Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG-13? Some adult stuff is starting to happen.

Spoilers: Little bit here and there, up to and including the movie.

Summary: Scully's gone deaf. The Gunmen are everywhere, and they're going to take up a big part of the stage. This thing is getting longer and longer all the time, but I'm having so much fun writing it, I just want to see where it takes me. NoRoMos, take note: you'll hate it. But if you go in for MSR and you think the Gunmen rule, this one's for you.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. Property of Fox and 1013 Productions. Used under the "Fair Use" statutes, so don't even think about suing me.

Mirabile Visus

"These are the days of miracles and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
As it's dying in the corner of the sky
These are the days of miracles and wonder
And don't cry baby, don't cry, don't cry."

"Boy in the Bubble" by Patrick Simon. Used without permission.
 

April 2, 1999

It had been the longest and hardest winter of my life, not to mention the coldest. Even with upgrades to my wardrobe, I was still freezing all the time. DC is miserable in the winter months. Precipitation is almost constant, and the sky is as grey as the clothes of the people inhabiting it. People in DC look neutered.

Miranda had made friends and done reasonably well in school, although her performance was not quite so stellar as it had been previously. Her work did begin to pick up near the springtime, though, and I considered that a good omen. Her anguish was a quiet one for the most part, although we did have a couple of nights where we just laid in my bed, put on movies that Eric had loved, and cried our eyes out. As depressing as that sounds, I always slept well afterwards, and felt more human the
following day.

Work for me had worked itself into a routine that I had actually begun to enjoy. Working with Dana was exhausting and challenging, but she was generally pleasant to work with, and I found myself looking forward most days to being at work. The only days I dreaded were ones where she was going through hell with Mulder. Mulder was working in ISU still, and he was enjoying an extraordinary solve rate. Perhaps enjoying is the wrong word. There had been a string of child killings that
winter. All in different geographic locations, different MO, different types of kids. Dana and Mulder took kiddie cases hard. Even though she was not permitted in the field anymore, he still consulted heavily with her, and being what they were, if he was emotionally circling the drain, she was in the stream. Most days were not like that, but the ones that were, were horribly draining.

Even on the worst days, though, there were compensations. While not as if we had known each other forever, Dana and I had become friends, and we would try to go to lunch together a few times a month. Her signing had become very proficient, even though her speech had declined somewhat. Mulder had become an extremely adept signer as well. I offered sign language classes after hours at Quantico, and to my surprise, I had nearly 25 regular attendees at each class; we had begun moving into the more sophisticated aspects of ASL recently, and the attendance had not tapered off. In addition to the classes for staff members that worked with Dana, I worked privately with her and Mulder. We had developed a ritual for it; one night a week, Miranda and I would meet them at Dana's apartment, we would order Chinese takeout, and then we would do a couple hours of signing. They were extremely solicitous of Miranda. She was included in conversations and they would offer homework assistance. Even though I felt that they were no longer in need of my individualized instruction, they insisted on keeping
the ritual, and perhaps it contributed to my increasing level of comfort in my new life.

Furthermore, watching them in action was fun. Their devotion kept bringing back memories for me, the ones I cherished, the ones I wanted to think about. There was an incredible tenderness between them, little gestures and looks that signaled an extreme intimacy. This was the part of life I missed most without Eric, and if I had to enjoy it vicariously, so be it. Not that they didn't have their volatile moments; they did, and they were not pretty. But like in any enduring relationship, they were there for one another, and it didn't matter how ugly it got. Like Eric and me, each could pull the other one back to solid  ground when necessary. It was truly wonderful to see.

I knew they had reputations around the Bureau, and I certainly heard the gossip. But people, at least at Quantico, where I spent most of my time, were for the most part friendly and helpful. Like any good workplace, it needed an active grapevine, and Spooky & the Ice Queen (nicknames I had heard, and always chuckled at) should have been paid extra for all the fodder they provided.

The two had not gone "official" with the relationship, hoping that perhaps the X-files would be reopened and they could resume working together. Dana could not be a field agent anymore, but she said that she would be able to do much of her support from inside. I almost had to laugh at their naievete; there were betting pools on them all over work, some of them for substantial amounts of cash, on whether or not they were sleeping together. Apparently speculation had been rampant ever since they had begun working seven years ago, but I think they were giving off vibes like they had never done before, and as I had mentioned, the betting pools felt they were, too. (I had actually been asked to verify the rumors several times, and I said
they would have to take it up with the principals themselves. This apparently only threw napalm on the fire, since I did not deny the implications). The sorts of activities related to this were "officially" frowned upon, but the SACs and supervisors tended to turn their heads on the subject--that is, if they didn't actively contribute to the pool.

I discovered the FBI is pretty much like any workplace. It has its official structure and its unofficial one. There are plenty of internal soap operas going on, always necessary for a thriving organization, and like any company, the workings were  greased by innuendo, rumor, and gossip. While women were not a rarity anymore, there was still an awful lot of loose
testosterone flooding the place. And true to any government organization (an oxymoron if there ever was one), getting new
office supplies was a nightmare. I had taken to buying my own diskettes because filling out a half dozen forms and waiting until hell froze over to me was not a viable option. And learning to drive in the snow in DC assured me that hell had indeed frozen over, and I was stuck in it.

Other rituals kept us nominally sane. Playing cards with the Gunmen on Friday night had become a regularly scheduled event. If Dana and Mulder came, we played poker; if they didn't, the game was bridge. I think my mother was pleased when I told her I was playing fairly frequently. And my game did improve.

Langly had become a regular fixture on Saturdays in our home. The day after we moved in, he had shown up, duffel bag in tow, and asked if he could use the washer and dryer. I let him in, and from there on out, he came over every Saturday to do laundry...and play video games, tweak my computer, learn sign language, help Miranda with her homework, walk the dog, drink my tequila, hassle the cats, and eat me out of house and home. It was a pleasant ritual, and since he always replenished
the tequila, I didn't mind in the least. Although he still had the social skills of Godzilla, it was obvious he had heart. When my elder male cat died, he and Miranda and I had a funeral, and he buried him. He didn't wince when we said Kaddish for the cat.

"I didn't think cats could be Jewish," he had commented.

"That's because they're not kosher," I responded. "But hey, funerals are for the living, not the dead, you know?"

"Ah, so you're saying you're not dead anymore."

And I wasn't. It was spring, and all of a sudden the drabness of the winter gave way to an amazing blaze of colors. Virginia is godforsakenly ugly in the winter. Driving to work on this day in April, though, it occurred to me that the place was  actually...beautiful. It was alive, and while I still ached from loss and loneliness at times, I was very much alive. I would still have days of terrible sadness, but I no longer had the sensation that I had died and someone had just forgotten to bury me.

And at times, I felt guilty about it. Here, my husband was gone, and I was starting to...enjoy life again?!

My mother would have said I was being ridiculous, but we didn't discuss such things.

The first Friday in April was glorious. Being indoors was a real chore that day; I wanted to sit outside and drink coffee at Starbucks, wanted to work on my sunburn (hey, redheads don't tan), wanted to curl up with a bad romance novel and just bask. However, it was worktime, and I wasn't independently wealthy.

Dana had been severely under the weather the past two weeks. She seemed to have acquired a flu bug that would not quit. She had been told to stay home and recover, but Dana being what she is wasn't having it. She'd show up on time, puke when necessary, nibble on saltines and ginger ale, and stay until quitting time. When I had told her that I wasn't coming to her place for the weekly sign language-take out dinner thing, she hadn't objected, saying she was spending most of her off time sleeping. At least the day before, she had left early, which was about the only concession to her illness that she had made.

That morning, while all the world suffered from spring fever, she had shown up, once again bleary-eyed and turning a very distinct shade of chartreuse.

"Are you ever going to get better?"

"Wrong question, Allison. I'm not sick."

"Heavy denial here, Dana."

"No, it's not. Seriously, I'm not sick. I'm...pregnant."

"Say what?" She had to be kidding. During the kiddie killings, she had been severely depressed... not just because Mulder  was a basket case, but because, as she had explained, it made her so angry that people were destroying these children--and she, who adored and wanted them, was not able to have them. A few years back, she had been kidnapped, and while her
recollection of the events were not clear, apparently, her ova had been taken during these "experiments."

"Dana," I signed, "you did just tell me you were pregnant, right? I mean, I don't think I've forgotten what the sign is."

She smiled wearily. "No, you haven't forgotten. And according to my gynecologist and my home pregnancy test, I am  definitely pregnant. It just seems so...unreal right now. I mean, here I am, I'm supposed to be sterile. And here I am, heaving my guts up, and instead of being told I'm dying of some unknown virus or cancer or God knows what else,

I'm pregnant."

"Dana, this is absolutely amazing!"

"Yes. And I'm so scared...I'm so scared that this is not really happening, that I'll wake up, and I'll have imagined the whole thing. And I don't think I could handle that."

"You're not dreaming the nausea. I've been in the ladies room when you've been there."

This made her laugh.

"Dana, I have a suggestion. Let's cancel class, enjoy the nice weather we so richly deserve, and get the hell out of here and celebrate." As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I knew I was in for the glare, or at least, a wistful sigh that would say thanks, but no go.

So I was shocked as hell when she smiled--a real one--and said, "You're on."

"So where do you want to go?"

"Tell the truth," she signed, "I really don't feel up to doing a lot. But there is something I have to do...why don't you come along and we'll make a party out of it."

We took care of the administrivia and strolled out to her car--I smoke in mine, and I know she hates it, so I didn't balk that she wanted to drive. I figured impending motherhood would curb her impulse to forget that brakes and directional signals were not optional.

Bad guess.

"Dana, so like, where are we going?"

"Well," she said, "you haven't met my mother yet. And she's dying to meet you."

Okay.

"Is it okay to just drop in on her like this? I mean, you don't see my mother without an appointment. Or at least a phone call."

"This is my mom you're talking about. And wait until she hears the news that she's going to be a grandma."

Okay, I think that works.

We sped up toward Annapolis in silence, enjoying a beautiful day, made all the more beautiful by getting the hell out of the office. It didn't even bother me that Dana was probably setting a new land speed record getting there, but very shortly  thereafter, we pulled up to a neat, white colonial style home, with tulips already in bloom out front.

"Mom?"

"Dana, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's her. This is Allison, her interpreter."

A woman who would be considered short, but still had height on me, appeared in the doorway, a concerned look on her face. She had some grey feathering her dark hair, and she was dressed comfortably in a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

"Dana, what's wrong?" She reached out to embrace her daughter.

"Relax, Mom, nothing's wrong." She visibly calmed under her mother's touch. "Mom, this is Allison Gerstein, my  interpreter."

"Allison, I've heard so many wonderful things about you. Welcome."

"I think your daughter may be stretching things a bit in that department," I smiled as she then reached out to embrace me.

"I don't think so," she said sharply, but her eyes were smiling.

"Well, come in, let me get you some coffee."

"That would be great."

"Mom? I think I'll pass right now. Is it okay if we sit in the living room? I'm sort of tired and I'd like to lie down for a few."

"Of course. Allison, how do you take yours?"

"Splash of milk. Thank you."

Dana and I settled into her comfortable living room. It was certainly neater than mine--with Langly there on Saturdays, and Miranda there every day, picking up was an exercise in futility. But it had the same put-your-feet-up-anywhere type of atmosphere. Dana claimed the sofa and curled up on it.

"So Dana, do you want me to interpret for you when you're talking to your mom?"

"Sure, that would be nice. But you can speak for yourself too. I can tell when you stop interpreting and start speaking as yourself, so don't feel weird about it."

Dana closed her eyes for a moment, and Mrs. Scully came back into the living room, bearing two cups of coffee.

"Dana, I didn't mean to be rude," she began, "but you're here on a workday, and let's face it, that usually means trouble."

"Mom, this isn't trouble...Mom, I'm pregnant."

Mrs. Scully looked baffled. Not exactly the reaction I'd been expecting.

"Dana? You're pregnant? Are you sure?"

"My gynecologist is."

Mrs. Scully sat down slowly, looking utterly dazed and confused.

"Dana..." She burst into tears and ran over and hugged her daughter.

Wait a minute. When I was pregnant with Miranda, even my mother said congratulations. Then I realized Mrs. Scully wasn't crying because she was upset. This woman had a look on her face like she had just been visited by a miracle. And in a very real sense, she had.

This is what happens when you do not have amazing powers of observation. You don't get it at first. Sometimes not ever.

Minutes passed, and I just took in the whole scene. Normally, I'm not big on heavy emotional go-arounds, especially not my own, but I didn't feel awkward here. This was just the way these people were. Growing up, my parents expressed affection for one another, but my parents and brothers and I did not express ourselves this way with each other. And although Eric and never began or ended the day without a kiss, we were not the sort given to public displays of affection. The only person I had ever been unreserved with was Miranda, and now that she was older, she relegated her affectionate behavior to the privacy of our home.

Maggie stood up finally, and announced that her coffee was getting cold, wiping the tears from her face and smiling like a Botticelli angel.

"Dana, you have told Fox, haven't you?" I was a bit taken aback by the older woman's use of Mulder's first name; none of us in his peer group ever used it, so it sounded a bit odd.

"Mom, of course I told him! What did you think I was going to do?"

"Well, Dana...all right, let's let the past be past. How did he take the news?"

She smiled misevously. "First shock, then abject terror, and now I can't get him off the ceiling. I don't think he's stopped smiling since I told him." She sobered a bit. "We're both really scared, Mom. This wasn't supposed to be able to happen...but it did. And we're both so scared that it's going to be taken from under us."

Mrs. Scully snorted a bit. "Dana, there is a time and place for paranoia. This is not it. I know you've physically been through a lot, but the fact that this has happened at all is cause to rejoice, not waste it away worrying!"

"Mom, I think my ob-gyn is concerned," she said gently.

"Why do you say that?"

"Normally, in the first two trimesters, visits are once a month, if I remember my training correctly."

"That sounds about right."

"Dr. Nichols wants to see me every other week. She is also planning to do a number of tests and monitor constantly to make certain everything is progressing normally."

"Well, honey, that's understandable. And I hesitate to point this out, but you are 35 now, and it is considered a riskier affair after 35. But Dana, I have every faith that this baby will be healthy and normal. You don't know how long I prayed for a miracle in your life. When you and Fox finally opened up your eyes and saw the other one standing right in front of you, I figured my prayers had been answered then. But this...this, Dana, is beyond what I could have hoped for, and right now, I feel I have witnessed a miracle. Again."

"Congratulations, Mrs. Scully." I offered her a quick hug.

"Call me Maggie. And Allison, don't you ever take five months to come over here and visit again," she scolded, once again the blue eyes that Dana had inherited dancing with light and fun. "You've done so much for Dana, and I want to be able to show you how much I appreciate that."

"Thank you. Maggie." I tried it out on my tongue.

"Well, Dana, I think I need to get started on spoiling this baby right away. Shopping trip?"

"Maybe later, Mom. Right now, I'm so tired all I want to do is lie here and stop feeling nauseous."

"So rest. Heaven knows you do little enough of it," Mrs. Scully chided gently.

Mrs. Scully sipped her coffee and addressed me with those wide, direct eyes. "Allison, I understand you're from Los Angeles. How do you like Washington so far?"

Wow. "Well...let's just say it's been quite a time."

"I'll bet," she smiled. "And I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear that you lost your husband not long before you moved here. And you're so terribly young."

"Well, young to be doing the widow thing. I'm 43. I'll be 44 in August."

"Seriously?" she looked honestly surprised. "Dana gave me no indication of your age, and when you came in with her, I  figured you to be her age or maybe a bit younger."

"Okay, Mrs. Scully...Maggie...flattery will get you everywhere with me." I laughed.

"I know how hard it is to lose your husband. I've only been widowed three years myself. I was only 54 when Bill died, and believe me, I don't consider that old." She shot a severely teasing look at her daughter, who had fallen fast asleep. "She must really be exhausted."

"She's been feeling really lousy. I went through that with my daughter," I added. "The person who named it 'morning sickness' was either unduly optimistic or a man." She laughed.

"Your daughter is 13, is that right?"

"Yes, she is. She's a great kid. This has been really hard for her, but she's coping. She's made a really good friend and some casual ones, and her schoolwork is getting back on track. She's always had adult friends, too, and she's got some good ones here, thank God, because as far as providing support, I've been a colossal failure in that area." I gave a rueful smile.

"I doubt that. And you might try keeping in mind that you have your own difficulties to work through, and it sounds as if your daughter understands that."

"Well, I try to be there for her. Dana's classes are over at 4:15, so I do get to go home at a reasonable hour, and that means a lot to me. I hold a sign language class one night a week, and she either goes with me or to her friend Calista's. I was tutoring Dana and Mulder privately, but Dana needs sleep more than she needs sign language tutoring at this point. Besides, the both of them have gotten really good."

"Fox has quite the facility for languages."

"Seems to, and plus, he's motivated. That helps. He's really devoted to her. I know he drives her crazy sometimes, though."

"And she him. Believe me, it works both ways, regardless of what Dana may have told you." Mrs. Scully did not seem like a person of many illusions, even with regard to her kids. Maybe especially in that area.

"You know, it sounds weird, but watching them, it helps me remember what Eric and I had, and I like that. Sometimes it makes me sad, because I don't have Eric with me anymore, but mostly, it sort of gives me this strange...I don't know, call it hope, I'm not sure. Introspection is not my strong suit." Mrs. Scully should have been a psychiatrist. She had a way of just sitting there and drawing you out...and I didn't feel awkward doing it around her.

"I know what you mean," Mrs. Scully nodded and continued to sip her coffee.

"So Mrs....Maggie...how long was it before you stopped being aware of your husband's being gone every waking moment?"

That stumped her. "It's hard to say. Bill is still there, living under my skin, but at some point...it stops being so raw. You move forward. You have to."

"I'm trying," I assured her.

"And you are obviously succeeding. You're successful at your job--if what Dana tells me is any indication--you are a good mother, and a good friend."

"It just doesn't feel that way sometimes...a lot of times. To tell you the truth, most days I still have at least a time where I feel like shit, if you'll pardon my French."

She laughed. "Allison, I was married to a sailor, remember? It's not like I've never heard the word, and you know, that pretty much sums it up, anyway."

"Yeah, but you know what the worst part is? Sometimes I feel better, then I feel guilty for feeling better. It's that Jewish upbringing."

"Can't be any worse than an Irish Catholic one. Don't think you've got the market cornered on feeling guilty." That made both of us laugh, hard. "Does your faith give you comfort?"

"Yes...and no. I'm not really religious. My family's Reform, and we were never temple-goers except on the High Holy Days...I think I like the traditions. I like the holidays a lot. I think that's because Jewish holidays involve large amounts of eating. I mean, even on Yom Kippur, you end the day with a massive feast."

"And you get to be with the people you love."

"Well...yeah. It was sort of weird this year. I spent Thanksgiving getting drunk with these friends of Mulder's that we stayed with when we were first here--"

"Oh, the Lone Gunmen."

"So you know them."

"Yes, I've met them."

"They're definitely bizarre, but they've been really good to us. Langly shows up at my house every Saturday to do his laundry, and he's a slob to boot, but he really helps out with Miranda and the animals. He and Miranda have a definite rapport; I
think that's because they're mentally about the same age. And my computer has never been more state of the art."

"They're good men. Unusual, to say the least, but they have kind souls."

"Yeah, they are. I play cards with them on Friday nights. That's about the extent of my social life thus far."

"You've met people in the Bureau, haven't you?"

"Yeah, and everybody's been pretty friendly, but...this is really weird. I know I'm sitting here talking to you like I've known you forever, and I'm not feeling strange about it, but usually, I make friends pretty slowly. It takes me a long time to get to
know people and get comfortable with them."

"Shyness is not a bad thing, Allison."

"I'm not shy. I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm just...careful? I don't know."

"Careful is fine. Just don't cut yourself off. Dana is guilty of this in a major way. You know that she and Fox have been working together for seven years, and they've been crazy about each other ever since they met, but it took them over six years to let the other one in. There were times when I could have throttled both of them, telling them to wake up and smell the coffee, but I guess this is the way it was meant to be. And now I'm going to be a grandmother!"

"First time?"

"Oh, heavens, no. I have five other grandchildren, and they are all blessings. But there is something about this baby...you know that Dana's sister Melissa was killed, don't you?"

"Yeah, she told me. I'm sorry."

"Well, I only have one daughter left. And that she is alive, and well, and expecting...to me, this is very special. There's something about a bond with your daughter, as you well know."

"Well, I don't have any sons, but Miranda is my...life."

"Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"I have three younger brothers. My first brother has three boys, and my second brother has two girls. My youngest brother is engaged, and he and his fiancee don't have any kids yet."

"So you must be very special to your mother."

"Hard to say. My brother has the male children and carries on the family name, so she tends to make a bigger deal out of that. Daniel is their golden child. My grandma used to say that he should have been born first."

"So you and your mother are not close."

This woman didn't dick around. "No, not really. I mean, she's really a brilliant woman. She's a total genius at bridge, and in school, she was a math whiz. And she's fun. But she's also manic-depressive, and even with her medication, you just never know how her moods are going to go."

"Do you wish you were closer?"

"I don't know. I'm usually kind of private. One of the weirdest things about living here was when I got here, it was like everyone knew all about me. That never happened to me before. I felt like I was...like I was being watched. And I've just sort of gotten used to the way things are, but as to why things are this way, I'm not sure. I mean, Dana's told me stuff, but not in any great detail. Mulder doesn't really tell me much, just says he's trying to keep Miranda and me safe. My question is, safe from what? When I ask him, he just tells me that the less I know, the less danger I am in. I really like the guy, Maggie, but he is totally out there."

"You know, Allison, there is truth in what he tells you. I myself don't know all the details, and I don't want to. But things are not...always what they seem to be."

Where had I heard that before?

"I just wish that sometimes I had some information to work from."

Mrs. Scully didn't smile. "No, you don't, Allison. You really don't."

I looked at her, and I had to have looked really puzzled, not even sure what I should ask her in terms of clarifying that remark. I never got the chance, though, because the phone rang.

END OF PART 6