Corrigenda (7/15)
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. 


Saturday - April 12, 2008

Residence of Fox Mulder & Dana Scully                
Just Outside Richmond, VA

9:57am

Mulder awoke to vivid bright light streaming through the
window -- but at a very strange angle. He was on his bed, but
now it wasn't in its frame. And then he remembered: searching
the room, casting the mattress to the floor, finding Scully's
cross. 

"Shit!" he cursed, realizing he must have dozed off while
processing this new information.  

It had been a long three days and, with the jet-lag and the
loneliness of a bed without Scully, insomnia had been a bitch.
And he couldn't imagine how much of a nightmare the last three
days had been for her...though, whether it was three days or
simply 18 hours, he had no idea. He fingered the cross around
his neck and pushed off the mattress like a man possessed --
there was no more time to waste.  


2:21pm 

Skinner pulled up to the house for the second time in
twenty-four hours. He had been absolutely beside himself with
shock as he drove home in the wee hours of the morning, not
fully comprehending just what the hell he had left behind.     

Mulder had told him the gate would be open for him, and
Skinner pulled up their drive to find the man standing on the
porch when his headlights descended upon the house. In the
brightness, Mulder's skin had been washed out and ghostly pale
-- except for two dark circles around eyes that were an angry
scarlet -- against the edges of his dark sweatshirt. There was a
piece of worn-looking paper clutched in his hand, but when
Skinner asked about it Mulder had just ushered him inside
without a word. 

He had shown Skinner their bedroom -- outside of showing up,
so many years ago, at Mulder's apartment in the early morning,
greeted at the door by Scully who was wearing her partner's
shirt and looking like she had just gotten out of bed, Skinner
couldn't think of a less uncomfortable moment in his life. Mulder
had moved with frantic steps, showing Skinner the closet and
bathroom, completely empty of any clothing or items that would
indicate a woman was living there.  

"Mulder," he had begun, the sick feeling in his stomach having
grown larger with every glance around the room. 

But Mulder had continued on as though he hadn't heard. "We'll
need a search team--I don't know how long she's been gone.
We need to call her work. Check for fing--" 

"Mulder, STOP!" 

The man's eyes had been wild, nostrils flared as he turned on
his burly friend.  

"There's something you're not telling me," he had said in voice
that was decidedly less harsh. It had been painful to even look
upon Mulder when he knew the desperate hope to which the
man had been clinging. 

Mulder had shifted his weight from his left to his right, still
unwilling to share. 

"I need to know what you know." 

His hazel eyes had darted to Skinner's shoes, then his own
hand -- still holding the sheet of paper, before returning to
Skinner's. "They, uh..." He had to clear his throat. "Whoever
took her...they forced her to write this." 

Skinner's eyebrow had risen upon the word "force" and he held
his hand out for what he now assumed was a letter from Scully
to Mulder. No wonder he had been reluctant to give it up. 

As he studied her script, he couldn't imagine the utter agony
that had ripped through Mulder's heart upon reading it. Hell, it
was hard enough for him to do so. Skinner knew all the pair
had been through over the last fifteen years...to be tossed aside
for another man in a fucking note? He couldn't picture the Dana
he knew doing something like this. It had only been weeks
since he himself had driven her, nearly outside of her mind with
worry, to save Mulder from being decapitated. 

No, this couldn't be true. Unless...unless that worry had
stemmed from her own guilt. Skinner still didn't believe she
would have been so gutless to avoid breaking the news to
Mulder in person.  

No. Not after William.  

He had glanced up at the man across from him, waiting with
baited breath for Skinner to tell him that he was right: that it had
to have been a kidnapping. But Skinner had simply been unable
to string Mulder's hopes along that way. If harm had really
fallen upon Scully, there would be other ways to take action:
ones that Skinner would see to as soon as he got back to his
office -- without having to shred an already fragile Mulder into
pieces in the process.    

But that was before Mulder had come up with the necklace.
Scully's cross. Now they had something substantial to go on.
And so, here he was, stepping into their home again; but now
he brought reinforcements in the way of a search team. The first
step was to try and lift fingerprints. 

"Got in touch with the administrator who spoke to Scully,"
Mulder said, all standard greetings thrown out the window: he
was in full, Special-Agent-mode now, and Skinner was hugely
comforted by that familiar presence. "She called on Thursday
afternoon, said she needed to put in for a leave of absence.
Family emergency." 

"How long?" Skinner asked. Mulder's expression grew even
more serious. 

"Indefinite." 

"I'll have one of my men contact the hospital's phone service,
see if we can pin down the location of her call." Mulder
nodded. "In the meantime, I need you to direct Agents Parreli
and Lauo to the best place to begin dusting this place down." 

"What about--" 

"Before you get too excited Mulder, just know that I can only
do so much. I am pulling all the strings I can, but I am facing a
couple of road blocks who are having a hard time qualifying this
as 'Missing Persons'."  

"How's that?" Mulder all but growled. 

Skinner cleared his throat and gave him a knowing glance. "The
only possessions taken were hers. There are absolutely no signs
of struggle--" 

"The cross *is* a sign of struggle. You know that. That's why
you came back. Scully and I set up this system years ago.
You're one of the few people still left who know about it. And
there have to be more signs! We haven't looked hard enough,"
he interrupted, taking a step towards his former boss. "Maybe
she wasn't abducted here--" 

"But her car, her things, Mulder. What are you suggesting?" 

"I don't know," he admitted and paced back and forth in front
of the entrance to his office. "I think we need to start with the
hospital. Maybe someone grabbed her in the parking lot. We
can check the video, right? Surely we'll see something..." 

Skinner shook his head. "That's--you're talking about searching
three days worth of footage from God only knows how many
cameras. I warned you that I don't have much manpower,
Mulder. And we don't even know for sure that she *was*
taken from the hospital. She could have been anywhere!" 

Mulder's mouth was open and Skinner waited for his verbal
assault. But nothing came.  

"Mulder?" Skinner said when the silence from the broken man
became too much for him to take. 

"Hopefully something will turn up from the fingerprints then," he
replied and turned to find the Agents he saw pulling out their
equipment from the corner of his eye.  

Skinner grabbed his elbow before he could take a step.
Something else had been bothering him, too. He just hadn't
wanted to be the one to voice it. He motioned for Mulder to
follow him out to the front porch. 

Mulder's patience was nonexistent -- every second that passed
was one that could mean the difference between Scully living or
dying. "What's wrong?" 

"I just...Mulder do you think her disappearance could be tied to
the X-Files?" 

A bitter laugh escaped the taller man's lips. 

"I don't really see the joke." 

"Sorry, it's, uh...No. If I thought *that* then I wouldn't have let
the enemies through the door." 

Skinner glanced through to the entryway, affirming as much
with a small, embarrassed smile. "Let's get to work then."  


Anderton Residence
Richmond, VA

6:18pm 

True to form, three knocks came from the door, signaling
Tony's presence before he unlocked and entered Scully's
quarters. She stood opposite the door on the far wall. When
the situation originally presented itself at breakfast, she had
briefly considered hiding in the restroom or closet until he was
gone, but quickly dismissed that as cowardice. The idea also
registered of sitting in the chair -- not the bed, never the bed --
while she pretended to be engrossed in one of the novels he
had provided, ignoring him completely. However, she didn't
like the idea of being in such a vulnerable state, as a seated
position would offer her little in the way of bodily protection
should the need present itself.  

And, so far, it had not. 

That morning, Tony had walked Scully back to "her" room and
then left, only stepping across its threshold to close and lock the
door. Two hours later, a note had been shoved through the
miniscule air between the wood of the door and the floor.
Nearly forty-five minutes passed before she could bring herself
to fetch it, opening the letter warily, as though the paper itself
could do harm. It had been typed, the only handwriting coming
in the form of his scrawled signature at the bottom.


Dana-            

I'm writing you this because I am more than certain that, after
this morning's events, you would probably eat a bullet if it
meant you never had to see or talk to me again. And I don't
blame you. It even crossed my mind to take you back to your
house so that you wouldn't feel the mental anguish your stay
here (in a house with someone you think wants to rape
you...God, just typing that word makes me want to die) has
caused. But I can't go to jail for kidnapping. I won't let Jeffrey
lose both his parents. The whole purpose of bringing you here,
into our lives, was in hopes that he could grow up with two
parents who loved him.  

But I'm rambling now. The point of this is to let you know how
it's going to be from now on, or until you tell me differently. I
will knock on your door three times to give you time to gather
yourself before letting myself in with your meal. Expect me at
some point during the following times: 

BREAKFAST: 7:30-7:45

Scully had glanced at the clock then, realizing he would be
there any minute and moved as far from the door as she could
manage without making it look like it was on purpose. She
would not allow herself to show fear.
 
LUNCH: 12:15-12:30

DINNER: 6:15-6:30 

I will place the tray of food on your bed and then leave
immediately after. You can place the tray near the door when
you finish and I will take it when I come back for the next meal.
I will bring enough food and drink that you can save up some
for snacks or whatever. I will never make you ask. I don't see
you as being very comfortable with that -- hope you don't take
that as arrogance on my part, I just remember when you tried
to starve yourself. You seem like a proud person. On that note,
I will also occasionally bring you things to help with the
boredom I know you must be experiencing. If you don't want
them, don't use them.  

If you need to do laundry, you can fill the hamper in your closet
and leave it by the door. Or, if you would rather do it yourself,
I will walk you to the laundry room -- but I have to warn you
that I will be there while you complete it. If you ever need more
of anything -- toilet paper, toothpaste, etc. -- just place the item
to be disposed of by the door and I will return with its
replacement the next time I see you. 

Finally, I just want to remind you that I do NOT want to keep
you in that room forever. People aren't meant to be caged. You
must be feeling more like a prisoner than ever before. But I
don't WANT you in there, Dana. You can come out as soon as
you realize that what you have here is a home. You can see
Jeffrey and even go out in public *by yourself.* 

But not until I know the threat against myself and Jeffrey are
gone. When you can love us as much as we love you. 


And then there were three raps on her door.


*************
END Part 7