Corrigenda (11/15)
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. 


Wednesday, April 16, 2008

4:32pm

Scully was halfway up the steps to the house Tony had just
informed her had been built by his late wife's father, admiring its
beauty despite the disgust she felt at the circumstances in which
she was being introduced, when a horrible screeching of rubber
on asphalt sounded in her ears: The sound that was usually
followed by a loud crash as two automobiles plowed into one
another.  

Tony's unyielding grip on her hand caused her to spin with him
as they faced the offensive noise's origin, bringing into view the
most awe-inspiring and glorious sight she had ever witnessed.  

"Mulder!" she gasped at the same time Tony growled,
"Motherfucker." 

Instinct, combined with longing, had Scully desperately
wrenching her hand from Tony's; a move that proved futile and
extremely stupid. Tony tightened his hold exponentially and
pulled her to him so roughly that she nearly face-planted into his
chest. He let go of her hand only to grab her by the shoulders
so rigidly it would leave finger-shaped bruises on her upper
arms for the next week. 

"Dana, if you don't do exactly as I say, then your 'Mulder' will
not live to see another day. Do not forget just how strongly I
feel about keeping you away from him. And that I know where
he sleeps at night." The sound of the spoken subject's engine
racing served to emphasize this point. "You have a home
here...but so do I."  He grabbed her chin and forced her to see
the intensity that burned behind his eyes. "And I am not above
ending one man's life to preserve my family." 

Scully's mind whirled, a million different tactics running through
her head. *There has to be a way out of this. A way that will
keep Mulder safe while making him see that I am in danger. If I
get the chance to slip away from Tony now while he is unarmed
then I could escape with Mulder without * 

It was at that moment, as the white sedan fishtailed into the
driveway that would lead Mulder to the front property gate,
that Tony pulled a switchblade from his pocket and held the icy
blade against the skin of her neck. 

"Don't force my hand, Dana." His voice was gentle and
soothing as he pleaded, but his eyes were fierce with bubbling
rage. 

"You touch me and your cover is completely blown." 

"I could never harm you that way." The smile he presented her
with as he pulled his shoulders back to tower with intimidation
over her could only be described as that of a madman. "But he
doesn't know that, does he?" 

The gears went into overdrive in her mind and Tony's intentions
finally became clear: make it look as though she is in mortal
danger to goad Mulder into getting close enough for Tony to
attack. She nodded, sniffling as tears of anger and helplessness
brimmed over her lids. A car door slammed. 

"Scull-ee!" 

*Oh God*...The dam broke inside her and she could feel her
breathing hitch as the voice she had longed to hear called to her
from a distance so close and yet impossibly too far away. 

"Get your hands off her now!" Mulder hollered at the man who
now trudged up to the gate with a smirk as he hugged Scully to
his side. 

"Mr. Mulder, I suggest you calm down unless you feel the need
for the Richmond PD to join us." 

"Scully?" he said, ignoring the man who had her pressed so
closely to him. "What's going on here? Are you okay?" 

Mulder's voice cracked on his last word and she looked into
his face for the first time only to wish like hell that she hadn't.
Standing less than twenty feet away - just on the other side of
short, electronic gate - she could see the dark half-moons
under his eyes, the stubble of his new beard, and the utter
anguish over finding her seemingly safe - and in another man's
arms, no less - in his hazel eyes. Looking into them she felt as
though her heart had been lacerated by the bluntest instrument. 
She averted her gaze down his body, the clouds overhead
moving to throw the sun off the collar of his shirt causing her to
take notice of a glint of gold there.  

*He found it.* 

"Obviously, she is not," Tony replied before Scully's brain could
begin to move past this new revelation. "Which is exactly why
you need to leave." 

Mulder took a step forward and put both hands on the gate.
"The only way I walk away is if she tells me to." 

Tony rubbed her left arm in what she assumed was meant to
look like a consoling gesture and Mulder all but growled at the
man's presumptuousness. However, Scully was too far gone to
notice as her mind racked itself for some clue to give Mulder.
The last thing she wanted was for him to go. She wanted to
scream at him to see that she was anything but fine. That she
was being held here against her will. But everything she thought
of would mean danger for Mulder and possibly for the innocent
boy who was tucked away inside the house behind her.  

Scully could feel Tony's eyes boring down upon her as she
looked at the man who had been the only one to tether her to
reality for the last decade. She knew Mulder meant exactly
what he said and that it would take the Richmond PD SWAT
team and the FBI combined to move him from that gate. *Or, a
blade to my throat,* she thought miserably. Her mind recalled
all the previous times Mulder had managed to somehow move
Heaven and Earth to find her when she was so close to Death.
Once, Mulder had saved her when had less than a second to
spare. She shuddered as an image of Jerry Schnauz, poised
inches from her nose with a metal pick to stab into her brain,
flashed behind her eyes.  

And an idea so ridiculous it could only make sense to Mulder
hit her. 

"Mulder," she managed to choke out finally. "You shouldn't
have come here. This has been coming for a long time." Her
words sounded hollow in her head and she swallowed down
the bile that rose upon saying them. "'Nicht aufgeben'. You said
it yourself. It's why we shouldn't be together--" 

"Scully, don't--" 

"Nicht aufgeben," she repeated, her voice louder and clearer as
she pronounced the phrase carefully, while praying Tony had
never taken German. "Remember? Mulder, please don't make
this harder than it already is."  

Mulder's face was still wrenched with heartbreak, but there
was now a question there that made her hope that she had
broken through. "I can't walk away now, Scully. I won't." 

"I'm pretty sure she met your qualifications for doing just that,"
Tony chided in warning, pressing a kiss to the top of Scully's
head for good measure.  

Mulder looked like he was about to either throw up or start
unloading a gun into something. Scully's hands shook as her
muscles fought to keep her from lunging for him: to feel his arms
around her, to make him see that she didn't want to be here, to
make him understand how much she loved him for coming after
her despite the horrible letter she left him.  

"I love you, Scully." 

And that was too much. She turned in to Tony's chest 
to keep anyone from seeing the torment on her 
face.                               
                                                    

The next sound she heard was that of Mulder's car door
closing.  

****

5:06pm 

Mulder weaved down the familiar road impatiently, his home
computer seemingly further away than it had ever been. "Nicht
aufgeben, nicht aufgeben," he said for the two-hundredth time
since he'd sped away from the sight of Scully finding solace in
another man's arms. Why did Scully say that like it should mean
something to him? Something had been off about that whole
horrible scene back there, he was sure. Patterson had let Dana
speak. And he had let her see him. If she had been kidnapped,
would Tony have played such a risky hand? Scully could have
just blurted out the whole story and tried to get away from
him...

Was the idea that Scully was with him voluntarily really worse
than the idea that she had been kidnapped and, most likely,
assaulted? Mulder shook his head violently to ward off the
shudder that passed through him.

He had started profiling Patterson the second he found out
who he was. But meeting him in person, seeing him with Scully,
hearing him speak, watching his body language told him so
much more than he could have ever guessed. 

Tony was a big man, bigger than himself, Mulder realized with
dismay. Probably weighed over two-twenty and was pure
muscle. He tried not to think what that kind of physical
advantage could mean to Scully's safety. And, Mulder thought
bitterly, if Patterson felt that comfortable with physical affection
in public, what the hell was possibly going on behind closed
doors? Not one second had gone by during Mulder's visit to
the ranch when Tony didn't have physical contact with Scully in
some way: the hand-holding, gripping her around the waist,
rubbing her arm, kissing the top of her head. Yes, Tony was a
possessive man. And the voice Tony used was one of male
intimidation: not irate or overly loud, but filled with enough bass
and command to get the message across that he was not to be
trifled with when it came to things that he deemed as "his". And
Scully seemed to sit high up on that list.

Mulder's mind went back over the last words Scully spoke to
him and the foreign phrase "nicht aufgeben" repeated in his
head. He didn't know what language it was, though it sounded
harsh like German...the language he suddenly remembered
Scully had studied in college. 

He raced up the steps to his empty house, fiddled with the key
and lock, then burst through the room to make it to the machine
he hoped would hold some answers.  

****

10:39pm 

It had all been coming together so perfectly. Tony could see it
in Dana's posture as they walked hand-in-hand across the
grounds: she was beginning to trust him. And then the
metaphorical rug had been fucking yanked out from under him. 

*That fucking bastard!* 

Tony was walking back from the main house where he had just
tucked his son in for bed after reading him three chapters of
Gulliver's Travels, Jeffrey's new favorite book. A flash of light
to his right caught his attention: his neighbors had just returned
home and their headlights lit up the pitch black street. The light
it cast brought a formerly invisible white Ford sedan into view.
It sat, formerly hidden, beneath a tall hickory across the street
from his neighbor's home but seeing the car for the second time
that day ignited a new fury inside of Tony. 

He should have called the cops. Tony had been toying with the
idea all day, of course, but had hoped in vain that Mulder might
have given up on Dana after seeing her safely in Tony's arms. If
he didn't have to bring attention to the ranch, then it would be
that much easier to carry on with his original plot: buying time to
win Dana to his side. But that asshole hadn't taken the hint.  

Tony wondered again about the story Dana had given him --
after demanding to be taken back to her room -- about the
weird phrase she had said to Fox Mulder not once, but twice.
He couldn't remember the exact words or pronunciation, having
been too absorbed with malice over having his territory
infiltrated to have paid it the proper attention. Dana had
explained that it was the name of a dive where she and Mulder
had an argument about choices and commitment. An argument
she thought would make sense in context of her new "living
arrangement".  

So either she had been lying, though he seriously doubted it, or
this Mulder dickhead was simply that glutton for punishment.
Tony didn't look at the car again, instead quickening his pace
for the guest house. His stomach growled, dinner long forgotten
in the excitement of the day. He usually ate right before taking
Dana her meal, but other things had been more important at the
time and afterwards he had gone back to the main house to
spend some overdue quality time with Jeffrey and Nana. 

This was how, at nearly eleven o'clock in the evening he came
to find a three-quarters full bottle of amber liquid taunting him
from the back of the pantry. He licked his lips as the
long-suppressed desire tingled from his head down to the tips
of his fingers. *Ten months,* he mused, *ten months since the
last time I gave in.*  

With trembling hands he ignored the siren's song, grabbing
instead the ingredients for a grilled cheese sandwich. As Tony
swallowed down the last two bites of the buttery sandwich,
staring out the bay window into near nothingness, the full moon
came out from behind clouds to cast a silver glow upon the
distant and formerly imperceptible Ford sedan. Something like
a tiger roared inside him, demanding to be heard. Tony yanked
his plate from the table and headed over to the sink to rinse.
The creature within grew indignant at being ignored, longing for
some kind of outlet. Tony put the plate into the dishwasher and
gazed longingly at the pantry door.

He slammed the machine closed, turned on his heel, and
reached into the cabinet for a glass.


****

THREE HOURS EARLIER  

Scully lay in a crumpled ball on the floor of the closet that
provided her the only privacy in the house. She had been there
since Tony had left her still-untouched tray of food, maintaining
the usual schedule. It had been hard to keep from losing it
immediately after Mulder had gone, but she didn't know how
long it would take for her to calm down so she willed herself to
keep it together until after dinner time. Stripped of nearly
everything else, her mourning would be on *her* terms. 

Her mind cruelly replayed the look of betrayal on Mulder's
face. The confusion. The desperation. And, finally, the
resolution.  

*Did he actually believe that I would leave him that way?* 

She knew her German clue was a long shot, but she could think
of no other way to get a message through to him with Tony
standing right there, ready to attack if he was so fortunate. 

The man she had come to know as gentle and caring in the last
week had transformed into something entirely other when
Mulder had burst into the picture. Seeing just how deadly
serious Tony was about taking Mulder out of the picture for
good brought on fresh waves of nausea and her throat
convulsed in a preemptive strike against any liquid that might
come its way. 

She wondered what Mulder was doing right that moment. Had
he translated her clue? Was he still profiling Tony the way
Scully imagined he must have to have found her today? Had he
called Skinner or the cops to do an investigation with the new
information he had?  

Or had he not understood the message and given up on her? 

Tears streamed down her cheeks at the idea and she didn't
attempt to brush them away as penance for not having been
able to come up with anything resembling an escape plan in the
seven days she had been here. After the sobs quieted, an
intense exhaustion crept over her and she flirted with the idea of
staying in the closet, but quickly discarded that notion when she
imagined what kind of knee-jerk reaction Tony might have to
her lack of video-monitored visibility. Instead, she used the
darkness to change into her usual pajamas.  

The digital clock read "9:26pm" when she crawled beneath the
heavy down comforter. It read "9:30pm" when her eyes
fluttered open and shut for the last time before sleep claimed
her. 


*************
END Part 11