In Sickness by Leigh Alexander leigh_xf@geocities.com First posted: August 2nd, 1997 RATING: R CATEGORY: VA SPOILERS: Memento Mori KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully friendship SUMMARY: The disease and its treatment take their toll on Scully and Mulder is witness to their devastating effects. 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: This is not a pleasant story. If you only like happy endings then don't read on, because you probably won't enjoy this story much. Please understand that I do love, admire and worship the character of Dana Scully and this portrayal is not meant to be offensive in any way. Like a real person, she has her weaknesses, whether they be physical or psychological and that's what I wanted to explore here. If that offends people then so be it. Also, I have deliberately only focussed on Scully's point-of-view. Maybe one day I'll write a sequel from Mulder's POV, but I don't think I'm going to have time in the next week and a half before I go overseas! :) Thanks to Katherine for posting this for me. And a big, big thank you to Leyla Harrison whose wonderful story "Darkness and Light" (particularly part three) inspired this one and who was kind enough to read this for me, despite its subject matter. ------------------------------------------------------------ In Sickness ------------------------------------------------------------ His knuckles were hot against the back of her neck. Her skin was so clammy that the few strands of hair that escaped his tentative grasp clung immediately to her cheek. Droplets of sweat mixed with the tears that were pouring down her face as yet another convulsion racked her body. It hadn't taken long for the nausea to hit this time. It had belted through her insides almost the very second that she had settled under the starched sheets of the hospital bed. She had just managed to wrench her body back into a sitting position and pull the basin towards her when the violent vomiting had begun. It came more quickly now. Originally, she had been able to rest for at least ten minutes before the familiar roiling sensation would overcome her but now it was almost instantaneous. Again she vomited into the basin. And again. The sound and smell repelled her but she was incapable of quelling her body's need to purge. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, partly an involuntary reflex but mostly out of shame. The sensation of his fingers on her neck reminded her of his presence at a time when all she wanted was to be left alone. He had come too early... or maybe she had been brought back too late. Whatever the reason he was witnessing the side of her - that part of her illness - that she would never have wanted him to see if she'd had the choice. Her body shuddered agonisingly as she retched and gagged. She was crying now; deep, unstoppable sobs that were as uncontrollable as the waves of sickness that bucked through her body without cease. It hurt so much. She felt as if someone was stripping her stomach with a sanding machine. Her insides were a violent tempest, their shrieking pain still being heard amongst the storm. The blackness which had been her vision when she'd first closed her eyes had now developed into a stark and threatening blood-red. She thought she heard Mulder murmur something in anguish, but whatever he was saying was drowned out by the cacophony of sound which jarred ceaselessly through her head. She vomited once more, wondering in the back of her mind how there could possibly be anything left inside to be brought up. Her hands shook so much that the basin she was gripping seemed to wobble of its own accord. Pain pounded into every crevice of her body. Her head was a tight, twisted ball of agony that screamed like a distraught child every time she moved. Cramps darted through her arms and legs while sharp spasms periodically attacked her back. She wanted to die. For the first time since this disease had declared its presence, she truly welcomed death. Suddenly it no longer seemed like a submission to the enemy because nothing could be worse than this - the pain was unendurable, the shame even worse. She had been reduced to the most basic element of life; her reaction to the treatment was purely physical and no amount of will power could control that. As the disease and the medication continued to exact their punishment on her already- weakened body, she felt her last remaining pockets of strength deserting her. Her body was letting her down just when she needed it the most. Until now, she had succeeded in exerting strict control over her emotions, her partner, her family and her doctors but it was her own flesh which was now turning against her. And she had nothing left to fight it. No reserves of energy. No will to live. The devastating regurgitation continued. Time crept past as though it too was weighed down with the heaviness of illness; its passage went unnoticed by the room's occupants whose only concern was just how much more her body could endure. Finally - thankfully - Scully felt the nausea ease slightly. Gasping sobs were indistinguishable from the dry heaves as her body slowly recovered from its battering. Her nose was running and her eyes continued to shed hot tears which burned their way down her face as she weakly spat out the last drops of bile. With her lids still firmly shut, her hand shakily pushed the basin away and then reached blindly for the nearby box of tissues. She blew her nose with one tissue and wiped her eyes and mouth with another. Every part of her was trembling. Her hair tumbled back onto her neck, loosened from his fingers. The strands plastered themselves to her wet, pasty skin. She felt a movement behind her and realised that Mulder had left. Good. She didn't want him to stay. Couldn't bear to have him see her like this, although a small part of her was still hurt by his desertion. Why couldn't he stick around for once? Why couldn't he support her? A few seconds later she felt something cool and wet being pressed into her hand. It was a washcloth. He had left to go to the bathroom to bring it to her. If she'd had the energy she would have smiled. Or at least opened her eyes. But she couldn't. She was too weak to move and to weak to care. She brought her hand up to her face slowly, using all the strength she had left. Thankfully, Mulder didn't make a move to help her, although she could feel his gaze resting heavily on her hand's movement. The damp cloth against her face was pure bliss. She swept it across her eyes and cheeks and mouth, scrubbing away the filth and degradation that she felt there. Immediately, she felt cleansed... and almost healthy. The negative thoughts which had briefly descended on her were washed away at the same moment, while the all-encompassing pain which had tortured her and pushed her into such darkness also receded noticeably. She lowered herself gently back against the bed, her back welcoming the softness of the plump pillows. She turned the washcloth over and lay it over her face. Cool. Damp. Clean. Fresh. It felt so good. She felt herself drift into a state of calm and she welcomed its soothing embrace. Her thoughts from the past half-hour delicately untangled themselves from her mind's scrawled midst and fell into neat order. The mattress lifted as Mulder moved from her side to a chair next to the bed. She wished he wasn't here. She wished that her mother hadn't had to go interstate this week leaving Dana no choice but to enlist her partner's help. She had tried to keep things separate; the disease was personal, only she needed to deal with its debilitating effect. She didn't want him involved with this side of things - the treatment, the constant parade of doctors, the medication, the sickness. That wasn't supposed to be for him to see. It had been hard enough asking her mom if she could accompany her on these weekly visits, and it wasn't like Maggie hadn't seen her daughter in this kind of state before. But it was even worse with Mulder. Their relationship existed within a strictly defined territory; there were certain things that she just didn't talk about with her partner. Her illness, for starters. Of course, both of them put up a pretence - when he remembered, he'd ask her about her latest check-up and she'd dutifully give him the bare minimum of information that he needed to know. But beyond that lay the greyness of undefined territory that neither of them was willing to transgress. Until events had conspired against them, bringing them to this point. Scully felt a sigh escape her lips. She was starting to feel smothered by the washcloth but she was reluctant to remove it from her face. As it was, it served as a perfect shield and she was loathe to let it go. Mulder's steady breathing was the only sound she could hear and for a brief moment she allowed its regularity and dependability to weave a gentle thread of comfort into her head. Soon she would have to face him. But not yet. Not just yet... **************************** She could feel him watching her and the thought made her anxious. While there weren't enough other cars around to label it "difficult" driving conditions, his obvious distraction from the road did worry her. She knew that all he needed her to do was to look at him and smile reassuringly, but right now it was an impossibility. Right now she was too busy concentrating on not throwing up all over Mulder's nice, clean car. She focussed on her breathing with the intensity of a Lamaze partner; deep breaths - in through the nose, out through the mouth. She closed her eyes briefly when the nausea threatened her tenuous stability and managed to force it back down again. God, she hated this. Hated being sick. Hated the loss of control and weakness which accompanied it. Hated being dependant on someone else's help. At least she had managed to exit the hospital with a small modicum of dignity restored. It had been easy enough once she'd silenced Mulder's questions with a look. her eyes had commanded and thankfully he had obeyed. His imploring gaze had still followed her as she'd stubbornly pulled herself out of bed and moved towards the bathroom, picking up her clothes along the way, but not even she could have shut off that pained expression of his, so she let that one pass. Once in the bathroom, she'd lowered the toilet seat and sat down on it heavily, already weak from the small journey. With slow and excessively careful movements, she'd pulled the hospital gown off and started to dress herself. That was when she'd *really* started wishing her mom was there. The week before, she'd felt too drained to even contemplate getting into her clothes on her own, and it had been hard enough maintaining her self-respect when she'd had to ask her mother for help, but there was no way she would even have contemplated asking Mulder to help her. This week she was determined to do it on her own. So for the next twenty minutes she had struggled into the loose-fitting outfit that she'd carefully selected that morning, ever-mindful of the passing time. She'd known that Mulder would have had little hesitation in forcing his help upon her if he'd felt she needed it and having him burst in on her while she was half-dressed was the last thing she'd wanted. And she'd succeeded. Eventually. When she'd emerged from the bathroom she felt rejuvenated. She was clothed and her mouth tasted of nothing more ominous than toothpaste thanks to the thoughtfulness of a kind nurse. Mulder had looked at her, his expression deliberately blank, and had asked benignly, "How are you feeling?" Her answer had been the standard "I'm fine, Mulder" and for once she'd sensed a genuine frustration on his part on hearing those familiar words. But to his credit, he hadn't pushed. He'd been willingly acquiescent as she'd asked him to take her home and she'd hoped that that compliance would continue until he'd dropped her at her apartment. But from the studied gaze that persistently burned her neck, she now realised that she'd been wrong to expect that. Mulder could give her the distance she needed to a certain point, but then he would push and she would feel compelled to share her thoughts with him. Goddammit, she wished she understood this complicated web they existed in. Their relationship was so layered with feelings and threaded with moments from the past that she could no longer see clearly into the centre of truth, her confusion influencing her partnership and her interaction with others, not to mention herself. All she knew was that for her entire life she had needed her independence, needed to be the sole person in charge of her life. And now suddenly with this disease, not only had she lost the ability to guide her own path, but she'd suddenly found herself needing to be dependant on others. And she couldn't accept that. She refused to accept that. The car stopped and Scully realised with a start that they were at her apartment. Before she had a chance to move, Mulder had stopped her movements with his plaintive voice. "Scully, I had no idea it was so bad." He looked at her with a hurt expression and asked, "Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes refused to meet his as she replied dismissively, "It's not always that bad. You just caught me on a bad day; they increased the dosage slightly this time." Fatigue rolled over her and nausea continued to tickle the bottom of her throat. She didn't want to sit in the car with Mulder for the next ten minutes arguing about her health, she just wanted to go home and go to bed. With that thought in mind she moved her hand to the seatbelt buckle and pushed the spring to release it. Nothing happened. Her gaze travelled downwards and she noticed for the first time that her hands were shaking. She pushed against the red button again and watched the tips of her fingers whiten with the effort. There was still no effect and the reason slowly dawned on her: she was too weak. Her body was so drained of energy that it couldn't even manage to undo a measly seatbelt buckle. She knew Mulder was watching her and she knew without even looking just what his expression would be. Her eyes were still riveted to the buckle when his hand came into view. His strong, capable hand. She could feel the tears building up in her tear ducts and she bit her bottom lip to hold them back. With a quick movement, he pressed the button that she had been incapable of pushing and the seatbelt slithered back against the door. Neither of them spoke and it was Mulder who moved first, slamming the car door shut behind him as he got out. Scully remained in her seat. Her perceived loss of strength was as frightening to her as the reality would be, so she didn't even want to attempt to open the car door just yet. If she tried and failed it would be a further humiliation to add to the growing pile of indignation that she had suffered so far today. The door opened and Mulder was there. She shook her head at him, her lips pressed tightly together as the tears started to escape from her eyes, "I just need a minute," she whispered imploringly. He frowned in frustration and then bobbed down in front of her. The small crease of anger gave way to a streak of hurt as she continued to avoid his eyes. He stared at her unceasingly until finally she had to look at him. Her cheeks were already wet with tears but he could tell that there was more on the way. Leaning close to her, he placed his hand on the seat and said gently, "Let me help you, Scully." Hurt shone in her eyes. She didn't need his help. She didn't want it. Her voice was shaky, yet obstinate as she answered, "I'm fine, Mulder. I just need a few minutes." He could have yelled, but it would have just put her on the defensive. So instead he murmured, "You're not fine, Scully. You're sick. You're too weak to get out of the car..." He tried to give her an out, "You just need a bit of assistance, that's all." By now her whole body was trembling, whether it was from the tears or the medication she no longer knew. But she stubbornly ignored the weakness of her limbs just as she ignored Mulder's words. She slid one of her feet along the floor of the car until it reached the edge then she lifted it and placed it on the ground. She repeated her action with her second leg and then swivelled her body around so that she was now facing her partner, who continued to lock her in his gaze. She stared at him with a mixture of defiance and fear as she slowly lifted her arms and rested one on the open car door and the other on Mulder's shoulder. Her head was pounding already from the effort, and her body continued to quiver despite her attempts to control it, but she was determined to do this. He fed her strength with his eyes and lent her support with his body as she cautiously lifted herself to her feet. Mulder rose simultaneously, keeping his gaze trained on hers. She saw a flicker of worry dart across his eyes and knew that she must have flinched, but it wasn't until she felt his hands gripping her waist that she realised she was swaying. Damn. She wasn't going to make it. She leaned back against the car and continued to cling to Mulder's shoulder and the door. But even with his hands clasped tightly around her, it wasn't enough. She could feel her strength slipping away within a few seconds and knew that she would never make it to her front door. She bowed her head, ashamed. She couldn't even be bothered smothering the sobs anymore and they began hiccupping through her body. His voice came to her from a million miles away. "Let me help you." Was it her mind's echo, or had he repeated his request from earlier? It didn't matter really. It was all the same. Wordlessly, she nodded, knowing that the choice had been taken out of her hands. Realising that there was a gulf of difference separating what she wanted and what she needed. And that until this disease had finally swallowed her whole, that gap was just going to keep on widening. She closed her eyes and wept as Mulder lifted her in his arms and carried her inside. ~ THE END ~ ------------------------------------------------------------ Thanks for reading. leigh_xf@geocities.com http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shadowlands/8850