From: theidiosyncraticstanwyck@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: Spectrum   
   Author: the idiosyncratic stanwyck   
   Email: theidiosyncraticstanwyck@yahoo.com   
   Category/Keywords: AU, MSR, A (not too much)   
   Rating: PG-13   
   Summary: A woman meets a man who opens her eyes to a vast,   
   unexpected spectrum of beautiful, terrifying possibilities.   
   Author's mini-note: Okay, so it's not exactly a color. Work   
   with me.   
      
   Chapter 15: Translucent   
      
   "Cubists cracked the mirror of art. Parts are broken off,   
   colors bleed into neighboring objects, and translucent   
   facets of space with multiple light sources cut shadows   
   across bounding surfaces." - Stephen Kerm, The Culture of   
   Time and Space   
      
   **   
      
   Mulder's cell phone burred quietly. He pointed his toes,   
   stretching tight calf muscles. Worn, buttery leather   
   soothed his skin. He barely stopped to wonder who would   
   call at such an obscene hour.   
      
   Her voice was the last he expected to hear.   
      
   "I'll be right there," he promised tautly. "Give me fifteen   
   minutes."   
      
   He scrubbed a handful of water over his face and threw on   
   jeans, a shirt, and sneakers, not allowing himself to feel   
   or think too much.   
      
   She was on the third floor, huddled near the bank of pay   
   phones as she'd promised, the fluorescent lights washing   
   out her bright hair and painting garish, livid blue shadows   
   under her fathomless eyes.   
      
   He almost walked past her, but she said his name. He   
   wouldn't have recognized her. She looked younger,   
   vulnerable; Mulder foolishly realized how small this woman   
   was. She was wearing jeans and an oversized white blouse,   
   her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Faint lines traced   
   the edges of her unnaturally bright eyes.   
      
   "You came," she said. "I didn't know who else to call -   
   Johnny's away for the weekend - I didn't think you'd   
   come..." She trailed off vaguely.   
      
   "What happened? Is it Chloe?"   
      
   Dana shook her head. "My mom. They said it was a heart   
   attack. She's been in surgery for an hour."   
      
   "Have they told you -"   
      
   "At least two more hours. I've been in the waiting room,   
   but I thought I'd walk around."   
      
   He walked with her, focusing on the occasional squeak of   
   her sneaker on the glossy linoleum. The fluorescent lights   
   made him squint. Mounds of garishly white linens and trays   
   of instruments came toward them like something out of a   
   hallucination.   
      
   "I don't understand it. She's healthy, Mulder. She   
   exercises every day, watches what she eats -"   
      
   His fingertips brushed her shoulder blade. "She'll be fine,   
   Scully."   
      
   Dana nodded with confidence he knew she couldn't feel. "I'm   
   sorry. For calling you in the middle of the night and   
   waking you up. I shouldn't -"   
      
   "Don't be sorry. Do you want to sit?" He gestured to the   
   small lounge area just behind them, a collection of sagging   
   plastic chairs cowering under buzzing, overly bright   
   lights.   
      
   She shook her head. "I want to walk," she whispered.   
      
   He nodded. As they ambled up and down the corridors, his   
   hand hovered near her back, not touching but offering the   
   promise of support. I'll catch you if you fall, the gesture   
   seemed to say.   
      
   Scully felt raw, as if her insides had been shredded.   
   Breathing and swallowing were almost unbearably painful.   
   Looking down at her hands, she was surprised to find that   
   the delicate, blue-tinted membrane of skin protecting her   
   aching bones was still whole, unscathed, giving no hint of   
   the carnage beneath.   
      
   A ribbon of silence unfurled between them, fuzzy and gray   
   like static on an old television set. Scully strained to   
   hear her heartbeat above it, to listen to the rhythm of   
   Mulder's breathing. Would this always be between them now,   
   a veil of misapprehensions separating them from one   
   another, rendering communication impossible? If so, the   
   blame lay entirely at her feet.   
      
   With her mother desperately ill and clinging to life moment   
   by moment, the future was too vast and distant for Dana to   
   allow herself to contemplate it. She filled the void with   
   words.   
      
   "I need coffee. There must be a cafeteria or a commissary,   
   right?"   
      
   "Sure, let's go see."   
      
   As they walked into the cafeteria, Scully registered   
   scarred linoleum, the smell of stale grease, and the   
   relentless continuation of the fluorescent light bars.   
      
   "You sit," Mulder instructed. "I'll find something high in   
   caffeine."   
      
   Scully selected a two-person table placed in front of a   
   floor-to-ceiling window. Sitting, she gazed across the tops   
   of the assortment of condiment bottles littering the table   
   at the immense, iron gray flatness of the sky. Early   
   morning was beginning to differentiate itself from the   
   deepness of night, the heavens growing not lighter but more   
   leaden.   
      
   "Here." Mulder plunked a large paper cup down in front of   
   Scully, a teaspoon of dark liquid sloshing over the side.   
   She peeled a napkin from the table's metal holder and laid   
   it down to soak up the spill.   
      
   "Thanks," she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.   
      
   "Don't thank me until you've tasted it."   
      
   They drank their coffee in silence, Scully staring vacantly   
   out the window while Mulder stared into the middle distance   
   over her left shoulder. She ran her fingers through her   
   hair, mussing her loose ponytail. "It's after six," she   
   observed. "Do you think...?"   
      
   She trailed off, her eyes seeking his for the first time   
   since they'd begun to walk together. "Yeah. Let's go up and   
   check," he offered.   
      
   The elevator lurched sickeningly before the doors opened to   
   disgorge them into the hallway. The reek of industrial   
   strength cleansers again assaulted Mulder's nose and his   
   stomach turned. Scully led the way to the nurses' station.   
      
   "Margaret Scully?" the nurse on duty repeated in answer to   
   Scully's query. She glanced from her computer screen to a   
   stack of files beside her. "Her doctor should be out soon,   
   if you'll have a seat in the waiting area."   
      
   Mulder arranged himself in the best way possible on the   
   unforgiving chair in order to minimize his discomfort.   
   Scully lowered herself into the seat next to him, and after   
   a few seconds edged close enough for their shoulders to   
   brush. After a few more minutes, she leaned in ever so   
   slightly, allowing his arm to bear a tiny fraction of her   
   weight. Mulder's arm felt unnaturally heavy as he lifted it   
   to drape around her shoulders, and Dana shuddered.   
      
   "I just keep thinking about all the things - I mean - what   
   about Lola?"   
      
   "The dog?"   
      
   She nodded. "Who's taking care of her? Does she have food,   
   water...?" Dana trailed off, staring at her shoes.   
      
   "Ms. Scully?"   
      
   Dana was instantly on her feet to face the thin,   
   bespectacled man in green scrubs, a protective mask hanging   
   loosely from his neck. Mulder rose more slowly, his fingers   
   skimming the curve of her back.   
      
   "I'm Dr. Reingold. I'm pleased to tell you that your mother   
   came through surgery without any complications, and the   
   damage was less extensive than we had originally believed."   
      
   The cardiologist continued speaking, but she scarcely heard   
   him, his words overwhelmed by the crashing roar of waves of   
   relief. "Your mother is being moved to ICU now, but I don't   
   anticipate that she'll be there for very long. With any   
   luck we'll be able to move her into a regular room within   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)