Open Hearts: Heart Surgery

Open Hearts: Heart Surgery
Date: 97-01-30

Heart Surgery
An X-Files Thing
by Vickie Moseley and Summer
(Vmoseley@fgi.net; summer@camelot.bradley.edu)

This is a companion piece to our journal story, "Open Hearts".
After the showdown in "Paper Hearts", Mulder is suspended for one
month and Scully is told to get all the work-related materials
from his apartment for the duration. Scully agrees to help Mulder
clean out his mother's basement if he will give her all the casefiles
he keeps at home without giving her a hard time.

The partners start to work peacefully on the basement...
for a little while...

* * * *

"What are you going to do now?"

"We won't miss a beat because of this, Scully. I have my
eye on a case in Georgia that I wanna check out as soon as I'm
off probation..."

"Don't even go there, Mulder. You're not working on anything
for a month. And I don't want to talk about what you're doing when
you come back. I want to talk about what you're going to do NOW."

"Now? Now I'm gonna stack these boxes up on that side
so I can get to the tool rack... we could probably get rid of
these. I don't think my mom needs a complete set of socket
wrenches."

"You can never tell. She might need them. Besides, you might
want them sometime if you're up here fixing something. You're avoiding
the question. I didn't mean 'now' now, I mean NOW. You're going to go
talk to somebody about this."

"Yeah, I know, mandatory counseling. Skinner already
ran me through that rigamarole. When am I ever up here fixing
something? That's what plumbers and... carpenters and people
like that do for a living. I don't even know what socket wrenches
are for."

"They're for loosening nuts and bolts-- you're right. You'd
slice off your fingers and be out of a job. Give them to Goodwill.
I don't want you to just go to the Bureau shrink on this one, Mulder.
You'll play `Jung is better than Freud' and nothing will change. You
won't get any better."

"Scully-- I've fired in the line of duty before. I can
handle it. Look to your right, there; are those paint cans empty?"

"Yeah, they're empty, but we can't throw them out. Landfills won't
take them. You have to put them somewhere and wait for a pickup day by the
city or something. Mom told me about it. And this wasn't just about the
shooting and you know it. That whole dream thing you keep talking about.
Here, I've started a pile of old rags over here, give me those behind you.
I'm just saying that I don't want to go through another week like this one,
Mulder. I want you to talk to somebody and DO something this time."

"Do something about what? Here-- hey, this is one of
my old basketball jerseys. Look at that. Chilmark Lions. I
know you don't believe my dream explanation, but... he practically
admitted to it on the streetcar... look, it wasn't him. You
said so from the beginning. And you were right. I'll say so
in my report, I'll say so to Skinner-- I _did_ say so to
Skinner. Let's just-- here, put the paint cans with the stuff
for recycling. Maybe the recycling center can collect them.
I'll call before I drive out there."

"Your high school colors were pink and green? Those look like
something from some roadside stand in Florida! And no, I don't buy this
'dream' explanation because it allows you to blow off the obvious. Mulder,
you weren't sleeping again. It happens so much lately that I don't think
you're getting any REM at all until those nights where you completely
collapse, like Saturday night... It's not healthy. You're not
dealing with this. I understand what happened here. Roche saw your
vulnerability and took advantage. So the next time, what happens? Do you
honestly think Roche is the only intelligent psycho we're likely to meet?
And quite frankly, I'm getting a little sick of getting my ass chewed out
because I didn't keep the inmate from escaping the asylum again. I want
it to stop. I'm not your babysitter. Shit, Mulder, couldn't you throw out
any of this crap from high school? My god, I think you've got ever paper
here you ever wrote."

"I'm not the one keeping all this stuff. Mom can't stand
to throw anything out. I'm sorry that Skinner bitched at you--
I tried to take the blame-- look, I didn't think I had any other
choice, Scully. I fucked up, fine, I'll cop to that. But the
rest of it... I told you from the start what you were getting
into. What these cases mean to me. I can't just turn that off.
And our colors weren't pink and green, they were red and blue.
That jersey's faded."

"That explains it. Oh, yeah, now I see your yearbook. Red and
blue. Mulder, this has nothing to do with what I did or didn't sign on for.
I'm saying that you're having problems and I'm tried of watching you just
ignore them and go along until the next time. You're setting yourself--
damn it, you're setting US up for them. Roche and his kind aren't the only
ones we have to watch out for-- and one of these days they're going to
set you up and you'll go running into a trap that I can't get you out of.
I signed on to be your partner, not to give your eulogy! --Is that a
spider over there?"

"Where?"

"No, never mind, it's just a shadow . . . I'm getting off
track here. I want you to really see someone, a real psychologist. Not a
Bureau Shrink-in-the-Box. A real one who deals with other psychologists.
I know they're out there. They're probably not paid nearly enough, but
I'm sure you can find one who would help. I mean it, Mulder. I'm not
backing down on this."

"What the hell does that mean, you're not backing down on
this? It's not UP to you. I've lived with this all my life-- all
my life, and what, you think you can have me go to some doctor who'll
just come along and _fix_ me? --You were right the first time, that
is a spider... watch your head, you're about to back into the cobwebs.
You're not scared of _spiders_, are you, Scully?"

"Our high school had an infestation of brown recluse spiders my junior
year. I saw a kid get bit, Mulder. Not pretty. The convulsions were the
worst. And I know it's not up to me--it's up to you. Look, I have to live
with this too, you know. When you call me up on a Sunday morning to come
help you play in the dirt because you had some goddamned dream--THEN it
becomes OUR problem! And it's up to you to do something. I think you were
doing OK for a while, but I think this case with Roche has dredged up some
stuff that wasn't there before. And I'm not saying you'll get cured,
Mulder. God forbid you actually be normal! I'm just saying that you need
help. Hell, you told me the same damned thing so many times, I can't count.
So accept some of your own advice for a change."

"You can't count to one? One time I've suggested maybe you
should talk to someone. More to the point, I suggested you should
talk to _me_. Which you never did. Which is your choice. Fine. But
I'm a psychologist, and I know the tricks-- I've been through
therapy with Dr. Verber and-- look, if I have problems it's nothing
I haven't dealt with before. I called you out last week because I
thought we had a case. Which, yeah, I got from a dream-- Roche's
dream. I know you don't believe that... what's your explanation?
How did he know so much about that night?"

"The same way Max Fenig knew you wrote an article for _Omni_,
Mulder-- the Internet. Our travel records are public knowledge, there are
people who're practically your GROUPIES out there, waiting to find out if
the Great Fox Mulder is going to be able to reveal to them the secrets of
the universe! That's how he found out all that shit, Mulder. He went
through and found some nut's website and there you were! But you've never
even considered that option, have you? You ran right for this dream theory.
The dream with the laser sight begging you to follow it. I took psych, too,
Mulder. That image-- it's disturbing as hell-- and . . . I'm so sick of
all this . . . Hand me that broom, damn it."

"Here. Watch out, I just got a splinter off the end of
it. Shit. Look, before you knock yourself out with this computer
idea-- did it ever occur to _you_ that I've been keeping track
of that stuff? The guys at the Lone Gunman do daily Web searches
on all their favorite topics. I've looked at all the UFO sites
that have information about me, and there's nothing like what Roche
knew on the Net. Some of those things I've only told you, Scully,
so unless _you've_ been telling tales about me on
alt.crazy.partner.stories, there's no way he could know."

"Fine. Great. I'm so happy for you and your little friends.
Of course I would never tell anyone the things you've told me in confidence.
So that means I have to stand here and agree that Roche tapped into your
dreams, reworked them so that he led you to the grave of Addie Sparks which
has been laying there for 20 years and then he got in there enough to
'steal' your memories and images of Samantha's abduction--some of which you
know only through hypnosis--and then use that against you. You're right,
Mulder. That's a much better explanation. I feel fucking great now! Don't
go to a therapist. Hell, don't go to your annual physical, either. Cancer
and heart disease are just figments of my imagination, so they can't
possibly hurt you! I'm not allowed to be concerned. You've lived with this
all your life, so I guess I just have to get used to living with it for all
of mine, too. Sure, I can do that. I LIVE for that! Get your foot off the
dustpan before I shoot it off."

"Here, fine, dustpan, mop, bucket, take the socket wrenches,
sure, want a rake? What the hell do you want me to do, Scully? Go
to a psychologist with my hat in my hand and say, `Gee, mister, I
think my sister may have been abducted by aliens; could you cure
me, please?' I won't have to worry about being suspended for a
month-- I'll be in an institution for the next year or two. You
can prescribe the fucking Thorazine! Is that what you want? Tell
me what you think I'm supposed to do now!"

"I don't want the fucking dustpan, the mop, the bucket, the socket
wrenches, I don't want anything in this basement, Mulder. I want my partner
back. I want the partner I can rely on, the one I know won't do something
so monumentally stupid that he ends up getting locked out of our office for
a month! I want to know that when you tell me you're going to go home to
sleep, you'll do that! I want to know that when you take two white tablets
that're supposed to be sleeping pills, that you haven't switched them with
aspirin and then waited until I leave to run out the door and release a
dangerous criminal from federal custody and put an entire fucking city, not
to mention one very little girl, in danger!! That's what I WANT!! That's
what I want, Mulder. I want to know that you're leveling with me. And
right now, I just don't think that's happening."

"Look, nobody ASKED you-- I never said-- shit."

"I don't... I can't go into therapy again, Scully. The
reason I stopped seeing Verber was that he recommended a leave
of absence and extensive-- long-term fucking care, all right?
He didn't believe me. But you _know_ I'm not delusional. Or
I thought you did. If you, if this is what you really think,
okay. Okay. I'll look for someone outside the Bureau. But I
can't promise I'll be able to find anyone and I'm not taking
more time off... I'll try."

"I'm not asking you to turn yourself over to the Spanish Inquisition,
Mulder. I just, . . . I just got really worried this time. I _know_ you
aren't delusional. But I also _know_ you push yourself way past your
limits--all the time. At breakneck speed. I can be there to catch you
sometimes. I'm just afraid of the time when I won't be there, when I'm a
little late. Can you understand? You know I'd never agree with a
diagnosis of long term care. You function pretty damned well with the shit
we get handed--better than I do most times. I don't even really think
you need to dredge up the issues with your sister. But you did some
things this time, Mulder-- switching those pills, what was that all about?
Talk about avoidance..."

"It's not like I changed those pills for the express purpose
of getting around you-- Okay, okay, don't tap your foot at me, I
don't know what I was thinking. I ran out of the temezpam and just
dumped some aspirin in there and took that at night instead. You know
I hate those things..."

"And taking a convicted serial killer on a commercial airline
flight--tell me you thought that one through, Mulder. No, you didn't. You
just went. I bet you didn't call to leave a message because you were afraid
I'd pick up the phone and you'd have to tell me the truth BEFORE it was all
over, right?"

"--Something like that..."

"You didn't trust me very much this time. And don't give me
that shit about my not believing you. I backed you up, I got you back in
that cell with Roche when by all rights, you should have been cooling your
heels in the basement, maybe even facing OPR. So don't start with me. And
I hate that goddamned martyr look, Mulder. It makes the sappy eyes look
good by comparison. I don't care why you do it, I don't care if you do it
to make me happy or to go in and tell this joker that I abuse you on cases
or to tell them that you're pretty sure that Skinner's a transvestite. I
just want you to take this seriously. I want you to talk to a therapist
or a psychologist about this. . . and I want you to take the REAL sleeping
pills for a week. I want to see you without black circles under your eyes.
OK? Is that too much to ask?"

"No, Sister Dana... God, do they teach you how to do
that stuff in parochial school or something? Okay, okay--
I'm sorry. I'm serious... I'll get the temezpam refilled
tomorrow. Scully, you're getting close to those spiderwebs
again. Duck and come forward a little. Maybe I should call
in an exterminator once we clean this out... here, I'll
take those boxes, we can stack those in the corner and then
maybe take a break for a while. I don't know about you, but
I could use a drink."

"Sounds like a plan. And a pizza. I'm starving. You really do need
to get an exterminator down here, Mulder. And when was the last time your
mom checked for cockroaches? That corner over there looks really wet--they
like damp places. Wipe that shitty grin off your face and hand me some of
those boxes. Geez, one little reference and you get all dewy-eyed. Get
over it, Mulder, she's not gonna call you back, no matter how many times you
bug her . . ."

"Hope springs eternal, Scully. Papa Romano's does a good
vegetarian pizza-- we could probably call it in and pick it up
in twenty minutes or so. I don't think Mom's really all that likely
to have any coffee, but we can probably find some iced tea. Just
help me with one thing first? --I'm gonna put this goddamn vacuum
cleaner out with the trash."

* * *
end.

xangst@frii.com TheDeanXF@aol.com
--------------------------------------------
If I'd known life was going to take so long,
I'd've brought a book.

Queen of Angst Mysterious & Suspicious
Smoker for Scully Extreme Possibilities
Skinner Chick Genteel Ladies Writing Guild

Subbasement supporter--"We're down here, and
we *like* it!"
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Subject: NF> Open Hearts: Heart Surgery 1/1