Story:      The Healing Process
Author:     Nichole
Rated:      G
Keywords:   MSR, V, Other POV
Summary:    An outside character's POV on "Dead/Alive". 
Feedback:   Be a dear and write to me! scoob4u@yahoo.com
Archive:    Anywhere, just ask!
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. Never 
            have been, never will be. I can only hope 
            that someday FOX will remember what great 
            importance they both hold and help to produce 
            another movie with them in it. CC has owned 
            them too, and I have to say he's done them 
            justice as long as they have been around. 
            I thank him for that.  At least he's been 
            consistent. 


           The Healing Process

  I worked the graveyard shift the night they brought 
him in.  They said that he had been dead for three 
months, but I didn't believe that for a minute.  
How could a man who had been buried in the ground 
that long still be alive?  Well, I, like you, had my 
doubts about it.  I'm sure you're reading this and 
shaking your head.  I can honestly say that I would 
be doing the same if the situation was reversed, and 
I was the reader of this unbelievable account.  But 
the fact is, it isn't.  You have to keep an open mind
as you read this because if you aren't open to the 
realm of other worldly possibilities, you had better
turn back now.  

  The two men that came with him were oddly matched. 
I say 'oddly matched' because the tall one was balding,
and the shorter one had his hair in some spiked-up manner 
that seemed like an attempt to pass for a teenager.  
The taller one seemed to be above the shorter in more 
ways than one.  I'm pretty sure that he was the boss 
because I could tell by the way that he carried himself. 
It was like he was used to being in charge or something. 
I know that walk, I see it everyday. --The DON here at
the hospital comes to mind.  The shorter one just seemed 
a little meek when he was around, so I'm fairly sure that 
it wasn't the opposite way around. 

  So anyway, getting to my story: they were both in 
some type of uproar.  They followed the paramedics on 
the way into the hospital, barking out commands to anyone 
in close proximity.  They demanded immediate assistance 
from a doctor, and refused to wait. (I can't stand those 
types, the ones that think they are better than everyone 
else.)  I understand that their friend was in need of help, 
but there were plenty of poor souls in the waiting 
room that were just as in need of medical attention. 
So needless to say, they were already on my bad side. 

  I was the first nurse on the scene, trying to asses 
the situation as best I could and deal with the forcible 
demands being yelled in my direction from the odd couple 
standing next to his stretcher.  I tried to take charge 
and put them in their places, but they just flashed their 
FBI badges at me and demanded that their needs be met. 
I have dealt with the suits before, and it's no picnic. 
They think that just because they are "Federally employed" 
that they have the right to tell everyone else what to 
do and when to do it.  Well, I suppose they do, but it 
still irks me that they hold themselves so high above
everyone else. 

  They finally convinced me to take the man to a room and 
get the doctor immediately.  When Dr. Mayla entered the 
man's room, he couldn't believe it either, "You're 
absolutely sure that this man was dead?" I heard him 
say.  

"Absolutely," they chimed in together. 

Sure, fine, whatever. 

  Dr. Mayla did the best assessment that he could, 
given the circumstances, and admitted him to the ICU 
upstairs.  Being a part-time nurse, I float through 
the hospital when needed, so I ended up in the ICU the 
next three days.  Every night that I'd do my rounds, 
I'd see that woman.  I didn't know exactly who she was, 
but she seemed to me like maybe a girlfriend or something, 
given the fact that she was very pregnant and without 
a ring.  I could only guess that he must have been the father, 
based on the fact that she sat at his bedside every night. 
I didn't think that she'd be there if he wasn't.  Dropping 
five kids myself, I know that the last trimester is rough, 
and the last place you want to be is sitting in some 
God-forsaken hospital chair night after night.

  He was put on life support as soon as he was admitted,
and that woman stayed through it all.  

  Life support is an ugly thing, and having to administer 
it to a dead man is even worse.  I can't imagine anyone 
wanting to live that way, but as a nurse, we are taught 
to respect the patient's requests at all costs. 
The woman, (I think her name was Scully something or 
other) was his DPOA (Durable Power Of Attorney).  She 
made the decision to keep him on it, and as a hospital, 
we are required to honor her wishes.  I honestly don't 
think that she wanted to deal with the fact that he 
was going to die.  I completely understood that though 
because he was young, and it's hard to let someone go 
that still has a lot of life to live.  I could see how 
hard it was for her to see him breathing on machines, 
and it really made me feel small and helpless to watch. 
She remained stoic through it all though, never even 
flinching when he was intubated.  

  For those three days, I saw him do nothing but rot in 
that old hospital bed.  He breathed only because of the 
machines that forced him to, and was incontinent and 
unable to move.  His body was slightly decomposed and he 
reminded me of a cadaver from nursing school.  His first 
bath was the second night and he cleaned up a little, 
but not much.  His skin was so dry that it flaked off in 
clumps as I gently wiped at it.  The strange thing was 
that underneath, his skin was intact.  It was so odd 
that I had to look twice to make sure of what I was 
seeing, and even then I couldn't believe it.  I brought 
in the doctor and he just shrugged, stating that it 
was just a healing process.  Well, I have never seen 
a man shed his skin before in my life, so maybe I 
don't know as much as I say I do. 

  I came in the third day and that woman was still there. 
A nurse from evenings told me that she was there when 
she had come to work that day.  I later asked the woman 
if she wanted a cot, but she just shook her head 'no'. 
An odd one she was, that woman.  She never spoke to me, 
but I had walked in a few times to check on my patient 
and found her chattering away to him.  She rubbed her 
round belly when she spoke, and a small grin was always 
present when she did that.  I'm sure she was talking 
about the baby that would no doubt be born in a matter 
of a few weeks judging by her girth. 

  On the third day, I came into his room to hang his IV 
bag and caught her putting his hand on her stomach. 
She seemed embarrassed, and returned to her seat as soon 
as she saw me.  I smiled at her to show her my approval, 
and she did the strangest thing... she spoke to me.  

"You think I'm crazy don't you?" she asked.

  I was caught off-guard by her attempt at a conversation, 
and simply replied, "No, not at all." 

  She watched me silently while I hung saline bag on the pole  
as she unconsciously rubbed her bundle of joy.  I finished 
my task and decided to take my break by sitting in the 
spare chair that I had dragged from the other side of the room. 

She smiled and leaned back in her chair.

"So when is your baby due?" I asked her. 

"In about four weeks," she smiled back brightly. 

  I looked up to the man and back at her stomach.  I just 
had to ask.  "So, is he the father?" 

  She seemed stunned by the question, and I immediately 
regretted the fact that I had asked it.  Her eyes went 
to his face and she stared at him for a moment before 
answering, "Yes." 

  I saw her swallow and hold back tears.  Her face began 
to contort into a frown and I knew she was about to cry. 
I reached out to her, offering her some type of emotional 
support that clearly no one else had.  She reached for 
me, a total stranger, as though I was her dearest friend 
in the world and she began to cry.   

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Scully.  I didn't know," I croaked out 
apologetically. 

  She pulled back from me and wiped at her face, trying 
to compose herself as much as possible.  Perhaps he had 
never seen her cry before, and she didn't want him to. 
I hated to tell her that he wasn't watching, so I kept 
my mouth shut. 

"He doesn't know," she whispered quietly, "about the 
baby." 

"Why haven't you told him?" I asked compassionately. 

"Because he has been gone so long.  Nearly eight months 
now," she sniffed, still wiping at her face.  "I'd really 
rather not discuss why if you don't mind." 

"You don't have to tell me anything that you aren't 
comfortable with, Ms. Scully," I assured her.  "Do you 
have anyone to talk to?  Someone to help you with your 
grief?" 

  She shook her head weakly and I felt immense 
sadness for her. 

"Well, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here." 

"Thank you," she grinned through her tears. "I -I 
just don't know how to tell him when he wakes up." 

"Tell him now, before he wakes up.  That way it won't 
be a surprise," I told her with a smile. 

  She grinned in return and I opted to leave. 
She needed time alone with him to tell him the news, 
and I didn't feel the need to be there when it happened. 
So, I gave her a reassuring smile before closing the 
door behind me.  I left her alone to present what was 
undoubtedly going to be the most difficult speech she 
would ever have to give.

  Two days later, my good friend Maleah called to tell 
me that the man had come out of his coma that evening. 
I was shocked to say the least.  I was both happy and 
frightened for that woman, because something in me 
kept saying that he wasn't in the clear yet.  I still, 
even after what had happened, doubted that he'd be 
okay.  Maleah told me that the woman ordered him to 
the operating room and that she had started him on 
some heavy antibiotics after the tall man pulled him 
off life support.  

  Yeah I know, it sounds like a soap opera doesn't it? 
Well, I can tell you this, as sure as I am breathing, 
it happened. 

  Now, I don't know why that man didn't go into arrest 
and die right then and there.  I don't know why pulling 
him off the support actually saved him, but the fact 
remains that it did. 

  I am now a strong believer in miracles.  I see that 
God sends them to you, and if you don't have the 
sense enough to see them, he'll take them back 
in the blink of an eye.  God sent that woman a miracle 
that day, and thanks to him, she saw it and grabbed 
on with both hands.  I can only hope that one day, 
he'll send me a miracle and that I'll have the strength 
to do what she did.  It takes a good woman with a good 
heart to have that kind of conviction in her beliefs. 
It takes a special love to bring back the dead, and 
it's good for them that they have that. 

  You can call me crazy if you want.  You can even admit 
me to an institution and I won't even put up a fight, 
but I believe that she brought him back the day that 
she told him about their baby.  Something that wasn't 
there before must have sparked to life.  Hell, I 
wouldn't be surprised if he came back an entirely 
different man because of it.  All I know is that after 
she told him, he came back.  Something inside of him 
fought and held on because of it.  Something that I 
think only fathers can understand. 

And they say that love isn't enough...

  So now all they have to worry about is the healing process. 
That part is always the hardest.  But if their love was 
strong enough for him to come back from the dead in search 
of it, then I'm sure they'll be fine.  It's the things 
that are the hardest to attain that make the greatest 
of rewards.  I think they've had their share of pain, 
now it's time for their rewards. 

Side note: I have since quit Critical Care and moved to 
Maternity.  I think that maybe God was sending me message
as well. 

                  Tha End.

Author's Notes: I decided to write another viewpoint 
on the episode "Dead/Alive" and wanted to explain it 
in a way that only nurses could understand.  Just 
because a person is on life support does not mean 
they won't come back.  I know many people don't 
understand that, but I, myself, believe in miracles. 
And even though the baby may not have turned out to 
be a miracle, the return of Mulder was.