An Unchanged Soul
Chapter Twenty-Four


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He recognized the euphoria immediately.  Years
without faded in an instant and he felt almost
pleasantly numb, despite his anger at the orderlies
who held him down and the nurse who administered
the injection.  Accompanying the good feeling was a
familiar lethargy that closed his eyes.  The hands
left his body when he went limp, and their hushed
words drifted over him.

"No need to stay... should sleep for hours... smoke
break, anyone?  Pity about the wife..."

Mulder gritted his teeth at the last, hearing their
departure over the roar of fury in his brain.  They
didn't know.  Had no idea who they were dealing
with.  A man who'd survived months of opium
addiction could fight off a measly injection of
morphine.  The truth wasn't in their soft words and
sympathetic looks.  It was somewhere outside the
prison of feel-good drugs, in the smile of his wife
and the touch of her lips.  They sought to blind
him.  But he'd seen the Chinese in the car... Chang
was behind it all, he knew.

He'd have to be careful.  Focus, like he'd done in
Hong Kong.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was
the IV.  It gave easily to his pull as he swung his
legs over the side of the bed.


**********


The smell in the Emergency Room was frightening. 
So urgent in its medicinal scent, yet faintly like
bleach, as if what could be done had been done and
they'd given up to clean the mess.  The bright
lights almost blinded Sam and he squinted,
searching.  A faint hiss turned his head to the
left; beyond the brightness, he saw a bed peeking
out from behind a curtain.  Half concealed by the
drape, a small form rested there.

Dana.  He was across the room in a flash, ducking
behind the curtain.

What he saw made him wince.  She was bruised beyond
belief, from her small hands to her chalk-white
face.  A tube of some sort stuck out of her mouth,
held in place by white tape that already inflamed
the delicate skin of her throat.  Her chest rose
and fell much as Cannon's had... in and out, not
with the smooth glide of the healthy.

She was dying.  Sam knew it as sure as he had with
Cannon.  The life within that strong, loving woman
was quickly fading away.  Sam gulped, gathering all
the strength he had to summon what he'd given
Cannon.  It had to work, it just had to.

His hand touched her brow; he almost cried at the
warmth he felt.  So different from Cannon's cold
skin.  It was as if she slumbered in the arms of
angels.  He caressed the softness with his
fingertips, waiting.

But there was nothing.  No staggering blow, no jolt
of electricity - not even a tingle.

"No," he said, bringing up his other hand to frame
her face.  "C'mon, damn it."

His thumbs soothed her cheeks as he bent over her
to place a kiss at the light arch of her eyebrow. 
This was his sister-in-law, a woman who'd braved
the Japanese and somehow managed to love the stoic
man that was his brother.  She didn't flinch from
adversity, nor did she give up easily.  Her light
was too bright to ever dim, too strong to ever die. 
Sam lingered over her for long moments, willing his
strength to flow into her body.

Something had to happen!  It had worked before, why
didn't it now?  He tried again and again, willing
the cataclysm to arrive as he murmured pleas to the
silence around him.

"No, no, no..."  He fell to his knees, his efforts
dissolving in a rush of tears.

God, he couldn't do it.  Whatever had happened
upstairs was not going to be repeated.  Sir had
been right - his heart wasn't good enough anymore. 
If he'd been a better person, maybe.  Someone like
Dana, who knew her limitations and lived with them,
even if it meant leaving her coat unbuttoned in the
middle of winter.  A better man like Fox, who'd
taken verbal lashes from their father on Sam's
behalf, while he'd stood by and told himself
getting away with it was what mattered.  The
simple, uncomplicated Mike, who fed strangers and
kings alike with equal amounts of cabbage and
respect.

Emma, who'd given her precious heart to a
worthless, greedy man.  A man without a past, who
should have known better than to take her love when
his own heart was incapable of returning it.

All this crashed down upon him, leaving him
clinging to the bed like a child, his sobs deep and
soundless in the room.  He gasped for breath and
held in as much as he could, knowing someone would
come looking for him shortly.  The best course
would be to just leave and never look back.  Spare
himself the agony of watching Dana die.  Save
himself from having to console his brother.  Sam
wasn't the charitable type.  His selfishness knew
no bounds and he didn't think he could stand the
pain to come.

Just a second or two longer, he thought, unable to
make his legs work.  He was so tired, and Dana's
warmth comforted him.  Even in death, she gave.  He
gripped her hand, feeling it soothe his fears.


**********


Stupid fools.  If he wanted to spare a thought for
anyone besides Scully, he'd try to remember the
faces of the ensigns who were supposed to be
stationed outside his door.  He was certain they
weren't supposed to be chatting up the pretty young
nurse at the desk down the hall, enjoying
cigarettes and annoying, flighty giggles.

But Mulder had more important things to do than
throw censorious looks their way.  He pulled the
draped, ratty robe closer around his bum arm with
one hand and slipped out the door.  His bare feet
made no sound as he forced his legs to move in the
opposite direction.  The demons of a hell without
Scully steeled his spine and he walked unblinking
to the stairwell.  If memory served, the ER was
right beneath him.

Every step down the stairs brought him closer to
her.  His brain, though fuzzy, cooperated long
enough to make the trip short and silent.  He
refused to give the laughing images of Chang
purchase in that barren field, thinking only of how
to get to Scully; he had no time for now for
memories and vengeance.  That would come once he
saw the lies for himself.

She would be fine.  She had to be fine.  All the
talk of coma and death was nothing more than a
ruse.  Designed to wreak havoc with his tenuous
hold on sanity, to break him once and for all.  He
told himself this as he peeked out the door at the
bottom of the stairs.  Though not a praying man, he
said a silent plea for truth as he avoided the
crying people across the hall.  Why would the
hospital let them carry on like that?  There was
nothing to be so upset about.

He would tell them that as soon as he saw Scully
smile.  That lovely, full smile waiting just beyond
the ER doors.

Mulder felt a new warmth - one so different from
the glazing power of opium - tingle his fingers as
he touched the door to slip inside.


**********


Her fingers were slight and soft, but limp and
slightly swollen.  Sam brushed his thumb over the
indentation left by her wedding ring... and felt
her hand twitch.  Like a butterfly stretching its
wings, it slowly fluttered beneath his damp palm.

He raised his eyes to look upon the sight, not
trusting his hand to feel the truth of what it was
touching.  Mesmerized, he took a short breath, then
another, finally allowing his smile to break free
when Dana's hand stretched like a sleepy cat.

"I ask you again - do you believe?"

He let go of her hand as if it burned, falling back
on his ass as he swiped at his sticky eyes.  Above
him, the air glowed with an energy that crackled,
making his hair stand on end.

The one called Sir stood within the moving ball of
light, his dark hand resting upon Dana's brow.  A
large, strong hand that caressed the bright line of
hair, his thumb stroking away the sudden crease
above her nose.  "Sleep," he murmured, his face
indulgent.  Dana moaned, her protest lost in Sir's
hypnotic tone.  "Sleep, little one.  All is well."

Like a child under its mother's touch, she quieted. 
Drifting down into a relaxed state so different
from moments ago, she turned her head into Sir's
caress, a slight curl of her lips speaking of her
contentment.  When she remained still, he turned to
Sam.  The light distorted his mouth, but Sam heard
the words loud and clear.  "She is safe now.  Stop
your grieving and stand up."

Keeping his eyes on the figure, Sam warily got to
his feet.  He didn't know what to say, his tongue
clumsy in the face of such brilliance.  "The
others...they're coming..."

"In time."  His form faded in and out, a dimming
bulb fighting for the last ounce of current.  "And
I must go."

"But, how did you - what about -" There were so
many things Sam wanted to know, too much to
explain, and he sensed time was running short. 
"Tell me why I couldn't -" He waved a hand at Dana,
who slept now with peacefulness, her color that of
a spring rose.  So beautiful.  So normal.

"You've taken the final step, Sam.  I told you it
was coming soon.  You are not of my world any
longer.  I've failed to bring you back, so now you
must stay."

"But wait -" Damn it, this couldn't be the end. 
Running from this man for weeks only to be told so
long, see ya later?  None of this made sense; all
he'd been told by Sir was mixed up in his head and
he needed to know.  More awaited him than a stable
human existence; he'd come back for a reason.  One
that Sir had disapproved of, but that was all
irrelevant.  Sam's knowledge, his foresight,
depended on this man giving him more than a pat on
the head and a dismayed sigh.   "You can't just
leave me here now."

"It's where you wanted to be, isn't it?  You knew
the future wasn't set.  Yet in your arrogance, you
thought you could make it what you wanted.  Always
you, Sam.  Always you."

"No.  You have to tell me.  I know there's more." 
He leaned over the bed, reaching into the circle
that barely glowed now.  He saw his hand pass
through Sir's sleeve, felt the last dregs of energy
shiver up his arm.  For all that he'd avoided the
touch, he now wanted it more than anything.

But the man was gone.  Evaporated in a flash like a
dissipating fog touched by the sun, all trace of
him disappeared.  Sam stared stupidly at the empty
space for a few seconds, knowing he'd never see Sir
again.

He stumbled from the bedside, the eerie silence in
the ER broken by a muted gasp.  At first, he'd
thought the choked sound came from deep within his
own body, but the next instant proved him wrong.

"Sam?"

Turning from his stare at a healthy, sleeping Dana,
Sam paled at the sight of his brother, who slumped
against the far wall.  Fox cradled his bandaged
arm, a look of sheer amazement on his shadowed,
bruised face.  The two men stood in uncomfortable
silence for long moments, Sam squirming under Fox's
stare.

How much had he seen?  Of course, it was no use
asking the question aloud.  His brother's look said
it all.  Sam felt like a bug under a magnifying
glass.  A freaky, three-eyed housefly who had
nowhere to go in his brand new peanut butter jar. 
He'd thought himself the object of curiosity
before, with his inexplicable return.  But that was
nothing compared to the way his own brother
suddenly gawked at him.

His mind still reeling from all he'd seen and done,
Sam said the first thing that tripped off his
tongue.  "You're supposed to be drugged up."

Fox blinked for the first time, licking his lips. 
"I am."  His grin was lopsided and loopy, his wink
slow.

As Sam neared his brother, he noted the glassy eyes
and sluggish shuffle of his feet as he tried to
stay upright.  He'd seen men doped to the gills
with morphine before, but never his own brother. 
How could he stand up at all?  A flash of
conversation penetrated Sam's stupor; Dana had told
him back at the hotel of how Chang had tried to
enslave Fox with opium.

Dear God... had no one remembered?  Did no one care
how dangerous it was to give a former addict a hit
like that?

"They don't know it, but me and poppies go way
back," Fox whispered.  "Thought they were gonna
keep me down, but I fooled 'em."  He closed his
eyes and swallowed hard, swaying.

Sam was there in an instant to stop him from
falling to the floor.  However, Fox's weight was
too much after a second or two of strain, and Sam
let them both sag to the floor, Fox's chin poking
stubbornly at Sam's collarbone.  He winced, trying
for calm.  Striving to tamp down his anger at what
they'd done to this man who only ever wanted a
peaceful life.

"Yeah, you fooled 'em all right, Smokey," he
murmured, feeling a fresh rush of tears clog his
throat.  His strong, invincible brother reduced to
this.  His hand curled around the hot, clammy skin
of Fox's nape, slowly stroking the trembling
muscles there.  "Let me get you back to your room,
okay?"

Fox sucked in a sharp breath.  "She's gonna be
okay, isn't she Sam?" he breathed against Sam's
shoulder.  "No one will tell me.  But you will,
won't you?"

A clamor of voices from the hall alerted Sam to the
pursuit he'd known was coming.  "She's gonna be
fine, Smokey.  Just fine."

"I knew it."  Fox went totally limp in Sam's arms,
his words distant but certain.  "You'd never lie to
me, Sammy... never."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as Fox fell unconscious,
feeling more helplessly human than ever before.


**********


The last of her tears were happy ones.  She
couldn't begin to imagine how it had happened, but
God had smiled upon Dana at last.  Her father had
rushed off to spread the news at the pub, and she
stood with the others by Dana's bedside, unwilling
to leave just yet.  Dana was still groggy, but able
to answer the simplest of questions.  As well as
demand the answer to the most important one in her
mind.

"Mulder?" she murmured, fighting the pull of
exhaustion.

"He's fine, Sprite," Charlie said, leaning low to
give her cheek a kiss.  "Just a bit bruised, like
you.  He's upstairs in a room, resting."  He
flashed a look at his parents and Emma; silently,
they all agreed to keep Mulder's breakdown a secret
for now.  Dana had no need to know just how close
she'd been to never recovering.  Or how frantic
they'd been to find Mulder collapsed in Sam's arms.

Sam hadn't said much when they'd been discovered on
the floor of the Emergency Room, other than giving
Charlie a glare at the lapse of his so-called
'guards' who'd let Mulder slip out of his room. 
Emma had given Sam a questioning glance of her own;
he'd shrugged, saying he'd just stepped out of the
waiting room when he'd seen Fox slip into the ER. 
Thank goodness he'd noticed in time to prevent
Mulder from injuring himself further.

In their excitement, none of them had yet to tell
Dana's husband of her miraculous recovery.  Or Sam,
who'd insisted on accompanying Mulder back to his
room.  Emma backed away, telling the others with a
wave of her hand to stay put.  "I'll tell him."

With a spring in her step, she smiled all the way
to the elevator.  It was a miracle, no doubt about
it.  Of course, they hadn't had total confirmation
of the stroke before Dana's sudden awakening, so
her condition may not have been so serious.  But
Emma knew it had been - she'd seen enough of the
dying to recognize its pall on the human skin.

Dana's doctor was mystified by her awakening.  Even
more so than Emma, because he'd been certain the
coma was permanent unto death.  The test results
were pending, but Emma didn't really care what they
said.  Faith in God had been one of Fiona Scully's
adamant beliefs, something she'd passed down to her
daughter.  Emma shared that staunch stand, as did
her father.  They'd not needed to see to believe.

Mulder had been secluded in one of the few private
rooms in the hospital, at Emma's insistence.  On
Charlie's belief in Mulder's recounting of the
accident, armed Naval guards now stood as if rooted
to the floor outside his door, for what little good
they'd been earlier.  They were flushed still from
Charlie's dressing down not long ago, their faces
implacable as they eyed Emma's approach.

"Emma?  How's things downstairs?"

She stopped at the desk, giving Hilda, the
nighttime floor nurse, a smile.  This woman was
partly to blame for Mulder's escape, but she looked
so guilty Emma hadn't the heart to add to her
misery with an unnecessary comment.  "Wonderful.  I
was just coming to give Mulder the news.  Can I go
in?"

The woman smiled sadly and said, "Ask the brutes
there.  I'm not in a position to tell you yes or
no, even if you are family."

She moved to stand before them, her face composed
as she asked, "May I go in?"  She dared them to
deny her entrance with her cold, accusing stare.

The biggest of the two looked down his nose at
Emma, his eyes wide with surprise.  "Mrs. Mulder? 
We were told you were still in the Emergency Room."

Emma smiled inwardly at the mistake; those with
just a passing acquaintance of either of them often
stumbled over the resemblance.

"I'm Emma Scully.  Dana's cousin.  I'm a nurse here
at the hospital; you can ask Hilda.  She knows me."

He relented, though he didn't smile, reaching for
the doorknob with a tight face.  "Don't stay long. 
Bad enough we have one extra in there.  We don't
need two."

Emma almost nipped at the guard's heels for his
superior attitude, especially since it was their
fault Mulder slipped out in the first place.  But
in his gaze was the look of the duly chastised, and
she found it more pressing to check on Mulder and
Sam than put in her two cents on their laziness. 
However, she spared them both a scathing glance as
she lifted her chin and went through the open door.

The privacy curtain hid Mulder's bed from view. 
She paused, listening for the click of the door
behind her.  As soon as she heard it, she
whispered, "Sam?"

No answer.  Peeking around the curtain, she saw
Mulder asleep in his bed, the room lit only by
lamplight slanting across his face, the shadows
behind it deep and hidden.  Raising a hand against
the light, she allowed her eyes to adjust.  A pair
of long legs spread out in the circle of light
alerted her to Sam's location.

He sat behind the lamp in a low, slung back chair,
his hands limp over the armrests, his chin resting
on his chest.  Asleep, just like his brother.  He
looked more worse for wear than Fox did, with dark
smudges under his eyes and his cheeks a bit hollow
under his evening beard.  Emma turned the lamp away
to the wall, directing the harsh light away from
Mulder and Sam.  She pulled up a chair next to him
and gently touched his cheek.  "Sam?"

She flinched when he jumped and sat up, his eyes
wide with confusion, hastening to tell him, "It's
okay, it's me.  Emma."

"Emma?"

He looked so lost and alone.  She took his hand,
giving it a reassuring squeeze.  "Sam, Dana's gonna
be fine.  I - I don't know how it happened, but
she's awake and... it's like a -"

"Miracle," he supplied in a dead tone, closing his
eyes as he leaned back in the chair.  "The baby's
okay too, isn't he?"

The absolute retreat in his face and form gave her
pause; it wasn't like Sam to so closely guard his
emotions.  Anger, passion, and most especially joy
came easily to him.  This dispassionate response to
the good news was most unusual.  "The baby's fine." 
Emma didn't hold back her confusion.  "Sam, what's
wrong?"

His eyelashes slid open, the vacant stare within
taking her breath.  "Wrong?  Nothing's wrong.  You
came up here to tell Fox, didn't you?"

"I did."

"He's sleeping."

"I know.  How he got up out of that bed after that
shot is beyond me," she quipped, trying to make Sam
smile or chuckle or even tilt his head.

"No one would tell him what was going on.  He was
out of his mind with worry for Dana."  Somber eyes
looked up.  "Love makes men do things they
shouldn't..."  One hand touched her cheek, his gaze
unflinching, his voice eerily calm.  "It even makes
men out of angels."

She smiled, rubbing her face against his palm.  "I
think you mean 'angels out of men', don't you?"

His hand fell away, as did his gaze.  An awkward
silence skittered between them, one Emma refused to
let linger.  He was obviously exhausted, as was
she.  Words jumbled and tumbled together in a weary
mind.  The less said, the better.

Her hand squeezed his.  "The sedative shouldn't
last much longer; if you want to wait with me to
give Fox the good news, you can."

"I'm not going anywhere," he answered softly,
absently rolling his thumb over her knuckles.

Emma scooted to the edge of her chair, placing
herself in his line of sight.  They were all pretty
much running on empty, but Sam's turn into what had
all the earmarks of melancholy distressed her. 
"Sam, look at me."  He did, taking a moment to
focus.  The effort cost him a crack in his stoic
facade, however, as the corner of his mouth
quirked.  He was moments away from crying; it
explained his glassy look, and she knew stress
sneaked up on even the most courageous.  "It's
okay.  They're going to be fine, all of them."

"I know," he whispered, crumbling into her embrace. 
Her arms went around him as his knees hit the
floor.  His hot face burrowed into her neck.  "I
knew it all.  Before you did."

She soothed his shaking with a slow caress of his
silky hair.  His clothes were rumpled and sweat-
stained, as if he'd run a miles-long foot race.  It
occurred to her then he'd just shown up out of the
blue earlier in the evening; as far as she knew, no
one had thought to call him with news of the
accident.  He was supposed to be in hiding, safe in
the hotel.  Yet he spoke as if privy to inside
information.  "Why'd you come to the hospital, Sam? 
Did Da call you?"

He sniffled as he shook his head.

"Then how'd you know?  How did you know we needed
you?"

Sam stiffened, pulling away.  A high flush bloomed
under his suddenly bright eyes.  The look he gave
her was almost otherworldly and she shivered,
dropping her gaze to her lap.  She shouldn't have
asked such a question; it didn't matter where he'd
heard it, he'd come.  But Sam wrapped his hands
around her face, forcing her to meet his unblinking
stare.

"I've always known when you needed me, Emma.  I
will always know.  Always."

She let out a shaky chuckle.  "Now you're scaring
me," she said, more serious than not.  He was
talking in an uncharacteristic tone, so grave and
weighed down with new responsibility.  "Smile, Sam. 
Everything's going to be okay."

He blinked at last, his face relaxing into a more
familiar grin.  "It is, isn't it?"

Emma took the beginnings of his smile with her lips
in a quick kiss.  "It is.  I promise you.  We're
going to have a good Christmas."  The holiday was
mere days away, and she looked forward to spending
it with Sam.  "Da hangs lots of mistletoe in the
pub, you know."

"He does?"  Sam touched his forehead to hers, his
breath warm on her lips.  "Just how many men will I
have to beat off you?"

"Oh, a dozen or more, surely.  Think you can handle
it, tough guy?"

"Believe it or not Emma," he answered, lowering his
chin for a more leisurely kiss she knew was coming,
"I've done more for you than I've done for any
woman.  More than I ever thought possible."

He'd given her confidence and love, passion and
happiness like no other.  He wasn't a man prone to
such easy giving, which made him twice as beloved
in her eyes.  She was lucky, indeed.

"I believe you have," she answered softly, eager to
accept his kiss.



End Chapter Twenty-Four