The Choice IV: Awakening
by Leigh Alexander
leigh_xf@geocities.com

First posted: April 4, 1996

RATING: PG
CATEGORY: SA
SPOILERS: None
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST
SUMMARY: As Scully remains by his bedside, Mulder must once
again make a choice. Between two worlds. Between life and
death.

DISCLAIMERS:
1) Dana and Fox belong to Chris and Ten Thirteen Productions
and the other Fox. Absolutely *no* copyright infringement is
intended - I'm not doing this for money, I'm doing it for
love. I *love* these characters, I wouldn't want to hurt
them! :)
2) OK to archive, but if it's going anywhere other than
Gossamer, please drop me a line just so I can keep track.
3) Feel free to distribute and discuss this, as long as my
name and addy remain attached.

INTRO:

Now I'm sure you're all sick of hearing this, but I am just
*so* grateful to Eve for all her help, and the least I can do
is thank her publicly as often as possible (oh - and I can
plug her fanfic, which will be posted in the future!)

As in the previous part, certain passages are preceeded and
concluded with "//". These passages form part of an
"alternative state of consciousness", which hopefully you
should have grasped by now!

-----------------------------------------------------------
The Choice IV: Awakening
-----------------------------------------------------------

She returned to the hospital, and quickly resettled in what
she had come to know as "her" chair - the one that stayed by
the side of his bed at all times, only empty during those
brief periods when she would leave the hospital and return
home.

She couldn't stop thinking about what Byers had said;
whatever had happened to Mulder, wherever it was he had been
- it had been the same place as her, he had experienced the
same thing she had. And he wasn't going to get better.

She immediately ordered that Mulder be X-rayed from head to
toe. Just to be sure, she also requested that he receive a
full-body MRI, which usually gave more information than a
simple X-ray on its own. Both results came back normal - no
sign of any metallic substances, no implants.

She allowed herself to be temporarily relieved, although her
mind quickly proffered forth the possibility that their
methods may have changed, become more subtle, less detectable
in the intervening years. But she didn't want to think about
this.

Lost in these thoughts of despair, she didn't hear the door
opening, nor notice the figure that approached her. A hand
descended on the back of her neck, and she started violently
- whipping her head around, and finding herself staring into
her mother's sympathetic eyes.

There was a movement at the door almost simultaneously, and
Scully turned just in time to see Skinner quietly slipping
out.

Margaret Scully crouched down so that her face was level with
her daughter's. Scully's face still wore a surprised
expression; she knitted her brow and asked,

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

"Dana, I was so worried... I've been trying to call you for
days, and I've just been getting your answering machine. I
was sure something was wrong - I had a feeling..."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Mr. Skinner brought me here, after I got in contact with
him. He told me where you were. Oh, Dana, I'm so sorry..."

At her mother's last words, Scully's face crumpled and she
was quickly pulled into her mother's embrace. Hearing the
agony in Dana's sobs made tears spring to her own eyes, and
Margaret gripped her daughter even harder.

"You know, Dana, that time - when you were sick, when you
were in the hospital and we thought... we thought we were
going to lose you... Fox didn't know what to do either. He
felt so guilty about you being taken away, and he felt
helpless when he was here in the hospital. He was sure that
in trying to find the people who had done this to you, it
would somehow alleviate his pain, and bring you back... What
he didn't realise - what Melissa had to tell him - was that
more than anything else you needed him to be there for you,
as he always had been - you needed to feel his presence at
his side - and that even if he did find the people that had
done that to you, it would mean nothing to you... When he
finally realised this, he came back to the hospital, and he
sat with you, and he told you how he felt... and you came
back, Dana, honey - you came back..."

Scully lifted her head, and looked at her mother with watery
eyes.

"What are you saying, mom?"

"I just don't think you should lose hope, Dana... I think
that just in being here, you're helping him... I think he
needs to know - just as you needed to know - that you're here
for him, that you care, that he has something to come back
to. Sometimes all the medical attention in the world can't
make up for just a little bit of caring."

Scully turned her eyes back to Mulder, and regarded him
pensively. Without tearing her eyes away from his face, she
replied in a soft voice, "I know, mom... I know..."

After a few minutes of silence, in which the two pairs of
Scully eyes were focused on Mulder, Margaret stood up,
preparing to leave.

Scully quickly looked at her mother with a pleading
expression on her face.

"Don't go, mom.... Stay with me, please...."

Margaret studied her daughter intently and then gave a short
nod, her eyes then flickering around the darkened room until
they rested on a chair in the corner.

She walked over and picked up the chair, carrying it back to
the bed, and settling into it on the other side of the bed,
facing her daughter, with Mulder's body between them.

Margaret smiled at her daughter, and then reached for
Mulder's hand; the two sat in silence, each of them tightly
clasping one of Mulder's hands in their own grip, each lost
in their own thoughts.

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

Over the next few weeks, Scully fell into a routine. After
realising that she wasn't going to leave him as long as he
was in this condition, the nursing staff at the hospital had
set up a small bed for her in the room. Scully spent most of
her nights at the hospital, although occasionally she would
leave Mulder in her mother's company and return home for a
few brief hours in order to try and relax in her own bed.
Once a day she would drive from the hospital to her apartment
to shower and change clothes, and - when she remembered -
check her mail and phone messages.

Due to the tight security surrounding Mulder, there were few
visitors: her mom, Skinner and an endless stream of doctors
and nurses were the only people she saw during those long
days.

She had taken to reading to Mulder - feeling, somewhere
inside of her, that the sound of her voice might pierce
through the layers of fog that shrouded his mind, and call
him back to her. The first book she had chosen was "Moby
Dick". She had selected that one deliberately, hoping that
somewhere in his subconscious, Mulder would remember its
significance, and would understand.

Every few hours a nurse would come in to check on him. Scully
would know, of course, exactly what state his body was in,
but she would watch the face and body language of the nurse
intently as Mulder's vitals were checked, hoping that just
maybe, something that she had overlooked would be picked up
by the nurse's scrutiny. Scully kept waiting for the moment
when the nurse would suddenly lift her eyes and bestow a
smile full of significance on her... But this never happened.
Aware of the scrutinising gaze, the nurse would knit her brow
in sympathetic pain and softly murmur, "No improvement, I'm
afraid." Or words to that effect.

And Scully would revert her gaze to Mulder's face, squeeze
his hand, and continue reading, unaware of the sometimes
sorrowful, sometimes compassionate look the other would
address to her back.

Skinner would usually come once every few days - supposedly
to check on Mulder's condition, but she knew that he was
really just checking on her. She could sense his concern, and
yet she did nothing to alleviate his obvious fears as to her
state of mind. When he would enter the room, she would stare
fixedly at Mulder, refusing to acknowledge her superior's
presence: for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't help
holding him to blame for the fate that had befallen her
partner. Although she had more often than not seen him as an
ally during the years that she and Mulder had been following
his orders, it seemed to her now that he had done everything
within his power to ensure that Mulder wouldn't be found. Her
logic was irrational, and she knew it - if she'd chosen to
analyse her feelings, she probably would have realised that
her sudden dislike of the man who had helped her and Mulder
so much, was no doubt due to his incapability of giving her
any form of comfort. But she didn't choose to analyse her
thoughts: she needed someone to blame - and in Cancerman's
absence, that honour fell squarely on Skinner's shoulders. To
her, he represented everything about the system that she had
lost her faith in - he epitomised the conservative side of
the Bureau, that had done everything within its power to
thwart Mulder at every stage - including her own assignment
as Mulder's partner.

That had been their only mistake.

She had reflected on this fact grimly over the years. Who
would have guessed all those years ago, that in assigning the
practical, sceptical, young up-and-coming, intelligent Dana
Scully to the X-Files, the result would be - not, as they had
hoped, the chance to finally kick Fox Mulder and his "spooky"
theories out of the Bureau - but rather, the forming of one
of the strongest, most dedicated and brilliant teams in the
agency. And who would have guessed that one day, she would be
sitting here grieving for the loss of her partner and friend,
and hoping desperately for a miracle?

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

//He had no sense of the passing of time. No tangible sense,
that is... He was aware of time going by, but was ignorant of
its length: hours, days, weeks, months, years... he couldn't
say.

At some point, he slowly became aware of renewed strength in
his neck muscles. He was able to slowly move his head from
side to side, giving him the chance to glimpse a little more
of his surroundings. To his left in the distance there was a
bridge - it was really only a small speck in his peripheral
vision - to his right, the sand stretched eternal.

He had the feeling that he was now alone on the beach - the
soft murmuring voices that he had heard when he first
"arrived" (if that was, in fact, what he had done) had faded
so gradually that he hadn't even been aware of it.

The other sound remained, though. It continued to soothe him,
the words flowing over him in waves: indistinct and yet so
familiar. It not only soothed him, he could feel it
nourishing him, giving him strength... whenever the voice
stopped, as it did on occasions, he would feel suddenly
deflated - as though all his hopes and faith and strength had
been sucked out of him in that tiny instant. It wasn't until
the voice returned that he would once again feel the renewal
surging through him.

He longed for the time when the rest of his body would move,
and he would be able to walk towards the voice, into its warm
and loving embrace - that was what he wanted more than
anything.//

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

Scully could tell that the doctors were puzzled. After the
first week of Mulder's coma, they had sadly informed her that
he would only last a few more days, so weakened was he. And
yet he had now been there for almost a month, and while he
had shown no sign of improvement, he hadn't weakened as
quickly as they had anticipated either.

It gave her a small hope - she knew that in all probability
he wouldn't make it, and if he weakened any more, a decision
would have to be made about his future. But for the moment,
she didn't want to think about any of that, and she clung to
the tiny belief that maybe, just maybe....

... maybe it was in the realms of extreme possibility that he
would return.

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

The first sign came at the four-week mark.

They had finished "Moby Dick" two weeks ago, and Scully was
now on her second book, "The Riders" by an Australian author,
Tim Winton. It was about a man's desperate quest for the wife
who had left him. Scully had found the book abandoned on one
of the hospital benches and she had picked it up out of
curiosity. Her attention had immediately been caught by the
name of the main character: Fred Scully. She had browsed
through it curiously, and then had delved into it more
deeply, the prose affecting her profoundly, whilst the story
itself called out to her - this Scully's quest neatly
mimicking her own.

It was while reading a particularly poignant and apt passage
that Mulder moved.

Her voice had become deep and resonant while reading the
passage:

" ' Questions hung like shadows behind Scully's head. His
thoughts went everywhere and no place...' " She had paused
momentarily to turn the page, her hand leaving Mulder's for a
few seconds, and then resettling in position, resting lightly
in his. It was at this moment that she sensed something...
some slight shift... a change in the atmosphere. She didn't
continue reading immediately, wondering if she was going mad,
or if she was right in thinking something was about to
happen. She waited a few minutes, and there was no other
sign, so she quickly dismissed the foolish thoughts and went
back to the book,

" ' Oh God, was she feeling pain and panic like him, aching
even in sleep for a break in the smothering static, simply
not knowing?...'"

Mulder squeezed her hand.

The book fell, unnoticed, from her grasp. The dull thud it
made as it hit the floor didn't even register in her mind.
She stared at their intertwined hands, unable to comprehend
what had just happened...

After a few minutes the doubts crept in... was her mind
playing tricks on her? Was she so desperate to have Mulder
back that she had imagined the slight pressure? And yet, the
memory of the fleeting squeeze refused to be washed out of
her mind. She had definitely felt him grasp her hand - but
maybe it had just been a reflex reaction, maybe he had a
cramp?

And then, as she stared fixedly at his hand, it happened
again.

This time there was no doubt. It was almost as if the first
squeeze had just been a trial run, leaving room for the real
thing. The outward signs of weakness that his body had been
showing were not evident now, as it seemed to her that all
his strength was concentrated in his hand as he squeezed with
all his might.

A broad grin spread across her face - the muscles had
remained so unused, that it hurt her to smile, but she didn't
care...

She reached over and pressed the call button.

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

//Movement had returned to his limbs fairly soon after he had
been able to turn his head.

He still couldn't stand, but he could lift his arms and legs,
and wiggle his fingers and toes.

He could feel his strength returning, slowly, but
surely....//

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

After that day, everything started to happen very quickly.
Following on from the peaceful and quiet days that Scully had
started to get accustomed to, the sudden rush of movement in
her and Mulder's little room disconcerted her slightly.

Suddenly they had a nurse in there almost constantly,
monitoring his every heart beat, checking to see if he had
shown any other sign of acknowledging the presence of the
outside world. In Scully's opinion, it was an unnecessary
waste of man power, after all, she was with Mulder round the
clock - she had started to use the hospital showers, rather
than returning home - and she would be the first to know of
any other gestures on his part. But her comments fell on deaf
ears.

Mulder was their own little miracle. For no apparent reason,
his health had made an about-face. Every day he was getting
stronger, and the doctors were confident that it wouldn't be
long before he returned completely to consciousness.

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

//The day had finally arrived... he felt strong enough to sit
up and look around him. As he had suspected, he was on a
beach - although it was unlike any beach he'd ever seen
before: the sand was so white that his eyes squinted in
protest when looking at it, the sea was a colour so blue that
he almost didn't believe it could be water, and the sky
remained as cloudless and perfect as it had been for the
entire time he had been there. It was perfect - everything
here was perfect,  and he almost didn't want to leave...

Maybe that was why it had taken his body so long to renew its
strength, he thought to himself... maybe it was a corporeal
attempt to keep him here, eternally tied to this perfection.
He knew then that if it hadn't been for the voice he would
have remained here forever.

But the voice had refused to give up: it had become a siren-
like call to him - one that he couldn't ignore, that he
didn't want to ignore...

Slowly, he pushed himself into a standing position, his hands
digging deeply into the now almost boiling hot sand. Once on
his feet, he paused for a few minutes, taking the time to
give his surroundings one last final look. He knew that he
could have peace here; that the pain that had dogged him all
his life would vanish if he settled here. He looked at the
bridge to his left; he could head towards that bridge (he
knew instinctively that that was where the mysterious voices
had disappeared to) and abandon any thoughts of returning to
life. He could head towards that bridge and be reunited with
his family: his mother, his father and... Samantha.

He knew that it was that simple: the choice between two
worlds, two destinies, two people.

The choice was his...

The waves continued to lap gently at the shore; the voice
that had given them their force was starting to fade... but
he could still hear it, it filled his head with a presence so
powerful that it obliterated all other thought. Although the
voice grew weaker on the outside, he knew that it would never
leave his inner spirit - it was a part of him, and he
couldn't let it go...

The choice was made.

He turned to the ocean and began to walk slowly towards it.
The water that hit his feet was not cold, as he had been
expecting, but warm, and welcoming. The voice, as though
spurred on by his movements, grew louder, snatches of words
suddenly - finally- becoming clear:

"I believe that you are not ready to go, Mulder..."

"I need you..."

"You can't leave, Mulder.... please... I don't want you to
leave..."

"I'm here for you, Mulder... Stay with me..."

He dived into the deep blue sea, and started to swim... and
as he swam, he slowly became aware of land ahead of him. He
stopped for a moment, and started to tread water: behind him,
the beach that he had been lying on, now revealed itself for
what it really was - an island - a small, yet beautiful
island. Looking in front of him, he saw that the mass of land
he was heading towards was exactly that: a mass of land -
solid earth... his home... his life... his future....

He swam quickly and vigorously. Finally, his hand touched the
shore, and he pulled himself up, breathing heavily.
Exhausted, he flopped down on his back, and allowed himself
to be taken care of....//

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

She was asleep when he opened his eyes.

He didn't mind - despite his blurry vision, and his weakened
state, he was glad to have the opportunity to look at her,
examine her sleeping face with the most minute scrutiny - the
face that he had thought he would never see again. He slowly
took in the shadows under her eyes, the pallor of her skin
and the gauntness of her face. With a spasm of pain, he
realised that she had been suffering because of him. Again.

After a few moments he lifted his shaking hand slowly, and
laid it gently on her head.

The touch wakened her with a start. Her eyes flew open and
she jerked into a sitting position, unintentionally knocking
his hand off her head.

For a moment she couldn't speak: all she could do was stare.

Her face expressed the most pure shock he'd ever witnessed.
And as he watched, his eyes unblinkingly fixed on her, he saw
the gentle change in emotion. The shock slowly dissipated,
giving way to a deep tenderness that caused him to breathe in
deeply.

He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that it was Scully,
that she was here - that she was looking at him like that.

Scully saw his open eyes, his alert - although bleary -
expression, and yet she still couldn't believe what she was
seeing. He was awake. He was alive. He had come back... to
her.

With infinite delicacy, she brought her hand up to the bed,
and slid it into his grasp, her lips slowly turning up in a
smile.

"Mulder...." Her voice had returned, but she didn't know what
to say, couldn't think of any appropriate words. All the
feelings that she had spilled out to him so effortlessly
whilst he was unconscious suddenly dried up inside. All she
could think to say was, "You're back..." Her voice was low: a
tentative whisper that barely made the distance from her
mouth to his ear.

His face slowly broke into a smile and he started to open his
mouth to speak, but then closed it. He wanted to speak to
her, and yet he was almost relieved to discover that it was,
for the moment, physically impossible. The constriction of
his throat was as much a result of his sudden hesitance and
uncertainty as a physical weakness. He couldn't think of the
right words, and he knew that now more than ever, the right
words were what were needed. He remained silent, deciding
that there would be plenty of time to say what was on his
mind.

Scully suddenly felt exposed, almost embarrassed. She
remembered that during their time together as partners they
had rarely revealed their deepest emotions to each other. It
hadn't been until that last night in her apartment that she
had realised what losing him would mean to her - and yet,
even then, the only thing she'd been able to say was an
ineffectual "I don't want you to go."

Now, she had a second chance. *They* had a second chance...
and yet, she knew it was going to take her awhile to build up
the courage to continue from where they left off.

That kiss. She couldn't forget it, and seeing Mulder now,
awake, it was one of the first images that sprung into her
mind.

But she couldn't think about that right now. She couldn't
really think about anything right now - she was too
overwhelmed, hadn't had time to absorb the reality of his
awakening.

She abruptly pushed her chair back and headed towards the
door. Mulder watched her, startled. Once again he tried to
speak, but he was forced into silence by the ache in his
throat.

She reached the door, opened it and said to one of the guards
still standing out there,

"Get the doctor in here, now." Her voice was firm and
authoritative.

The guard ran off, and yet she didn't turn around
immediately. In a single instant, all the strength that she
had been relying on throughout the last four weeks suddenly
deserted her, and she found herself clutching the edge of the
door with a grip so tight she could feel the wood biting into
her palm. She squeezed her eyes shut as her vision began to
swim absurdly, and bit her bottom lip to stop herself from
crying out.

After a few moments, she could gradually feel herself
returning to normal - some kind of normal. Her body tingled
all over, and the adrenalin pounded through her, rocketing
around her body and giving her the sensation of being on
fire. Her breathing suddenly became rapid, and her eyes
started to water - not with tears, she had shed so many tears
already that she was almost surprised that they were still
able to generate this wetness, but with pure emotion. She
tightened her grip on the door - its solid support providing
her with some sort of anchor, a touch with reality, when all
around her suddenly appeared so unreal, so incomprehensible.

"Scully?"

His voice was barely a whisper. She heard its weakness and
its frailty as any doctor would. And yet, there was something
more... That voice - it had said her name so many times in
the past, and yet this time there was something different: a
new timbre, a deeper significance.

She turned around slowly, until finally she was facing him.

He studied her searchingly, seeking some sort of explanation,
some sort of meaning.

"Are you all right?" It hurt him to speak, and yet he
couldn't stop himself.

Her lips turned up ever so slightly, hinting at her grasp of
a deeper irony, "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

His face lightened momentarily, but quickly resumed the
expression of concern that had been present before, "It's
just... you looked--"

She cut him off and curtly said, "I'm fine Mulder."

Hearing these familiar words, Mulder couldn't stop himself
from chuckling. Yes, everything was *definitely* back to
normal if Scully was coming out with the "I'm fine" line. He
shook his head slowly, noting that with those brief words,
Scully had once again restored order and balance in his life.
He knew where he was, he knew how things were - everything
was like it had always been.

Scully had paused briefly after her final words, but now she
continued, walking back towards the bed, her face an achingly
familiar mix of concern and tenderness. When she spoke, her
voice was soft - it was a voice that she had used with him on
a number of occasions, usually when she was talking about his
sister. Its gentleness enveloped him, filled him with the
same warmth that he remembered from that time on the beach.

"Mulder, what happened? Where have you been? Where's
Samantha?" The questions poured out almost subconsciously.
They were the words that had dominated her thoughts ever she
first saw Mulder lying in that bed, and she couldn't hold
them back a second longer.

At the question, he closed his eyes fleetingly, and breathed
in sharply. She was at his side now - he felt her proximity
before he opened his eyes. She had placed her hand delicately
on his arm, and at the touch he opened his eyes and looked
into hers.

He looked at her with such helplessness - a look that she
knew so well, had come to miss - that she gave his arm a
reassuring squeeze, and started to stroke his inner arm
gently with her thumb, hoping to encourage him to tell her
what had happened during those long years.

He opened his mouth, and was about to answer her, when there
was suddenly an explosion of activity at the door. Scully
swivelled her head around angrily, and saw that at least five
doctors and two nurses had just entered the room - the
security guard in tow. They swiftly moved over to the bed,
descending on Mulder like vultures, and casually pushing her
out of the way.

She caught Mulder's eye, and saw that he was smiling at her.

"Gee, Scully, you should have told me we were expecting
company - I would have put on my *best* unattractive hospital
gown."

Her lips twitched at their sides, but it was her eyes that
betrayed her amusement. As she continued to look at Mulder, a
nurse suddenly stepped between them, obstructing their line
of vision.

Scully slipped silently out the door.

~ THE END ~

-----------------------------------------------------------

= to be continued in The Choice 5: Memory =

One final disclaimer: wondering about that book I mentioned?
Well, it's a real book, and yes the main character's name
really is Scully. (Believe me, I found that just a bit
disconcerting when I read it a few months ago.) Absolutetly
no copyright infringement was intended in the use of that
book, in fact, I thoroughly recommend that you go out and buy
it, b/c it is a fantastic book, by a wonderful writer!
(Published by Pan
MacMillan). The quotes that I used were direct, although a
touch of artistic license was used in their placement on the
page... :)

Thanks for reading. Comments are welcome.

leigh_xf@geocities.com