by Sue Esty
(AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

Synopsis: Dana visits the hospital in Providence on Mulder's
birthday. Rated G, just a little UST and nice vibes. SEASON IV
SPOILER ALERT!!
Disclaimer: No, these characters are not mine but I wish they were.
They belong to Ten Thirteen Productions.
Author's notes: I had two reasons for writing this vignette. 1) To
Answer the XFAgnst challenge for birthday stories for Mulder and 2)
because CC made me just so d*mn (this story is rated 'G' after all)
mad. The plot holes in the premier were embarrassing. I'm sorry to
say it but it's true. It just lacked - style, cohesion, finesse. ON
THE OTHER HAND, it did contain the very nice and discrete shutting
of the door by Skinner and the hug heard round fandom. For these
reasons it will always remain near and dear to my heart.

ANGEL FOOD (1/1)
by Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

October 12, 1996
Providence, Rhode Island

     He sat sprawled in the ancient chair with its cracked plastic
cushions, long legs stretched out. His head was tilted to the side,
hair that had not be cut or even washed recently fell across his
eyes. The extent of his exhaustion could be read in that he didn't
even flinch when Dana Scully pushed the door slowly open and crept
into the darkened hospital room. Quietly she set her coat and
parcel on the small table by the window. Her hand paused to touch
the limp petals of the flowers before she returned softly to his
side. Leaning over him she brushed the lock of hair from his
forehead with a touch as gentle as that with which she had examined
the flower. The dark hair had hidden a furrowed brow.
     Without any other movement, tired eyes opened ever so slightly
to shine out of the twin dark pools in his drawn face.
     "You didn't hit the ceiling so you must have known it was me,"
Dana whispered.
     "I did."
     "How?"
     The slightly parted lips smiled just the tiniest bit in
greeting. "Not telling." With obvious effort he straightened up a
little in the chair that had begun to take on his shape after all
the hours he had spent there. "I didn't know when I'd see you
again. Must be costing you a fortune all this hopping around."
     "Let's just say I'm on a first name basis with the clerk at
the car rental desk at the Providence Airport. Besides, if I want
that vacation in Hawaii I need those frequent flier miles. While
we're on the subject of flying, you look like you just flew in
under your own power - and took a bad landing."
     That tiny smile again. "Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.
Finish documenting those protein markers with Agent Pentrell?"
     "Yes, just today..." Dana's eyes raised. There was something
in Mulder's voice when he said Agent Pendrell's name. "Something
wrong with my working with Agent Pendrell?"
     "Hmmm, you don't know?" A gleam in those hazel eyes but
something darker and more disturbed beneath.
     "Know what?"
     "You'll find out one of these days." Dana knew how Mulder
could be when his voice had that edge in it, nothing would shake
him, so there was no use trying any more tonight.
     His eyes turned sadly towards the woman in the bed who had not
moved since Dana's arrive except for the mechanical rise and fall
of her chest as she breathed. In truth she hadn't moved for more
than two weeks.
     Dana brought over the room's only other chair. She placed it
so close to him that occasionally their shoulders touched. "No
change?" she asked indicating the silent form on the bed.
     "Change," Mulder answered, "but no improvement. Some problems.
Nothing major, they say. Every time they talk to me about moving
her to a nursing home, however, she has a little relapse and they
put her in ICU for a couple of days. Then she moves right back
here."
     Alarmed Dana asked, "What kind of problems?"
     "Lungs, heart, kidneys... the usual."
     "Usual for you when you're in the hospital, not for the rest
of us mortals. Would you like me to look at her chart for you?"
     His eyes were warm. "Would you?"
     "You know I'd be glad to..." As she made a movement to rise he
reached out a hand to touch her arm.
     "It can wait. She's been stable for a couple of days. Stay
with me a little while longer."
     His voice was so sad Dana settled back beside him. "Of course,
Mulder. It's actually nice to stay in one place for a while."
     They sat is silence. The minutes floated gently by. It was,
Dana realized, very peaceful here almost like being in church. It
was a quiet floor for a hospital. The dimmed lighting was restful
to the eyes and made the hair of the woman in the bed shine with an
almost etherial glow.
     "She looks like an angel," Dana said admiring the lovely white
hair spread out on the pillow. "You look like her, you know," she
added.
     "You can't be serious."
     "Oh, but you do, especially around the eyes. I don't think you
look like your father at all."
     Even before her partner stiffened at her side Dana realized
that this was entirely the wrong thing to say. Mulder and his
father.... So many bad years only to end with a strained and far
too brief attempt at reconciliation before Bill Mulder's death. A
little fear jabbed its tiny fist into Dana's heart. She had said
that Mulder didn't look like his father... and Cancer Man, tall and
lanky and hateful, had suddenly darkened his way into the equation.
Why had Cancer Man and Mrs. Mulder met secretly and at a place that
held so many private and painful memories for the Mulders? Why, as
Mulder told her, had the devil man shown up later at the hospital
to inquire about his mother's health? What had these two meant to
each other? Clearly there was some history between them, something
long ago.
     Dana was grateful that Mulder hadn't been able to hear her
thoughts. She wished she hadn't heard them herself.
     "You're wrong," Mulder was arguing with a voice low but
determined. "It was the alcohol. If you could see pictures of him
when he was younger, there is more of resemblance."
     This Dana realized was not a productive topic. Not tonight.
Talk about something normal. "I've got a meeting with Skinner in
the morning," she told him.
     "Another assignment?"
     'Without me' had been added, unspoken but clear.
     Dana cocked her head slightly so that her red hair fanned out
away from her jaw. "And if so?" she asked her voice light. "One of
the members of this partnership has got to work." Hastily she
started, "I didn't mean -"
 
     "Scully, you're right. Don't apologize. I've been nearly
useless for weeks. 'Administrative leave'," Mulder spat as if the
idea was distasteful.
     "Mulder, if you could have seen how you looked when you
staggered in here that day. Skinner saw, everyone saw. You can't
cover up that sort of thing."
     Dana could almost feel the depression radiating from him even
as his shoulders slumped imperceptibly. "Mulder, you're not
superman. You can't protect the world. You can't go up against a
being like -" As she hesitated, he turned his head slightly to
watch her battling for the right words. After all she had seen the
'bounty hunter' before. She had seen his features flow and melt
from Mulder's to it's own granite-like visage.
     "A being like?"
     "He's a least not normal."
     The sad smile returned. "There's my little skeptic."
     Dana gave him 'the look'. He was the only person she knew who
could get away with the words 'my' and 'little' in the same
sentence and live and only if he didn't use the words often or
where anyone else could hear. "What surprises me is that - once
again - he didn't kill you. Not that I'd want him to."
     "Gee, thanks." he smiled sardonically.
     "He seems to want you to stay alive - though barely. By the
way what did he do... run you over with a truck? You were black and
blue in more ways - "
     "Scully!"
     "Well, if you must pace around at two in the morning at least
wear more than your boxers or shut the door between our rooms."
     "Sorry, I was trying to remember how I even got to Providence.
The last time I remember I was in Alberta flying through the air
towards - as you guessed - a truck. Talk about rough landings."
     "You were in shock. People can function amazing well on
autopilot during a crisis and have no memory at all of what they
did. It's not surprising that you ended up in Providence. You
somehow got yourself on that plane and to the hospital. You needed
to get back to your mother's side."
 
     "This is also where I told you I'd meet you. So like a homing
pigeon my instincts took over while my brain was out to lunch? I
suppose it's as good an explanation as lost time and alien
intervention."
 
     He turned towards her and there was that look - deep creases
on his forehead, brows drawn painfully together. "Scully, I'm
sorry... about ditching you at the mill, about everything. I think
I went a little mad. Even more than usual is what I mean. I guess
after all this time the idea of finally being with someone who knew
'things' and was willing to speak - " His voice thickened until he
had to force the words out. He turned away again to lean forward,
elbows on knees. "And that poor little girl. I knew it wasn't
Samantha. I forced her to come with me and I don't even know what
happened to her, except that I heard her scream." He stared
dismally down at the floor. "The only thing I could think of was
Mom. You must think that's pretty weird don't you?"
     "That you love your mother? No, Mulder. - "
     His eyes were all for the woman in the bed willing hers to
open. "It just that there wasn't much between us for so many years.
We were all in such shock at first. Afterwards there was such hate
and anger and guilt in that house. Now I know that Mom blamed my
father for Sam but at the time I thought everyone blamed me. 'I'
blamed me." His head hung low. "My teenage years were a horror or
would have been if I had allowed myself to feel anything. My father
drank and the anger the alcohol released had to have some outlet.
My mother was weak, smothering, over-protective or so I thought. I
know now that she was just afraid for me. Wanted to keep me from
him, from them. Oh, God! and the secrets she has carried alone all
these years. - one child gone, another child for all intents and
purposes a cold and distant shell, a husband a monster who would
sell -"
     Mulder stopped and wet his lips. The image of that file folder
with Sam's name taped over Fox's continued to haunt. "I had just
one thought - to bring Smith and the girl to see Mom. I had some
notion that if I could get my mother to notice this child who
looked so much like Samantha that that could jolt her out of her
dreams. In my heart, though, I knew they would never let us reach
here."
     "I know," Dana said with sympathy having let him talk. He
seldom could, rarely did, in this detail.
     He turned tired eyes on her again. "If you had been there you
would have seen through so much. You would have hit me up alongside
the head and forced me to see my errors. I should never have
ditched you."
     In her controlled Scully way, Dana's brows raised. "Will you
say that again but into a microphone next time."
     "Hmmm?"
     "That you should never have ditched me."
     He leaned his head back against the chair again smiling weakly
and letting his shoulder touch her arm. More silence, lovely
silence except for the respirator. Dana thought he had fallen
asleep until he said into the still air, "As you might imagine, I
had no luck with the SRSG in Toronto." The words came out in a long
tired sigh.
     "I thought that was where you went."
     "At least we have some information. There are reports of
similar facilities in the Canadian wilderness but all have been
recently abandoned."
     "Sounds like you're making someone's life difficult."
     "Think so? I think yours is the life I'm making difficult. I
can't believe I left you with that 'thing' even if I did believe
that I had killed him."
     "Mulder, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." Suddenly
she smiled wickedly. "You, on the other hand, need - "
     "A mother?" he asked dolefully.
     "A keeper. A maid. A manservant." She scanned him up and down.
His suit looked as if it had been slept in more than once. "Mulder,
you're a mess. You seemed surprised to see me when I came in. Do
you even know what day it is?"
     "Day?"
     Heavens, he didn't. Dana rose to get the box she had carried
in. The room was in such dim light that he couldn't begin to guess
what it contained. "Close your eyes," she told him.
     Dutifully, he did, but his brow darkened as he counted the
days. "I'm a dunce, is it...?"
     "You can open your eyes now."
     He opened his eyes to a sight - Dana holding a small tray that
glowed. A brilliant white light illuminated her lovely smile and
the russet red of her hair. He pushed himself to his feet to see
better what she held.
 
     A cake. And all because in less than half an hour it would be
his birthday and he had forgotten. The lights were not candles but
tiny electric bulbs, more than two dozen, probably three, all
sticking through the soft surface of -
     "Angel food cake?" he asked then gestured towards the bulbs.
"And what are those?"
     "Christmas tree lights. It's a thirty-six bulb mini string
that runs on a battery. You didn't think I'd bring candles in here
with your mother on oxygen, do you? I just hallowed out strategic
parts of the underside and poked the bulbs through."
     "And people say I'm strange," he remarked taking the tray from
her to examine it more closely. "Dana, I don't know what to say
except - "
     "Except?" she asked her tone pointed.
     "Only that I usually prefer my sweets with a little more
substance."
     "Are you saying that Angels aren't your speed, Mulder?"
     "You could say something like that."
     "But I wouldn't. You have more in common with the cherubim and
seraphim than you think. Angels are said to be able to live on air
and the words that fall from the mouth of God. I wouldn't bet on
the words from God but that's what we live on don't we? Air? Air
and faith and trust and - hope."
     Over the glow from the cake he held in his hands, his eyes
half closed in a way that was neither sly, not sleepy, but warming
with the hint of a hungry longing. "Yes, hope." As seamlessly as it
had appeared the hunger faded as if he had put it away, back into
its private box where it had peaked out if only momentarily. Even
though there was no fire, not from birthday candles anyway, the
room had suddenly gotten very warm. "Angel food and metaphysics?
Dana, I never knew you could be so profound."
     "I'm not. I was being practical. If I had used super double
dark chocolate pudding cake as you would have preferred you would
have been up all night on a sugar high and I would never have been
able to get the lights clean. I rather thought that I'd like to put
them on my mantel at Christmas if you didn't want them."
     "Angel's food, devil's food... doesn't matter, I'm touched.
Even more than usual," he added hastily.
     Dana gestured towards a little switch lying by the side of the
cake. "Make a wish, Mulder, what would you like me to get you for
your birthday?"
     "I get to choose?" he asked cautiously.
     "Anything."
     "Those are dangerous words to use to a man who reads what I do
to relax."
     "I can take whatever you can dish out, Fox Mulder. Besides I
trust you."
     A deep sigh could be heard in the quiet room as if this kind
of trust he didn't need. After considering for a moment he solemnly
thumbed the switch and the lights flicked out. Putting the cake
back on the small table by the window, he took her by the elbow
ever so gently and led her back to the two chairs beside the bed.
 
     Dana looked up into his face wondering. "So what did you wish
for, Mulder?"
     "You did say 'anything'.... You won't be angry?"
     "I may live to regret this but I did say anything. In any case
I won't be angry."
 
     He touched her shoulder gently. "Could I put my head on your
shoulder again, like before? Just for a few minutes. That felt so
nice."
     Dana swallowed as she felt the heat of the room moving inside
her. Why did they always keep hospital rooms so warm? "I'm not your
mother, Mulder."
     "I never thought for a moment that you were." He was so close
she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Just for a
little while. I know we can't let that sort of thing become a
habit."
     "It could," she said, her soft voice barely above a whisper.
     "I know."
     "Sure then. I'd like that, too."
 
     With her arms around him and his head on her shoulder they
watched the woman in the bed wrapped in her unnatural slumber until
it really was his birthday.