George Hale (14/17) by invisiblefriends Feedback: bettyteddyandray@gmail.com Rating: PG-13 Summary: After IWTB, life goes on. Chapter 14 The phone message the next day from her mother is simple and direct. Fox has been throwing up all day and his temperature has risen slightly and, sounding like the mother-in-law she can be, Mrs. Scully adds that she is a little worried. *Shit.* Scully picks up the phone and calls home. With a guilty thud, she realizes she didn't even speak to Mulder this morning. He was sound asleep and after their words last night, she wasn't particularly keen on restarting another dangerous conversation. Her mother answers on the third ring. "How is he?" Scully asks, nervously digging the business end of a pen into a steno pad. "He's about the same. I can't tell if it's the flu or maybe food poisoning." Her mother always sounds more relaxed than she really is when something worries her. "Can you put him on?" There is a pause. Scully can hear the receiver land gently on the table. In ten seconds, her mother returns, her voice subdued. "He's gone back to sleep. Where do you keep your aspirin? I've looked everywhere." Shit number two. "We're out. I can bring some home. I should be out of here in an hour or so. Can you keep an eye on him until then?" It's hard not to when he apologizes every time he darts into the bathroom. "Of course. See you soon." Scully hangs up the phone and digs the pen harder into the pad until she has created a small, blue bic crater. "Mulder, what are you doing to me," she groans as she grabs two binders she needs for the meeting that she is five minutes late for. Scully makes it as far as the door before she stops and turns around. Common sense seems to return and she puts the binders down. She will ask the receptionist to cancel. Mulder is sick. After a morning of throwing up, Mulder finally falls into a sleep that is a mixture of nightmare, fever and anxiety. All afternoon, he dreams that he is still in DC, trying to get to his basement office, but this office is still the one he saw in real life and he thinks he needs to get there. Occasionally, Mrs. Scully will slip into the room and put her hand on his forehead. She is like Scully this way, he thinks - the only rational thought he has that afternoon - gentle and full of strength. Later that day, when he is more lucid, Maggie Scully sits down on the side of the bed, joined by George Hale, and has a full conversation with this not-quite son in law. Mulder makes a good listener . The difference between a dark room in Washington and a dark room in the middle of nowhere is level of blackness. Streetlights bring shadows and hints of light; the country side brings shear black. The curtains to the bedroom are wide open and when she opens the door, Scully can barely see a thing. She doesn't need to turn the light on to see that the long, huge lump on the far side is Mulder, lying on his side with two duvets covering him. She delicately climbs onto the bed and inches her way over to him. "I'm fine," comes a deeply tired, voice from beneath the covers and pillows. "So I hear. Come on, turn over, I want to have a look at you." "Did you bring any aspirin?" "Yes. I'll get it in a second." She lays her hand across his cheek and then his forehead. He is warm. She slips a thermometer into his mouth and settles down next to him. "Here, keep this in for a moment." "I feel like crap," he groans when there is a subtle bounce in the middle of the mattress. His eyes remain closed. It's easier that way. She reaches for and finds his hand. After all these years, she still takes a certain joy in holding this hand, twice the size of her own, waiting for his fingers to wrap around hers. They lie wordlessly for a few moments. She watches his face, and the eyes that are closed. "Headache bad?" A nod. "Want me to sit with you for a while?" A slight, delicate shake of the head. The thermometer finally beeps and she pulls it from his mouth. "It's high." "How high?" "You don't need to know." He tries to pull a corner of the top blanket over his shoulder and turns on to his side. "Aspirin, Scully." "Okay, I'll be right back She thinks she sees the back of his head nod. "Want me bring in George Hale? He's good company." "Keep him with you; he stayed in here with me all day." Scully gently eases herself off the bed and watches the mound of linen that is Mulder. "Okay," she finally says. But she can't quite leave yet. She can't forget that if her mother hadn't been here she never would have known this man was sick. "Mulder - I'm sorry I let loose at you last night - I should have paid more attention - You obviously weren't feeling well - I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. Never mind. I think I'm babbling. "Scully..." "Yes?" "Aspirin." Her mother has made dinner and set two places at the table. George Hale, now that Scully is home, has left Mulder's side and he follows Maggie Scully around the kitchen in case she drops anything. Scully wanders into the kitchen and sits down as her mother pulls open the cutlery drawer and rifles through the forks until she finds the steak knives. "Sorry," she says tiredly. "I keep meaning to clean that up." "It's not as if you have anything else to do." Scully looks up quickly. Her mother is smiling. It was a joke, thank God. For a minute, she thought she was serious. "Between packing, working, looking after Fox," "I didn't look after him. That's the problem. If you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have known he was sick. He likes to keep that kind of thing to himself." "Living with a doctor? He really can't resist a challenge, can he?" "Maybe not." She catches herself twisting a knot of paper on the table. She is still feeling ill at ease with her mother. Her mother is leaving the day after tomorrow. Scully isn't sure if she dreads this more than she welcomes it. They love each other dearly, they are still as companionable as ever but there are certain issues being deftly avoided here. Scully feels as though she is walking through little verbal mine fields. One word tripped over, one fact implied by a glance, or change in tone of voice. Implications everywhere; subjects they both can see hanging over each of their heads. "I've got some good news and bad news for you." Scully says. Maggie turns. "That's the way I like my information." "I've heard that they are going to throw a good by party for me at the hospital. I told Curt to tell them 'no' but apparently, it's what they do whether the person cares or not. *That's* the bad news." "And the good news?" Scully rolls her eyes. "*You'll* be gone by then." Maggie laughs as she stirs the soup. "I'll count my blessings. You're going to make Fox go, I assume?" "Oh yes. I'm not facing that alone. Mulder can soak up some of the attention. You know, the only person from the hospital who has met Mulder is Curt. Everyone else apparently thinks he is my invisible friend." "I used to wonder that myself until I finally met him." Scully smiles. She made a point of keeping work from family the moment she joined the FBI. This rule continued long before and long after she began working with Mulder. "That's too bad they don't know him. He's ...." Here, Maggie has to pause to get the perfect word for this man. "He's a gem hidden in a complicated, wonderful kind of maze." Her mother has captured him in this one, wonderful sentence. "He - he's - it has been a hard couple of years; getting further away from everything he knew, where he was on solid ground. I think having only me in his life hasn't helped. He turned more inside." She's playing this down. It was the year from hell. Almost as bad as the hell on the road, but a few degrees away. "Depression." Maggie puts the spoon on the handle of the pot and sits down across from her. "That must have been hard." "He came out of it." "I mean for you. One person dealing with another's depression is hard, especially in isolation." Tears from a barely sealed wound are hovering behind her eyes. "It was. I've seen him go through so much but this..." She clears her throat. "Yes. It was hard. He's come back. I think George Hale had a lot to do with that. For a while, all Mulder did was just stay in the house, writing. Now, Mulder takes the dog with him when he goes into town. He says people either avoid the freak with the pit bull or they will talk to him and to the dog." Scully rolls her eyes with a laugh. "Apparently, George Hale is both a People Repellent and a Chick Magnet." She isn't sure where her comfort level lies, talking about Mulder's bout with depression. He wanted to ride it out without anybody knowing, or helping. He swore Scully to silence and had no idea what this did to her. Now, her mother is the only real person she has let in. Skinner suspected something was wrong but he didn't press. Perhaps he knew Scully's code of privacy too well. So, she had to deal with it herself. "Tell me about your move home; when does the tenant move out?" The bubbling on the stove gets Maggie's attention and she returns to stirring. "In a few weeks, I hope. Andrea was able to find a home with her friends so as long as there aren't any hiccups, I should be in there soon." "Where are you going to stay until then?" The stirring becomes faster. "Oh," Scully finally says, realizing what a stupid question this was. Of course her mother will be living with Skinner. Of course this is where she would stay until then. "It's not as bad as that, is it?" Maggie asks carefully. "No, Mom, it's not. I mean it's good." "Walt's place is about fifteen minutes from your new house. We can give you a hand moving in. Better yet, we'll let Walt and Fox do the heavy work and you and I can go out for dinner." It's a kind idea that suggests this new life could be so simple. The boys and the girls. The girls and their boyfriends. Dinners at each other's homes. Living with your boyfriend, just like your mother lives with hers. There is a sudden burst of clunky, heavy feet stomping towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back," Scully sighs. Mulder is hunched over the toilette bowl; his hands grip both sides of the seat, ready for the next round. "Oh, Mulder," Scully sighs kindly, closing the door behind her. She glances once into the toilette bowl and flushes. He mumbles something about linen and carefully pushes himself up to his feet. He flips the lid down and carefully sits as if he is going to break into pieces. "I feel like shit." "I guessed that." She crouches down in front of him for a closer look. His eyes are red; sweat is slipping out of his hair. He's pale, he smells and he really does look like shit. "Have you kept anything down today?" He shakes his head. "Okay, let's go through the list - did you eat anything yesterday that seemed off?" Another no. She gently puts her fingers on the right side of his abdomen and presses. "Any pain?" No. He hasn't had an appendix since he was fifteen. "Diarrhea?" A nod. "If I give you some water, do you think that would stay down?" He shakes his head again. Scully stands up and yanks a towel from the shower door. It is dry and she wraps it around his shoulders as if he is a Christmas present. "Stay here. I'll go change the bed and find some clean things for you to put on. You've soaked right through this t-shirt." She stands back, examining him as if he is an item on the shelf she is considering buying. "If you've still got a fever in the morning, we're going to the hospital." He leans his head back with a groan. "It's a twenty-four hour thing. I'm not going all that way just to get carsick and be told it's a twenty-four hour thing." Scully has heard that tone of voice before and sighs sweetly as she drags her fingers through his damp hair. "Oh, yes you will." Her mother is already in their room, tossing a rumpled bed sheet onto the floor, next to its mate. "You're reading my mind," Scully sighs, glad for the help. She has a fresh set of linen in her arms. "I've been there with the four of you enough times to know when you need to change a bed. Go eat, Dana, I can do this." "I'm taking him to the hospital if he's not better by morning." "Do you think it's something serious?" Scully leans over and picks up one of the sheets from the floor. She looks at it as if she is if deciding to burn it or not. "I don't know." "Put that in the hamper, I'll do a load of laundry." Manages a smile. "If that washing machine decides to work." She manages a smile back. Politeness is the only way to deal with the piece of junk they call a washer. "The big if." "Now I know what to get you for a house warming gift." Scully stares at the old linen in her hand. "I'm going to throw these out. I'll buy some new sheets and towels when we move." Her mother stops mid tuck of the new bottom sheet. "Really?" She has not known her daughter to be concerned about replacing the old with the new. "I want new things in our house. Nothing from here." She looks around the bedroom to see if she is over exaggerating; the bed, the dresser, the rugs. The lamps on each of their side of the bed. Nope, she decides. Nothing. "Mulder wants to hang on to the house to use as a cottage." "Really? Once you've moved into the new place, this one will seem like a cottage. Well...a different kind of cottage." "Remember Uncle Alfred's cottage? I loved going there every summer." "With or without the plumbing? An outhouse on wheels. He was thrifty." Scully laughs quietly. "I've missed this. Having you to talk with." *Thud.* Her mother is looking away. Scully has accidently tripped one of her own land mines. "I have too," Maggie finally says, absently smoothing over the top sheet she has just tucked in. Neither of them moves. Scully finally kicks the remaining sheets towards the nearest corner and takes the leap. "I know that disappearing out of your life for so long was hard on you." Maggie never told anyone how hard it was. Her sons would have launched into anti-Mulder tirades and miss the point that their mother was hurting. Her friends wouldn't have been able to understand the complexities that led her daughter well underground. The only person she could remotely connect with was Walter. And even he couldn't tell her anything beyond updates that Dana was fine. "Yes, it was. Very." "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry for - that was a terrible thing to do to you." She has rehearsed two speeches for her mother. This is the first and the easiest to remember. But now, none of the reasonable, eloquent words are coming back to her memory. "I know you are. But that doesn't change the year - worrying about you, missing you, being angry at you for putting me through that." Mulder's polite voice seeps through the tension. "Scully, can you come here for a minute." "Go," Maggie quietly says. Scully does as she is told, and leaves the room feeling ten-years- old. Mulder is teetering on the side of the bathtub. He has both arms spread out along the rim, trying not to fall backwards. "I got dizzy," he whispers Scully takes an arm and pulls him to his feet. "Mulder...." "Fine, I'll go in the morning." It must be what she wants to hear, because she helps him back into bed without saying a word. "I've got a garbage bin right here," she tells him, moving the pillows into position. "Don't try and make it to the bathroom if you need to throw up." She is about to pull a top sheet over his shoulders. Instead, looking at his perspiration and wondering where Dr. Scully went, she pulls off the pajama bottoms she made him wear. "Your mom's in the next room," Mulder drawls weakly. She smiles politely at the effort and tosses the bottoms across the room. "If you leave the room, just check that my mother isn't in view" "Scully, I can't be the first non-family male she has seen in his underwear." *Oh, you don't know how right you are, Mulder.* At two-thirty in the morning, Scully creeps into the guest room and turns on the lamp next to her sleeping mother. "Mom...." She gently shakes Maggie's shoulder. "Mom ...." Maggie turns over and opens her eyes. Her daughter is fully dressed, wearing her warmest winter coat. "What's wrong?" "I'm taking Mulder to the hospital." "Why? Is he worse?" The look on her daughter's face gives that answer away. Scully, in the face of panic, is like her mother; the more serious the condition, the calmer, she becomes. "I just want to make sure it's nothing," Scully understates. "Okay." She grabs her dressing gown and follows her daughter to the front door. Mulder stands there, clumsily dressed and holding a fist full of plastic bags. There are bags under his eyes, he looks as if he has lost ten pounds in the last day and he reminds Maggie of her father during his last days. "Mom, can you take George Hale out for his morning walk - he'll wake you when he needs - you know how he barks - I've got my cell if you need anything. Do you know where his food is?" "I've got it all in hand, Dana. Get going." "Okay, then, I'll see you later - George Hale, we'll see you later, too." The dog has woken up and isn't quite sure when the new schedule popped into his life. Scully leans down and scratches his head in a way he likes. "Be good. Take care of Grandma." The instant- the second - these words drop out of her mouth, Scully wants to die. She cannot believe she just said this. She can't stand up and look at her mother. She continues to pat the dog and says, "I'll call you," over her shoulder before she joins Mulder at the bottom of the front steps. She is glad it is dark and he can't see the look of horror on her face. Shit, she thinks, hearing the front door close behind her. *Oh, Shit* The drive is silent and the night is beautiful. These are the only details that Scully is trying to force into her brain so that she will not have to keep thinking of what she has said - which was inappropriate enough - but to whom it was said. That is the kicker. Mulder, in the passenger, has been quiet. His arms are folded tightly and his head is resting against the window. She can't tell if he is dozing or staring out at the distant lights they past. He stirs slightly and, out of nowhere, asks, "What's wrong?" She quickly looks over at him. " It's just the flu," he assures her. Nice. He thinks she is worried about him. Mulder *who?* Ten minutes ago, she was bundling him up for an emergency midnight run to the hospital, quietly terrified that he is sicker than she wanted to admit. Now, ten minutes later, his health is the last thing on her mind. "Is it your mother? You'll see lots of each other when we move to DC." This is the occasional sweetness of Mulder. He thinks she is missing her mother before she has even left. Scully drives a few more minutes in the silence that Mulder gives them. Where he finds the energy to read her problems and not vomit up his own is a mystery. She decides to toss him a bone - and try to get her own mind off the worst thing she could have possibly said - by announcing, "My mother *is* dating Skinner." "I know." Scully's head snaps to the right. "You *know?*" "She told me today." "Mulder, do you think you could have told me that?" Scully does not like surprises as a principle; she hates them now that one has just splashed in her face. But she takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. "What did she say?" "That it was still new to her since she had only gone out with one man before Skinner. How she was worried about your reaction, your brothers'." Now, Scully should be the one throwing up. "She talked about all of that? To *you?*" "I wish you wouldn't put it that way, but yes. She wanted to talk, Scully. She sat on the end of the bed with George Hale and we ... talked. I'm sorry, I don't mean to put your nose out of joint." *Mrs. Scully had just brought him a glass of water and a cold compress for his headache. Once she had helped him get comfortable in bed and dragged another blanket up to his chin, she asked if there was anything else he needed. Mulder, his eyes closed under the compress asked how she was doing.* *"Me? I'm fine. I'm the healthy one," Maggie reminded him. George Hale had wandered into the room and hopped up onto the bed, landing by Mulder's knees. "George Hale, be careful," she said to the dog.* *"He's fine there. When he thinks one of us in trouble, he likes to stay close." Mulder was tempted to tell her how George Hale didn't leave Scully's side for days after she had returned home inconsolable about William. "Are you looking forward to coming back to DC?"* *She nodded, although she knew he couldn't see her. Maybe this was the safety net that made her sit down on the side of the bed, next to George Hale. His tail rose and fell on her knee and made her feel welcome. She told Mulder about the tenant's plans to move out, and her own to move in. And slowly found her ground to tell him about being involved with Walter Skinner. And as she talked, and as Mulder nodded or smiled, she realized she had found the one person in her life who would not be wounded by these facts.* *"I'm glad you two found each other," he told her. "It's .... right."* *She reached over to George Hale's chin and found his favourite spot. "I - I think so too."* *"If Scully's a little strange about it, she'll come around."* *"I hope so. I'm still feeling strange about it. The whole dating business - dear God, it's hard."* *Mulder chuckled, despite the pain in his head. "You should have taken the easy way. Be friends and co-workers for about eight years. Realize you're ready to tell the other person that you love them and know you'll hear it back. Then, turn your lives and your careers upside down by going on the run, settle down in some invisible farm land and get a pit bull named George Hale who is afraid of cats."* *Maggie laughed. "Eight years, Fox?" she said. "I had you and Dana figured out at three. Walter could tell at two."* *George Hale's tail began to thump again. Maggie nuzzled her head into his and told him he has nothing to be afraid of because he's too cute for cats to be mad at him and what a crazy boy he is.* *"You're going to inflate his ego," Mulder warned. "Scully can only take one inflated ego in this house."* *"You know - Walter - he loves you two very much."* *"It's mutual. He's been a good friend to us."* *"That's who he is."* Scully clears her throat. "Was that ...strange for you to hear?" "Yes, but she's not my mother, so I don't have the emotional fallout that you would." Silence "Is it serious?" she finally asks. Mulder opens his mouth to say something and then changes his mind. "Is it?" "I don't know, Scully. Listen, this is a good thing for both of them. And if your mother seems so casual about it because she's known about it from the beginning whereas you just found out." Finally, something that makes sense. She lets the subject drop. The rest of the drive to the hospital is in silence, except for the five- minute check in that now extends to seven minutes. Well, she thinks, her plan to distract herself from her faux-pas worked. Really worked. It takes her until she ushers Mulder to the emergency waiting room that until she even remembers she said anything stupid.