Darkness and Light (1/1) by Leyla Harrison Classification: VA, very slight MSR Rating: PG Summary/Spoilers: Alone, Scully takes on a new approach to treat her cancer. Post-Gethsemane. Thanks for this story go to all the people who have written me lately in support of my own cancer - your words and encouragement have been invaluable. This story is dedicated, though, to Madeleine Partous. Her kindness to me has been indescribable. ******** Another waiting room. Waiting rooms were something I had been getting very used to these days. I never thought I would see so many damn waiting rooms. But there were so many doctors to see, and each one had their own office. It meant that each one had their own assortment of chairs. Some plastic, some cushioned, some covered in cloth. And each office had usually a coffee table or two, and a selection of battered magazines - usually multiple copies of golf magazines. If I was lucky, there was a copy of something interesting, like Time or Newsweek. But they were copies from months before, so the article I would read that I thought was breaking news would turn out to have happened months before. I was a bit behind in current events. And then once inside the waiting room, I usually had to have blood drawn. Lately I'd been watching in fascination as the phlebotomist would snap on latex gloves and prepare my arm. The tourniquet would get wrapped around my upper arm tightly. Then the search was on for a vein. Wiping my arm with an alcohol soaked swab. The pain from the tourniquet would be strong now, strong enough for me to forget about the sting of the needle as it slipped into the vein, drawing out a blood sample. But this time there would be no blood drawn from my arm, which was still bruised from my visit here just days before when they had taken yet another blood sample from me. This time I was here for a different reason. I sat calmly, my legs crossed and my hands folded neatly in my lap. No fidgeting. No shifting nervously in my seat. I wore a pair of comfortable jeans and my favorite navy sweatshirt that was soft fleece on the inside. I was nervous. It was funny, but I had gone through this before. In Allentown, I had received treatment for the cancer. Treatment I had thought would be somehow helpful, when in reality if I had continued it, it would have killed me sooner. I was now back for a round of chemotherapy - a different chemotherapy. This one possibly could work more effectively, my oncologist has told me, because the cancer had metastasized to my bloodstream. This specific chemo was designed more for that purpose. My mother was picking me up in three hours. She had wanted to come with me but I had flat out refused. I didn't want her holding my hand while they were starting my IV, running the poison chemotherapy through the plastic tubing, watching as it slowly dripped into my veins. She could come and take me home later, but I didn't want her there while it was happening. I knew she was frightened for me. I didn't want her to see how frightened I was. "Dana Scully?" the nurse's voice came from across the waiting room. She was holding my chart. "Yes," I responded, standing up and crossing the room, following her back into a comfortable treatment room. It was similar to a hospital room - bed, bathroom, closet, phone, bedside table, television. "Why don't you go ahead and change clothes - there's a set of gowns in the closet. Put the first one on with the opening in the back, the second one with the opening to the front. You can hang your clothes in the closet. Then you can go ahead and get comfortable and I'll have someone come in and start your IV." I nodded and she left the room, leaving me alone. The room was silent. I couldn't hear anything through the walls. I stood and stared at the window for a few moments before I was able to move and start getting undressed. As I undressed, I thought of Mulder. I never would have wanted him to accompany me here, either, but he likely would have argued with me until I had at least agreed to have my mother sit in the chair by the bed with me for the duration of the treatment. Yeah, well, you're not here to argue with me about it, you bastard, I thought. My eyes welled up with tears quite suddenly and I had to bite back a sob. God, but I missed him. Mulder. How was I getting through this without him? I had come to the conclusion that I had to get through this - with or without him, but especially with him gone. I knew I had to have strength - emotional and physical. It wasn't easy. Physically I was fighting a losing battle and emotionally I was exhausted. But I was still fighting. I had aggressively sought out different treatments and doctors, which was how I stumbled upon this place and their trials of this new chemotherapy drug. I slipped into the two gowns as instructed and got into bed. The sheets and blanket were much more soft than I had expected them to be, and the bed was more comfortable. I leaned my head back on the pillow. There was a knock at the door, a pause, and then the door swung open. An efficient looking woman swept into the room. She pushed an IV pole in one hand, and a tray on wheels with supplies and medications with the other. "Hi, Dana, I'm Samantha Kramer. I'm going to be the nurse who will be administering the treatment to you today." I searched her face instinctively as I did with every Samantha I met. She looked nothing like Mulder, but her face was warm and compassionate. "I'll be staying with you for the first 30 minutes of the infusion to make sure that there are no side effects, but then I'll let you have some privacy and you can watch TV, sleep, make phone calls, whatever you'd like, until the infusion is over. It'll take about five or six hours for the entire infusion to run." I nodded. She sat beside me as she prepared to start my IV. She was quick and efficient, and thanks to the small amount of lidocaine she gave me, the pain of the insertion was almost not noticeable. I smiled gratefully at her. "Is it standard to give lidocaine before starting an IV these days?" I asked. "No, not standard, but more and more people are doing it. It makes it so much less painful - and it ensures a better line." She ran some tubing and connected it to my IV on one end and onto a bag of IV fluids hanging from the pole. "I'm running just regular fluids through right now, but I'm going to hang this bag of medication that will help with the nausea first before we start the treatment. You may feel a little lightheaded or dizzy in the first few moments, so just don't get nervous, OK?" I nodded and looked away, deciding not to watch. I felt the head rush a moment later. "Are you OK, Dana?" she asked. "I'm fine," I murmured softly. Minutes went by in silence. Then she spoke again. "OK, I'm going to start running the treatment drug now, Dana. You may get a little drowsy from it. And if you feel any nausea, let me know and I can give you more of the Zofran, OK?" I nodded. I was already tired from not having slept much the night before. I prepared myself for the nausea, but it never came. Instead, I closed my eyes and slipped into darkness. ***** A wave of nausea was the first thing I felt when I woke up, though. I felt it even before I could open my eyes. When I did look around the room, I felt as if I had been sleeping for days. My mother was sitting by my bed, reading. She looked up and saw that I was awake. "Hi, sweetheart." I was about to ask her how long she had been here when the next wave rolled over me, and I barely had time to reach for the basin beside the bed before I began throwing up. My mother jumped up and came to stand beside me, doing what she always did when I was sick as a little girl - she put her cool hands on the back of my neck and held my hair back. I vomited some bile and then dry heaved for a while, my eyes filling with tears as I did. I always hated throwing up - it had terrified me because I couldn't stand the choking feeling. "It's OK, honey," my mother was murmuring. Once I stopped heaving, I tried to look around the room, but I was so disoriented and tired that I couldn't focus. My mother seemed to sense it. "It's a normal reaction to the medication, Dana. You're going to be OK." I rested my body back on the bed and closed my eyes again. ******* When I woke the next time, I was sitting in a chair, my chin propped up on my hand which was on the armrest. I opened my eyes. "You gonna snooze all day, Scully?" I blinked a few times and looked around to get my bearings. I was in the basement - in the office, to be precise, and I was sitting across from Mulder's desk. "Hey, Scully, come on, wake up." His desk was shrouded in shadow. Mulder leaned forward in his chair, out of the shadow and into a pool of light. I blinked again. He had one of those goofy half-grins on his face. "Mulder?" I asked, my voice hesitant. I wasn't quite sure what was going on, other than the fact that I must very obviously be dreaming. He must have read my mind. "I know you think this is some strange dream, but it's not exactly." "Well, then what is it, exactly?" I asked. "Look, that's not important right now. There's not a lot of time. But I wanted to get the chance to talk to you for a few minutes." I nodded and gestured for him to go on. "I know you think that you're all alone in this. That you think that taking help from others means that you're weak. But Scully, it doesn't mean that at all. And you're not alone. Not at all." I shook my head. "Look, Mulder, I really don't think this is any of your business--" He cut me off. "It *is* my business. You told me you were fine a million times, Scully, and half the time you weren't. You never wanted to admit that you needed my help. Or anyone's, for that matter." "I can do this, Mulder," I said to him, injecting as much strength into my voice as I could. But I found there was a lump in my throat. "You need help, Scully. You need support. You need to let your mom help you. You need to talk to someone about all of this." Mulder got up from behind his desk and came over to kneel down in front of me, putting his hands on my knees. "I wish...I wish I could be the one," he whispered, "but I can't. Not right now." "What do you mean?" I asked, my heart pounding. Was he saying that... "What do you mean, not right now? Mulder, are you--" "Scully, just listen to me. Just don't--just don't give up. Not on me. Not on yourself." He touched my cheek tenderly. "You can't be expected to fight this thing alone. But you *can* fight it." "Mulder--" He stood up and went back behind his desk, sitting down, hidden again in the shadow. "Don't worry, Scully. We'll see each other soon, Scully," I heard him say, and then I felt my eyes getting very heavy again, and I had to close them because I couldn't keep them open any longer. ***** "Dana, honey, how're you feeling?" I opened my eyes and looked up into the warm face my mother. She smoothed my hair off my forehead. "OK," I managed to get out through a cotton dry mouth. "I'm thirsty." She handed me a cup of water from the bedside table and I drank from it eagerly. "The treatment is over. The nurse said you should rest for another hour or so and then I can get you home." I nodded. "Mom - can I stay with you tonight?" I asked impulsively. Surprised, my mother collected herself and smiled. She was expecting me to be upset with her for showing up early and sitting with me during the treatment. "Of course you can, Dana. You can stay as long as you'd like." "Thanks." My head was fuzzy, and so I closed my eyes again, feeling myself drifting into a light sleep. "Love you, Scully. I'll see you soon." My eyes snapped open and I bolted up in bed. "What did you just say?" I asked my mother, and she stared at me, her eyes wide. "I didn't say anything," she said. I settled back down in bed and looked out the window, seeing some sunlight through the blinds. OK, Mulder, I thought. OK. I love you, too. END -- the *enigmatic* Dr. Scully please visit my home page - or do I have to pay you? http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Vault/1377 --------------------------------------------------- "I just saw you, not exactly the most sexually spontaneous person in the world, about to do the wild thing with some stranger." --Mulder to Scully, The X-Files