TITLE:  Reconciliation
SPOILER WARNING:  Beyond the Sea; Momento Mori; Redux II
RATING:  PG-13, for language, and for a suggestion of adult sexual
situations
CONTENT WARNING:  Character death (not M or S, if it matters)
CLASSIFICATION:  SRA; MSR; Maggie/Bill, sr; MaggieAngst
SUMMARY:  Bill, jr, arrives at his mother's home unexpectedly, and
receives an unpleasant surprise.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This is a continuation of what I suppose we should start
calling the "Silver Bracelet" series.  The stories so far are
Transfiguration, As I Knew He Would and Faith and Acceptance.
And as much as I usually try to make each of my stories stand on its
own, that's not possible in this case; you need to have read the other
three stories to understand what is going on here.
I should also note that this story is in no way related to my two other
"Bill Scully" stories ("Insurmountable Opportunities" and "Seven Days in
November").
DEDICATION:  I should acknowledge the debt I owe to Helen Wills, whose
wonderful story "One Sorry Son of a Bitch" reminds us all that Maggie
Scully is a tough woman who does not tolerate nonsense from her children
(to put it mildly).  Naturally, I am not attempting to compare my own
story to Helen's; my work must stand or fall on its own.  But you really
ought to read her story; it is available on Gossamer, and I highly
recommend it.
 

Reconciliation

by Brandon D. Ray

Margaret Scully awoke at her usual time on the day after Christmas.  For
just a moment she snuggled against her pillow, and considered staying in
bed.  There was really no reason why she should have to get up, and the
bed was so soft, so warm.

Then she remembered.  The dishes from Christmas dinner.  She should have
done them last night, but she'd been so tired, having stayed up all
night the night before.  She briefly considered the possibility that Fox
and Dana might have done them after she went to bed, but she suspected
that they had had other things to occupy their time.

She shivered as she remembered the events of the last two days.  It had
been such a hard time for both of them, and there had been so little she
could do.  Still, things had seemed to be working out when she'd excused
herself and gone to bed the night before.  They still hadn't opened up
to each other, but Fox had come to Dana, as Maggie had known he would,
and she had hoped that once they had a chance to be alone together, they
would find the necessary words.  The fact that the still, soft voice
that lived deep inside of Maggie had allowed her to go to bed, and then
drift off to sleep, was a good sign.

But now it was morning.  The dishes.  With a sigh, she threw back the
blankets and climbed slowly out of bed.  <<Time was, I would have rolled
out of bed,>> she thought.  <<But I'm getting older.>>  Not that it
bothered her overmuch; her aching joints (so far just in the mornings,
when she first woke up), and all the other little signs that her body
was gradually running down, just meant that she was that much closer to
being with Bill again.

A small part of her, carefully suppressed in the back of her mind,
longed to go to him now.  That part was always there, whispering to her,
but she knew better than to listen to it.  The fact that the Church
would not approve was only a small part of her reason for not listening;
although she and Bill had both always been devout, they had never
allowed anyone's dogma to interfere with doing what they thought was right.

The more important reason to resist the voice was her promise to her
husband, that horrible night five years before.  She closed her eyes for
a moment and let herself remember.

#          #          #

They had had dinner with Dana in her apartment.  It had been a short
visit, shorter than Maggie had wished, but Bill had seemed anxious to
get home, and she had let him take the lead, as always.  Maggie would
wonder, later, if things might have been different if they had stayed. 
Maybe her daughter's medical skills could have saved the man they both
loved.  But there was no way of knowing, no way of going back.

The promise had come while Bill lay dying in her arms, during the
terrible, lonely wait for the paramedics.  His face was pale and sweaty,
his breathing harsh and labored.  She held his head, crying and praying,
tears streaming down her face.  The still, soft voice was quiet, and
that scared her even more than the obvious agony her husband was
experiencing.

"M-Maggie..."  Bill's voice was soft, so soft she could barely hear him.

"Shhh," she replied.  "Don't try to talk.  Save your strength.  Help is
coming."

He moaned, and a new wave of pain crossed his features.  "No...no time,"
he gasped.

"No, Bill!  Please, no!  You've got to hang on.  I can't live without you!"

That seemed to get his attention.  He turned his head slightly, and
looked up into her eyes.  "Maggie," he repeated, his voice still a whisper.

"Yes, Bill.  I'm here, Bill.  I'll always be here.  Just...try to hang
on."  Her voice cracked, and she let a single sob escape.

"Maggie..."  he gasped, and tried to suck in air through his mouth. 
"Can't...breathe."  Another gasp.  "Can't...."

"Yes, you can!  Oh, Bill, you CAN breathe.  You must!"

"No.  Time's...up."

His eyes closed, and she felt terror rising in her throat.  She shook
his shoulder, gently, and In the distance, she heard a siren.  "Bill,"
she begged.  "Don't go, Bill!  Please don't go."

His eyes fluttered open, and somehow she knew that it was for the last
time.  "Can't breathe," he repeated.  "Maggie...love.  You..." he
stopped again, and gasped for air one last time.  Then:  "You've got to
breathe.  For both of us."

And then he was gone.

Maggie closed her eyes and cried; long, wracking sobs.  The siren in the
distance grew louder, and then the paramedics were pounding on the front
door.  She didn't want to move, she didn't want to go to the door.  She
just wanted to hold her husband; she didn't wanted to admit the men who
would tell her what she already knew:  that Bill was gone forever.

The pounding on the door was repeated, and she knew she had to answer
it, or they would break it down.  With a sigh, she opened her eyes, and
for just a moment she let her gaze caress Bill's features.  She felt all
the love and longing of more than 30 years of marriage, and she gently
brushed her fingers against his cheek.  "I promise, Bill," she said. 
"I'll breathe for both of us.  I promise."  And she got up, gently
laying his head on the floor, and went to answer the door.

#          #          #

Maggie sighed and opened her eyes again.  Sometimes she needed that. 
Sad as it made her to remember that night, sometimes she needed the
catharsis.  She took a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped
her eyes, then pulled on her robe and went out into the hall.

She frowned as she saw the door to the guest bedroom standing open.  Fox
Mulder had never struck her as being a morning person, an impression
Dana had confirmed to her on several occasions.  She stepped over to the
open door and looked inside, and her unease deepened.

The bed had not been slept in.  Nothing had been disturbed; nothing was
out of place.  There was no sign that anyone had been in the room at all.

She wondered if things had perhaps not gone well the night before, after
all.  Perhaps Dana's walls had been too high and too strong, or Fox's
own pain had been too great, and he had finally turned and walked away. 
She tried to listen for the still, soft voice, but it wasn't saying
anything to her at the moment, and that also worried her.

Well, nothing to be done about it now, if that was indeed what had
happened.  Nothing to do but to pick up the pieces.  Assuming it was
necessary.  And it still might be okay; they might just have fallen
asleep on the sofa downstairs, as Dana had on Christmas Eve.

She walked down the hallway towards the front stairs, then stopped again
as she came to her daughter's old room.  The door was closed, and Maggie
stood looking at it for a moment, wondering if she should knock.  A wild
thought crossed the back of her mind, and she took another step closer
to the door, and cocked her ear to listen, holding her breath.  Then she
smiled.

She heard voices, softly murmuring to each other.  And then she heard
Dana laugh.

#          #          #

Thirty minutes later she was up to her elbows in dishwater.  Fox and
Dana had still not come downstairs, and she had no intention of
disturbing them before they were ready.  She knew that Dana was probably
nervous, especially about having allowed Fox to spend the night in her
room.  Maggie and Bill had always been strict on that topic:  No
visitors of the opposite sex in their childrens' bedrooms.  And while
Maggie had to admit, at least to herself, that the situation made her a
little uncomfortable, she wasn't about to interfere with something that
so obviously made Dana happy.

Her little girl was happy.  What a profoundly wonderful thing.  Such a
welcome change.

The doorbell rang.  Maggie raised her eyebrows; who on earth would be
out ringing doorbells at five minutes until eight in the morning on the
day after Christmas?  Stripping off her rubber gloves, she made her way
to the living room and opened the front door.

"Billy!"  In a flash she was wrapping her arms around her son's waist
and giving him a warm, affectionate hug, before releasing him and
allowing him to enter the house.  "It's so nice to see you!  What a
wonderful surprise.  I thought you were going to be at sea until after
the first of the year."

He smiled as he shut the door.  "So did I.  But the sea trials were a
total bomb.  They are at this moment TOWING the ship back to
Charleston.  I guess that'll teach them not to schedule trials over a
holiday."  His smile broadened.  "And *I* copped a 72 hour pass."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Maggie said, leading him over to the sofa.  "I
mean, it isn't wonderful about the problems with the ship, but it's
wonderful to have this opportunity to see you.  Are Tara and the baby
coming?"

He shook his head.  "No.  They're still in Seattle with her folks, and
it didn't seem worth it to have them fly all the way out here just so we
could have one day together.  Besides, airline reservations are almost
impossible to get on short notice, this time of year.  I'll see them
soon enough."  He sat down on the sofa next to his mother.  "By the way,
I tried to call Dana when I passed through Washington, but got no
answer.  Any idea where she might be?"

"Oh, yes.  She's here," Maggie replied, then felt a slight tremor of
apprehension as she suddenly realized the potential for conflict in the
situation.

Bill was already rising to his feet.  "That's great," he said, heading
for the stairs.  "I suppose she's still in bed.  I'll just go up there
and drag her downstairs."

Maggie rose to her feet and ran after her son, catching him at the foot
of the stairs and laying a hand on his elbow.  "Bill," she said.  "Wait
a minute."

He turned to look at her, and his smile suddenly disappeared as he took
in the look on his mother's face.  "Mom?  Is something wrong?"  He
glanced up the staircase, then back at Maggie.  "She isn't...she isn't
sick again, is she?"

"No, Bill, she isn't sick," Maggie said quietly, and a shiver went
through her in spite of herself as she remembered those horrible times. 
"Come here.  Sit with me for a minute."  She led him back to the sofa
and they both sat down again.

Maggie wondered how to begin.  There really wasn't any good way to say
this, and she knew that Bill's reaction to the change in the
relationship between Dana and Fox would not be positive.  Still, better
for him to find out about it this way, and at least have a few minutes
to prepare himself, rather than being taken completely by surprise.

"Bill," she said, choosing her words carefully.  "Normally, this is not
something I would wish to discuss with you.  As you know, once you kids
reached adulthood your father and I felt that it was not our place to
interfere in your personal relationships, either within the family or
outside of it.  Naturally, we always hoped that our children would be
friends with one another, and of course we wanted only your happiness in
your relations with others, as well.  However, as I said, we did not
feel it was appropriate for us to interfere."

She paused, and looked at her son for a moment; he nodded for her to
continue.  "That's why this is so difficult for me to say," she went
on.  "Because I am about to...interfere in your relationship with Dana. 
But that is only because I foresee problems, if you are not forewarned
of something."  She shrugged her shoulders.  "It may be that I am doing
you a tremendous injustice in anticipating these difficulties.  If so, I
wish to beg your forgiveness in advance."

Bill shifted uneasily in his seat.  "Mother?  What are you getting at? 
What's going on?  You said Dana's not sick..."  He trailed off, a
questioning look on his face.

"Dana is not sick," Maggie agreed.  "She is fine.  In fact, she is
better than she has been in a very long time."  She stopped, unsure of
how to go on.  She was sorely tempted to back away from this; she really
did feel uncomfortable at the idea of meddling in her childrens' lives. 
But she had to do this.  She couldn't just let Dana and Bill walk into a
potential firestorm unawares -- nor would it be fair to Fox.

"So what's the problem?"  From his tone, it sounded like Bill was
becoming defiant.  That was his standard reaction to anything he didn't
understand:  Defiance and anger.  She loved her son dearly, more than
life itself, but that didn't stop her from seeing his flaws, nor did it
stop her from blaming herself for every single one of those flaws.

No choice but to meet the matter head-on.  "Bill," she said, taking one
of his hands in both of hers.  "I know you don't get along well with Fox
Mulder."

His eyes narrowed.  "What's he got to do with this?"

"He's here, too, Bill."

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged angrily.  "So?  I mean, you
said it yourself:  I can't stand the man.  But if you chose to invite
him to your house, that's your business.  I know you didn't expect me to
be here this weekend."  Another shrug.  "I'll do the best I can to be
civil.  As long as HE does the same."

Maggie shook her head.  "It's not that simple, Bill.  First, I did not
invite Fox over here -- although I have no objection to his presence,
and I have invited him to visit me in the past.  I like Fox very much,
and I value his friendship; I wish he would visit me more often.  I know
that he has flaws, but they are more than outweighed by his good
qualities, and it grieves me that you can see only the former, and not
the latter."

"Mother!" Bill said in exasperation.  "What's this all about?"

She sighed again.  "Bill, he's upstairs with Dana."

He stared at her again, and his eyes narrowed further.  "What...what
exactly do you mean by that?"

"He's upstairs with Dana," she repeated.  "In her room.  He's been there
since last night."

Her son's eyes widened, and his cheeks started to redden.  Then came the
explosion.  "Jesus, Mother!"  And he jumped from the sofa and strode
rapidly towards the stairs.

"Bill!"  Maggie sprang to her feet and went after him again, but this
time he shrugged her off and started up the stairs.  She clapped her
hands together sharply. "William Matthew Christopher Scully!  Come back
down here this minute!"

He froze.  For an agonizing moment, she thought he might disobey her. 
Finally, however, he turned around, and slowly descended back into the
living room.  He allowed himself to be led back to the sofa, and the two
of them sat down again.

They sat staring at each other for a pair of minutes.  Finally, Bill
said in a low tone of voice, "Why did you stop me, Mother?"

"Because you were about to do something all of us would regret."

"Speak for yourself, Mother," he said coldly.  "I was going to enjoy it."

They sat in silence for another moment.  Then Maggie said, "May I ask
what, exactly, you thought you were going to do?"

"I was going to break it up, get him out of there."  He looked at her,
amazement on his face.  "Hell, Mother, I was only going to enforce your
own rule."

"That was a long time ago, Bill, and it was a rule for teenagers.  Dana
is no longer a teenager, and she is no longer my dependent.  She makes
her own rules, just as you and Charlie do.  Just as Melissa did."

"You can't tell me that you approve of this!"

She shook her head.  "It's not for me to approve or disapprove.  Dana is
a grown woman, and she makes these decisions for herself now."  She
thought about it for a moment.  Then:  "And no, to be perfectly honest,
I am not entirely comfortable with the situation.  I wasn't raised that
way, and your father and I tried not to raise our children that way. 
But times change, and there's no use in trying to hold back the tide. 
And I respect Dana too much to second guess her on such an important
matter, in any case."

"Even under your own roof, Mother?  What a bunch of politically correct
bullshit!"

She looked at him for a moment in silence, trying to decide what to say,
and when she did speak her voice was very quiet.  "Bill, are you under
the impression that this is the first time something like this has
happened in this house?"  Suddenly he didn't seem to want to meet her
eyes.  "Or, to put it more precisely, are you under the impression that
*I* think this is the first time something like this has happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?"  She arched an eyebrow at him.  "Did you really think your
father and I didn't know what was going on between you and Tara, 'under
our own roof', for nearly two YEARS before you married her?  Did you
think we were blind, or merely stupid?  Or perhaps you thought I had no
sense of smell.  *I* was the one who did all the laundry, as you may
recall."  He shifted uncomfortably, and still he refused to meet her
eyes.  "Or perhaps I should mention the time I found a pair of Tara's
underpants tangled up in your bedclothes."

Now he did look at her, and his eyes were big and round.  "You...you
found --"  He licked his lips nervously.  "What did you do with them?"

"I washed them and gave them back to her.  What would you expect me to do?"

"Why...why didn't you just give them back to me?"

She smiled slightly.  "Well, they pretty clearly weren't your size,
Bill."  More seriously:  "And in any case, you quite obviously did not
wish for me to know what was going on, and I did not wish to make you
uncomfortable by rubbing your nose in the fact that I DID know.  You
see, I respected your decision, Bill, just as I now respect Dana's."

"The two situations are totally different," he muttered.

"You're damned right they are!" she said, suddenly angry.  "Do you want
me to tell you how they're different?  They are different because Dana
is considerably older now, and much more mature, than you were then. 
The other difference is that you have this irrational hostility towards
Fox Mulder, while she was never anything but gracious and friendly
towards Tara.  Even though I am pretty sure Dana knew what was going on,
as well.  And those are the ONLY differences, Bill.  The only ones."

Her son pulled back from her slightly, apparently stunned at her
outburst.  He just sat there for a moment, looking at her, his eyes
large, wounded circles.  Finally, his voice very low, and with a tremor
in it:  "Mother....what is it you want me to do?"

Maggie felt her anger melting away.  More than anything in the world,
she wanted just to reach out and take him in her arms and comfort him,
as she had so many times when he was a little boy.  But much as her arms
ached to hold him, she knew that if she did she would risk undoing
whatever good had just been accomplished.  So instead, her hands folded
carefully in her lap, she said, very softly, "What I want, Bill, is for
you to be the kind, generous, loving man than I know you really are."

She paused for just a moment, then went on.  "I want you to be a friend
to Dana, and I want you to be gracious to Fox.  And I want you to
remember that while he is close to your sister, and very important to
her, he is also close to ME, and that he is a guest under my roof. 
That's what I want, Bill."

He sat silently for a moment, and she watched while his internal
conflict played out across his features.  Finally, he shook his head. 
"Mother..." But his voice trailed off, and he seemed unable to finish
the sentence.

At that moment, Maggie heard a door open and close upstairs, followed by
the sound of voices and laughter.

"Bill," she said urgently, reaching out and touching his hand again. 
"Bill, we are out of time.  In about thirty seconds Dana and Fox are
going to be coming down those stairs, and you MUST decide."  Still he
didn't speak.  Desperately:  "Bill, listen to them.  Listen to HER. 
Listen to how happy your sister is.  Listen to her, and tell me when the
last time was that you heard Dana laugh like that."

That did it.  Bill's face seemed to crumple inward, and his shoulders
sagged.  He closed his eyes, and took a shaky breath, then opened them
and looked up at her again.  "All right, Mother," he said, the words
obviously costing him a great deal, and Maggie felt a moment of pride at
this demonstration of his strength of character.  "All right.  I'll try."

"You're a good boy, Billy," she said, and she hugged him briefly and
fiercely.  "You're a good boy."  Then she released him, and together the
two of them rose from the sofa, and went to meet Dana and Fox.
 
 
 

Fini