Addendum GW - Chapter Three: Harbringer sec. Apophenia (Part One)
Title: Addendum GW
Subtitle: Harbinger sec. Apophenia
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word count: 13,076 (total for chapter)
Rating: R
Warnings: medical references, references to sleep paralysis and psychosis, sexual innuendo, disorientation, delusion
Important: This chapter has been broken into two parts because of the length restrictions on Livejournal.
Chapter notes: For common terminology definitions and pronunciation, see end-of-chapter notes.
Gregorio Teixeira woke with a start. He sat up, confused and sleepy, and checked the clock. It was a little after five in the morning.
"Goito! Goito!" his wife screamed from down the hall.
He ran out of their bedroom and into his daughter's room, following his wife's voice.
"What is it, Nali?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"
"It's Saura," she replied. "Listen."
He turned his attention to their daughter Saura. She was fast asleep.
"Was she the one yelling?" he asked. "Is it the night terrors again?"
"Listen," his wife repeated. "Listen to her, Gregorio."
His wife only used his full name when she was very serious or terrified, so he listened. Together, they watched over Saura for several minutes, but she didn't move or speak.
"Manali," he said to his wife, "she is sleeping, let her rest."
Suddenly, Saura mumbled, "Maji...Papi."
His daughter called them Maji and Papi when she was a very young child, but from the age of nine, she only called them that when she was very, very ill.
Saura continued to talk in her sleep, slowly mumbling syllables. "Papi... Hurts, pain... don't... don't ignore. You ignore, too late... não por favor... criar malvas..."
Manali tugged at his arm, so he followed her out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen. She started to make breakfast.
"Nali," he began.
She interrupted, "I told you, Goito, she has The Sight."
"I told you," she said. "She has The Sight."
"She is ill, Nali. She needs the hospital."
"Her affliction cannot be treated by doctors with their needles or cut out with their knives."
"You do not know... you cannot know that!" he said. "She speaks in her sleep because she is sick. What she spoke just now? It is nonsense. It means nothing."
"Her birth mother had the gift. And what happened? It was wasted because she was locked up in hospitals. Her family said the same things. They said she was ill and needed doctors, so they took her, and those doctors did nothing. They could do nothing, and they never let her leave!"
"The Sight is a story, Nali," he said. "Our daughter is not a story."
"Your father would be ashamed of the words you just said," she replied. "She gave you a warning, Goito. That is a gift, a gift from our daughter. Please, do not ignore it."
"What is this that you think she said?" he asked.
"She warned you about your pain. Do not to ignore it," she insisted. "Your shoulder, it hurts."
"Because of my injury, Nali."
"You are the one that needs the doctor. It is you that is sick, Goito. She said you will die if you ignore it. You must go now, while they can still help you."
Goito took a few minutes to think about his choices. Saura had been behaving strangely for the past few days, and she wasn't getting better. If the only way to get his wife to agree was to go himself, then that was what he would do.
"Fine, I will go to the hospital, but only if Saura goes as well," he said. "We go tonight, after work."
Manali bit her lip, clearly ready to argue, but after a few minutes of the silent and somewhat furious scrambling of eggs, she nodded her head.
She said, "Very well. But I will not let them lock her up, searching forever for something that their medicine can cure. I will not leave my daughter in chains for The Sight, Goito."
The next morning... Dana Scully was eating her breakfast when the doorbell rang. Rex started barking.
"You expecting someone?" Mulder asked.
"Before seven a.m.? No," she replied.
He left the table to answer the door. He must've told Rex to be quiet, because the dog stopped barking. A few minutes later he returned with a certified mail envelop.
"It's from Skinner," he said as he opened it and pulled out several thick stacks of paper.
"Did you ask him to send that?" she asked.
"No, but everything's here. Forms, paperwork, references, history... basically gift wrapped," he said as he returned to his seat. "Did you?"
"No," she replied. "Not that I haven't thought about it, but we haven't talked about it. I had the impression that you didn't want to."
"What makes you say that?"
"You didn't seem concerned about how moving to Portland would affect our status."
"Because I wasn't concerned. I'm not concerned. We moved for your new job. I assumed we'd figure it out."
"You think we should file in Oregon?"
"Why wouldn't we?"
She smiled.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing, I was just thinking about Jordi."
"I'll pickup the state regulations and forms, and we can talk more tonight," he said.
"Have you thought about Skinner's offer any more?"
"No, not really, but I did start collecting interesting articles from local newspapers."
"Do I even want to know?"
"Scully, three weeks ago, there was a fire connected to a serial arson case. It came up because this new fire fit a pattern. The pattern being that the fire, for all intents and purposes, seemed to move as a sentient being, in complete contradiction to the laws of physics.."
"What're you thinking, Mulder? Pyrokinesis? The burning man?"
"I don't know what I'm thinking," he replied. "You know the body you found last week? They caught the guy responsible, Steven Briggs, and he's been ranting about Portland's infestation of - and, I'm not making this up - were-deer. Were-deer. As in people who can turn into deer."
"Mulder, I am familiar with the were-animal concept."
"Yeah, but... there's the were-fox, similar to the Kitsune in Japanese legend, the were-jaguar of the Olmec tradition, or the overwhelmingly popular entity of therianthropy, the werewolf. Yet this guy is scared of were-deer. That has to be the worst animal to transform into."
Scully shrugged. "Deer can be incredibly powerful animals. If I had to choose, I'd rather be a were-deer than an... I don't know, a were-pigeon."
"If you saw a man transform into a deer, or a deer transform into a man, would you shoot to kill?"
"If I saw either, I'd want my blood checked for drugs and my head checked for injury," she replied.
"What about this," he said as he held up the paper. "Last night, a teenager was murdered when an unknown assailant cut off his left foot."
"So I take it you're considering Skinner's offer."
"If I do take it - and I'm not saying that I will - but if I do, it'll be as a favor to Skinner. But today I've got a meeting with that professor."
"Uhh, Chuck," Scully said. "He - "
"She," Mulder interrupted. "I made that mistake, too."
"She's the professor focused on Shamanism and divination?"
"Apparently the museum is focusing on world religions," he replied. "You want me to bring you lunch?"
"You don't have to do that - "
He interrupted, "I don't have to, but it's one less thing to worry about on your first day."
Scully arrived at Treeview Hospital at seven o'clock. She went to human resources to sign paperwork and received her new access card. She met with her new boss, Doctor Sadie Locke, who gave her a ten-cent tour of the hospital, and they ended at her new office, sparsely furnished but quite lovely.
"Glad to have you aboard, Doctor Scully," Locke said. "I know you've opted for a four-day week, but if you need to change that for whatever reason, just let me know."
"Thank you," Scully replied. "I'm looking forward to getting started."
"That's good, because we have two cases that came in this morning. I've transferred the patient charts to your EWF... uh, that's what we call the electronic center for patient charts. Electronic Workspace Folder, I think that's the full name. Essentially, all your patient e-charts are there so you can access them from your computer and tablet. Anyway, the two patients I mentioned... Cleo Blue, age seventeen, redirected here from urgent care about an hour ago, and Saura Teixeira, age fourteen. She was admitted last night and seen by Doctor Nicholas Hembree, our pediatrics fellow."
"Is he working now?" Scully asked.
"No, he's on nights. He asked to be updated on this patient. His research is in pediatric sleep medicine, neurology. You'll be her primary, but I'd appreciate you keeping Hembree in the loop. He's a great doctor, but he needs more experience with psych cases. He's also on night shift for the next few weeks, so he can monitor her overnight if you like."
"I'm sure he'll be pleasant to work with," Scully said.
"Pleasant might be a strong word, Doctor Scully. Forgive me, but I've got to go."
"Thank you, Doctor Locke."
Locke left, and Scully reviewed the two patients in question. She hadn't expected to treat anyone on her first day. Her last three positions began with at least two days of paperwork and other transitioning, so this was a nice change of pace.
Cleo Blue had gone into urgent care early this morning instead of driving to school. The chart listed her complaint as insomnia, but whoever filled out paperwork didn't bother to identify type. Scully wondered if they referred her to the hospital because they thought she was just playing hooky and assumed she'd bail at a transfer. Her medical records were unremarkable until the last year, when she started seeing her doctor for various sleep-related complaints with increasing frequency. She'd been six times in as many months.
She turned to the files for Saura Teixeira. The ER forms said she came in for low-grade fever and odd behavior. The file indicated that a series of tests were performed in the ER, but none of the results were attached. The admitting physician hadn't included any notes, either, which made her wonder if the chart simply hadn't been updated yet.
Scully decided to begin with Cleo, hoping Saura's records would be complete by the time she was done.
She introduced herself to the nurses on the floor and checked in with them about Chloe Blue. They reported that she was a rude, agitated, and waiting in her room.
With that in mind, Scully stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
"Chloe Blue?"
"Yeah, I've been waiting for like an hour."
"I apologize for the wait, I'm Doctor Scully."
"Hi," Chloe said.
"I've looked over your records. You're having trouble sleeping."
"Yeah."
"Is that why you went to urgent care today?"
"I have an appointment with a neurologist, but my doctor made me wait six months before he'd give me a referral, and the earliest appointment they could give me is three months from now. And my doctor won't do anything until the neurologist sees me... I kinda feel like I'm going crazy or about to go crazy."
"How much sleep do you get a night?" Scully asked.
"I dunno, four hours, I guess," Chloe replied. "And I've done all the sleep hygiene and meditation and everything my doctor told me to. I've been doing it for the past eight months, and I still can't sleep."
"Back when you first started noticing problems, did you have trouble falling asleep?"
"No! No, it's... I get to sleep fine, but then I wake up and can't go back to sleep. It's my dreams, I think."
"They wake you up?" Scully asked.
"No. Or, I don't know. I can't remember. But I wake up, and it's... sometimes it's like my heart is racing. Other times it feels like I need to go somewhere or do something, but I can't remember what. And sometimes I'm just... terrified. I never remember why, but I can't get back to sleep."
"After you wake up like, do you feel confused, disoriented, maybe even scared to go back to sleep?" Scully asked.
"When it started, it was more like I felt like there was something I gotta do, but can't remember it. I can't go back to sleep because, what if it's important? But recently... last night, I slept from ten to two, and I woke up soaking wet from sweat and scared out of my mind. I spent the rest of the night curled up in the corner of my bed because I couldn't remember what scared me, which made it so much worse. What if whatever-it-was was still nearby? I couldn't go back to sleep. This is the third time this week that's happened. I can't... I can't..."
When she didn't continue, Scully spoke up. "It sounds like you have sleep-maintenance insomnia secondary to a dreaming disorder. Intense, vivid dreams or nightmares evoke strong emotional reactions, sometimes strong enough to wake you up. It's not uncommon in isolated incidents, but your case seems to be chronic, and it seems like your symptoms have snowballed. If you can give me the neurologist's name, I'm going to try to move your appointment up because you may be experiencing something called nocturnal frontal lobe epilepsy, or NFLE, and it's important that we rule it out, even though I think it's unlikely. In the meantime, I think we should start treatment for your sleep deprivation and insomnia. I'll need you to bare with me, Chloe, because I have a lot more questions for you."
Mulder felt that today would be a good day.
His meeting wasn't for a few hours, so he went to the Diner, a local place known for being a cop haunt. He took a seat at the bar counter and ordered a coffee, so he could people watch.
Any attempt to strike up a conversation ultimately failed, even though officers and detectives came and went regularly, grabbing doggy bags or to-go cups. He might have better luck if he came during a shift-change.
He was ready to throw in the towel when he noticed that a woman accidentally left her coat a few seats down from him. He picked it up and followed after her, and right as he caught up, the woman stopped short and flinched, staring out the door window.
"Excuse me? Miss? Is this yours?"
"Uh, what?" she asked, distracted.
"I think you left your coat," Mulder said as he handed it off to her. "This is yours, isn't it?"
"Oh... yes it is, thank you."
"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look upset."
"It's nothing. I just don't like ravens," she replied, no longer distracted.
He turned his head and saw the bird perched outside on a trash bin.
"Edgar Allen Poe kinda ruined them for me, too."
"I know there's no reason to be worried, but the last time I saw that thing I was attacked by a patient. So now I'm wondering, what will happen this time?" she said.
"Probably nothing. I mean, what're the odds of it happening again?"
"Considering I'm a coroner, it should've been impossible the first time," she replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"I'm Fox Mulder."
"I'm Doctor Parker Harper, but people call me Harper."
"If it makes you feel any better, Harper, the modern conception of the raven as an ill omen of death is a watered down variation on its complex and ancient symbolism of magic, death, mysticism, and communication with deities and the beyond. Many Native American tribes saw the raven as a trickster, neither friend or foe. The ancient Greeks and Romans believed that seeing a raven was a sign of good luck."
"Count the Greeks and Romans wrong then," she replied. "Being attacked at work is not good luck."
"It's not, but surviving an attack is," he said. "Celtic lore maintained that the goddess Morrigan took the form of a raven when she acted as a protector. In that case, the raven isn't an omen at all, it's somebody looking out for you, which I think is a good thing, what with the whole zombie-patient thing."
She laughed and replied, "Thanks for that. I'll see you around, Mr. Mulder."
"Nice meeting you, Harper."
She left, and he checked his watch. It was ten minutes to eight. Time to get to the museum.
Scully arranged for a follow-up appointment by the end of the week to see how Chloe was sleeping. She'd have the results of the blood work by then, though from her physical exam and the conversation they had, she believed the primary cause was sleep deprivation.
"Nurse Rose?" Scully said as she returned to the nurse's station. "Do we have any more information about my other patient, Saura Teixeira?"
"I prefer Nurse Dallon," he replied. "Psych updated her chart. They bounced her because the tests the ER ran were promised for this morning but never attached."
"How did that happen without paperwork?" Scully asked.
"The paperwork's there, but, given the unique circumstances, it's a little short."
"Unique circumstances?"
"Last night, her mom brought her father into the ER, insisting that he was sick and going to die soon. Didn't say of what, but that it'd be something like an burst aneurysm or a heart attack," Dallon said. "Said her daughter prophesized it."
"As in, predicted it?"
"That's what she said, and a few minutes later, she broke out into a cold sweat and complained of nausea. One of the nurses on the floor recognized her symptoms and got her a bed."
"So the father was okay, but the mother was having a heart attacked?" Scully asked.
"She was at the start of one, yeah. She got admitted and taken straight up to the cath lab. They think they caught it in time," Dallon explained.
"What about Saura?" Scully asked.
"ER ran a full battery of tests, eventually sent her to psych for psychosis."
"So far all her chart says is that her father brought her in because of a persistent low-grade fever and unusual behavior. She presented with disorientation and continuous speech," Scully said, reading from the chart. "But there's no patient history here and no results for any of the lab tests the ER must've run. I don't even see a GCS or CAM score here. The only thing I see is a high-dose vitamin shot of B12, then a diagnosis of idiopathic psychosis was made a few hours based on a sudden onset of agitation and aggression. It doesn't make any sense."
Dallon said, "It's possible that her results were attached to the wrong chart or someone took her history and labs and forgot to put them in the EWF. I can try and track them down, but it'll take time."
"Do whatever you have to do," Scully replied. "Can you page the admitting doctor and ask him to come in as soon as possible? I'd hate to have to re-run every test."
Dallon nodded, yes, and left.
Scully cleared her thoughts before knocking on Saura's door. When there was no reply, she opened it.
Saura was lying back in bed. Her father sat next to her, clearly exhausted and scared.
"Hello, I'm Doctor Scully."
"I'm Goito," the father said as he stood up and extended his hand. "Goito Teixeira. This is my daughter, Saura Teixeira."
"It's nice to meet you both. Mr. Teixeira. Since your daughter is fourteen, it might be easier for me to talk to Saura alone, if that's all right," Scully said.
"Uh, yes, but as I explained to the ER doctor, she's not normally like this," he said before he left.
"Saura, I'm Doctor Scully," she said.
"Hi."
"How're you feeling?"
"My head hurts. It... hurts a lot."
Scully noticed that she had bruises starting to show on her forearm and forehead.
"Do you remember how you got those bruises?"
"I was going to get breakfast and crashed into the stair banister," she said. "My feet got tangled up and I drifted to the side, and there was no avoiding it. Was right there, knew I was going to hit it, but there was no where else."
Scully made note of ataxia as a symptom.
"I know the ER already ran some tests, but - "
"It's too loud," Saura interrupted, suddenly becoming agitated.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's too loud! The water!" she said, covering her ears. "Torrents and torrents, down, down... and rising... it's too loud. Please, make it stop! Make it stop!"
Scully yelled out the door, "I need help in here!"
Nurse Dallon ran inside while Nurse Forest kept Goito in the hall.
"The thunder, it's too loud! The water won't stop, the rain..." Saura said, thrashing. "It's horrible, all the metal and bone and blood. The screaming, the pain, so many people. It's all bone and metal and blood and screams. Metal and screams and bone and tears."
"Three milligrams of diazepam," Scully said to Dallon.
Dallon went out to the drug cart and returned to administer the medication. Saura continued to mutter incoherently until the drug took full affect.
"Thank you," Scully said. "Nurse Forest, please bring Mr. Teixeira back in, we need to talk."
Mulder walked through the Portland Museum and followed signs to the offices, finally knocking on the door labeled "Professor Charlotte Jarry."
It opened immediately.
"Fox Mulder?"
"Yes, but, it's Mulder if you don't mind," he replied.
"I'm Chuck Jarry, but most people call me CJ. Come in."
The office was decorated with images from world mythology. Serpents and wolves were the most common symbols in the room, followed by owls, spiders, and hybrid monsters.
"The world's symbolism and mythology of fear," he commented. "Not a common decor theme."
"Interesting conclusion," CJ replied. "The wolf is seen as an antagonist - sometimes elevated to a villainous character - in many European cultures, but to many cultures of the indigenous peoples of America, the wolf represents endurance, leadership, and family values."
"But none of your wolves are from Native American tradition," Mulder said. "I see Fenrier, Hati, and Skoll, all wolves from Norse mythology associated with the end of the world. I also see the historical man-eating wolf called The Beast of Gevaudan, and various manifestations of the Big Bag Wolf. All from Europe."
"I better be careful, the next thing you'll do is hone in on my lack of lycanthropy," she said. "I see your reputation doesn't do you much justice."
"How's that?"
"I heard you were knowledgeable on mythology and folklore, but I've had plenty of learned scholars, professors, and self-taught enthusiasts in here, and not one of them has been able to identify three Nordic wolves by name along with representations of fairy tale motifs and images of a historical beast."
"Mythology informed a lot of my work, so I made a habit of exposing myself to it whenever possible," he replied.
"That's one reason I'd like to hire you. A lot of people ask, 'Why bother with mythology? How does it apply to real life?' And we've had a few different people address it. Creative types, mostly, but also people who work in psychological or talk therapy fields. We haven't had anyone discuss it from an investigative standpoint."
"I'm not sure that'd appeal to most audiences," he said. "Especially because a lot of my investigative work relates directly to serial offenders who have internalized mythic symbols to the point of where even their crimes bare traces of them. It's not a pretty subject."
"I understand, but what you just said, about the nature of mythology informing some offenders, is interesting in itself. Anyway, we're a bit off topic."
"From what I understand, you're putting together several exhibits related to divination."
CJ nodded and said, "Obviously, that's a general theme, we're hoping to cover ancient practices to modern superstitions. Two of our professors are on archeological digs, so what we really need is someone who can work quickly contextualizing complex historical and mythological facts. And we definitely need someone who can get information. I used to say 'research,' but kids these days think that's Wikipedia."
"My previous work with museums has been in modern incarnations of unexplainable phenomenon," Mulder said. "I don't think this is much different, but it would be new territory for me."
Someone came into the room and said, "CJ, I need to - oh, I didn't know you had someone in here."
"Mulder, this is Professor Vera Gates," CJ said. "Vera, Mulder. He's the former FBI Agent I was telling you about."
"Nice to meet you," Vera said, offering her hand.
"You as well," Mulder replied, shaking. "You're a professor of...?"
"Archeology," she replied. "CJ said you investigated abnormal crimes for the FBI."
"That's a way to put it," he replied. "The X-Files investigated cases that had elements of unnatural, alien, or paranormal phenomenon."
"Huh, maybe I could get your opinion on something," Vera said. "Sorry, CJ, for barging in. I'll come back later."
About an hour after talking with Mr. Teixeira, a young doctor knocked on Scully's open office door.
"Doctor Scully?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Doctor Nicholas Hembree," he said. "I'm the pediatrics fellow. Dunno if Doctor Locke told you. One of the nurses on the floor paged me to come in, said our psych patient was bounced back."
"Please come in," Scully said.
"Let me guess, psych won't take her because we forgot to rule out something ridiculously rare and unlikely," he said as he sat down. "Which means our psych patient will be denied care until they feel like we've done enough work."
"First of all, Doctor Hembree, she is not a psych patient," Scully said. "Until we know otherwise, she's my patient, and psych was right to bounce her. None of her labs are in her file, and there's no radiology report from the head CT. I had to take her medical history because that wasn't attached either."
Hembree fiddled with his tablet for a few minutes.
"I dunno what happened," he said. "I ran a full set of neuro tests. She was negative for everything except the Romberg, but the head CT came back clean. Blood work showed a B vitamin deficiency, so I ordered a shot of B12. Not long after, she became agitated and aggressive, clearly hallucinating. The only logical diagnosis was psychosis, especially with her history of ADHD."
"Doctor Locke told me that your interest lies in sleep medicine, neurology," Scully said.
"That's right. The only thing even close to a neurological symptom was her constant talking, but she's a teenaged girl, most of them constantly talk."
"Her father says that she's an introvert who rarely speaks to people she doesn't know," Scully replied.
"She's a teenager. Teenagers keep things from their parents. When she was first brought into the ER, it was pretty clear that she was a chatty Cathy with dehydration. Her neuro exams were all clear."
"Maybe when you performed them last night," she replied. "But today, she presents with ataxia, headache, and auditory hallucinations that triggered some kind of hyperacusis. Doctor Locke asked me to keep you in the loop, but I'll only do that if you accept the fact that, until I say otherwise, Saura is a pediatric neurology patient."
"No problem, Doctor S."
"It's Scully, Hembree."
Mulder left his impromptu meeting feeling energized. It wasn't the same as investigating an X-File, but it was just part-time work to keep him moving forward. At the very least, he'd be able to solidify a few local contacts.
Meeting with Professor Gates had been far more interesting than his initial meeting with CJ. Her research had led her to an incredible MRI of an ancient mummy, which had since disappeared. She burned him a copy on a memory stick, and he couldn't wait to show Scully.
He picked up lunch and headed to the hospital. He ducked inside just as the rain began. It quickly built up into a full-blown thunderstorm.
He wandered around looking for Scully's office, and eventually an orderly pointed him in the right direction.
"Nice digs," he commented. "Could use some color, doc."
"Please tell me that's hamburgers," she said.
"Why hello to you too," he said.
"Thank you for bringing lunch."
They started lunch, and it felt oddly familiar, eating take-out together in the office.
"I think we should've moved to Portland a long time ago," he said.
"Did you find a sasquatch?" she asked.
"Even better," he said. "How about you? Have you had any time to see patients? Or has it been all paperwork?"
"Actually, I have gotten to see some today," she replied. "One of them is in very serious condition, but..."
"What is it?"
"Everyone here is talking about her, but not because of her health. People've been saying that she predicts the future," Scully said.
"Foresight?" he asked. "What has she predicted?"
"According to her father, she kept saying something about not ignoring the warning signs or the pain, so her mother brought them both to the ER, worried he was going to die."
"I'm guessing he didn't," Mulder said.
"No, but the mother had a heart attack," she said. "They caught it in the earliest stages, and she's gonna be fine. At first, it seemed like an old ER legend, but about an hour ago, she had another episode and the nurse assisting me is now telling everyone that she predicted the freak rainstorm."
"Does your patient think she's predicting the future?" Mulder asked.
"I have no idea," she replied. "She hasn't been in a state to talk with me."
He could tell by the way she spoke that Scully was deeply upset.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," he said.
"She's at the age for... it's around the time when certain illnesses come to light. It's hard enough to diagnose neurological or mental illnesses in teenagers, but when people make a spectacle of it..."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," he repeated. "If you want, I could point out that she's had two hits in one day. Pretty big ones, too. Did she say anything else?"
"Mulder, she's not psychic. One of her symptoms is logorrhea, or continuous speech," Scully said. "Even sedated, she's still talking, but no one will bother remembering the things she said that don't 'predict' anything."
"You mean misses. Predictions that don't come to pass."
"Most of what she's saying is unintelligible, and these so-called 'predictions' are just people twisting her words, which by themselves so vague as to be meaningless, which means they could mean anything. The last thing she kept repeating was something about blood, metal, and bone."
"You don't think it's even a little bit possible?" he asked.
Scully replied, "I think it's desperation."
"You don't think it's possible?"
"No," Scully said. "She said something about bad health when she herself had taken ill, and a lot of people can tell when it's going to rain from the change in barometric pressure. She's not seeing the future, Mulder. She's just sick."
"Don't get me wrong, I agree with you. One of the reasons people discounted the X-Files is that illnesses can manifest as delusions of psychic or clairvoyant abilities."
"I dare say you've opened an X-File for less," she said playfully.
"Give me some credit, Scully. I did have criteria for these kinds of things."
"If you had them, they weren't in any file I read."
"For one, this patient you describe isn't claiming anything herself. Sounds to me like classic human apophonia. We see patterns where we want - or arguably, need - to see them."
"You should try convincing her father of that," she said.
"I'd be happy to try."
"The only way I could do that is if I broke doctor-patient confidentially and told you her father's name and her name, for that matter," she replied.
"Or, you could refer the father to an expert in paranormal and psychic events," he suggested. "Give him my name. Maybe I could put his mind at ease."
"You'd do that?" she asked. "How do you know this girl can't predict the future?"
"You know, we've had this conversation before, Scully. Growth of brain tumors has been linked with reported occurrences of psychic abilities. So maybe she can see the future, and maybe the reason that she can see the future is a brain tumor that's killing her, like Robert Patrick Modell or Linda Bowman. Or maybe she's very sick and her parents are trying to cope anyway that they can. Either way, I know she needs your help, and I can make him feel better about how lucky she is to have you."
"Mulder..."
"How many doctors have saved people from exposure to alien viruses or alien biology? You saved me after I was dead and buried," he said. "And you never gave up on that little boy Christian."
"If you do talk to anyone, Mulder - "
"Leave out the alien and dead stuff?" he offered. "I usually do."
She changed the subject and asked, "You didn't tell me, how did your meeting go?"
"I think I'll be working with the museum," he said. "I met another professor there, Vera Gates, and she showed me an MRI of an ancient Egyptian mummy. Scully, it was incredible - "
Her pager started going off.
"Damn," she muttered as she got to her feet.
"Everything okay?"
"The thunderstorm caused a huge traffic accident, they're paging me because the ER is about to get slammed," she said. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut our lunch short."
"Another hit," he said.
"What?" Scully asked.
"Your patient. You said the last thing she talked about was blood, bone, and metal, and then there's a big car accident? I think that counts as another hit, Scully. She's done it again."
She gave him a look that he read as 'I-seriously-hope-you-are-kidding-me.' Then she smiled and said, "Thank you for lunch."
She leaned in to give him a quick goodbye kiss, but he pulled her closer, deeper -
Then Nurse Forest burst in.
"Oh, I - sorry," Forest said.
"Mulder, this is Corey Forest, one of the nurses I'm working with. Nurse Forest, this is my partner Mulder," Scully said.
"Nice to meet you," Forest said. "Doctor Scully, it's an emergency."
"I'll see you tonight," Mulder said before stepping out the door.
He took a moment to watch Forest and Scully hurry away to something exciting. They'd been here a week, and so far they had gotten a dog, found a dead body, acquired the scans of an ancient mutant Egyptian mummy, and were casually chatting about a teenager that could predict the future.
Yes, they should've really moved to Portland sooner.
Scully spent the rest of her day in the ER treating injuries from the multi-car accident. She couldn't do much for Saura until her tests were completed, and with all the emergent accident victims, the lab quickly became backlogged, which meant she wouldn't have Saura's results until much later that night or tomorrow morning.
She retired to her office by five and checked through her inbox. The ER had finally located Saura's results from the night before. The radiologist hadn't reviewed her head MRI, yet, but as of last night, her head CT was clear.
Her EEG from today had abnormal readings but not indicative of any disorder in particular. She looked through the head MRI, but nothing obvious appeared. Unless the radiologists saw something she didn't, Saura's brain was physically fine. Scully wouldn't find any answers tonight.
A knock made her look up. Goito stood in the doorway.
"Please come in," she said.
"Doctor Scully, do you know what is wrong with my daughter?" he asked.
"Mr. Teixeira, there's a series of tests that will help me diagnose her, but I don't have all the results yet. I know I've already asked, but has your daughter had anything like this, or these symptoms, before? Talking nonstop? Low affect? Confusion?"
Goito hesitated.
"Mr. Teixeira?" Scully prompted.
"I didn't believe her, my wife, when she said our daughter was seeing the future," he replied. "But, yes, she has done this before, the trance-like talking she did this morning. It started about two months ago."
"This has been happening for two months?"
"No, no... the first time she was like this was two months ago. My wife says she spoke about the ravens and crows gathering, like how she used to talk in her sleep. Two weeks later, I had to call animal control because someone dumped half a carcass near our house, and the ravens would not leave. My Saura, she uses this to record her dreams," he said, producing a digital audio recorder. "This proves what her mother said to be true."
"Mr. Teixeira..." Scully began.
"Foresight is a terrible affliction," Goita said, bowing his head. "All those who have such a gift are cursed to live in the present and the future at the same time. They have no choice but to embrace madness and live ill for all their days. This is what my father taught me, and my wife's family, they tell similar stories, even though they came from the world over. It must be truth to survive from here to there."
"I can't speak to that."
"I understand," he said miserably.
"But I can see this is important to you. If you'd like, I know an expert who can talk with you."
"But it is you that is her doctor."
"I don't wish to insult you or question your beliefs, Mr. Teixeira, but your daughter has a serious medical condition, and in all likelihood, it is the cause of her incoherent and continuous speech," Scully said, as gently as possible.
Goita said, "Doctor Scully, all I want is for my wife and daughter be healthy again. If Saura never predicts another raindrop, I don't care. I just want her well. Please, take this," he said, offering the tape recorder. "I don't want it."
Mulder decided that the ancient mutant mummy could wait a few more days before he discussed it with Scully. She seemed unhappy at lunch, and he was worried.
The landline rang.
"Hello," he said.
"Mulder? It's Charles," the caller said.
"Is something wrong?" Mulder asked, concerned.
"No, everything is fine. I promised Dana I'd call and say there's nothing wrong. So, there's nothing wrong. Tell my big sister not to worry."
"She'll be home soon, if you - "
"No, no," Charles interrupted. "Please, Fox, there's a three-hour time difference. It's late over here, and I promise you, everything and everyone is fine. A handful, but fine. Okay? I'll see you both in two weeks."
"Fine, I'll let you off the hook this time, but don't call me Fox."
He hung up. Scully's younger brother liked him considerably more than her older brother, but given how much Bill Scully hated him, that wasn't hard to do. He had done his best to endear himself to the Scully family after they learned that Scully had been in a relationship with him when he was on the lam and lied about it for years to keep him safe. Over time, her mother and Charles came around, though Bill remained forever on the fence, only accepting Mulder as his brother-in-law because has had no choice.
"Mulder," Scully said as she came in. "Did you cook?"
"Actually, I ordered in," he replied. "Charles called. He said everything is fine."
"Charles called? Why? Are they all right? What else did he say?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied. "Just that he'd promised you he'd call, so he did. He sounded fine. Tired, maybe, but fine. Come on, you must be hungry."
They went into the dining room, which was set with Chinese take out still in the boxes.
"Do you think Skinner sent us the papers for a reason?" she asked as they sat down to eat.
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe he wants us to foster in this state for a specific case," she replied. "Maybe he needs secured housing for a minor."
"I think it's just for our cover story," Mulder said. "If we're registered as foster parents for minors with special circumstances in this state, then any connection to the FBI or DHS can be explained by us protecting a minor for a case. And since those records are kept sealed..."
She completed his thought, "He's really pushing for you to take that consulting job."
"I think it's more than that. He's looking out for us, Scully, like he's always done."
"Then I think we should file the paperwork," she said. "Unless you found a reason not to."
"Actually, applying in Oregon is much easier than applying in Virginia. With our history, I think all we'll need is a home study and a background check."
"We might as well get everything in order now, while we have the time," she replied. "Let's file them tomorrow."
The next morning, Scully checked in on Saura. She was doing much better.
"All she had was fluids and ibuprofen for her headache," Hembree said. "But somehow, she's just... better. No fever. She's been quiet, besides asking for something to eat."
"What about her orientation to time and place and ataxia?" Scully asked.
"I did a full neuro test just an hour ago. All clear."
"You're sure all she's had is ibuprofen and fluids?" she asked.
"You did prescribe diazepam yesterday, but no more was administered after you left. And she refused sleeping pills," he said. "She didn't sleep through the night, but she's sleeping now."
"That's a good sign."
"You think she just had dehydration and an electrolyte imbalance?" he asked.
"No, I don't," she replied. "Thank you for watching her last night, Doctor Hembree. Good work."
Scully made rounds on her other patients admitted from the multi-car crash. All of them were doing well in post-op, so she returned to her office.
The lab had stacked Saura's test results and radiology reports in her inbox.
According to the radiology report, the MRI revealed nothing abnormal. There were no aneurisms, blood clots, or other vascular anomalies, and there was nothing to indicate a subarachnoid bleed, concussion, tissue damage from a stroke or seizure, or any kind of trauma to the brain whatsoever. The contrast MRI ruled out tumors, lesions, hydrocephalus, and encephalitis.
The long-term drug analysis from her hair came back negative for everything except her ADHD medication, which matched the dosage of her prescription. Normally, a table full of negative lab results was a good thing, but right now Scully had what most would argue to be a perfectly healthy patient with relapsing and remitting neurological symptoms.
The one consistent symptom was low-grade fever, and Scully theorized that the only reason Saura's temperature was normal now was the ibuprofen she received for her headache. With that in mind, she decided to order a battery of tests: blood cultures to detect parasites, fungi, and bacteria; antibody detection for viruses; and a lumbar puncture to detect abnormalities in protein serum.
Nurse Dallon knocked on her open door.
"Doctor Scully," he said. "Mr. Teixeira is... I think you should come quick."
She followed Dallon down the hall to Saura's room.
"Doctor Scully," Goito said. "Please, something is very wrong. She woke up and asked for a pen and paper, and...."
Scully looked at Saura, who was leaning over the notepad and scribbling. She seemed distressed, even frantic.
"Saura, what's wrong?" Scully asked.
"Can't get the word," she replied. "I can't..."
After a moment of frustrated silence, Saura violently threw the notepad. It landed at the end of her bed.
"She is never like this," Goito said. "She's never violent, Doctor Scully."
Scully picked up the notepad and examined it.
"She was having trouble speaking when I came to get you," Dallon explained. "She'd be fine, but then stop, like she couldn't find the word she wanted."
The pad contained the beginnings of a journal entry, with the date's date, location, and time along the time. The first phrase was, "A fiery object, returning..." but the rest was a mystery. Saura's penmanship went from scribbles to completely illegible, though she kept trying to write for almost the entire page.
"Saura, listen to me, you're going to be all right," Scully said. "Just do your best to relax and rest. Don't try to write or speak, all right?"
"What is happening to my daughter?"
"Let's talk in the hall so she can rest," Scully suggested.
Nurse Dallon coaxed Saura to lie back as Scully and Goita stepped out.
"What is this?" he demanded as soon as they were in the hall.
"Your daughter is experiencing aphasia," she explained. "She knows what she wants to say, and she's aware of the words she can use to express those ideas, but she can't recall the words themselves. Dysgraphia, or the inability to write, is a related symptom."
"You're saying my daughter is forgetting how to speak?" he asked. "How is that possible? Yesterday she did nothing but speak!"
"I assure you, she is not forgetting how to speak," Scully said. "She retains all her language skills, and in all likelihood, this symptom will get better before a final diagnosis is made."
"So you do not know what is wrong," he said. "My wife is recovered. Soon she will be well enough to demand we take our daughter home. She will not let Saura end up like her birth mother, Doctor Scully. And neither will I."
Mulder met with CJ to accept the job offer. She seemed unsurprised and insisted that he join her for a coffee.
"Has anyone ever said why it is that predicting the future is such hazy business?" CJ asked.
"In some cases, it isn't," he said. "Cassandra was pretty clear when she told the Trojans that the horse would be the downfall of Troy, should they bring it inside.
"But no one believed her," CJ said.
"And the priests who predicted Siddhartha's future said he'd either become a powerful monarch or a great holy man," Mulder said. "The Oracle at Delphi said that Oedipus would murder his father and marry his mother."
"But plenty of other predictions made at Delphi were obscure. Croesus of Lydia asked if he could defeat Persia. He was told his efforts would destroy a great kingdom, and he need only fear when a mule became the king of the Medians," CJ replied. "He didn't realize that Cyrus, a man half Mede, half Persian, could be considered a 'mule.' So he attacked, and the great kingdom of that was the Greek city states fell."
"The prophecy was right, just not his interpretation," Mulder said.
"But it was vague enough to have more than one interpretation," she said. "Why do you think that is?"
"The obvious reason is, if it were any other way, it wouldn't be much of a story," he replied. "Another reason is that our brains evolved to interpret our environment and learn from our history. That's past and present. All our senses and perception are tuned to the then and now. When it comes to the future, the only resource we have is our imagination. It's an amazing tool, but language fails spectacularly to communicate it."
"So you think the problem with foresight isn't the ability, but rather the communication? The words?" she asked.
"Miscommunication can occur when discussing even the most mundane things, let alone when interpreting the future."
"You talk like you believe," she said. "Like you believe someone can predict the future. Not a swindler, not a trick, but an actual oracle."
"Let's just say, I want to believe."
Scully spent most of her day investigating possible causes of Saura's condition. Her headaches had returned, and her aphasia disappeared only to be replaced by her continuous speech again.
Throughout the day, the orderlies and nurses who interacted with Saura insisted that she predicted future events: a call from an old friend, finding a lost necklace, a flat tire, and a pet falling ill. As far as Scully was concerned, these were no more predictions than a fortune cookie, and they were all along the lines of her previous 'predictions.' Her words were so vague as to mean anything at all.
Saura's blood work was normal. Her white count was normal, and there was no indication of any kind of infection, be it parasitic, viral, bacteria, or fungal. The lab still had some cultures growing, which meant she'd have more results tomorrow.
But she wasn't hopeful that they'd yield any results.
That left genetic disorders, diabetes, autoimmune response, toxic exposure, and cancer, though she had no findings to support the those possibilities. Since Saura was adopted, there was no way to narrow down the genetic disorders, and even if she could identify a smaller subset to run, those tests could take weeks.
And there was that nagging voice in the back of her head (the one that sounded much like Mulder) that told her that this young girl just might be what people said she was: gifted and cursed at the same time. The more she dismissed it, the louder the voice got.
On her way out, she asked Nurse Forest to order a diabetes test for Saura. The rest she'd deal with tomorrow.
Scully arrived home, tired and frustrated, and she was unsurprised to discover Mulder in his office, pouring over cases about psychic abilities.
"What's up doc?" he said as she entered his home office. "How is your patient doing?"
"Not well, and I can't find a cause."
"You will," he said.
"Even if I do, there's a strong possibility that she has a life-long illness, possibly progressive," she replied. "I feel like there are no good outcomes."
He stood up and abandoned his files. "I heard about this little Italian place that serves pizza," he said.
"Mulder..."
"We've been here over a week and haven't been out to a restaurant," he said. "Come on, I've heard good things from a professor of archeology. That's gotta mean something."
This chapter has been broken into two parts because of the length restrictions on Livejournal. See the next part for the rest of this chapter.
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Chapter Three: Harbringer sec. Apophenia (Part Two)
Primary Post: Addendum GW
End of Chapter Notes
Translations and Pronunciation Guide
The following terms and phrases were referenced in this chapter.
aphasia (pronounced "ay-faze-ee-ah") is used to describe a number of language disorders, including difficulty with word finding despite previous knowledge of the desired word.
ataxia (pronounced "ay-tax-ee-ah") is a neurological problem that arises from a lack of voluntary muscle coordination, resulting in movement disorders, including an abnormal gait while walking.
criar malvas (Portuguese) translates literally as "to make/to build mallows," and the expression is an idiom equivalent to the English "pushing up daisies," a euphemism for someone being dead in buried.
dysgraphia (pronounced "dis-graff-ee-ah") is difficulty or deficiency in handwriting.
logorrhea (pronounced "law-guh-re-ah") refers to pathological speech that is incoherent or repetitive, though it can also refer to incessant talking.
não por favor (Portuguese) translates to "no please."
Teixeira (pronounced tey-sher-ah) a common Portuguese and Brazilian surname derived from the Portuguese teixo, meaning 'yew tree.'
Subtitle: Harbinger sec. Apophenia
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word count: 13,076 (total for chapter)
Rating: R
Warnings: medical references, references to sleep paralysis and psychosis, sexual innuendo, disorientation, delusion
Important: This chapter has been broken into two parts because of the length restrictions on Livejournal.
Chapter notes: For common terminology definitions and pronunciation, see end-of-chapter notes.
Gregorio Teixeira woke with a start. He sat up, confused and sleepy, and checked the clock. It was a little after five in the morning.
"Goito! Goito!" his wife screamed from down the hall.
He ran out of their bedroom and into his daughter's room, following his wife's voice.
"What is it, Nali?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"
"It's Saura," she replied. "Listen."
He turned his attention to their daughter Saura. She was fast asleep.
"Was she the one yelling?" he asked. "Is it the night terrors again?"
"Listen," his wife repeated. "Listen to her, Gregorio."
His wife only used his full name when she was very serious or terrified, so he listened. Together, they watched over Saura for several minutes, but she didn't move or speak.
"Manali," he said to his wife, "she is sleeping, let her rest."
Suddenly, Saura mumbled, "Maji...Papi."
His daughter called them Maji and Papi when she was a very young child, but from the age of nine, she only called them that when she was very, very ill.
Saura continued to talk in her sleep, slowly mumbling syllables. "Papi... Hurts, pain... don't... don't ignore. You ignore, too late... não por favor... criar malvas..."
Manali tugged at his arm, so he followed her out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen. She started to make breakfast.
"Nali," he began.
She interrupted, "I told you, Goito, she has The Sight."
"I told you," she said. "She has The Sight."
"She is ill, Nali. She needs the hospital."
"Her affliction cannot be treated by doctors with their needles or cut out with their knives."
"You do not know... you cannot know that!" he said. "She speaks in her sleep because she is sick. What she spoke just now? It is nonsense. It means nothing."
"Her birth mother had the gift. And what happened? It was wasted because she was locked up in hospitals. Her family said the same things. They said she was ill and needed doctors, so they took her, and those doctors did nothing. They could do nothing, and they never let her leave!"
"The Sight is a story, Nali," he said. "Our daughter is not a story."
"Your father would be ashamed of the words you just said," she replied. "She gave you a warning, Goito. That is a gift, a gift from our daughter. Please, do not ignore it."
"What is this that you think she said?" he asked.
"She warned you about your pain. Do not to ignore it," she insisted. "Your shoulder, it hurts."
"Because of my injury, Nali."
"You are the one that needs the doctor. It is you that is sick, Goito. She said you will die if you ignore it. You must go now, while they can still help you."
Goito took a few minutes to think about his choices. Saura had been behaving strangely for the past few days, and she wasn't getting better. If the only way to get his wife to agree was to go himself, then that was what he would do.
"Fine, I will go to the hospital, but only if Saura goes as well," he said. "We go tonight, after work."
Manali bit her lip, clearly ready to argue, but after a few minutes of the silent and somewhat furious scrambling of eggs, she nodded her head.
She said, "Very well. But I will not let them lock her up, searching forever for something that their medicine can cure. I will not leave my daughter in chains for The Sight, Goito."
The next morning... Dana Scully was eating her breakfast when the doorbell rang. Rex started barking.
"You expecting someone?" Mulder asked.
"Before seven a.m.? No," she replied.
He left the table to answer the door. He must've told Rex to be quiet, because the dog stopped barking. A few minutes later he returned with a certified mail envelop.
"It's from Skinner," he said as he opened it and pulled out several thick stacks of paper.
"Did you ask him to send that?" she asked.
"No, but everything's here. Forms, paperwork, references, history... basically gift wrapped," he said as he returned to his seat. "Did you?"
"No," she replied. "Not that I haven't thought about it, but we haven't talked about it. I had the impression that you didn't want to."
"What makes you say that?"
"You didn't seem concerned about how moving to Portland would affect our status."
"Because I wasn't concerned. I'm not concerned. We moved for your new job. I assumed we'd figure it out."
"You think we should file in Oregon?"
"Why wouldn't we?"
She smiled.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing, I was just thinking about Jordi."
"I'll pickup the state regulations and forms, and we can talk more tonight," he said.
"Have you thought about Skinner's offer any more?"
"No, not really, but I did start collecting interesting articles from local newspapers."
"Do I even want to know?"
"Scully, three weeks ago, there was a fire connected to a serial arson case. It came up because this new fire fit a pattern. The pattern being that the fire, for all intents and purposes, seemed to move as a sentient being, in complete contradiction to the laws of physics.."
"What're you thinking, Mulder? Pyrokinesis? The burning man?"
"I don't know what I'm thinking," he replied. "You know the body you found last week? They caught the guy responsible, Steven Briggs, and he's been ranting about Portland's infestation of - and, I'm not making this up - were-deer. Were-deer. As in people who can turn into deer."
"Mulder, I am familiar with the were-animal concept."
"Yeah, but... there's the were-fox, similar to the Kitsune in Japanese legend, the were-jaguar of the Olmec tradition, or the overwhelmingly popular entity of therianthropy, the werewolf. Yet this guy is scared of were-deer. That has to be the worst animal to transform into."
Scully shrugged. "Deer can be incredibly powerful animals. If I had to choose, I'd rather be a were-deer than an... I don't know, a were-pigeon."
"If you saw a man transform into a deer, or a deer transform into a man, would you shoot to kill?"
"If I saw either, I'd want my blood checked for drugs and my head checked for injury," she replied.
"What about this," he said as he held up the paper. "Last night, a teenager was murdered when an unknown assailant cut off his left foot."
"So I take it you're considering Skinner's offer."
"If I do take it - and I'm not saying that I will - but if I do, it'll be as a favor to Skinner. But today I've got a meeting with that professor."
"Uhh, Chuck," Scully said. "He - "
"She," Mulder interrupted. "I made that mistake, too."
"She's the professor focused on Shamanism and divination?"
"Apparently the museum is focusing on world religions," he replied. "You want me to bring you lunch?"
"You don't have to do that - "
He interrupted, "I don't have to, but it's one less thing to worry about on your first day."
Scully arrived at Treeview Hospital at seven o'clock. She went to human resources to sign paperwork and received her new access card. She met with her new boss, Doctor Sadie Locke, who gave her a ten-cent tour of the hospital, and they ended at her new office, sparsely furnished but quite lovely.
"Glad to have you aboard, Doctor Scully," Locke said. "I know you've opted for a four-day week, but if you need to change that for whatever reason, just let me know."
"Thank you," Scully replied. "I'm looking forward to getting started."
"That's good, because we have two cases that came in this morning. I've transferred the patient charts to your EWF... uh, that's what we call the electronic center for patient charts. Electronic Workspace Folder, I think that's the full name. Essentially, all your patient e-charts are there so you can access them from your computer and tablet. Anyway, the two patients I mentioned... Cleo Blue, age seventeen, redirected here from urgent care about an hour ago, and Saura Teixeira, age fourteen. She was admitted last night and seen by Doctor Nicholas Hembree, our pediatrics fellow."
"Is he working now?" Scully asked.
"No, he's on nights. He asked to be updated on this patient. His research is in pediatric sleep medicine, neurology. You'll be her primary, but I'd appreciate you keeping Hembree in the loop. He's a great doctor, but he needs more experience with psych cases. He's also on night shift for the next few weeks, so he can monitor her overnight if you like."
"I'm sure he'll be pleasant to work with," Scully said.
"Pleasant might be a strong word, Doctor Scully. Forgive me, but I've got to go."
"Thank you, Doctor Locke."
Locke left, and Scully reviewed the two patients in question. She hadn't expected to treat anyone on her first day. Her last three positions began with at least two days of paperwork and other transitioning, so this was a nice change of pace.
Cleo Blue had gone into urgent care early this morning instead of driving to school. The chart listed her complaint as insomnia, but whoever filled out paperwork didn't bother to identify type. Scully wondered if they referred her to the hospital because they thought she was just playing hooky and assumed she'd bail at a transfer. Her medical records were unremarkable until the last year, when she started seeing her doctor for various sleep-related complaints with increasing frequency. She'd been six times in as many months.
She turned to the files for Saura Teixeira. The ER forms said she came in for low-grade fever and odd behavior. The file indicated that a series of tests were performed in the ER, but none of the results were attached. The admitting physician hadn't included any notes, either, which made her wonder if the chart simply hadn't been updated yet.
Scully decided to begin with Cleo, hoping Saura's records would be complete by the time she was done.
She introduced herself to the nurses on the floor and checked in with them about Chloe Blue. They reported that she was a rude, agitated, and waiting in her room.
With that in mind, Scully stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
"Chloe Blue?"
"Yeah, I've been waiting for like an hour."
"I apologize for the wait, I'm Doctor Scully."
"Hi," Chloe said.
"I've looked over your records. You're having trouble sleeping."
"Yeah."
"Is that why you went to urgent care today?"
"I have an appointment with a neurologist, but my doctor made me wait six months before he'd give me a referral, and the earliest appointment they could give me is three months from now. And my doctor won't do anything until the neurologist sees me... I kinda feel like I'm going crazy or about to go crazy."
"How much sleep do you get a night?" Scully asked.
"I dunno, four hours, I guess," Chloe replied. "And I've done all the sleep hygiene and meditation and everything my doctor told me to. I've been doing it for the past eight months, and I still can't sleep."
"Back when you first started noticing problems, did you have trouble falling asleep?"
"No! No, it's... I get to sleep fine, but then I wake up and can't go back to sleep. It's my dreams, I think."
"They wake you up?" Scully asked.
"No. Or, I don't know. I can't remember. But I wake up, and it's... sometimes it's like my heart is racing. Other times it feels like I need to go somewhere or do something, but I can't remember what. And sometimes I'm just... terrified. I never remember why, but I can't get back to sleep."
"After you wake up like, do you feel confused, disoriented, maybe even scared to go back to sleep?" Scully asked.
"When it started, it was more like I felt like there was something I gotta do, but can't remember it. I can't go back to sleep because, what if it's important? But recently... last night, I slept from ten to two, and I woke up soaking wet from sweat and scared out of my mind. I spent the rest of the night curled up in the corner of my bed because I couldn't remember what scared me, which made it so much worse. What if whatever-it-was was still nearby? I couldn't go back to sleep. This is the third time this week that's happened. I can't... I can't..."
When she didn't continue, Scully spoke up. "It sounds like you have sleep-maintenance insomnia secondary to a dreaming disorder. Intense, vivid dreams or nightmares evoke strong emotional reactions, sometimes strong enough to wake you up. It's not uncommon in isolated incidents, but your case seems to be chronic, and it seems like your symptoms have snowballed. If you can give me the neurologist's name, I'm going to try to move your appointment up because you may be experiencing something called nocturnal frontal lobe epilepsy, or NFLE, and it's important that we rule it out, even though I think it's unlikely. In the meantime, I think we should start treatment for your sleep deprivation and insomnia. I'll need you to bare with me, Chloe, because I have a lot more questions for you."
Mulder felt that today would be a good day.
His meeting wasn't for a few hours, so he went to the Diner, a local place known for being a cop haunt. He took a seat at the bar counter and ordered a coffee, so he could people watch.
Any attempt to strike up a conversation ultimately failed, even though officers and detectives came and went regularly, grabbing doggy bags or to-go cups. He might have better luck if he came during a shift-change.
He was ready to throw in the towel when he noticed that a woman accidentally left her coat a few seats down from him. He picked it up and followed after her, and right as he caught up, the woman stopped short and flinched, staring out the door window.
"Excuse me? Miss? Is this yours?"
"Uh, what?" she asked, distracted.
"I think you left your coat," Mulder said as he handed it off to her. "This is yours, isn't it?"
"Oh... yes it is, thank you."
"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look upset."
"It's nothing. I just don't like ravens," she replied, no longer distracted.
He turned his head and saw the bird perched outside on a trash bin.
"Edgar Allen Poe kinda ruined them for me, too."
"I know there's no reason to be worried, but the last time I saw that thing I was attacked by a patient. So now I'm wondering, what will happen this time?" she said.
"Probably nothing. I mean, what're the odds of it happening again?"
"Considering I'm a coroner, it should've been impossible the first time," she replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"I'm Fox Mulder."
"I'm Doctor Parker Harper, but people call me Harper."
"If it makes you feel any better, Harper, the modern conception of the raven as an ill omen of death is a watered down variation on its complex and ancient symbolism of magic, death, mysticism, and communication with deities and the beyond. Many Native American tribes saw the raven as a trickster, neither friend or foe. The ancient Greeks and Romans believed that seeing a raven was a sign of good luck."
"Count the Greeks and Romans wrong then," she replied. "Being attacked at work is not good luck."
"It's not, but surviving an attack is," he said. "Celtic lore maintained that the goddess Morrigan took the form of a raven when she acted as a protector. In that case, the raven isn't an omen at all, it's somebody looking out for you, which I think is a good thing, what with the whole zombie-patient thing."
She laughed and replied, "Thanks for that. I'll see you around, Mr. Mulder."
"Nice meeting you, Harper."
She left, and he checked his watch. It was ten minutes to eight. Time to get to the museum.
Scully arranged for a follow-up appointment by the end of the week to see how Chloe was sleeping. She'd have the results of the blood work by then, though from her physical exam and the conversation they had, she believed the primary cause was sleep deprivation.
"Nurse Rose?" Scully said as she returned to the nurse's station. "Do we have any more information about my other patient, Saura Teixeira?"
"I prefer Nurse Dallon," he replied. "Psych updated her chart. They bounced her because the tests the ER ran were promised for this morning but never attached."
"How did that happen without paperwork?" Scully asked.
"The paperwork's there, but, given the unique circumstances, it's a little short."
"Unique circumstances?"
"Last night, her mom brought her father into the ER, insisting that he was sick and going to die soon. Didn't say of what, but that it'd be something like an burst aneurysm or a heart attack," Dallon said. "Said her daughter prophesized it."
"As in, predicted it?"
"That's what she said, and a few minutes later, she broke out into a cold sweat and complained of nausea. One of the nurses on the floor recognized her symptoms and got her a bed."
"So the father was okay, but the mother was having a heart attacked?" Scully asked.
"She was at the start of one, yeah. She got admitted and taken straight up to the cath lab. They think they caught it in time," Dallon explained.
"What about Saura?" Scully asked.
"ER ran a full battery of tests, eventually sent her to psych for psychosis."
"So far all her chart says is that her father brought her in because of a persistent low-grade fever and unusual behavior. She presented with disorientation and continuous speech," Scully said, reading from the chart. "But there's no patient history here and no results for any of the lab tests the ER must've run. I don't even see a GCS or CAM score here. The only thing I see is a high-dose vitamin shot of B12, then a diagnosis of idiopathic psychosis was made a few hours based on a sudden onset of agitation and aggression. It doesn't make any sense."
Dallon said, "It's possible that her results were attached to the wrong chart or someone took her history and labs and forgot to put them in the EWF. I can try and track them down, but it'll take time."
"Do whatever you have to do," Scully replied. "Can you page the admitting doctor and ask him to come in as soon as possible? I'd hate to have to re-run every test."
Dallon nodded, yes, and left.
Scully cleared her thoughts before knocking on Saura's door. When there was no reply, she opened it.
Saura was lying back in bed. Her father sat next to her, clearly exhausted and scared.
"Hello, I'm Doctor Scully."
"I'm Goito," the father said as he stood up and extended his hand. "Goito Teixeira. This is my daughter, Saura Teixeira."
"It's nice to meet you both. Mr. Teixeira. Since your daughter is fourteen, it might be easier for me to talk to Saura alone, if that's all right," Scully said.
"Uh, yes, but as I explained to the ER doctor, she's not normally like this," he said before he left.
"Saura, I'm Doctor Scully," she said.
"Hi."
"How're you feeling?"
"My head hurts. It... hurts a lot."
Scully noticed that she had bruises starting to show on her forearm and forehead.
"Do you remember how you got those bruises?"
"I was going to get breakfast and crashed into the stair banister," she said. "My feet got tangled up and I drifted to the side, and there was no avoiding it. Was right there, knew I was going to hit it, but there was no where else."
Scully made note of ataxia as a symptom.
"I know the ER already ran some tests, but - "
"It's too loud," Saura interrupted, suddenly becoming agitated.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's too loud! The water!" she said, covering her ears. "Torrents and torrents, down, down... and rising... it's too loud. Please, make it stop! Make it stop!"
Scully yelled out the door, "I need help in here!"
Nurse Dallon ran inside while Nurse Forest kept Goito in the hall.
"The thunder, it's too loud! The water won't stop, the rain..." Saura said, thrashing. "It's horrible, all the metal and bone and blood. The screaming, the pain, so many people. It's all bone and metal and blood and screams. Metal and screams and bone and tears."
"Three milligrams of diazepam," Scully said to Dallon.
Dallon went out to the drug cart and returned to administer the medication. Saura continued to mutter incoherently until the drug took full affect.
"Thank you," Scully said. "Nurse Forest, please bring Mr. Teixeira back in, we need to talk."
Mulder walked through the Portland Museum and followed signs to the offices, finally knocking on the door labeled "Professor Charlotte Jarry."
It opened immediately.
"Fox Mulder?"
"Yes, but, it's Mulder if you don't mind," he replied.
"I'm Chuck Jarry, but most people call me CJ. Come in."
The office was decorated with images from world mythology. Serpents and wolves were the most common symbols in the room, followed by owls, spiders, and hybrid monsters.
"The world's symbolism and mythology of fear," he commented. "Not a common decor theme."
"Interesting conclusion," CJ replied. "The wolf is seen as an antagonist - sometimes elevated to a villainous character - in many European cultures, but to many cultures of the indigenous peoples of America, the wolf represents endurance, leadership, and family values."
"But none of your wolves are from Native American tradition," Mulder said. "I see Fenrier, Hati, and Skoll, all wolves from Norse mythology associated with the end of the world. I also see the historical man-eating wolf called The Beast of Gevaudan, and various manifestations of the Big Bag Wolf. All from Europe."
"I better be careful, the next thing you'll do is hone in on my lack of lycanthropy," she said. "I see your reputation doesn't do you much justice."
"How's that?"
"I heard you were knowledgeable on mythology and folklore, but I've had plenty of learned scholars, professors, and self-taught enthusiasts in here, and not one of them has been able to identify three Nordic wolves by name along with representations of fairy tale motifs and images of a historical beast."
"Mythology informed a lot of my work, so I made a habit of exposing myself to it whenever possible," he replied.
"That's one reason I'd like to hire you. A lot of people ask, 'Why bother with mythology? How does it apply to real life?' And we've had a few different people address it. Creative types, mostly, but also people who work in psychological or talk therapy fields. We haven't had anyone discuss it from an investigative standpoint."
"I'm not sure that'd appeal to most audiences," he said. "Especially because a lot of my investigative work relates directly to serial offenders who have internalized mythic symbols to the point of where even their crimes bare traces of them. It's not a pretty subject."
"I understand, but what you just said, about the nature of mythology informing some offenders, is interesting in itself. Anyway, we're a bit off topic."
"From what I understand, you're putting together several exhibits related to divination."
CJ nodded and said, "Obviously, that's a general theme, we're hoping to cover ancient practices to modern superstitions. Two of our professors are on archeological digs, so what we really need is someone who can work quickly contextualizing complex historical and mythological facts. And we definitely need someone who can get information. I used to say 'research,' but kids these days think that's Wikipedia."
"My previous work with museums has been in modern incarnations of unexplainable phenomenon," Mulder said. "I don't think this is much different, but it would be new territory for me."
Someone came into the room and said, "CJ, I need to - oh, I didn't know you had someone in here."
"Mulder, this is Professor Vera Gates," CJ said. "Vera, Mulder. He's the former FBI Agent I was telling you about."
"Nice to meet you," Vera said, offering her hand.
"You as well," Mulder replied, shaking. "You're a professor of...?"
"Archeology," she replied. "CJ said you investigated abnormal crimes for the FBI."
"That's a way to put it," he replied. "The X-Files investigated cases that had elements of unnatural, alien, or paranormal phenomenon."
"Huh, maybe I could get your opinion on something," Vera said. "Sorry, CJ, for barging in. I'll come back later."
About an hour after talking with Mr. Teixeira, a young doctor knocked on Scully's open office door.
"Doctor Scully?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Doctor Nicholas Hembree," he said. "I'm the pediatrics fellow. Dunno if Doctor Locke told you. One of the nurses on the floor paged me to come in, said our psych patient was bounced back."
"Please come in," Scully said.
"Let me guess, psych won't take her because we forgot to rule out something ridiculously rare and unlikely," he said as he sat down. "Which means our psych patient will be denied care until they feel like we've done enough work."
"First of all, Doctor Hembree, she is not a psych patient," Scully said. "Until we know otherwise, she's my patient, and psych was right to bounce her. None of her labs are in her file, and there's no radiology report from the head CT. I had to take her medical history because that wasn't attached either."
Hembree fiddled with his tablet for a few minutes.
"I dunno what happened," he said. "I ran a full set of neuro tests. She was negative for everything except the Romberg, but the head CT came back clean. Blood work showed a B vitamin deficiency, so I ordered a shot of B12. Not long after, she became agitated and aggressive, clearly hallucinating. The only logical diagnosis was psychosis, especially with her history of ADHD."
"Doctor Locke told me that your interest lies in sleep medicine, neurology," Scully said.
"That's right. The only thing even close to a neurological symptom was her constant talking, but she's a teenaged girl, most of them constantly talk."
"Her father says that she's an introvert who rarely speaks to people she doesn't know," Scully replied.
"She's a teenager. Teenagers keep things from their parents. When she was first brought into the ER, it was pretty clear that she was a chatty Cathy with dehydration. Her neuro exams were all clear."
"Maybe when you performed them last night," she replied. "But today, she presents with ataxia, headache, and auditory hallucinations that triggered some kind of hyperacusis. Doctor Locke asked me to keep you in the loop, but I'll only do that if you accept the fact that, until I say otherwise, Saura is a pediatric neurology patient."
"No problem, Doctor S."
"It's Scully, Hembree."
Mulder left his impromptu meeting feeling energized. It wasn't the same as investigating an X-File, but it was just part-time work to keep him moving forward. At the very least, he'd be able to solidify a few local contacts.
Meeting with Professor Gates had been far more interesting than his initial meeting with CJ. Her research had led her to an incredible MRI of an ancient mummy, which had since disappeared. She burned him a copy on a memory stick, and he couldn't wait to show Scully.
He picked up lunch and headed to the hospital. He ducked inside just as the rain began. It quickly built up into a full-blown thunderstorm.
He wandered around looking for Scully's office, and eventually an orderly pointed him in the right direction.
"Nice digs," he commented. "Could use some color, doc."
"Please tell me that's hamburgers," she said.
"Why hello to you too," he said.
"Thank you for bringing lunch."
They started lunch, and it felt oddly familiar, eating take-out together in the office.
"I think we should've moved to Portland a long time ago," he said.
"Did you find a sasquatch?" she asked.
"Even better," he said. "How about you? Have you had any time to see patients? Or has it been all paperwork?"
"Actually, I have gotten to see some today," she replied. "One of them is in very serious condition, but..."
"What is it?"
"Everyone here is talking about her, but not because of her health. People've been saying that she predicts the future," Scully said.
"Foresight?" he asked. "What has she predicted?"
"According to her father, she kept saying something about not ignoring the warning signs or the pain, so her mother brought them both to the ER, worried he was going to die."
"I'm guessing he didn't," Mulder said.
"No, but the mother had a heart attack," she said. "They caught it in the earliest stages, and she's gonna be fine. At first, it seemed like an old ER legend, but about an hour ago, she had another episode and the nurse assisting me is now telling everyone that she predicted the freak rainstorm."
"Does your patient think she's predicting the future?" Mulder asked.
"I have no idea," she replied. "She hasn't been in a state to talk with me."
He could tell by the way she spoke that Scully was deeply upset.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," he said.
"She's at the age for... it's around the time when certain illnesses come to light. It's hard enough to diagnose neurological or mental illnesses in teenagers, but when people make a spectacle of it..."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," he repeated. "If you want, I could point out that she's had two hits in one day. Pretty big ones, too. Did she say anything else?"
"Mulder, she's not psychic. One of her symptoms is logorrhea, or continuous speech," Scully said. "Even sedated, she's still talking, but no one will bother remembering the things she said that don't 'predict' anything."
"You mean misses. Predictions that don't come to pass."
"Most of what she's saying is unintelligible, and these so-called 'predictions' are just people twisting her words, which by themselves so vague as to be meaningless, which means they could mean anything. The last thing she kept repeating was something about blood, metal, and bone."
"You don't think it's even a little bit possible?" he asked.
Scully replied, "I think it's desperation."
"You don't think it's possible?"
"No," Scully said. "She said something about bad health when she herself had taken ill, and a lot of people can tell when it's going to rain from the change in barometric pressure. She's not seeing the future, Mulder. She's just sick."
"Don't get me wrong, I agree with you. One of the reasons people discounted the X-Files is that illnesses can manifest as delusions of psychic or clairvoyant abilities."
"I dare say you've opened an X-File for less," she said playfully.
"Give me some credit, Scully. I did have criteria for these kinds of things."
"If you had them, they weren't in any file I read."
"For one, this patient you describe isn't claiming anything herself. Sounds to me like classic human apophonia. We see patterns where we want - or arguably, need - to see them."
"You should try convincing her father of that," she said.
"I'd be happy to try."
"The only way I could do that is if I broke doctor-patient confidentially and told you her father's name and her name, for that matter," she replied.
"Or, you could refer the father to an expert in paranormal and psychic events," he suggested. "Give him my name. Maybe I could put his mind at ease."
"You'd do that?" she asked. "How do you know this girl can't predict the future?"
"You know, we've had this conversation before, Scully. Growth of brain tumors has been linked with reported occurrences of psychic abilities. So maybe she can see the future, and maybe the reason that she can see the future is a brain tumor that's killing her, like Robert Patrick Modell or Linda Bowman. Or maybe she's very sick and her parents are trying to cope anyway that they can. Either way, I know she needs your help, and I can make him feel better about how lucky she is to have you."
"Mulder..."
"How many doctors have saved people from exposure to alien viruses or alien biology? You saved me after I was dead and buried," he said. "And you never gave up on that little boy Christian."
"If you do talk to anyone, Mulder - "
"Leave out the alien and dead stuff?" he offered. "I usually do."
She changed the subject and asked, "You didn't tell me, how did your meeting go?"
"I think I'll be working with the museum," he said. "I met another professor there, Vera Gates, and she showed me an MRI of an ancient Egyptian mummy. Scully, it was incredible - "
Her pager started going off.
"Damn," she muttered as she got to her feet.
"Everything okay?"
"The thunderstorm caused a huge traffic accident, they're paging me because the ER is about to get slammed," she said. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut our lunch short."
"Another hit," he said.
"What?" Scully asked.
"Your patient. You said the last thing she talked about was blood, bone, and metal, and then there's a big car accident? I think that counts as another hit, Scully. She's done it again."
She gave him a look that he read as 'I-seriously-hope-you-are-kidding-me.' Then she smiled and said, "Thank you for lunch."
She leaned in to give him a quick goodbye kiss, but he pulled her closer, deeper -
Then Nurse Forest burst in.
"Oh, I - sorry," Forest said.
"Mulder, this is Corey Forest, one of the nurses I'm working with. Nurse Forest, this is my partner Mulder," Scully said.
"Nice to meet you," Forest said. "Doctor Scully, it's an emergency."
"I'll see you tonight," Mulder said before stepping out the door.
He took a moment to watch Forest and Scully hurry away to something exciting. They'd been here a week, and so far they had gotten a dog, found a dead body, acquired the scans of an ancient mutant Egyptian mummy, and were casually chatting about a teenager that could predict the future.
Yes, they should've really moved to Portland sooner.
Scully spent the rest of her day in the ER treating injuries from the multi-car accident. She couldn't do much for Saura until her tests were completed, and with all the emergent accident victims, the lab quickly became backlogged, which meant she wouldn't have Saura's results until much later that night or tomorrow morning.
She retired to her office by five and checked through her inbox. The ER had finally located Saura's results from the night before. The radiologist hadn't reviewed her head MRI, yet, but as of last night, her head CT was clear.
Her EEG from today had abnormal readings but not indicative of any disorder in particular. She looked through the head MRI, but nothing obvious appeared. Unless the radiologists saw something she didn't, Saura's brain was physically fine. Scully wouldn't find any answers tonight.
A knock made her look up. Goito stood in the doorway.
"Please come in," she said.
"Doctor Scully, do you know what is wrong with my daughter?" he asked.
"Mr. Teixeira, there's a series of tests that will help me diagnose her, but I don't have all the results yet. I know I've already asked, but has your daughter had anything like this, or these symptoms, before? Talking nonstop? Low affect? Confusion?"
Goito hesitated.
"Mr. Teixeira?" Scully prompted.
"I didn't believe her, my wife, when she said our daughter was seeing the future," he replied. "But, yes, she has done this before, the trance-like talking she did this morning. It started about two months ago."
"This has been happening for two months?"
"No, no... the first time she was like this was two months ago. My wife says she spoke about the ravens and crows gathering, like how she used to talk in her sleep. Two weeks later, I had to call animal control because someone dumped half a carcass near our house, and the ravens would not leave. My Saura, she uses this to record her dreams," he said, producing a digital audio recorder. "This proves what her mother said to be true."
"Mr. Teixeira..." Scully began.
"Foresight is a terrible affliction," Goita said, bowing his head. "All those who have such a gift are cursed to live in the present and the future at the same time. They have no choice but to embrace madness and live ill for all their days. This is what my father taught me, and my wife's family, they tell similar stories, even though they came from the world over. It must be truth to survive from here to there."
"I can't speak to that."
"I understand," he said miserably.
"But I can see this is important to you. If you'd like, I know an expert who can talk with you."
"But it is you that is her doctor."
"I don't wish to insult you or question your beliefs, Mr. Teixeira, but your daughter has a serious medical condition, and in all likelihood, it is the cause of her incoherent and continuous speech," Scully said, as gently as possible.
Goita said, "Doctor Scully, all I want is for my wife and daughter be healthy again. If Saura never predicts another raindrop, I don't care. I just want her well. Please, take this," he said, offering the tape recorder. "I don't want it."
Mulder decided that the ancient mutant mummy could wait a few more days before he discussed it with Scully. She seemed unhappy at lunch, and he was worried.
The landline rang.
"Hello," he said.
"Mulder? It's Charles," the caller said.
"Is something wrong?" Mulder asked, concerned.
"No, everything is fine. I promised Dana I'd call and say there's nothing wrong. So, there's nothing wrong. Tell my big sister not to worry."
"She'll be home soon, if you - "
"No, no," Charles interrupted. "Please, Fox, there's a three-hour time difference. It's late over here, and I promise you, everything and everyone is fine. A handful, but fine. Okay? I'll see you both in two weeks."
"Fine, I'll let you off the hook this time, but don't call me Fox."
He hung up. Scully's younger brother liked him considerably more than her older brother, but given how much Bill Scully hated him, that wasn't hard to do. He had done his best to endear himself to the Scully family after they learned that Scully had been in a relationship with him when he was on the lam and lied about it for years to keep him safe. Over time, her mother and Charles came around, though Bill remained forever on the fence, only accepting Mulder as his brother-in-law because has had no choice.
"Mulder," Scully said as she came in. "Did you cook?"
"Actually, I ordered in," he replied. "Charles called. He said everything is fine."
"Charles called? Why? Are they all right? What else did he say?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied. "Just that he'd promised you he'd call, so he did. He sounded fine. Tired, maybe, but fine. Come on, you must be hungry."
They went into the dining room, which was set with Chinese take out still in the boxes.
"Do you think Skinner sent us the papers for a reason?" she asked as they sat down to eat.
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe he wants us to foster in this state for a specific case," she replied. "Maybe he needs secured housing for a minor."
"I think it's just for our cover story," Mulder said. "If we're registered as foster parents for minors with special circumstances in this state, then any connection to the FBI or DHS can be explained by us protecting a minor for a case. And since those records are kept sealed..."
She completed his thought, "He's really pushing for you to take that consulting job."
"I think it's more than that. He's looking out for us, Scully, like he's always done."
"Then I think we should file the paperwork," she said. "Unless you found a reason not to."
"Actually, applying in Oregon is much easier than applying in Virginia. With our history, I think all we'll need is a home study and a background check."
"We might as well get everything in order now, while we have the time," she replied. "Let's file them tomorrow."
The next morning, Scully checked in on Saura. She was doing much better.
"All she had was fluids and ibuprofen for her headache," Hembree said. "But somehow, she's just... better. No fever. She's been quiet, besides asking for something to eat."
"What about her orientation to time and place and ataxia?" Scully asked.
"I did a full neuro test just an hour ago. All clear."
"You're sure all she's had is ibuprofen and fluids?" she asked.
"You did prescribe diazepam yesterday, but no more was administered after you left. And she refused sleeping pills," he said. "She didn't sleep through the night, but she's sleeping now."
"That's a good sign."
"You think she just had dehydration and an electrolyte imbalance?" he asked.
"No, I don't," she replied. "Thank you for watching her last night, Doctor Hembree. Good work."
Scully made rounds on her other patients admitted from the multi-car crash. All of them were doing well in post-op, so she returned to her office.
The lab had stacked Saura's test results and radiology reports in her inbox.
According to the radiology report, the MRI revealed nothing abnormal. There were no aneurisms, blood clots, or other vascular anomalies, and there was nothing to indicate a subarachnoid bleed, concussion, tissue damage from a stroke or seizure, or any kind of trauma to the brain whatsoever. The contrast MRI ruled out tumors, lesions, hydrocephalus, and encephalitis.
The long-term drug analysis from her hair came back negative for everything except her ADHD medication, which matched the dosage of her prescription. Normally, a table full of negative lab results was a good thing, but right now Scully had what most would argue to be a perfectly healthy patient with relapsing and remitting neurological symptoms.
The one consistent symptom was low-grade fever, and Scully theorized that the only reason Saura's temperature was normal now was the ibuprofen she received for her headache. With that in mind, she decided to order a battery of tests: blood cultures to detect parasites, fungi, and bacteria; antibody detection for viruses; and a lumbar puncture to detect abnormalities in protein serum.
Nurse Dallon knocked on her open door.
"Doctor Scully," he said. "Mr. Teixeira is... I think you should come quick."
She followed Dallon down the hall to Saura's room.
"Doctor Scully," Goito said. "Please, something is very wrong. She woke up and asked for a pen and paper, and...."
Scully looked at Saura, who was leaning over the notepad and scribbling. She seemed distressed, even frantic.
"Saura, what's wrong?" Scully asked.
"Can't get the word," she replied. "I can't..."
After a moment of frustrated silence, Saura violently threw the notepad. It landed at the end of her bed.
"She is never like this," Goito said. "She's never violent, Doctor Scully."
Scully picked up the notepad and examined it.
"She was having trouble speaking when I came to get you," Dallon explained. "She'd be fine, but then stop, like she couldn't find the word she wanted."
The pad contained the beginnings of a journal entry, with the date's date, location, and time along the time. The first phrase was, "A fiery object, returning..." but the rest was a mystery. Saura's penmanship went from scribbles to completely illegible, though she kept trying to write for almost the entire page.
"Saura, listen to me, you're going to be all right," Scully said. "Just do your best to relax and rest. Don't try to write or speak, all right?"
"What is happening to my daughter?"
"Let's talk in the hall so she can rest," Scully suggested.
Nurse Dallon coaxed Saura to lie back as Scully and Goita stepped out.
"What is this?" he demanded as soon as they were in the hall.
"Your daughter is experiencing aphasia," she explained. "She knows what she wants to say, and she's aware of the words she can use to express those ideas, but she can't recall the words themselves. Dysgraphia, or the inability to write, is a related symptom."
"You're saying my daughter is forgetting how to speak?" he asked. "How is that possible? Yesterday she did nothing but speak!"
"I assure you, she is not forgetting how to speak," Scully said. "She retains all her language skills, and in all likelihood, this symptom will get better before a final diagnosis is made."
"So you do not know what is wrong," he said. "My wife is recovered. Soon she will be well enough to demand we take our daughter home. She will not let Saura end up like her birth mother, Doctor Scully. And neither will I."
Mulder met with CJ to accept the job offer. She seemed unsurprised and insisted that he join her for a coffee.
"Has anyone ever said why it is that predicting the future is such hazy business?" CJ asked.
"In some cases, it isn't," he said. "Cassandra was pretty clear when she told the Trojans that the horse would be the downfall of Troy, should they bring it inside.
"But no one believed her," CJ said.
"And the priests who predicted Siddhartha's future said he'd either become a powerful monarch or a great holy man," Mulder said. "The Oracle at Delphi said that Oedipus would murder his father and marry his mother."
"But plenty of other predictions made at Delphi were obscure. Croesus of Lydia asked if he could defeat Persia. He was told his efforts would destroy a great kingdom, and he need only fear when a mule became the king of the Medians," CJ replied. "He didn't realize that Cyrus, a man half Mede, half Persian, could be considered a 'mule.' So he attacked, and the great kingdom of that was the Greek city states fell."
"The prophecy was right, just not his interpretation," Mulder said.
"But it was vague enough to have more than one interpretation," she said. "Why do you think that is?"
"The obvious reason is, if it were any other way, it wouldn't be much of a story," he replied. "Another reason is that our brains evolved to interpret our environment and learn from our history. That's past and present. All our senses and perception are tuned to the then and now. When it comes to the future, the only resource we have is our imagination. It's an amazing tool, but language fails spectacularly to communicate it."
"So you think the problem with foresight isn't the ability, but rather the communication? The words?" she asked.
"Miscommunication can occur when discussing even the most mundane things, let alone when interpreting the future."
"You talk like you believe," she said. "Like you believe someone can predict the future. Not a swindler, not a trick, but an actual oracle."
"Let's just say, I want to believe."
Scully spent most of her day investigating possible causes of Saura's condition. Her headaches had returned, and her aphasia disappeared only to be replaced by her continuous speech again.
Throughout the day, the orderlies and nurses who interacted with Saura insisted that she predicted future events: a call from an old friend, finding a lost necklace, a flat tire, and a pet falling ill. As far as Scully was concerned, these were no more predictions than a fortune cookie, and they were all along the lines of her previous 'predictions.' Her words were so vague as to mean anything at all.
Saura's blood work was normal. Her white count was normal, and there was no indication of any kind of infection, be it parasitic, viral, bacteria, or fungal. The lab still had some cultures growing, which meant she'd have more results tomorrow.
But she wasn't hopeful that they'd yield any results.
That left genetic disorders, diabetes, autoimmune response, toxic exposure, and cancer, though she had no findings to support the those possibilities. Since Saura was adopted, there was no way to narrow down the genetic disorders, and even if she could identify a smaller subset to run, those tests could take weeks.
And there was that nagging voice in the back of her head (the one that sounded much like Mulder) that told her that this young girl just might be what people said she was: gifted and cursed at the same time. The more she dismissed it, the louder the voice got.
On her way out, she asked Nurse Forest to order a diabetes test for Saura. The rest she'd deal with tomorrow.
Scully arrived home, tired and frustrated, and she was unsurprised to discover Mulder in his office, pouring over cases about psychic abilities.
"What's up doc?" he said as she entered his home office. "How is your patient doing?"
"Not well, and I can't find a cause."
"You will," he said.
"Even if I do, there's a strong possibility that she has a life-long illness, possibly progressive," she replied. "I feel like there are no good outcomes."
He stood up and abandoned his files. "I heard about this little Italian place that serves pizza," he said.
"Mulder..."
"We've been here over a week and haven't been out to a restaurant," he said. "Come on, I've heard good things from a professor of archeology. That's gotta mean something."
This chapter has been broken into two parts because of the length restrictions on Livejournal. See the next part for the rest of this chapter.
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Chapter Three: Harbringer sec. Apophenia (Part Two)
Primary Post: Addendum GW
End of Chapter Notes
Translations and Pronunciation Guide
The following terms and phrases were referenced in this chapter.
aphasia (pronounced "ay-faze-ee-ah") is used to describe a number of language disorders, including difficulty with word finding despite previous knowledge of the desired word.
ataxia (pronounced "ay-tax-ee-ah") is a neurological problem that arises from a lack of voluntary muscle coordination, resulting in movement disorders, including an abnormal gait while walking.
criar malvas (Portuguese) translates literally as "to make/to build mallows," and the expression is an idiom equivalent to the English "pushing up daisies," a euphemism for someone being dead in buried.
dysgraphia (pronounced "dis-graff-ee-ah") is difficulty or deficiency in handwriting.
logorrhea (pronounced "law-guh-re-ah") refers to pathological speech that is incoherent or repetitive, though it can also refer to incessant talking.
não por favor (Portuguese) translates to "no please."
Teixeira (pronounced tey-sher-ah) a common Portuguese and Brazilian surname derived from the Portuguese teixo, meaning 'yew tree.'