From: shan@nyx10.cs.du.edu (Steven Han)
Date: 15 Sep 1994 15:47:10 -0600

Hi all,

Time for yet another of my short stories.  X-Phile junk food, if you will.

The following is a somewhat moody piece centered on Scully.  Not humor,
not erotica.  It's another stab in my line of not-too-successful attempts 
at a "straight" story.

In this tale, Scully has a near-death experience and visits scenes from her 
past, as well as coming face-to-face with her recently departed father.  
Or does she?

This plotline is a familiar one, having been used many times on TV and in 
the movies.  But then, hey, no one ever accused me of being too original! :^)

This story uses characters from the TV show "The X-Files," a Ten-Thirteen 
production.  No copyright infringement is intended.

Here follows "Recollections" by Steven Han, 9/15/94.

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


10:55 p.m.

"FBI! Down on the floor!" yelled Fox Mulder as he kicked in the front door.
He dashed into the small rundown home, his gun pointing the way.

In the dim lamplight of the squalid laving room, Mulder saw two men in 
undershirts and jeans lounging on the couch in front of the TV.  He quickly 
flung his pistol around and trained it on the pair, who looked up at him 
and reluctantly raised their hands.

Behind him, Scully and the rest of the team poured inside.  Scully briefly 
glimpsed over Mulder's shoulder at the two suspects, then rushed into the 
back of the house.

Turning left from the living room and entering a hallway, Scully noticed a
closed door on the right.  She crept over and planted her back on the wall 
on the far side of the door, then gestured to the agent following her to 
take up position on the other side.  Taking a deep breath, she pulled up
her gun in front of her with both hands, then turned around towards the 
door.  She pulled her leg back and kicked the door in, shouting "FBI!"

Scully saw an intense flash of light, then glimpsed the blue steel barrel 
of a .357 magnum pointed straight at her.  Behind the gun, she briefly saw 
the grim determined face of a wanted fugitive.

But before she could make out his features, she was overcome with an 
intense burning sensation as a fire erupted in her right shoulder.  
Something pushed her back rudely from the doorway, something hot, as if a 
branding iron had been thrust into her shoulder.  Scully recognized the 
distinctive pain of a bullet impact.

The force of the round sapped her energy, pulling her down to the ground.  
She felt dizzy, as the piercing pain turned into a dull aching sensation.  
As she heard additional shots ringing out around her, she felt her spirit, 
her vitality, her life draining out, as the world around her faded to black.
A cold dark murkiness enveloped her, and she crumpled to the floor.

             *                 *                  *

"Officer down! officer down!" yelled the agent, bending over Scully.  He 
rolled her over on her back, and saw the blood from her wound beginning to 
drench the shoulder of her coat.  Other agents assembled and began huddling 
over her, when Mulder arrived and quickly pushed them out of the way, 
kneeling down by her side.

"Oh god, no, Scully...," he cried out, covering his mouth in horror.  Seeing
the blood seeping through her coat, he bowed and shook his head in 
disbelief, as his fingers desperately fumbled around on her coat, searching 
for something to do. 

His training told him to apply pressure on the wound, so he placed his
palm on her shoulder and pressed down on the fountain of blood.  As he 
fought back the deluge, Mulder began to hyperventilate as the shock and 
anguish of the moment threatened to overcome him.  "My god, Scully -- How, 
how could this happen? how? Come on Dana, don't do this to me, just hang on,
I'm begging you..."

             *                 *                  *

Dana felt herself falling, then floating, then slowly drifting about.  She 
looked around, but did not recognize the surroundings.  All around her was
a vast emptiness, softened by a gauzy white aura that surrounded her and
filled the air.  She couldn't tell whether she was standing up or lying 
down, whether she was indoors or out, whether it was day or night.

She felt her spirit roaming free, as if her thoughts were detached from her 
body.  She felt her mind wandering, contemplating nothing and yet
accepting everything, feeling as one with her surroundings.  Removed from 
the realities of everyday existence, she was free of all material thoughts 
and concerns.  She felt warm and tranquil, without a care in the world.

Then, suddenly and without warning, Dana found herself on her feet, running, 
running for her life.  She felt her legs galloping furiously beneath her, 
stretching out in ever longer strides.  Her heart pounded like war drums
inside her chest, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.  She didn't 
know what she was running from, only that she had to keep running, and that 
the alternative was too terrible to imagine.

Frantically making her way amidst the rocks and debris, it dawned on her 
that she was in a forest.  She dashed under a low branch, then cut through 
a pair of closely set trees.  She wanted to look back, to see who or what 
was chasing her, but she didn't dare.  The sheer intensity of her terror 
prevented her from doing anything but continue running, forging ahead as 
fast as her legs would carry her.  To turn around would mean breaking 
stride, and perhaps falling down...

Still, she had to know.  Just what was her plight that she was now running 
for her life?  She knew she couldn't keep up the pace much longer, and if 
this was to be her end, she had to know who was chasing her.  She wanted 
to have one solid glimpse at her attacker's face, to look into his eyes, 
to burn the image into her memory...

But she couldn't turn her head.  Her neck was frozen in place.  To her 
dismay, she found she was no longer in control of her own body, which 
only continued running, faster and faster.  Her legs flew in long strides 
beneath her, propelling her forward.  Her arms swung back and forth in time,
matching the movements of her legs.  Frightened, she tried to command her 
legs to stop, but couldn't.  Her body had taken on a life of its own, 
merely carrying along her spirit like a rider on a runaway horse.

Then the buzzing started.  A swarm of tiny green insects formed a blinding 
mist and gathered around her.  Her running was of no consequence; they 
caught up to her, encircled her, and covered her up in a suffocating green 
cloud.  

Tired and out of breath, Dana stopped running and pulled up, her lungs 
heaving for air.  She dropped to her knees and pounded her fist on her 
chest, trying desperately to breathe in the lifeblood of oxygen.  But it 
was no use, as the swarm of insects choked her up and prevented her from 
breathing.   She began to feel dizzy and lightheaded.  She sensed the 
insects settling down on her skin, as she felt her body crumpling to the 
ground.

             *                 *                  *

"Stay with it, Dana -- fight for it! don't give up -- you can make it!" 
shouted Mulder, as the paramedics lifted her stretcher off the floor.  
Mulder got up with them, holding Dana's limp wrist with his hand, the hand 
that was by now covered with her blood.   Accompanying the stretcher out the 
doorway, he ducked behind one of the paramedics as they turned a corner, 
then followed them through the sea of agents and officials that had flooded 
the hallways.

Proceeding out the front door and into the street, Mulder kept pace with
the paramedics while keeping his eyes focused on Scully.  Covered under a 
blue blanket, with her wound hastily dressed, she was barely hanging on to 
life.  Mulder didn't know whether she could hear him, but sincerely hoped 
she could.

"Come on, Dana, you have to make it; don't give up.  Don't leave me alone," 
he pleaded with her, choking up.  "I need you, I need your strength.  We all
need you -- me, the Bureau, your family - we need you to pull through," he 
begged of her, oblivious to the crowd that was watching his actions with 
curiosity. 

The paramedics looked back at him rudely as they turned to load Scully into
the ambulance.  Mulder was still holding on to her hand, and he reluctantly 
let go of her as the medics folded up the wheels of the stretcher and slid 
Scully into the back of the vehicle.

One of the paramedics jumped inside next to the stretcher, as the other 
dashed around to the front and into the driver's seat.  The medic in the 
back began to close up the doors, when Mulder leaned inside and asked, 
"Can I come with you guys? she's my partner."

The paramedic looked back at him sternly, like a teacher chiding a 
disobedient student.  "I'm sorry, but only medical personnel are allowed 
in here," he said, in a weak attempt to sound polite.  And with that, the 
back doors closed up, the sirens flared, and the ambulance pulled away.

Mulder stood and stared at the departing ambulance with a despondent look
on his face.  Then a thought occurred to him, and he rushed off towards 
his car.  And before the local sheriff could protest, he sped off to follow 
the ambulance.

             *                 *                  *

Dana found herself in her bedroom, suddenly awake.  She pulled back the
sheets, sensing something was wrong.  She got up from her bed, put on 
her slippers, and walked over to her bedroom door.  Grabbing the doorknob, 
she jerked her hand back in pain.  The door handle was scalding hot.

She pulled out a thick shirt from the closet and wrapped it around the 
doorknob, turning it gently.  Something told her not to open the door, but 
she had to see what was behind it.  She softly parted the door open, 
pulling it slowly towards her.

Suddenly, a giant tongue of orange flame leapt through the crack in the 
door and jumped up at her face.  Startled, she reared back and fell down 
backwards on the floor.  Looking up, she saw the flame extending its reach 
into her bedroom, sprouting branches that grabbed the door and flung it 
wide open.  She saw the fire entering her room like a rude intruder, quickly
spreading out and jumping up onto the ceiling in the space of a heartbeat.

The current of flame roared across her ceiling like a tidal wave, quickly 
reaching all four corners of the bedroom.  They turned and began to swarm 
down the walls, reveling in the destruction as they crept down in a thick 
red sheet of fire.  Crawling further down the walls, they consumed her 
curtains, igniting them and swallowing them up in a single ball of bright 
orange flame.

Looking around her room in panic, Dana saw the descending flames meeting her 
floor, finding new invigoration as they jumped onto the soft fabric of her 
carpet.  With their target now in sight, the flames started crawling towards 
her on the floor from all directions.  In desperation, she bolted for the 
doorway, diving out under the torrent of flame that was still pouring into 
the room.

Looking up slowly from the hardwood floor of the hallway, she saw a river 
of flame flowing above the corridor.  The noise of the blaze was deafening,
as it crackled and snapped at her, while it voraciously sucked up air 
into its currents.  Dana saw the bottom of the angry red waves rushing 
by her just inches above her head, seemingly trying to crush her down 
against the floor.  Thick black smoke descended from the stream of fire, 
burning her eyes and impairing her vision.

Her heart racing, she crawled out across the floor on her stomach and 
entered the inferno that was her living room.  Looking out towards the 
kitchen through teary eyes, she could barely see the outline of her front 
door, just twenty feet ahead of her.  She kept crawling, inching forward
and maneuvering under the floating layers of fire.

Reaching the base of her front door, Scully started to panic as she looked 
up at the doorknob.  Even in the lobby the thick flames reached down to a 
level just inches above her head, completely engulfing the handle to the 
door.

Feeling the blaze trying to pin her to the floor, Scully realized what
she had to do.  Biting her lip, she thrust her arm up into the sea of
flame and reached for the handle.

She felt the raging fire wrapping itself around her arm, pricking her skin 
like a million red-hot needles.  She felt the angry flames taring into her 
forearm, scalding it, singeing it, peeling back the layers of her skin.  She
felt the nerves in her arm crying out as the scorching flames formed 
blisters on her skin, then popped them, then ripped the flesh off her bones,
charring the flesh and burning it to cinders.  She felt like her arm was 
being torn to pieces, chewed on and gnawed apart by a pack of rabid wolves.
Unable to stand the pain, she pulled back her arm with a shrieking cry.

Suddenly, she sensed a figure behind her, laughing.  Still reeling from
the pain, she turned her head around slowly to look behind her.  There, 
standing just beyond the edge of her feet, was a young man engulfed in 
flames, laughing out at her.  He pointed an arm out at Dana, aiming a 
finger at her face.  A small wisp of flame grew from his fingertips, then 
erupted into a thick burning stream that shot out towards her.  "No!" she 
screamed, as she covered up her face with her hands.

             *                 *                  *

"Allright, let's unload her," said the paramedic attending to Scully as he 
grabbed the far end of the stretcher.  The driver came around to the back 
and opened the door, then helped pulled the stretcher out of the ambulance.
They unfolded the stretcher's wheels and carted Scully through the driveway,
guiding her through the hospital's emergency entrance.

Mulder's car screeched to a halt behind the ambulance, and he dashed out
towards the entrance in pursuit of the paramedics.  He ran inside and caught 
sight of the stretcher as it was being rolled through the corridors.  He 
saw the paramedics handing off the stretcher to the hospital orderlies, who 
wheeled it around a corner.  He finally caught up to the cart, just a few 
feet away from the double doors marked "Emergency Surgery."

Reaching out to grab her hand, Mulder cried out, "Scully! I'm here! 
hang on -- you can make it!"

             *                 *                  *

Dana found herself in her office, sitting behind her desk.  The room was
dark, and she could barely make out the surroundings.  She figured that it
must be late, probably well past working hours.  Looking around, she saw 
the familiar cabinets, the file folders, Mulder's desk, and... Mulder.

He was leaning back in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk,  
an X-file folder open in his lap.  He had on his wire-rimmed reading 
glasses, his tie loosened, and was peering intently into the case folder.  
He appeared completely wrapped up in the file, seemingly oblivious to her 
presence.

Something inside her made Scully want to reach out to him, to ask him about 
his fascination with the case.  She felt a lump in her throat, however, and
found herself unable to speak.  Surprised by her vocal paralysis, she 
instinctively tried to force out his name, to call out to him.  But no 
matter how hard she tried to talk, her words remained stuck inside her, as 
if locked up inside a cage.

Suddenly, she saw Mulder stirring and looking up, though not at her.  He
leaned forward and looked straight ahead, removing his glasses.  He pulled 
the glasses down to his mouth and began nibbling on one of the earpieces.  

He narrowed his eyes and focused on a distant image, as if trying to juggle 
a myriad of clues, struggling to piece them together.  Suddenly, his 
eyebrows narrowed, his eyes lit up, and his facial muscles grew tight, as 
a faint glimmer of understanding began to surface in his expression.  But 
just as quickly, his face sagged and his eyes faded back into a dull grey,
as the crystalline image dissolved back into murkiness.  He had lost it, 
lost the picture.  The clues were now just so many pieces of scrap again.

Sighing deeply and sinking back in his chair, he looked around the room, 
and caught Scully at her desk.  Looking at her with surprise, he remarked,
"Hey, Scully - when did you come in? I didn't notice you.  Isn't it past 
your bedtime?"

Dana wanted to respond, to jab at him with a quip about his workaholic
ways.  But she still found herself unable to mouth the words.  Her lungs 
refused to release the air, and her vocal chords were frozen like boards 
in a vise.

"Not in a talking mood, eh, Scully? well, that's okay," cheered Mulder,
getting up from his chair.  He came over to her side of the office and 
sat on the edge of her desk.  Putting down the case folder, he folded his 
arms up against his chest and began to speak.

"You know, Scully, I've been wondering why you've been working so hard 
lately.  I mean, in my case it's understandable, because I love the work.  
I feel it's my mission to seek out the truth that's buried in these cases.
But you, on the other hand, seem to enjoy nothing more than shooting down 
all my theories, always trying to rationalize everything away.  Does that 
behavior really give you so much satisfaction that you insist on putting so 
much effort into it?" he asked, feigning a hurt expression.

Observing her impassive face, he withdrew from his playful mode.  "Um, well,
sorry about that, Scully.  I'm just kidding, of course.  I really don't
think you're such a bad sport.  In fact, you've been a great help to me 
lately.  I don't think our work on the X-Files would have been nearly as 
successful if you hadn't been involved.  I have to tell you how much I 
really appreciate your help and support, Scully."

Still not getting any sort of response from her, Mulder shrugged and 
continued.  "Now I understand of course that you were given orders when 
you first came here, to 'spy' on me, so to speak, and I *was* suspicious 
of you at first.  But through our collaboration over the past year, I've 
come to respect you as a decent and honorable person, and I've learned to 
appreciate your honesty and sense of judgment.  I've come to value our
collaboration, and I've recognized the importance of our partnership, 
Scully."

Pausing for a moment, he looked down at the floor.  "And I must say, Dana,
that lately, I've actually come to appreciate you as more than just a 
colleague.  You've become an important part of my life, and I've started to 
think of you as a friend, as a companion, as..."

Scully tightened her grip on her armchair, as she felt her heart beating
faster in anticipation.  Fear and hope ran through her as she wondered what 
he might say next.  She hoped he wouldn't notice her loss of composure, 
and fought to calm herself down.  She resolved to remain cool and detached,
regardless of whatever Mulder might say to her.

Mulder paused to search for some kind of sign from Scully, some indication 
as to whether he should go on.  He gazed at her soft, round face, the one 
that had always seemed so expressive and eloquent even in silence.  But now,
but saw nothing but a pair of blank, impassive eyes looking back at him.  He 
hesitated, wondering whether he had made her uncomfortable. 

Dana wondered whether he had lost his courage and was having second 
thoughts.  She wanted him to continue, to come out and confirm what she 
had suspected for the longest time.  She wanted to voice a word of 
encouragement, but her words were still stuck in her throat, her vocal 
chords still frozen in place.  Unable to speak, she looked up and gazed 
into his eyes, penetrating the space between them the only way she could.

Seeing Dana's eyes suddenly looking up at him so affectionately spoke a 
thousand words.  Her eyes told him the story, of how she understood his 
discomfort but wanted him to go on.  He gulped, then looked down at his 
hands, trying to gather up his courage.  Looking back up at her with 
trembling eyes, he began to speak.

"Um... over time, Dana, you've earned my respect, through your 
professionalism and by the strength of your character.  I grew to admire 
you for your courage, you honesty, your sense of duty.  Whenever I went 
overboard on a case, you were always there to pull me back, to give me a 
sense of direction, to put everything into perspective."

"So you've always provided me with a sense of bearing, Dana, and now you've 
become my touchstone, my confidant, and my source of inspiration.  You've 
become the only person I can truly trust and confide in, Dana, and the one
person that makes the difficult parts of my job and my life bearable.  I've
come to feel a kinship between you and myself, a bond developing between us."

"So after all these months of grappling with my deepest inner feelings, 
I've finally come to realize that I can confess this to you, Dana, that I 
truly..."

Then he paused, unable to finish the thought. He wondered whether he had 
gone too far, committing himself without knowing how she really felt about 
him.  He pulled his hand up to his mouth, as if trying to hold back a 
torrent of bottled up emotions.  His feelings were split; he wanted 
desperately to tell Dana of the emotions that had swelled up in him over 
the past year, but his defenses held him back as he teetered over the edge.
He was afraid of expressing a feeling that might not be mutual, afraid of 
being rejected, of being hurt.

Frustrated by his hesitation, Dana had to know; she had to hear him say it.
She wanted to cry out to him, to tell him how she felt, what he meant to 
her own life.  Perhaps he was too afraid to acknowledge his feelings; 
perhaps her own confession would allow him to go on and admit his feelings 
for her.

She tried to form the thoughts in her head, to utter the words, but she 
found it impossible.  A mass of conflicting thoughts and emotions floated 
about in her mind, like feathers that would fly away as she reached up to 
grab them.  The emotions that ran through her could not be distilled into 
words; they resisted her best efforts to rein them in and form any sort 
of a coherent thought.

Finally, she realized she would have to make some kind of a gesture, to 
reach out to him before he pulled away from her completely.  With all her 
determination, she gathered up her strength, vowing to overcome whatever 
force was holding her back.  Drawing on every ounce of energy in her fiber, 
she burst out his name.  "Mulder!"

             *                 *                  *

"Scully! yes, it's me! Mulder! I'm here!  I'm here for you, Scully! can you
hear me?" shouted Mulder in amazement.  She had called out his name; perhaps
she wasn't so far gone after all!  "Hey, people, she spoke! she called out 
my name!"

"Excuse us, officer - we have to get her into surgery," said the burly
orderly.  He politely but firmly pushed Mulder aside as they wheeled the
stretcher through the sliding double doors and into the surgery room.  
Through the open doors, Mulder saw the surgeons and nurses donning their 
white gowns, as others wheeled in racks of bulky medical instruments.

"But... but I need to be with her, she's my partner," protested Mulder
meekly, as the orderlies pulled the stretcher inside, and the doors slid to 
a close behind them.

             *                 *                  *

Dana found herself in her living room, laughing out loud with her mom and 
dad.  "So, Dana, are you going to keep this Christmas tree around forever?" 
asked her father.

"Well, Dad, since you always took down the tree the day after Christmas, 
yes, I'm going to keep this tree up all year 'round," she responded
cheerfully, carrying off the dishes.

"Well, I hope you enjoy scooping up dry pine needles," smirked her cherub
father, as he walked over and kicked at the collection of brown needles 
under her tree.

"Here, let me help with the dishes," urged Dana's mother, as she entered the
kitchen and donned an apron.

"No, mother, it's really quite all..." started Dana, just as she stopped 
in her tracks.  She realized something was not right.  It all seemed so 
familiar - the surroundings, the conversation, the motions... Just as if 
she had been through it all before.  And yet, that wasn't possible, was it?
Still, something about the setting bothered her, as if she was hearing
echoes of her own voice.

Even her father seemed strange this evening.  She felt closer to him than 
she had in months, and yet he seemed so distant, so unreachable.  It was 
not in his mannerisms or in his speech; he seemed just as happy as ever.  
It was rather that he didn't quite seem himself today, more like a shadow 
of his actual self...

She recalled that he had always been a good father, although his role in
the family had at times been affected by his career.  He had always been a 
caring father, showing nothing but love for his four children.  However, as
a naval officer he always exuded a commanding presence, much of which 
filtered into his home life.  And at times, the military air surrounding 
him resulted in more than a hint of detachment towards his children, a sort 
of formality with which he treated them, an artificial barrier between 
himself and his family.  The barrier had only grown over time, to a point 
where Dana felt as if she had lost all direct connection to her father.

Things had turned worse when she decided to forsake the practice of 
medicine to join the Bureau.  Her father had such high hopes for her, 
wanting her to become a surgeon at a prestigious hospital.  Dana believed
he was clearly disappointed with her; he had implied as much in his sideways
comments when he joked she would be just a glorified streetcop.  But he had
tried to keep his true disappointment hidden deep inside him, once again 
resorting to his well-practiced formality to keep his true feelings away 
from her.  He did not want to further deepen the chasm that had been 
building between them over the years.

But inside, Dana felt his disappointment, his disillusionment with the 
life she had chosen for herself.  She wondered how personally he took her 
decision, whether he took it as a sign of personal rejection, as a
daughter's act of rebellion against her father...

Dana turned and noticed her father admiring the decorations on her modest 
Christmas tree.  She turned back around and saw her mother gathering up the 
dishes and placing them in the dishwasher.  It was a serene picture, but 
something just wasn't right about it.  Somehow, she felt more like an 
observer here than a participant.  This is not my role, she thought; I don't
belong here... do I?

But Dana realized that whatever was happening to her, she wanted to take 
this time to approach her father, to try and bridge the gap that had built 
up between them over the years.  She had to find out how he really felt 
about her, whether he was disappointed with her actions, with how she had 
turned out.  Or, as she hoped, perhaps he was indeed proud of her, proud of
her accomplishments, proud of the person his daughter had become.

She wondered why her father's approval meant so much to her.  After all,
she was a big girl now - heck, a woman.  She was more than old enough to
make her own decisions, and didn't need the comforting approval of a 
paternal figure.  Or did she?  

Perhaps even in her adulthood she was still a child, yearning for the
understanding and approval of her parents.  Perhaps she still wanted to
bask in their warmth, in the reassuring glow of their nurturing eyes.

Perhaps we're all children in a way, she thought, continually seeking the 
support of others as we make our way in an uncertain world.  Perhaps we do 
need the guidance of those who've been through it before, those that have 
blazed a path for us.  Perhaps their kind understanding and guiding hand are 
what make our own journey more bearable.

Dana lowered the dishtowel and stepped out of her kitchen.  She walked up
behind her father, sensing his commanding presence as she approached.  
"Do you approve of the decorations, *sir*?" she asked, stiffening up
and standing at attention.

Her father turned around, amused by her sailor imitation.  "Very good, 
sailor," he replied authoritatively.  But as the charm of the moment wore 
off, his expression became uncomfortable as he struggled for something to 
say next.  Flustered and at a loss for words, he looked beyond Dana and 
called to her mother.  "We should be setting off now."

Dana looked behind her as her mother placed the last of the dishes in the
dishwasher and turned to join her husband.  Turning back around, Dana
saw her father reaching for his coat.  This isn't going right, she thought.
She feared it might be a long time before she would get another chance to 
speak with her dad again, before she could ask him how he really felt about 
her.  And something inside her made her fear that chance might never come.  
She had to ask him now.

"Dad, don't be in such a hurry.  Why don't you and mom sit down?  we could 
talk for a while," she said, pulling the coat off her father.

A bit surprised, her father glanced over at her mother and shrugged.
"Well, okay, I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

Her parents sat down on the couch, as Dana sat down on the chair opposite 
them.  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.  She looked 
into her father's eyes, catching them looking back at her inquisitively.
She turned her eyes down to the floor and spoke.

"Dad, um... I need to know something.  I know you weren't exactly thrilled 
with my decision to go into the Bureau.  I know you had other plans for me, 
but I need to know.  Were you upset by what I did?  Do you disapprove 
of me?"

Her father tried to smile back at her, but could only squirm in his seat,
clearly uncomfortable with the subject.  "Why, Dana, you know I'd never 
disapprove of you.  You're my, you're our daughter," he said, turning 
towards his wife and putting an arm around her shoulder.

Frustrated at his sidestepping the question, Dana pressed on.  "But dad, 
honestly, I really need to know.  Are you... at all proud of me, of what 
I've done, what I've become?  Did I live up to your expectations? I need 
to know."

Pulling his arm back off his wife's shoulders, Dana's father took in a
deep breath.  Letting it out in a sigh, he spoke in a resigned voice.  
"Dana, it really doesn't matter what I think.  Your life is yours to 
live as you see fit.  You're a big girl now, and you don't need our 
permission to do what you want."

Scully looked up into her father's face, seeing in it a sad but loving pair
of eyes.  "But dad, I really need to know.  I guess what I'm trying to say 
is... I need to know that I haven't disappointed you.  I have to hear from 
you that you're not upset with what I've done, with the choices I've made.  
Otherwise, I don't think I could ever be at peace with myself."

Her father looked down at the floor, then gathered up his hands in his
lap.  He paused for a moment in contemplation, then looked back up at Dana
with tired eyes.  "Dana, you know that my mother and I love you.  We 
always will.  So you should realize that your actions..." He paused again.

"Yes, Dad?" urged Dana, leaning forward in her chair.

             *                 *                  *

"Suction! and get another pack of plasma!" yelled the surgeon, as he cut
away the remains of Scully's coat.  She had been hit in a major artery, and 
the entire upper portion of her coat was by now drenched in a deep dark red.  
The doctors worked frantically to close up the wound and restore the lost 
blood.

Mulder paced nervously back and forth outside the emergency ward, 
frustrated at the thought of being totally helpless about the situation, 
helpless to do anything for his partner in her time of need.  Maybe if I 
had been there instead, he pondered, if I had been the one that kicked in 
the door.. god, why couldn't it have been me? he asked himself.  God, she 
has so much to live for...

The other agents arrived in the Emergency ward and approached Mulder.  
Agent Phillips walked up to him cautiously, not wanting to ask the question.
Mulder turned to him and said, "She's lost a lot of blood.  They don't 
know if she'll make it."

Mulder returned to his pacing, as the pain of not knowing what was happening
to her ate at him like a vulture in his gut.  He pulled up his hands and 
clasped them above his head, squeezing his head with his palms.  The wave
of helplessness and uncertainty intensified and tormented him, tossing his 
emotions about like a ship in a storm.  He felt the pain and the anguish 
cutting into his chest as it tore a swath through his entire being.  He 
had to know what was happening; he had to know if she would make it.  And 
he had to be by her side.

Determined, he turned towards the double doors of the Emergency Surgery
room and entered, walking up to the band of doctors and nurses huddled over 
Scully.  Noticing him entering, the emergency crew looked up at him in 
dismay.  "Hey, you can't come in here! we're in surgery!" yelled one of 
the doctors angrily.

"I'm her partner, dammit! I have to be with her!" he protested, as he
noticed one of the nurses stepping towards the intercom.  He changed his 
tone of voice, and began pleading with them.  "Look, please, I won't get 
in your way, okay?  I just need to be here for her.  I'll just stand back 
here by the wall, and I won't get in your way - I promise.  Please."

The lead doctor gave him the kind of angry look that one gives to an unruly 
child, when another doctor suddenly shouted to him.  "We're losing her 
pulse!  Blood pressure is dropping rapidly.  She's fibrillating!" he yelled, 
as the white zigzags on the heart monitor screen began to waver.  The 
beeping tone tracking her heartbeats began to fluctuate, as the beats of 
Scully's heart slowed and grew weaker.

             *                 *                  *

Dana saw her father standing out ahead of her, proudly wearing his white 
Navy dress uniform.  His shoulders bore the four strips of a captain, and 
his chest was adorned with colorful medals and ribbons from three decades 
of service.  He was bathed in a brilliant white glow, as a bright light 
emanated from his figure.  The light was overpowering, making it difficult 
to see his face.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, Dana saw him holding out his hands,
stretching them out towards her.  He smiled broadly and called out to her, 
"Dana!"

Dana craned her neck forward and squinted to get a better look.  She 
marveled at his glow, his figure basking in the radiant light.  She didn't 
know what he was doing here, or why she was here, only just that it 
somehow felt right.

"Dana," he called out again.  "I have something to tell you.  I wasn't able
to tell you before I had to leave.  My time ended before I got the chance,
but I've always wanted to tell you, even when my pride got in the way."

"Dad," Dana cried out, as she stepped towards him.  "Daddy..."

He stood fixed in position, articulating his words with angelic warmth and
poise.  "Dana," he said, his form glowing still brighter.  "I've always 
felt a duty to you, to your mother, and to your brothers and your sister.  
I felt the need to be strong, to be the foundation of the family.  I had to 
be the family's anchor, to provide support for those around me in times of 
need.  It wasn't easy, and at times I let that responsibility get between 
us, between myself and my family, and you especially.  It wasn't that I 
didn't love you, no, rather, I loved you kids more than you could ever 
imagine.  But..."

Suddenly, her dad's image began to fade.  The glow that surrounded him
began to flicker, as a murky layer of fog rose up between her and her 
father.  She cried out, "Dad! don't go!"

"Dana!" she someone calling out from behind her.  She turned, but saw no 
one around.  "Dana!" she heard again.  The voice sounded familiar, and yet 
there was no to claim it.  

             *                 *                  *

"Blood pressure's still dropping.  Fifty-five over thirty," yelled the 
nurse.  "She's going into cardiac arrest - get me the defibrillator!" 
yelled the doctor, frantically gesturing to the nurses around him.

Mulder stood frozen by the wall in front of them, anxiously biting his 
knuckles.  He was watching Dana slip away in front of him, and there was
absolutely nothing he could do.  He felt terrible, like he was letting her
down.  He felt intense pangs of guilt, as if she were sinking in quicksand 
and he was too weak and cowardly to reach out to her.  Thick beads of sweat 
ran down his forehead, as his heart began beating like a pounding drum.  He
felt his own vitality being sapped, his energy draining out of him, as he 
watched Dana slipping away...

             *                 *                  *

"Dana! are you there? it's me, Mulder," she heard.  

Turning to the source of the voice, Dana saw her partner, dressed in a 
dashing blue suit, with the floral tie she had given him for Christmas.  
Seeing him here brought her an intense feeling of relief, somehow lessening 
her sense of loneliness.  But loneliness?  Here?...

"Dana, you can't stay here.  You have to come back, with me," urged Mulder.  
He grabbed her arm and gently tugged her towards him.

"Come back? back where?" she asked, looking up at him with bewildered eyes.

"Back to our world, Dana.  With me.  You don't belong here," he said gently.

"But... but, Mulder...," she protested, unsure of what was happening to her.
Then, remembering her father, she spun back around.  He was still there,
but his image was beginning to fade behind the thick layer of clouds and fog.

"No, daddy - don't go!" she yelled out.  Pulling her arm away from Mulder,
she started running, running towards her father.  But no matter how fast 
she ran, his figure remained ahead of her, just barely out of her reach.  
Tiring, she finally slowed down and stopped, watching her father's image 
still disappearing in front of her.  "No, daddy! don't go! you haven't 
told me!" she cried out, dropping to her knees and breaking into tears.

As if answering a prayer, the clouds slowly broke up and began to dissipate.
Looking up, she saw her father's image returning, as his smiling face 
reappeared in front of her.

"Dana," he greeted her again.  "I'm here for you.  What is it you want to 
know?"

Getting up off her knees, Dana collected herself.  Gathering her composure,
she wiped away the drops of tears and looked back up at her father.  She 
took a moment to ponder the question.  What is it I want to ask him; what 
do I want to know?  What does one ask in these situations?

"Is grandmother with you?" she asked hesitantly.

Smiling serenely, her father replied, "Yes, dear.  She's here -- we're all
here.  She's happy, and she sends her regards."

"Can I see her?" she asked, managing a chuckle.

"I'm afraid not, Dana.  She can't be with us just now.  But feel free to 
ask me anything you want."

"Well, in that case, dad,..." she paused, unsure how she should phrase her
question.  This was her chance, perhaps her only chance, and she didn't 
want to waste the opportunity.

Resolving to clear the air between them once and for all, she tensed up 
and worked up her courage.  "Dad, I have to know.  Were you... were you 
at all proud of me?  I mean, of what I've done, what I've become?  Did I 
live up to your expectations?  You never really told me how you felt.  
I have to know, dad."

As if answering the question silently, her dad's face lit up in the warmth 
of a father's unconditional love for his daughter.  He stepped towards her
and embraced her in a big bear hug.  Leaning softly into her ear, he spoke.

"Of course I'm proud of you, Starbuck.  I wasn't able to tell you before, 
because I let my foolish pride get in the way.  I let my own selfish plans 
for your future cloud my judgment.  But now I've seen how wrong I've been,
and I've come to realize just how much you really meant to me, how precious 
our time together was.  You were a gift from heaven, Dana, and I treasured 
every moment we had together."

"So I can tell you from the bottom of my heart, Dana, that I've always been 
proud of you, ever since the day you were born.  And I always *will* be 
proud of you, for as long as you shall live.  Everything you do, every 
single moment of your life, makes me proud, brings joy into my heart.  
All because you're my daughter, Dana, my flesh and blood, my pride and joy. 
You're a part of myself, Dana."

Dana's eyes began to tear up as for the first time in her life, she felt a 
complete and utter sense of joy, acceptance, and tranquillity.  Her father
*was* indeed proud of her, and he had always been.  His approval and 
unconditional love filled her heart, filled her with joy and contentment. 
She felt as if a great weight she had been burdened with all her life had 
been lifted from her, and she finally felt completely free and at peace 
with herself.

Her father slowly released his embrace and stepped back from her.  
Straightening back up, he spoke.  "Now it's time for you to go back, Dana."

"But dad, go back? now?" she was bewildered.  Somehow, she felt so
comfortable here, so at peace.  The idea of going back, wherever that
was, struck a note of fear in her heart, as thoughts of uncertainty and
pain filled her head.

"I don't want to go back, daddy - take me with you.  I want to see grandma.
I want to see grandpa too; I want to see everyone.  I want to stay with you 
here.  I belong here," she insisted.

Her father shook his head in consternation.  "No, Dana, you don't belong 
here.  It's not your time.  You still have unfinished matters to take care 
of.  There are issues in your life you need to resolve before you can 
truly be at peace with yourself."

"Matters? unresolved? what do you mean?" she asked in puzzlement.

"Just look behind you, Dana," he responded softly.

Confused, Dana slowly turned her head to take a look behind her.  Standing 
there just out of earshot was Mulder, his hands in his pockets, his head 
drooped, eyes inspecting the ground beneath his feet.

Filled with uncertainty and confusion, she looked back at her father and 
asked.  "Mulder, father? what's to happen between us?"

The corners of her father's lips pursed up into a smile.  "I can't tell 
you that, Dana.  The future is a murky thing -- you can just never tell.  
But I'm sure you'll work it out, and I wish you all the best," he said, as 
he straightened out his uniform.

Taking a deep breath, Dana asked, "Dad, will I ever see you again?"

Looking back at her with proud, admiring eyes, he replied. "Yes, Dana, 
we'll surely be together again someday.  But until then, you must carry on,
secure in the knowledge that a part of me lives on, through you.  And 
understand that most importantly, you're Dana Scully, your own person.  
You are what you make of yourself, and your future rests entirely in your
own hands."

"And remember, Dana, the only one that needs to be proud of you is yourself.
If you ever feel uncertainty or fear about your decisions in life, just look
inside your heart and find the courage buried deep inside your being.  And 
remember, a part of me will be in there, always rooting for you."

Dana felt her eyes welling up with tears once again, as she struggled to 
fight back a torrent of conflicting emotions.  The pain of losing her 
father gnawed away at her, but it was tempered by the reassuring comfort 
of his endless and unconditional love for her.  

Composing herself, she straightened up and stood at attention.  Raising her 
arm, she presented her father with a salute.  "Very well then, good bye, 
daddy.  And good sailing, Ahab."

Her father stood at attention and saluted back.  "Good sailing, Starbuck."

             *                 *                  *

"I've got a pulse!" shouted the doctor, as the wavering line on the monitor 
returned to a recognizable waveform.  It was still weak and unstable, but 
it was definitely a pulse.  "Blood pressure's rising.  Sixty over forty.  
Seventy over forty-eight," reported the excited nurse.

Hearing the words, Mulder looked back up.  Observing through misty eyes, 
he saw Scully stirring ever so slightly on the table, as the life began 
returning to her face.  He felt an intense sense of relief, as if a 
lifetime of his sins had just been pardoned.  He thanked god for the return 
of his partner, his friend, his companion, as the shattered pieces of his 
life slowly began to settle back into place.



THE END


-- 
Steven Han - shan@nyx.cs.du.edu - finger for PGP key

Insert standard disclaimer here so that no one will take offense at anything 
you said, since you just disclaimed everything imaginable