Abah 15: A Greater Gift By Susan Proto ( STPteach@aol.com ) Disclaimers in Part 1 Part 6/6 "Yes, Mom, he's fine. Yes, he was very lucky. Yes, tell Walter he's going to be fine," Scully said for what was probably the tenth time in the last five minutes. She'd already spoken with Sarah on the phone and now it was her mother's turn. "Dana, tell Abah it was Paul O'Neill who beaned me." Scully wanted to break out into laughter at her husband's attitude. He was taking the beaning as a badge of honor. And of course, now that the test results came back and showed Mulder's concussion was not nearly as serious as they'd originally thought, she could better appreciate the humor of the situation. "Mom, Mulder wants Walter to know that it was Paul O'Neill who beaned him." Scully listened to Maggie relay the message and then she heard a very loud, "No shit?!" When Maggie responded with a "Walter, please! The baby is right there!" Scully couldn't hold it in any longer. Whether it was her mind demanding that she release all of the tensions she'd been feeling all day or not, Scully found herself laughing almost uncontrollably. Until she caught sight of Mulder's expression and realized that she was frightening him. She must have looked as if she was on the verge of hysteria. "I'm okay, Mulder," she said and signed quickly. "I'm fine, okay, really. Mom, I have to go, but I promise to call you back later and let you know what's doing. Give Sarah a kiss for us both, please," she pleaded. She hung up the phone and then looked back at Mulder. "I really am okay, Fox." Mulder nodded slightly, but he kept his eyes on her nonstop. "Abah was impressed with your beaning," she said with a smile in an attempt to bring him out of his worried mood. It seemed to have the desired effect upon him, as she caught the beginnings of a smile. But it wasn't a delighted smile, such as the kind he reserved for his daughter or wife. This was almost a sad smile. She touched his arm to catch his attention. "Fox? Are you all right?" She expected him to automatically say 'yes', but instead he shrugged his shoulders. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" "Nod'ing is w'ong, Scully," he began hesitantly, "It's __, damn, I don't know if I can exp'ain it." "Try me," she encouraged and continued to gently rub his arm. "I had d'is dw'eam. I gue't it was a dw'eam, but it was so w'eal, Scully. It fe't so damn w'eal." "What happened?" she asked. "I was p'aying ball. I was a New York Yankee, Scully. It was so gw'ate! I couldn't believe it! I had to go to bat, and I bunted, and I got a hit, and I got on base, Scully. "I ran, Scully. I ran so fa't. So fa't," he said wistfully. "I really could w'un, Scully. I could w'un, and I could hear, and I didn't hab' any seizures. God, Scully, it was like__, like befo'e. I was no'mal. I was fucking no'mal." Scully let him regain control of himself and sat quietly rubbing his arm. She waited until he took a deep breath and then she asked, "So, did anything else happen?" He smiled. Mulder appreciated how she was able to understand just how important the experience was to him. He squeezed her hand; she knew. "I 'cored the winning w'un, Scully. Jeter hit a tw'iple and W'andolph wa'bed me home! I w'an like the wind, Scully. I w'an like I did in the old days. The days befo'e__, befo'e I got t'ick." Suddenly he slumped back in the bed and sighed deeply. "God, d'at was a li'etime ago, wasn't it?" he asked rhetorically. "Sometimes I think it was, Mulder," she responded honestly. Scully knew there was no point placating him; they both knew what kind of changes their lives went through as a result of his battle with the aftereffects of meningitis. "But Mulder, we're worth all of the effort, aren't we? You, me, and Sarah?" she asked with a knowing smile. "Yeah, Scully. We're wor'd it, but __." He paused. "__But, what?" "It fe't good to w'emember, Scully. It fe't so good to w'emember." Scully reached over and embraced her husband, but it was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," Scully said and gasped slightly when she saw who walked in the door. Mulder noticed her reaction and quickly looked to see who was entering the room. He gasped louder than Scully. "May we come in?" asked one of the three men standing at the door. "Of course, please. My husband is deaf, so if you'll speak directly to him so he can read your lips, it would be helpful. I can translate anything that's complicated,'' Scully said, surprisingly nervous. "Well, hi Mr. Mulder, I'm Paul O'Neill__." "__I know. I know who you are. You're Paul O'Neill," Mulder repeated with definite nervousness. O'Neill smiled and looked to shake Mulder's hand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I felt pretty bad when I realized my foul ball caught you." "Yeah, well, it's not ev'wy day d'at I can t'ay I got beaned by Paul O'Neill," Mulder said with a smile. "No, and it's a damned good thing it's not," Scully retorted without thinking. Everyone laughed, even Mulder who caught the gist of Scully's remarks. Finally, one of the other men offered his hand in introduction, "I'm Derek Jeter, Sir, and this is Nomar Garciaparra. We just wanted to stop by and make sure you were doing okay. Oh, also, we brought you a couple of things, you know so maybe you'll remember this day a little more positive." With that Garciappara opened up the bag he was carrying and pulled out a couple of balls, one signed by Yankee players and the other signed by some Red Sox players. He also took out a couple of caps, one boasting the Yankee emblem and the other heralding the Bosox symbol. "D'ank you," Mulder said as he accepted the gifts in awe. "D'is is gw'ate, ju't gw'ate. D'ank you, ve'wy much." Mulder fingered each item as if he were handed great treasure. "Well, we'd better be going," interjected Paul O'Neill. "You need your rest, ya know." Scully nodded in agreement and thanked the men for taking the time to visit. "Wait!" cried out Mulder. "What's wrong?" asked Scully, thinking something was suddenly horribly wrong. "Nod'ing's wrong, but I gotta know. Who won? Who won the game?" he asked. Both O'Neill and Jeter suddenly sported two huge smiles, while Garciaparra rolled his eyes. "D'anks, guys. D'anks for more d'an you'll ever know." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ End of 6/6 And thanks to you for reading! Feedback to: STPteach@aol.com Later, Susan See my stories, courtesy of the extraordinary Web Mistress, Shirley Smiley at: http://susanproto.freeservers.com/ "Paper is more patient than people."- Anne Frank