"The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(13/?) by Susan Jameson
(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)
See part 1 for headers, archive info, etc.




~~~~~

Trinity Hospital
As Maggie Saw It

~~~~~

It's true, you know -- when catastrophe strikes in real life, you
can't quite make it seem real.

Perhaps that's because we're all so used to seeing catastrophes in
the movies or on television.

I remember feeling that way when my husband died. The doctor came
out to the waiting area to tell me, and I listened to him, and the
hospital chaplain tried to comfort me, but none of it seemed real.
All along I kept feeling as though something else was supposed to
happen ... another camera angle, maybe, or an instant replay. It was
much the same when Melissa passed away.

This was less tragic, but quite as catastrophic in its own way for
Daniel's life, and I could have used some cinematic unreality just
then. It might have insulated me from the fear I felt, and the shame
of knowing that my eldest son, the beautiful boy who had made me so
proud so many times in my life, was in all likelihood about to
destroy the life and career of one of the finest young men I had ever
known.

Worst of all, I suppose, was seeing that blind hatred spread over
Bill's face like a thick blanket, covering him so thoroughly that I
knew, with an unshakeable certainty, that not even I would be able to
reach him, to deter him from the destructive course he was certain to
take.

Maybe an instant replay would have helped. With an instant replay, I
could have turned Bill's eyes from the surface facts that blinded him
to the smaller, more human facts that really mattered.

How could Bill not see the joy in Daniel's eyes when Fox walked in,
or how he turned away and tried -- too late -- to hide his feelings?
Did he not hear the soft intake of Daniel's breath as he almost
spoke, or hear how it caught in his throat as he stopped himself? Did
he not see the eagerness with which Daniel started to move toward his
lover, only to pull himself back in nearly the same instant,
remembering where they were and who was there?

Maybe he if he looked into Fox's lovely, tired green-gold eyes and
saw how they lit up when he saw Daniel for the first time in so long
.. maybe if he really listened, and heard the helplessness in Fox's
voice when he said Daniel's name ... or saw the hurt on Fox's face
when Daniel was forced to turn away from him ... maybe, just maybe,
those things could touch his heart, let him comprehend the bitterness
and the love behind Fox's understanding acceptance, or the deep
longing in his brief, stolen, backward glance.

Even now, I watched Daniel as he tried to steal his own glances at
Fox ... I saw the tenderness in his eyes, and the love ... and I
remembered how it was when Bill Sr. came home; all I wanted was to
run to him and hold him and kiss him with everything that was in me,
to take him home and ...

Well, I'm sure you know. And I was fairly sure I knew what two
healthy young men might want after six months apart, too.

No. Bill would never see nor want to see any of that. He saw nothing
more than a gay man who walked into a room and a Navy officer who
reacted to him exactly as a lover would.

What he saw was a cancer even more loathsome to him than the one
that had so nearly taken Dana from us, and he was not at all
ambivalent about that cancer. He would rid the Navy of it.

His anger, for now, came solely from that. The rest would doubtless
dawn upon him in a few moments: We knew about Daniel, Dana and I, and
we hadn't told him. Worst of all, in Bill's eyes, we had covered for
him.

So I waited. I stood there silently, listening to the car horns
honking on the street, television sets making annoying game-show
sounds down the hall, snatches of conversations from the next room,
the hiss of the air conditioning system... just stood there, waiting
for the next event in this horrible travesty to unfold.

But my heart was breaking, because I had no doubt at all what Bill
meant to do, and I was so deeply ashamed to know that my son would do
such a thing and call it right and good.

How could it be right? I could almost feel the way Fox and Daniel
were looking at each other, as if it took every last bit of strength
they had not to run to each other's arms. It was painful to watch,
knowing as I did how they must feel, knowing the unfairness of it
all, and feeling how useless it was. 

What was the point in trying to protect Daniel now? His career was
over. Bill's word alone would not have been enough, but Dana had told
me about Josh Larrimore's campaign against Daniel. Daniel had
weathered that, with Mr. Skinner's help, but this, coming on top of
Josh's letters and accusations, he could not survive.

This would be the last strike against him.

Bill, of course, did not disappoint me. I could feel the moment he
put the pieces together. His head jerked up, and he looked first at
me, and then at Dana, with a wild sort of anger in his eyes.

"Jesus H. Christ," he said. "Jesus H. Christ on a jumped-up pogo
stick! My own mother ..."

"What are you talking about, Billy?" Charles said, but Bill ignored
him.

"I can't fucking _believe_ this!" Bill said, his voice rising. "You
knew ... Mom... Dana ... both of you ... you knew about this fucking
faggot ... and Dana... Jesus, what you did ... that day at your
apartment ... fuck!"

And with that, he grabbed his hat off the tray table and stormed
toward the door, leaving me, Fox, Charles and Dana behind, waiting
there numbly. All we could do, it seemed, was wait for him to start
in motion the disaster that would destroy Daniel's career, and
possibly Fox's and Walter Skinner's along with it.

There just didn't seem to be anything we could do to prevent it.
Bill Jr. held all the cards at that moment, and none of us had the
power to stop him.

But we had reckoned without Daniel.

Just as Bill got his hand on the door handle, Daniel spun around,
hands on hips, and snapped out loudly, "Mr. Scully!" 

Bill stopped moving as fast as though he'd been shot. He just stood
there, hand on the door, still as a statue, shocked into
motionlessness.

I was, too. I was speechless. We all were. This was our quiet,
modest Daniel?

I have never, and I do mean never, heard Daniel raise his voice like
that. I wouldn't have thought it possible. Daniel is so sweet-
tempered most of the time, so polite and so gentle ...

But then I realized that I had forgotten something very important:
This wasn't just a private matter. Bill was in uniform. His behavior
reflected poorly not only on him, but on the Navy itself.

I'd known Daniel for years. But this young man standing before me,
proud, tall and stern, wasn't the Daniel I'd known. This was
Commander Daniel Anthony Reilly, United States Navy, and he simply
wasn't going to let Bill or any other sailor get away with that kind
of behavior in his presence. I could see it in his eyes and in the
set of his jaw.

Daniel waited a second, and then took a step toward Bill. 

"Snap to, mister," he said, in a voice that, although quieter,
sounded even more ominous.

What happened next would probably have seemed funny if I hadn't been
nearly paralyzed with fear. Bill came to attention, did an about face
and stood there, facing Daniel, with a face all but drained of
expression ....

All but the eyes. He was still furious, and still full of hate, and
it nearly broke my heart to see it. How did he get that way? Where
did he learn it? Not from me, and I don't think it was from his
father. We never taught our children to hate anyone.

Well, he hated Daniel now. But thank God, he was obeying Daniel's
orders.

Daniel took two more steps forward, ending up less than six inches
from Bill's nose.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mr. Scully?" Daniel said,
in that same quiet voice, leaning in even closer.

"I was leaving, sir," Bill said, staring straight ahead.

"You were leaving," Daniel repeated, as if he couldn't believe it.
"Just like that? You just decided to use a despicable slur, curse
your sister and your mother and then just walk out of here? Do I
understand you correctly, Mr. Scully?"

"I apologize for my language, sir," Bill said, coldly. "But as I
said earlier, I have to return to the Stennis."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Daniel said, softly.

"Yes, sir," Bill said, and his tone was just this side of sarcastic.
"I have a job to do, sir. I'm needed aboard."

"Well, Mr. Scully, I think they're going to have to do without you
for a few more minutes, because there are a few things you and I need
to get straight," Daniel said, his eyes narrowing. "Your apology is
utterly insufficient, Mr. Scully. In fact, I'm not sure there is an
apology that would suffice for an insult such as that. There is
absolutely no excuse for officer of your rank using the kind of
language you just used toward any lady, let alone his own sister, and
certainly not his mother. I am shocked, Mr. Scully, and utterly
appalled. Your conduct is reprehensible, shameful, totally unbecoming
an officer in the United States Navy and sets an example of the worst
kind for the junior officer present."

Bill didn't move. I'm not even sure he was breathing. And he was
honestly beginning to look a little cowed.

Daniel didn't even seem to notice. He just leaned in even closer, so
close his nose was almost touching Bill's.

"Furthermore, Mr. Scully," he said -- almost spat it out, really --
"I'm not sure what provocation you think you're under, and quite
frankly, I could not possibly care less because no provocation could
justify your actions. For your family's sake, I will not speculate as
to whom you intended to vilify with your detestable vulgarism, but I
want to assure you of one thing: You will never, ever, under any
circumstances turn your back on me and walk away again without asking
and receiving my leave to go, or so help me God, I'll see to it you
spend the rest of your career supervising weapons ops on a little red
plastic boat in a kiddie swimming pool in North Platte, Nebraska. Do I
make myself crystal clear, mister?"

"You do, sir," Bill said, between gritted teeth.

"Try that again, Mr. Scully, and be a bit more polite about it,"
Daniel said, firmly.

"You do, sir," Bill repeated, more clearly, but I could see the
muscles in his hands tense.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Daniel asked.

"None, sir," Bill said.

"Are you sure?" Daniel said, tilting his head to one side. "I don't
want any misunderstandings between us, commander."

"There are no misunderstandings, sir," Bill said, and this time he
spoke much more clearly.

"Sound _off_, Mr. Scully, I'm having trouble hearing you," Daniel
said, calmly.

"Yes, sir!" Bill said, loudly.

"That's better," Daniel said, stepping back for the first time. "As
you were. Now go and offer your apologies to the ladies."

I have never been so proud of a young man as I was of Daniel then. I
was proud of the determination in his eyes, the firmness of his
manner, his tall, straight military bearing -- but most of all, of
his lovely, quiet courage in facing Bill down and doing his duty as
he saw it in spite of what it was about to cost him.

For one guilty second, I found myself wondering what it would be
like if Daniel were my son ... but I pushed that thought aside. I
love Bill dearly, even if at that moment, I was terribly, terribly
ashamed of him. Even as he offered a stiff apology to Dana and me,
which we quickly accepted, I could see the anger still lurking in his
eyes.

"May I go now?" Bill said, looking over his shoulder at Daniel.

Daniel turned slowly and looked at Bill.

"I'm sorry?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't quite catch
that, commander."

Bill closed his eyes and took a quick breath, obviously trying to
quell his temper. Then he opened them again and looked at Daniel.
"Sir," he said, with perfect politeness, "may I have your leave to
go?"

Daniel looked Bill in the eye, and for a long, long moment, he
didn't say anything. He just stood there, calmly regarding Bill,
until I could tell Billy was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

Finally, Daniel spoke. 

"You're dismissed," he said, and turned away.

Billy came to attention. "Aye, aye, sir," he said, then he turned on
his heel and walked out of the room. I started to go after him, but
Charles stopped me.

"Let me, Mom," he said. "Billy's pretty angry at you right now. It
might be better for me to talk to him." Then he looked up at Daniel.
"By your leave, commander?" he said, without a trace of Bill's
sarcasm.

Daniel nodded, with a trace of a real smile. "Carry on, lieutenant,"
he said, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry I ruined your homecoming."

"Sir," Charles said, fervently, "I'm just grateful that I wasn't the
one on the receiving end." Then he picked up his cover and hurried
out of the room, leaving Daniel shaking his head with laughter.

Then I heard another laugh, a deep, shaky laugh, and looked over to
the corner where Fox stood, running one hand through his hair in
perplexity.

"Jesus, Daniel," he said, still laughing. "I've never heard anything
like that out of you before. When the hell did you start keelhauling
sailors before breakfast?"

Daniel shook his head, but he smiled. "A long time ago, G-man," he
said. "Just because you haven't heard it doesn't mean I haven't done
it before. I mean, I've been in the Navy for 17 years, for God's
sake."

"And it didn't scare you to do that?" Fox said. "I mean ..."

"No, Fox, I'm made of stone," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. "What the
hell do you think? Of course it scared me. He's twice as angry now as
he was before. He's probably on the phone to COMNAVAIRLANT right now,
telling them one of their doctors is in an openly homosexual
relationship."

"Then why did you do it, Daniel?" Fox said, more quietly. "If you
hadn't chewed him out like that, he might have cooled off and let you
alone."

"Because I'm a Navy officer and it's my job," Daniel said, simply.
"Haven't you ever done your job when you were scared?"

Fox didn't say anything; but then, I don't suppose he had to.

And then they just sort of stood there, looking at each other.

I just stood there beaming at them like a beatific moron, and would
have gone on doing so had Dana not interrupted me. I suppose I was
still rather shaken by the whole matter. 

"Mom," she said, softly, "would you go stand by the door for a
minute, please?"

"Hmm?" I said, still adrift in my pleasant puzzlement. "The door?"

"Yes, Mom, the door," Dana said, gently, inclining her head toward
Daniel and Fox. "Could you, please?"

I looked at them. Their eyes were locked on each other so tightly it
was as though there were a steel beam connecting them and they
couldn't tear themselves away without mortal injury. The longing in
those eyes was so evident it was painful.

They were still waiting -- hoping -- for a few moments, even a single
moment of privacy so they could touch each other for the first time in
six months.

And Dana was asking me to see that they had it.

"Yes, of course," I said. "I'd be happy to." And I walked the four
or five steps to the door, and leaned against it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully," Daniel said, softly, not taking his eyes
off Fox.

"Thank me later," I said, turning my head away ... 

So I didn't actually see their reunion kiss. I heard Daniel say,
very quietly, "Come here, lover," and I heard Fox's soft whisper,
"Daniel ..." but there was nothing after that except those soft,
sweet little sounds ... well, you know what they sound like.

I only peeked once. I looked up just for a second, and I saw Daniel
and Fox standing in the far corner of the room, taking as much
advantage as they could of the pitifully little privacy offered by
the bed curtain. Daniel had his hands on either side of Fox's face,
and he was placing gentle little kisses everywhere ... on his
forehead, his nose, his cheeks ...

I didn't have to turn my head after that. My tears were blinding me.




END "The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(13/?) by Susan Jameson
(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)