Talitha Cumi: Second Chances Part 2 of 8 by Adu2@aol.com DanaDrives@aol.com Disclaimer in part one. Dana Scully turned away from the window, surprised at the unsettled nervousness which had risen from deep in her stomach. She wanted to be at home, where should could at least pretend to herself that she was safe. Hospitals made her nervous now- they were too exposed, too many people coming in and out, too many opportunities for switched medications, faceless individuals with grim scenarios for destruction. She grimaced to herself at the multitude of dangers which her mind to easily placed around them. Settling onto the edge of the bed, she forced herself to push the nerves down. There were very real problems to be dealt with and she had no time for vague fears. Mulder was on the verge of another traumatic event for which he could potentially self destruct in a cataclysm of self blame and remorse. His mother was dying and what he believed to be the last chance to save her had slipped through his hands. Restlessness forcing her once again to her feet, she paced past an open door, caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Pulled towards it, she paused to consider the changes in her life as they played out across her face. Usually she was proficient at containing every thought and emotion far away from her face, but tonight she found herself laid bare by the events of the previous weeks. The circles beneath her eyes were deepened by the florescent lights and the recent toxic exposure, while her eye themselves seemed hollow and empty as she faced her own worst fears as they were reflected in her partner's life. His mother was- is, she corrected herself- all he has of the time before, the only person who remembered Sam with the gentle memory of a family member. Her death would most likely push Mulder's search for his sister to a fervor which he would not be allowed to survive. Dana had excepted long ago that his continued survival- both real and professional- depended heavily upon a certain degree of calculated failure. They could plod along together forever towards the Truth, always just a step away -- close enough to smell but not see or touch, just balanced on a razor's edge between futility and success. A sigh pushed its way through her lips almost of it's own accord and she turned back to her bed. She was just so tired.... **** The glowing dial of his wristwatch read 3:30- he hadn't slept and wouldn't anytime soon. Somewhere out there was a man with answers to all his questions, a man who could save his mother and redeem him- at least partially- for his ineptitude. But Jeremiah Smith wouldn't last long against the forces which sought to destroy. He couldn't sleep. There was too much to be done. Rising quickly and quietly, Fox Mulder dressed in darkness and disappeared into the night. **** Dana awoke early with a certain sense of foreboding. Something was wrong. It didn't take long for that something to present itself. Mulder was gone. At some point during the night he had slipped out of the hospital and gone, she knew, in search of an uncertain savior. Dana knew that he was desperate- understood that desperation on a level that frightened her. What would she have traded for this same opportunity when her father or sister could have been saved? And he was out there somewhere, blindly searching for a shred of hope to cling to. She could only pray that he wouldn't find it before she found him. **** New York City May 20th 11am Mulder paid off the cab a block early and exited quickly, looking around for any possible tail. Sensing he was alone he continued one block to a three story apartment building - 3813 Bay Bridge. This New York address was one of six that Scully had found for "Jeremiah Smith" - it hadn't taken long for him to duplicate her research. He didn't pause to consider the time he could have saved by simply asking for her help. The "second"Jeremiah Smith's apartment was at the end of the hallway on the third floor. The flimsy brown door looked like all the others, with the exception of the yellow police tape drawn accross the entry. Mulder looked at it -- deciding whether to break in. "He's not there no more!" a brusque woman's voice called out. Mulder turned, seeing a middle-aged woman with too much hairspray and too much makeup lumber toward him from an apartment down the hallway. "The guy that lived there -- he got hauled to jail in the middle of the night." "What? " Mulder turned his full attention to the woman. "What did he do?" "Cops said he was running a drug lab." "NYPD?" "Naw, it was just like last weeks 'Cops' -- DEA, I think. They's come in running with machine guns." Taking in the appearance of the man in front of her, the woman lowered her voice to a whisper,"You one of his clients?" then erupted into a belly laugh. Mulder just gave her his best blank stare as the woman moved toward the staircase. After picking the lock, he found the small dwelling had been sparsely furnished, but what the "man" had had was strewn in every direction. Pushing down thoughts of his mother's situation, he quickly exited the building. **** FBI Building Basement Office May 20th 12:30pm Without taking her eyes from the computer screen Scully's fingers punched out the cell phone number by rote. She double clicked, scrolled and brought the receiver to her ear, expecting to hear the "no service" message for the twentieth time. To her surprise it rang once and then his voice. "Mulder." "It's me. Where are you?" "Driving out of New York.... I'm heading back to Rhode Island." "You ditched me again." A long pause. "I know... I did... but it wouldn't have mattered anyway." "You didn't find the other Jeremiah Smith, did you." "They're eliminating them, Scully. I bet they were all gone by the time we were admitted to the hospital last night." He was giving up. She could here it in his voice and it frightened her. He never gave up. "I'm not so sure about that... I've been making some phone calls... doing some research." "What?" "When you get to your Mother, stay put... I'm coming up there." Scully didn't let him respond before she had hung up and her fingers were dialing again. **** The two sleeping forms were bathed in the muted flourescent light of the hospital room. Standing in the doorway, Scully wondered if Mrs. Mulder had fallen asleep at her son's beside when he was sick as a boy. She softly sqeezed his shoulder, but he still awoke with a start. Groggily he rose and ushered her out side his Mother's room. Before Scully could speak, Mulder apologized, "I'm sorry I ditched you... there really isn't any excuse." "It's a hard habit to break, eh, Mulder?" She caught his downcast eyes with hers. "I was worried about you." He nodded, repentantly. "How is she doing?" He shrugged, shook his head. "She's still in a coma... I don't think she looks too good." He changed the subject. "You said you found something out?" ìI think there might one of these guys left... I've been making some phone calls -- all the 'Smiths' from Florida, Chicago, to Seattle have either been mysteriously arrested or 'dissappeared.' All but one." He cocked his head to ask her to continue. "How do you feel about a trip to California? I got *us* tickets for tonight." "Scully, you don't have to do this with me -- this is about my mother... I can't ask--" She cut him off with a look. "Don't do this again, --" The sound of a beeping alarm from the machines in her room suddenly ended the argument. Mulder slipped back in the room, Scully and nurses following. "Mom... I'm here," he tried to reach out and touch his mother, but he was pushed out of the way as the staff set about stabilizing her condition. **** End part two.