Corrigenda (3/15)
by charvill

Email: charityharvill@yahoo.com 
Category: MSR, A, Post-IWTB

Summary:  Dana Scully was treating more patients than just
Christian during the winter of 2008.  This is the story about the
father of one of those patients who is awed by the miracles our
favorite former-forensics-dabbling-FBI-agent-turned-pediatric-
surgeon performs.  Drama ensues, of course :-)

Author's Note: Corrigenda is a Latin phrase meaning
"things to be corrected"
Archiving: Please ask permission. 


April 10, 2008

1:47pm 

A few minutes after the tense emotional scene, Tony came
back with lunch. Scully was still unwilling to eat, however, not
believing he wasn't actually going to drug her. She merely
looked at the delectable tray of enticing choices and let her
stomach grumble. Sure the spinach salad, grilled chicken, wheat
roll, and ice cold lemonade looked wonderful -- the sounds
Tony made in appreciation of the same meal he brought for
himself not helping -- but she didn't want to show any sign of
trust towards him. 

When he was sufficiently sure that she would not eat, he took
the tray and left to pick Jeffrey up from school. Confident that
he wouldn't be watching her via video, she began to move
about her room.  

On the wall opposite the door was an oversized black
wardrobe and matching dresser with all her things placed neatly
inside. Scully figured he must have done that while she was
unconscious the night before. On top of the dresser was a
simple, but elegant jewelry box with two glass doors with three
drawers standing between them. She touched her bare
collarbone and threw up a silent prayer that Mulder would see
the necklace lying out of place on his nightstand. It was the only
sign she could leave him without drawing attention to herself.
She just hoped it would be enough. 

She continued searching, looking for things she might be able to
use as a weapon. There were no sharp objects that she found
and the only item that contained glass was the jewelry box. The
nightlight bulb she considered using was too small to be worth
the effort it would take to use it -- especially when she
considered the size of her opponent.  

The bathroom was absolutely exquisite. There was an
oversized tub with built-in jets and a separate shower that
stood without a surrounding door or curtain in a giant,
black-and-white, tiled corner, also equipped with at least
twelve jets placed in areas designed to reach the entire body.
The only thing missing was a mirror, but she guessed as to what
the motive behind that might have been when she was on her
search for weaponry. He had provided all the toiletries she
might have needed -- all of them in light, plastic containers --
and included an electric razor in place of a more advantageous
disposable one. 

It was just after seven-thirty that evening when he reentered the
room, her cell phone in hand. 

"What's going on?" 

"I need you to do something, Dana. And it's very...*important*
that you not mess this up." He looked directly at her when he
said this, making it completely clear what might happen if she
were to disobey. Yet, as intimidating as he tried to be, looming
over where she sat in the red, overstuffed chaise she couldn't
bring herself to feel fear him. 

*How odd,* she thought. "What is it?" She motioned towards
his hand. "What's that for?" 

"You need to make a call to the hospital." 

Scully's eyes widened as understanding dawned. She supposed
she should have seen it coming, but had held on to the tiny
chance that Tony might not think to have her contact her
employer. Then, if Mulder was suspicious -- she prayed with
every fiber of her being that his paranoia and ego wouldn't give
up on her -- and called to catch her on the job, they would be
able to tell him that she hadn't shown up or called in. The dread
was slowly taking over her body and, combined with not having
eaten in over twenty-four hours, she begin to feel faint. 

Tony watched as her skin paled in response to his answer and,
less than five seconds later, her eyes rolled back in her head.
"Dana! Oh my God..." 

He ran into the bathroom and yanked the cabinet open to grab
a washrag. He doused it in cold water and ran back to where
she was still passed out in the chair. Laying the rag across her
forehead, he checked her wrist for a pulse and breathed a sigh
of relief when he found it beating strongly beneath the pads of
his fingers. Tony shook her shoulders gently. "Dana. Dana,
wake up. Dana. Can you hear me?" 

Her eyelids fluttered and he could feel her warm breath as she
released a deep breath through her pink mottled lips.  

"Are you okay?" 

She flinched at his voice and, so grieved by her reaction and
not wanting to inflict more mental anguish upon the tiny woman,
he pulled his hand from her shoulder. He got to his feet and
gave Dana a few seconds to compose herself.  

"What happe--" Her voice died when her gaze fell upon the
phone dangling from the ends of his fingers.  

"I'm sorry." The daggers she unleashed with just one look sent
him staggering another step backwards. The time he had spent
with Dana at the hospital had not adequately prepared Tony for
this side of her. Ironically, it served to enchant him further,
reminding him of how crucial this next step would be. "When
you call, you have to explain that there has been a critical family
emergency. One that will require an indefinite leave of
absence." 

He could see her struggling for a way out: something that would
prevent her from having to complete the task at hand. "I-I don't
have that kind of authority." 

"You don't have a choice, Dana." 

She raised one eyebrow in defiance. "And if I refuse?" 

"He returns home tomorrow."  

Scully bit her lip to hide its quiver and held her hand out.  

"What's the number?" he asked, knowing what would happen if
she were to dial.

****

April 11, 2008

7:48am 

Tony arrived at the same time he had the day before with a
similar tray of breakfast items. It had been over thirty-six hours
since Dana had last eaten -- lunch in the hospital cafeteria, he
had observed from his inconspicuous hiding place in the lobby
-- and he was starting to panic. Her black out the night before
had alarmed him tremendously. And the revulsion he saw in her
eyes when he had threatened Fox Mulder's life erased the idea
of using that stratagem again. 

After the successfully completed phone call, Tony came back
with dinner that Dana refused. For nearly an hour he had sat
with her in silence, eating his meal while she watched in hopes
that it would persuade her to at least take a few bites. He didn't
want to think about how much of a setback it would be to the
little trust he wanted to believe he'd gained since her arrival if he
were to force her to eat at gunpoint. 

So, when Tony had not seen Dana wake -- while viewing her
room through the monitor he had set up in the basement -- he
was all the more distressed. After flipping on the lights and
setting her tray at the foot of her bed, he allowed himself to
touch the gold and red strands the fell over her shoulder. He
prepared himself for the usual response, for Dana to recoil or a
violent attempt to get away from him. But when she sighed in
content, one tiny hand moving to join his upon her body, his
hand gripped the denim on his knee to keep himself under
control. 

"Morn' Mul-ler," she slurred with a smile, eyes still closed in her
exhausted state. 

Though her words pricked his very soul, her peace was enough
to soothe him. "Dana," he whispered. "I brought you some
more food." 

It took her a few seconds, but Dana finally managed to regain
enough awareness to realize where she was. The fantasy in her
mind, breakfast in bed with the man she loved, filled her with
despondency when she understood how off the mark it had
been. The smell of bacon and eggs assaulted her, but her
weakened state made it that much easier to refuse. What was
the point of sustenance if the ultimate goal was unattainable?  

*Two days gone and the once-resilient Agent Scully has given
up on life,* she laughed to herself. *How utterly pathetic.* 

"Don't do this, Scully!" His voice broke through her reverie and
she immediately pushed herself up to a sitting position. The
room seemed to spin around her in swirls of white and red. She
looked with wild eyes at the man sitting inches away from her,
panic clear on his face.  

"Dana? You...you're not well. You really need to eat,
something. Look, I swear to you, I haven't drugged anything."
He took a bite from her plate to further illustrate his point.  

She shook her head and groaned, immediately regretting the
previous action. 

"Scully, please...eat something. Keep yourself alive..." 

Her breath caught as the voice faded. "W-what did you say?"  

Tony studied her slightly hysterical countenance before
answering. "I said that you need to eat."  

But he was not the one her heart ached for; the one who had
vocalized the words so clearly in her mind. "I-I can't...not going
to let you hurt me." Her hand flew to her mouth when she
realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. 

Tony brought both hands up to hold her face between them. He
had hoped this might spark something within her, resuscitate the
fighter he had come to understand the last few days. But she
didn't, and his close proximity filled him with a new longing. "I
would never hurt you," he breathed. 

Scully inhaled through her nose. Tony's breath was warm; a hint
of mint slightly overpowered by the scent of bacon he had just
consumed. *What was he saying?* Everything was starting to
blur together, her brain becoming increasingly muddled with
each passing second. Her heart began to beat faster as her
mind caught up to the present predicament she was in. His
eyes, ocean blue and impossibly bright, were locked upon hers.
She barely noticed when his tongue darted out to wet his full,
lower lip. 

His voice was barely a whisper. "Do you trust me?" 


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

END Part 3