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Maggie Scully had always been a woman of faith. Faith in God (although she believed in a far more sweet-natured God than her Church instructed her to). Faith in her husband, God rest his soul. Faith in her children. Faith that her late husband and daughter, Melissa - both gone before their time - are together again now, wherever they are.
Maggie is not blind in her faith: she has faith in herself, in her own mind and intellect. But she does still have that faith in God. In a higher power, which possesses a higher purpose well beyond the comprehension of mere humans. A power which she is not arrogant enough to assume that she understands.
Maggie knew that her Bill always thought that, too: there are many things in the universe far out of the reach of limited human comprehension. That Bill had seen many things in his long career, far out at sea, that could not be answered by either science or the Church.
But, still, Maggie never shared her dreams with Bill. Not her normal, everyday dreams, about flying or falling or missing the bus…but the dreams where she was told things, or saw things, things which had yet to come to pass.
It used to frighten her.
It didn’t help that the dreams weren’t frequent enough for her to ever get used to.
And the fact that they tended to bring such bad news. Bill’s illness. Dana’s kidnapping. Missy’s death.
Bad news, but never enough time to do anything to prevent it…
For the last few months, her grandmother, Sarah, long dead, has been coming to her in dreams.
Innocuous dreams, where Maggie sits at her grandmother’s dressing table, trying on all her jewellery, giggling with glee as Nanna Sarah tells her how pretty she looks.
Strange dreams, where Nanna Sarah has grown wings of vivid orange and is flying high above Maggie’s head, telling her to be sure to buy herself the new Madonna album for Christmas.
And then, a dream where they sit by the fire together, in that old farmhouse kitchen that Maggie loved so much, while her grandmother knits, teaching Maggie as she goes.
“You’re good at that.”
Maggie looks up, although she doesn’t have to: she’d know that voice anywhere.
She’s smiling at Maggie, leaning in the doorframe. She looks just like she did the last time Maggie saw her: her dark red hair piled on top of her head, a small quartz stone glinting at her throat, a dark velvet dress.
“Missy…”
Maggie goes to get up, but Nanna Sarah puts her hand on Maggie’s arm.
“Maggie, you know that she’ll need you during this,” Nanna Sarah says. “She won’t admit it, not even to herself, but she can’t do this alone. Dana will need you and her little fox, now more than ever.”
Missy’s chuckle is dry. “Dana will need both of you. But you already know that.”
Maggie wakes with a start.
The TV is on; Oprah is gifting a new car to a midwestern woman with big hair and sad eyes. Outside, Maggie’s neighbour, Mrs Miller, is scolding her chihuahua for barking at the postman, who is laughing jovially, saying not to worry.
Maggie’s book is still open on her lap. Birdsong and sunshine drifts in through the open window.
It’s the middle of the day.
Horrified, Maggie gets to her feet, and nearly jumps out of her skin when there is a knock on the door.
“Mrs Scully? Are you home?”
Maggie smiles, despite herself. She’d know that voice anywhere: it’s Fox Mulder.
“I’m very sorry to just show up at your doorstep like this,” Mulder says, for the third time, as Maggie puts a glass of lemonade and a slice of cake down in front of him.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Fox,” Maggie says. “It’s lovely to see you.”
Fox. The name circles around inside Maggie’s head, alongside Nanna Sarah’s voice. “She can’t do this alone. Dana will need you and her little fox, now more than ever.”
Dana’s little fox…the six-foot man in a dark suit, with the dark hair and the sad eyes, sitting on her couch, looking into his glass like he hoped the lemonade within it held all the answers.
Mulder has a good poker face; Maggie doubts he’d be much a secret agent and profiler if he didn’t. But she can feel it radiating off him: something is very, very wrong.
“Mrs Scully…”
Maggie laughs, despite herself. “Fox, please. Call me ‘Maggie’. I insist.” Just as she had insisted many times before.
Mulder smiles; it’s genuine, but his eyes are still sad. “Okay. Maggie…I don’t know how to tell you this…”
Maggie can feel her heart pounding in her chest and she knows her blood pressure is going up. But she also feels strangely calm. Possibly a little angry, although whether that’s at Dana for sending Fox in her stead, or at Fox for endangering her daughter again, she’s not sure.
“It’s about Dana,” Maggie says.
Mulder’s head snaps up. “How…?”
Maggie smiles again, despite herself. “A mother’s intuition, I suppose.”
Mulder nods, his eyes fixed on her face, although Maggie is sure that, in that moment, he is a thousand miles away in that head of his. He is chewing his lip in a way that she is sure will draw blood if he keeps it up.
“Has she sent you as the messenger?” Maggie asks, surprising herself.
Mulder’s eyes refocus; he’s clearly surprised at her question, too. He smiles again, although it is sheepish now. “I guess. She…uh, she’s had to have some tests done, and she’s…she’s gone into hospital.”
Maggie doesn’t even notice that she’s standing up until she realises that Fox is looking up at her.
Mulder gets to his feet and Maggie takes his hand in her own, not thinking. “Is she sick?”
Mulder looks down, and nods.
“Fox,” Maggie says; her heart is pounding again, that confusing cacophony of emotions building back up. “Fox, what is wrong with Dana? What’s the diagnosis?”
Fox looks back at her and there are tears in his eyes. “They think it’s…cancer.”
Maggie closes her eyes. Cancer…
“She asked me to tell you,” Mulder is saying. “They wanted her to start treatment basically right away. I didn’t think a phone call was appropriate, so…but…but I’m sorry, I really should have called ahead, to see if it was convenient…”
Mulder is starting to ramble now, the same way he did sometimes when he was past the point of exhaustion when Dana was missing and he was searching for her, night and day. He had blamed himself for Dana’s disappearance, had apologised to her for not being there to protect Dana. He had sworn he would move heaven and earth to find her, and seeing the pain in his eyes, Maggie had believed him. He was so worried – so terrified – that he would never find her, or that he wouldn’t find her until it was too late…
When Dana did come back to them, bruised and comatose, Maggie sat at Dana’s hospital bedside for days, talking to her, trying to coax her back to the land of the living, not wanting to have to pull the plug, despite wanting to respect Dana’s wishes.
Dana’s wishes that Dana asked Mulder to witness for her…
So, even back then, Maggie was not at all surprised when it seemed to be Fox’s voice that saw Dana return to them.
Because Maggie had known, deep in her bones, that Fox would find her daughter. Maggie knew that Mulder would never hurt Dana. That he would do anything he could to protect her, to find her.
At the time, she didn’t even know why she had this faith in this man who she had never met, and that her son, Bill Junior, blames for every tragedy that has befallen the Scully family since Dana met Fox in 1993, whether it is reasonable or not.
Especially Melissa…
Melissa…
Missy’s voice echoes inside her head. “Dana will need both of you. But you already know that.”
Maggie opens her eyes, and the pain she saw in Mulder’s eyes during Dana’s disappearance was nothing compared to the abject agony she sees there now.
“Fox,” Maggie says, softly.
Mulder is shaking his head, as if trying to clear it. “Maggie, I’m sorry, I…”
“Fox, it’s okay,” Maggie pulls him into her arms and she can feel the fine tremor running through that tall form. He certainly hides it well. She can feel tears soaking into the shoulder of her shirt, and something inside Maggie breaks. For Fox, for Dana, for herself.
“Shouldn’t I be comforting you?” Fox murmurs after a moment, and Maggie appreciates his attempt at levity. Poor lost baby boy…who else can he even turn to?
Maggie chuckles. “I think this is one of those situations where the concept of ‘mutual support’ is recommended.”
“Ah, I read about that in a book once,” Mulder jokes, and Maggie laughs softly again. She just rubs his shoulders when his voice cracks.
It’s not that Maggie isn’t angry. She is. She’s furious that God seems to think that taking Bill and Missy wasn’t enough. She’s worried that this has something to do with the dangerous work Dana does.
A small part of her is angry at Fox for dragging Dana into it, the same part of her that hated him in the instant she heard of Missy’s death and realised that the bullet that killed her eldest was meant for Dana.
Maggie is incensed that Dana has fobbed off the job of telling her, her mother, about this to Fox.
Maggie is not proud of herself for these thoughts. This is not what she should be focusing on.
Dana needs her right now. Her support, her presence, her love. Not her anger.
Maggie reflects on this as she sits on the couch with Fox.
“The doctors are saying it’s a rare cancer, but this Doctor Scanlon has had some success in treating it on other patients,” Mulder explains.
Maggie gets the impression that Mulder may not be telling her the full details, but she doesn’t want to push. Dana may have requested that. It is still early days. “So, there’s hope?”
Mulder looks at her with such intensity in that moment. “Yes, Maggie. There is hope. And no matter what needs to be done, I will do it. Anything."
Maggie looks him into those intelligent, intense eyes, and believes him. Wholeheartedly.
Not for the first time, Maggie wonders if Dana knows that this man loves her. Is in love with her. That he loves Dana enough to do something that is likely stupid at least, and illegal at worst, anything, just to give her even the barest chance of the possibility of survival.
Maggie wonders if Mulder even knows himself.
Maggie had known in that other hospital room, when Dana woke up and Mulder had looked at her like she was the sun and the stars. Mulder had given Dana back the gold crucifix Maggie had insisted that he keep while he looked for her, that he had worn close to his heart the whole time she was gone, and he and Dana had just looked at each other in a way that was all-encompassing and awkward and sweet and tender all at the same time and Maggie had wondered if Dana even knew herself that she was in love with this man.
Maggie wonders if the two of them will ever act upon those feelings. Or if they already have and she’s just missed it. But no, she doesn’t think she would have missed that.
She hopes that Dana and Fox eventually allow themselves that chance. The chance to be happy. Life is too short to not do that, to not take that opportunity. Maggie has lived long enough to know that love - real love - is rare and precious. Not to be taken for granted.
So Maggie looks at Fox – this complicated, complex, confusing man that God has sent to her youngest daughter – and smiles.
“I know you will, Fox. I know.”