Novels The Damascus Files In The Interest of Science Other Stories A Deafening Silence Finding Zuzu's Petals Into The Mystic Je T'aime Knockin' On Heaven's Door Knowing Korena, Korena Matthew 19:14 Nightwing Sweet Dreams Symbiosis A Texas History Lesson This Could Be Heaven,   or This Could Be Hell Timepieces Your Soul in My Heart Other Info About Kat Linkage Feedback   In the Interest of Science Select a chapter Return to Story Index Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Full Text Only Chapter Eleven Unknown Location Late May Dr. Williams advised us to take it easy that day before the surgery because it would be such a long one. Any type of microsurgery is long, because the work is so delicate but it is especially slow and tedious when surgeons are working on the arm, which is all they were going to attempt that first transplant. The brachial plexus is a very complicated and sensitive set of nerves and even with the help of robotic in the transplant it was going to be a long, arduous ordeal. Mulder's comment was to slyly offer that he was going to be getting twenty hours of sleep, wasn't the doctor was the one who needed to rest? Dr. Williams had always allowed me free access to anything involving Mulder and it was at this time I finally got my nerve up to view the donor clone. As I took the elevator down to the laboratory where they kept the experiment, my stomach was in knots. As a scientist, I knew the organism that was giving Mulder his new lease on life should not even be classified as human. It was a sophisticated cluster of cells. I believed this as a scientist but being raised in the church, I had qualms, doubts about using another for the harvesting of limbs, organs, etc. My fears were put to rest by one look at the thing, lying in the tank before me. It did resemble Mulder, superficially. But staring at the sightless, empty face, I knew that creature was the closest to humanity it would ever come. There was nothing to suggest that God's hand had ever touched the entity with the spark of life. It did not have now, nor had it ever had, a soul. Having found my answer, I quickly left the lab. Dr. Williams was leaving out of an area at the end of the hall where I was denied access. He was in a rush and I barely caught up to him before the elevator door closed. Judging by the good doctor's expression, he wasn't exactly pleased to see me, at least not in that section of the underground facility. "I'd never seen the clone," I stated nervously, wanting to explain my presence. I'd never been specifically told not to go to the lower levels and I didn't want to overstep my bounds. "Pretty fascinating, huh?" he asked. My explanation seemed to appease him, but he still appeared to be uncomfortable. I gave him a slight smile and a nod in answer, then quickly exited when the doors slid open to my floor. I caught a worried expression on his face as the elevator closed behind me. I stopped, gazing at the white portal, trying to sort through my impressions of our brief exchange, a frown creasing my brow. Someone I had not thought of in quite a while had made their presence known. Dr. Williams reeked of cigarette smoke. Unknown Location Late May/Early June I said nothing to Mulder of my worries and surprisingly, we both slept well that night before the surgery. It was predawn when Jen, the nurse, came in to wake us. As I climbed out from beside him, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. The battle he had fought for a year was almost over and I could see relief in their hazel depths. I gave his hand a quick squeeze, then moved aside to allow Jen to begin prepping him. The surgery took nineteen hours, almost to the minute. Since Mulder was their only patient and I was trained, I was allowed afterwards in the small room off the operating theater which they used as a recovery room. When they brought him to me, all his signs were perfect and he came out of the anesthesia quickly. "You look rough," he whispered to me as soon as his eyes fluttered open. I smiled back at his comment, knowing it wasn't entirely drug-induced. "I can feel it," he murmured sleepily, letting his lids close again. I cast a glance at the new limb and shook my head knowingly. It would be quite a while before feeling would come to the arm they had immobilized in traction, but it looked good, very good. The fingertips of his new hand were warm and pink and I was satisfied that so far, the transplant seemed to be a success. Since he had 'woken and spoken' and everything else from blood pressure to blood gas was fine, we wheeled him back to his room. While the orderlies helped get him settled in his bed, he had come fully awake and after they left, I could tell by his expression he was in pain. "Let me get you something for that," I murmured, preparing the machine that would allow him to dispense his own pain medication. "No," he choked, his voice hoarse from the surgery. I had finished and turned to see what was troubling him. His eyes were bright and I quickly put a hand to his forehead to check for fever. "I feel it!" he repeated adamantly, shaking my hand away. "Feel what?" My mouth had grown dry. I guess it was fear. I turned to touch his fingertips, worried something was wrong. "I feel you touch me," he spoke slowly, trying to make me understand. "I can feel my fingers." I looked at him, realizing what had him so agitated. He knew, he had been told, that nerve regeneration was a slow process -- that full feeling in his arm, especially the fingers, would take time, if it ever completely came back. What had happened in the lab animals, full mobility, was the hoped for result, but to expect feeling, hours after surgery? That was impossible. "You can feel this?" I asked moving close, but not quite touching his thumb. He shook his head. "I feel my hand, but I don't feel you touching me", Mulder explained, calming down a bit. He struggled to look and see why he couldn't perceive my touch. I was in shock. "I wasn't doing it then," I confessed. I gently squeezed his pinkie and saw his eyes light up in response. My knees felt weak at this miracle. "I better go get Dr. Williams." My voice was a strained whisper as I left to go find the doctor. No one at the site could believe what was happening. Mulder had complete feeling in his arm, from fingertip to shoulder, making the surgery a success beyond anyone's wildest dreams. But, it was only to get better. The third morning post-surgery, Mulder called me to his side. I had been in the bath, brushing my teeth when I heard his yell. I rushed out and my stomach plummeted, tears were streaming down his face. He tried to speak but could only point. I followed the direction of his shaking digit -- he was indicating his left hand, his new hand. "Mulder, what's wrong" I asked feeling the exposed fingers, hoping their was still the warmth of life in them, praying he was not showing signs of rejection. I backed away as though I had been burned, when I felt his fingers move beneath my touch. "It's alive," he said playfully, his eyes still overflowing with joy. He wiggled them again and I actually screamed with delight. Jen came in at my scream and hurried to go get Dr. Williams, when Mulder gave her a fingertip wave. Within thirty minutes, we had the entire staff in the room, oohing and aahing over my partner's amazing, dexterous digits. Joe Williams examined his arm as everyone filed out, and he smiled at his handiwork. "Look here." He called me over to show me the incision, which was already almost healed. "We need to get an x-ray, see if the bone is coming along this quickly." It was. Jen came in as soon as we got the results and informed us the doctor wanted Mulder put in a soft cast. He had done a month of healing in a little over three days. Mulder spent the better part of that afternoon, gazing at his hand, watching his fingers move. I sat on his bed, watching his face. I thought nothing could ruin the happiness. That evening I strolled to the staff cafeteria, to have coffee with some of the personnel I had befriended over our stay. I ambled back to the room to find Mulder, propped on his side, his face white with pain. "What happened?" I gasped, rushing to his side. He was breathing deeply, trying to contain his agony. "They did a test, right after you left," he moaned, closing his eyes and fighting tears. "Said they needed bone marrow. Something wasn't right. I don't know..." A tear escaped and he gazed up at me, his eyes wounded. "It hurts." I brushed his hair out of his eyes and ran to get Jen, demanding his chart. Written there, was the order with no explanation as to why, except some words in Latin, scrawled in Williams' ungainly doctor's hand. "Timeo danaoset dona ferentes" -- "Fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts." Go to Chapter 12 DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" and its characters are owned by FOX and its related entities. All rights reserved. This website, its operators and any content on this site relating to "The X-Files" are not authorized by Fox. No copyright infringement is intended. This site created and maintained by Wasatch Design and Consulting.