. You
must think I'm terribly rude."

"Not at all, Daniel," Mom said, hugging him back. "I think you were
just concerned about Dana, which we all were. How are you, dear? It's
so good to see you. Are you home for good now?"

"No, ma'am, not for good," the commander said, letting Mom go. "Just
for a short leave. I thought it was going to be a very sad one. I just
can't believe this."

"Neither can we," Mom said, still smiling like she'd just met Robert
Redford or something. "Charles and Bill Jr. were both coming home for
.. well, we all thought it was going to be a terribly sad occasion,"
she said, gesturing toward us. "We're all still a bit in shock, I
think."

I think that was the first time Commander Reilly really noticed us. He
nodded toward Bill.

"Good morning, sir," Bill said, just a little stiffly, I thought.

"Commander," Commander Reilly said, shaking his hand. "Good to see you
again. How's Mrs. Scully?"

"She's fine, sir, thank you for asking," Bill said, still just a
little tightly. 

"That's good to hear," the commander said. "Please give her my
regards." Then he turned to me. "Lieutenant Scully," he said, smiling.
"I see you finally made it out of Annapolis. How have you been?"

"Just fine, sir," I said. "Thank you for remembering me."

"You never forget your first shipmates, lieutenant," Commander Reilly
said. "We had some fun back then, didn't we?"

"We sure did, sir," I said. "I'm still hoping to get back into
destroyers some day."

"Oh?" the commander said. "Where are you now?"

"USS Tortuga, sir," I said. "On leave for the moment, of course."

"That's right," he said, shaking his head. "Dana told me you were
aboard Tortuga. We've been sailing together and I didn't even remember
it, lieutenant. I'm senior medical officer on the GW. Just can't keep
old shipmates apart, can you?"

"No, sir," I said, grinning. "Not forever, anyway."

"I didn't know you two were in the same group," Mom said, looking from
the commander to me. "But then, I didn't know where Charlie's ship
was. I never really know where either of my sons are, most of the
time, anyway."

"That's because you're a good Navy mom and you don't ask, Mrs.
Scully," the commander said, putting his arm around her and giving her
a kiss on the forehead. "I wish we could clone you."

"Oh, Daniel," Mom said, blushing like a schoolgirl, but she hugged him
back, too. Dana, meanwhile, was sitting up in bed just beaming,
obviously just as pleased as she could be at how well her mother and
her boyfriend were getting along.

Bill, on the other hand, just looked pissed. He knew what I was
thinking --here was the commander indulging in the same kind of PDAs
Bill had clobbered me for, and there wasn't a damn thing Bill could do
about it.

Yeah, I was enjoying it. I couldn't help it. I love my brother. Don't
get me wrong. But he's an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, and it doesn't hurt
him to be taken down a peg once in a while, and there hasn't been
anyone in the family who could do that since our father died.

So if Dana was planning to bring a senior officer into the family,
that was fine with me. In fact, I was happy to do whatever I could to
help the process along.

"I hope you'll let me buy you a drink while we're in port, sir," I
said to the commander. "It'd be nice to catch up on the scuttlebutt
from the mothership."

"I'd like that very much, lieutenant," the commander said. "Provided
you bring your mother and your sister along -- and Commander Scully,
of course."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline, sir," Bill said, kind of gruffly. "I
have to return to my ship. I've been away all week."

Oh, yeah, Billy, the Navy can't get by without you. 

I knew where he was coming from. Bill's like a lot of guys -- he
automatically assumes anybody in medical is a little bit light in his
loafers, not really tough enough for combat types like him. He was
trying to rub it in now.

The commander didn't seem interested in taking the bait, though. He
just smiled.

"Ah," he said. "Well, duty calls, doesn't it? You're the weapons
officer, right?"

"Yes, sir," Bill said. "And you're an orthopedic surgeon, sir?"

"I am, commander, but I started out as a flight surgeon," the
commander said. "I always enjoyed it, but the Navy had other ideas.
Too many broken legs in the fleet, I guess."

"And a few in Saudi Arabia, if I remember correctly," Dana said,
quietly, but I could tell she was a little annoyed and was speaking up
for her boyfriend. "You did notice the ribbons, didn't you, Bill?"

"Of course I did, Dana," Bill said, like he was talking to a child. "I
can see that the commander was in Desert Storm."

"From what I hear, Daniel, there's going to be another ribbon there
fairly soon," Mom said, putting her hand on Billy's arm. "One of my
husband's old friends tells me you're going to be awarded the Navy and
Marine Corps Medal."

"The Navy and Marine Corps Medal?" Dana said, and her eyes brightened
up. "Daniel, that's marvelous! For what?"

"For heroism, of course," Bill said. "What the hell do you think it's
for?"

Well, that was rude. I guess he was still smarting about her earlier
remark, as though she thought he didn't recognize the Kuwait
Liberation Medal or the Southwest Asia service ribbon.

"It's nothing, really," the commander said, but he wasn't looking at
her. In fact, he was more or less looking at the ground ... 

That's when I began to put it together. The F-14 crash ... and the
senior medical officer.

"The Navy and Marine Corps Medal is not nothing, Daniel," Dana was
saying. "What on earth happened?"

"We can talk about that later," Commander Reilly said, and sure
enough, he wasn't quite smiling. He was trying to, but he wasn't
making it.

I knew for sure then.

No wonder he didn't want to talk about it.

"Dana," I said, real quietly, and she looked at me. She caught what
was on my mind, too. Maybe not exactly, but she knew something was
wrong. We always did communicate better than the others did.

"What, Charlie?" she said, real seriously.

"I think you and Commander Reilly could talk about it later," I said.
"Maybe after the rest of us leave. What do you think?"

She looked at me a long, long time then, and then over at the
commander, who was kind of looking out the window, like he really
wasn't paying attention.

"That's probably a good idea, Charlie," she said, softly. "Thank you."

I started to say something else then, to try to steer the conversation
away from the shoals, but I didn't get the chance. The door opened
again; before it was all the way open, I heard a voice call out, "Hey,
Scully, I saw your mom's car downstairs. Is she still here?"

Now, I've been stupid in my life, but I've never been stupid enough
not to be able to figure out the meaning of everything that happened
in the next five seconds.

The commander spun around at about 90 miles per hour, looking ... I
don't know, simultaneously radiant, overjoyed and scared to death.

Dana gasped, and put her hands up to her face.

Mom's mouth dropped into a big O.

And Mulder just stopped, dead in his tracks, staring at Commander
Reilly.

"Daniel," he said, kind of weakly.

And my big brother Bill glared first at Mulder and then at Commander
Reilly, his fists clenched at his sides, his face a perfect picture of
comprehension, disgust and rage ... 

And utter hatred.




END "The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(12/?) by Susan Jameson
(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)