From: Laura Bontrager <rocketman@surfacing.com>
Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 23:10:44 -0500
Subject: xfc: Privacy (1/1)
Source: xfc

Sorry, don't know if this has been sent to the list yet.

Title: Privacy (1/1)
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No infringement
is intended.

Notes: This is pure fluff. Noromos (are there any left?) turn back now.

=-=-=-=
Privacy
=-=-=-=

awake on my airplane
my skin is bare
my skin is theirs. . .

i don't believe in, i don't believe in
sanctity, your privacy. . .

could everyone agree that no one should be
left alone

--'take a picture' filter

=-=-=-=
@scully@
=-=-=-=

When I woke at four that morning, I couldn't talk. It felt like a vice was
squeezing my windpipe and a horrible dry scratchy sound came from my throat.
I drank a glass of water and shivered back into bed, gulping down the
feeling that I was going to throw up.

Mulder came in to my motel room at eight to pick me up for breakfast, but I
was still in bed, my eyes fiercely shut and the light just a bit too bright.
The radio alarm was still playing because I hadn't the strength to turn it
off. He looked shocked.

"Are you okay, Scully?"

I shook my head as he turned the clock radio off, then felt him sit down
beside me; the bed slanted down with its mushy springs and I slid into him.

"Scully! You're burning up."

At his almost-panic, I pushed myself up and sat against the headboard,
pushing down the urge to vomit. When he left, I could throw up all I wanted,
right now, though, I had to reassure him I could work.

When my mouth opened to say 'I'm fine' all that came out was a low hoarse
whisper that took all of the extra moisture left in my throat to speak.

"Lost your voice?" he asked.

I nodded. 

"Are you okay?"

I nodded again and patted his shoulder, trying to hint that he needed to
leave so I could get dressed. He seemed to perversely enjoy my helplessness
because he smiled and shook his head.

"You go take a shower. I'm staying right here so I can make sure you don't
drown in there."

I glared at him and opened my mouth to tell him off, but I only ended up in
scratching up my insides more. And then I tried clearing my throat, only
there wasn't anything to clear and that hurt worse.

So I reluctantly got out of bed and rubbed my eyes as the shower heated up.
Maybe the steam would loosen my vocal cords and my weary muscles. It was
worth a shot.
=-=-=

Breakfast was in the diner across from the tiny motel and it was miserable.
I sat in the booth and tried not to let my food come back up, but I only ate
a small slice of peach and half of a blueberry muffin. Nothing looked
apetizing but with Mulder sitting across from me and being fairly decent, it
was hard to feel justified in acting grumpy.

Mulder even used his napkin and wiped his mouth clear of the maple syrup
that I could smell and which was also making my stomach churn over. He
reached out once and snagged my hand, squeezing it, and it made a small
smile come to my eyes.

And then he talked about the case and about the werewolf man who had raped
thirteen women in the past two months, using fear and a knife to control
them. Mulder was seriously starting to believe he was a real werewolf, but I
had my doubts and managed to express them, even though Mulder didn't want to
hear it. Of course, I wrote half of it furiously on a napkin and objected to
his comments by simply raising my hand. So many times I attempted to talk,
forgetting, and ended up coughing until I couldn't breathe.

Mulder looked like he was ready to haul me back into bed and lock my door.

"Scully-" he began, but the television was on in the upper left corner of
his sight and his eyes tracked it for a moment. He'd been doing that all
throughout our conversation, almost subtle enough for me not to catch it,
but I figured there were sports scores on the news or something and forgave
him.

"Hey, hey look!"

I glanced behind me and saw a naked man being led into a police car while
some of the officers tried to cover him with a blanket. A werewolf costume
was being shoveled into an evidence bag then, but because that wasn't
interesting, the camera panned back to the police car. It must have been
live because the camera caught a good angle of the man's. . .private parts.
. .before the television crew knew what they were seeing and then someone
cursed and it went back to the anchorman.

I felt like I was going to throw up. I really did not need to see some
rapist's --

I shuddered and received a look from Mulder.

"I'll call the sheriff. I'm guessing we'll be done today."

I nodded but began coughing again, a thick hack that seemed to take all the
air from my lungs and all the little bronchi just to force it up. My entire
chest was collapsing and Mulder was pulling on my arm and I couldn't help
but lean into him.

Just for a little bit.
=-=-=

The sheriff had us filling out reports and statements and gathering
evidence. The prosecution wanted an air tight case and so many of the women
who'd been raped had been able to identify him that our testimony wasn't
needed.

Mulder came out of the interrogation room shaking his head and looking like
he wanted to throttle someone.

"You know what those women said to me, Scully? When I asked how they were
able to make a positive ID on a guy who'd been wearing a mask?"

I shrugged, wondering myself.

"They said he took it off for a little while. . .right before. . ."

His eyes were watching me carefully and I gave a nod to show that I
understood, letting him continue.

"So I went in and asked our rapist why he bothered to wear a mask if he was
just going to take it off. He said that the mask got too hot with his
breathing and he had to take it off. But he liked wearing it because he
liked making them afraid of him."

This was really not something I needed or wanted to hear, not when I could
barely eat breakfast sitting across from my own partner. My fists clenched
involuntarily and I closed my eyes, trying to mentally still my stomach.

Mulder took my arm in his grip and pulled me aside.

"Scully, maybe you should see a doctor--"

I shook my head wildly and croaked at him, trying to clear my throat again
and speak. Of course, that only made it worse and I doubled over coughing
again, the feel of it like explosions in my brain. My stomach was tight and
tense with clenching and my heart pounded in my head like a huge trailer
truck was running into my skull again and again.

Mulder was grabbing my shaking shoulders and holding me tightly, and I
struggled to breathe again, sucking in air.

"We'll go back to the motel, then," he promised and kissed the top of my
head.

I nodded.
=-=-=

Mulder was spooning cough syrup into me like I was a little kid, but I had
to admit it felt good to be taken care of. I sat still on the bed and waited
for him to be satisfied with my swallowing it down, then sighed as the
medicine coated my throat like cool water, only thicker.

He looked at me with pity and took my chin in his hand.

"Feel better?"

I shook my head and blinked away tears of self-pity, feeling ridiculous for
being such a baby about getting sick, but also feeling just about as
miserable as I'd ever felt in my life. At least with the cancer it had been
just feeling tired and maybe a bit nauseated, but this was like a weight on
me, in my lungs, and everything ached.

Okay, so maybe the cancer was worse, in the whole scheme of things, but this
was making me feel weak and needy and achey and miserable.

Mulder sighed and pulled me into his arms, refusing to let go when I pushed
back at him, but sort of rocking me on the bed. It felt too warm, but too
good also, and I stayed like that, letting my eyes fall heavily.

I could suddenly feel a cold lump slide down my throat and churn in my
stomach and the scratchy, dry feeling went away for a moment. I cleared my
throat and managed a whisper.

Mulder looked down at me and stroked his fingers across my cheeks.

"You okay?"

"I feel bad," I whispered, and was ashamed to admit it.

He looked stunned I'd admitted it and he sighed again, stroking my forehead
with his palm, then running it back down my hair.

"I'm sorry," he said and I felt just a bit better.

=-=-=-=
@mulder@
=-=-=-=

"Is the medicine kicking in yet?" I asked her.

She looked diminutive in the airplane seat, her body slumped into itself,
her head pressed to the plastic window. She didn't look up at me, but I
understood: she was too sick to move.

"No. . ." she sighed and tried to still her body as a cough struggled
through.

I sighed in sympathy and stroked my fingers across her forehead, checking
her temperature and smoothing a hair that had fallen into her eyes. She
looked miserable and it made me feel miserable to see her like that.

She closed her eyes to my touch and although she didn't say anything, I knew
she liked it and didn't want me to stop. I gently shoved away the case
reports, slipping them back into my carryon, and pushed up the arm rest that
was between us. She kind of fell into my arms, surprise in her eyes, but I
ignored it.

"Mulder?"

I reached across her and slid my hand under her thigh, then tugged her over
to me, surprised myself when she just curled into me and didn't say a word
more. I didn't even think about where my hand was until she shifted slightly
and I felt my fingers against her leg.

I snatched my hand back, ashamed, and rested it on her shoulder, smoothing
her skin beneath the sweatshirt, my fingers dipping below the collar and
pressing into her tight muscles. My back began to ache, just a little, from
sitting sideways in the seat, pressed up against the arm rest on the aisle
side and having my arm awkwardly around her shoulders.

But she just looked so miserable, and it wasn't often that she got so sick,
in fact, I couldn't remember a time when she was sick. At least, not sick
with the flu or something common. She didn't know how to be sick. It was a
little amusing, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Better?" I said.

She sighed and nodded, not trusting her cough to speak.

I let my other hand fall loosely around her waist, running my fingers along
the hem of her sweatshirt and then across the denim of her jeans. Before
we'd left I made her change into comfortable clothes, and I'd done the same
to keep her from feeling awkward. This way, we looked more like a married
couple than FBI partners. I felt strangely pleased with that.

Her hair was in a pony tail and some of the strands had fallen around her
face, so I pushed them back with the hand that was on her shoulder, then
tapped her lips with my fingers. I wanted to make her laugh; I kept poking
her and pushing at her cheek or her eyelid or tugging on her hair.

Finally I felt her smile against my fingers and then she laughed a little,
but had to stop before she coughed again.

She glanced up from where she'd hunkered down against me and smiled softly.

"Thanks, Mulder."

I smiled back and drew my arms tighter around her.

"You know you're going to get sick next," she said softly.

I shrugged. "Then you can mess with me," I promised.

She nodded and closed her eyes, curling into me.
=-=-=

When we got to the luggage carousel, I grabbed both our bags and set them
down beside us. I was actually relieved we'd made it this far because all
while disembarking, Scully kept drifting off, her eyes growing hazy and
she'd sort of forget she had to keep walking.

It made me just a little frightened, but I assumed it was the medicine.

Fishing around in my leather jacket for keys, I glanced over at her.

"Did we bring your car or mine?" I asked.

She glanced to her briefcase and slid her hands through the pockets, her
eyes worried. Then she sighed and held up her keys.

"Mine."

I nodded and grabbed them from her, my eyes silencing her almost-protest. I
grabbed both our duffel bags in my left hand and took hers with my right,
squeezing her fingers.

"Ready?"

She nodded, and I started forward, but my hand was cramping with both our
bags before we reached the escalators and I knew I'd have to switch hands;
my finger hadn't been the same since it'd been broken by those terrorists
for proof of loyalty.

I let go of Scully and took one of the bags in my right hand, feeling a bit
relieved, but when I glanced back at her, she was gone.

"Scully?"

I dropped the bags and glanced around wildly, then saw her struggling
through the crowds of people toward me. I grabbed her hand when she managed
to make it to me and cast a worried look at her.

"I got. . .caught," she explained.

More like she fazed out and forgot to keep up with me.

I sighed and tucked her hand into my back pocket, then picked up the bags
again.

She was staring at me.

"Just hang on, Scully."

I started forward again, this time a bit more slowly, feeling her hot hand
at my back and getting dragged down by her listless walk. It would have been
nice had I not known she was so miserable and so out of it.

The wind was sharp and twisting, coming from just about all directions when
we made it outside. By the time we were in the car garage, she was shivering
and crowding into me for warmth, making me trip over my feet and luggage as
we moved. I didn't see a better way of doing it though and we finally made
it to her car.

I unlocked her door first, pushing her into the passenger seat and easing
her back, trying to keep her warm in the cold wind. The bags I slung into
the backseat and then opened my own door, finding Scully had unlocked it for
me.

I was startled that she was that conscious, but I started the car quickly
and cranked up the heater, suffering through chills as the air pouring out
slowly warmed up. She seemed to wake up at that and roused enough to put on
her seatbelt.

When we were halfway to her house she grabbed my hand and shook her head.

"No, Mulder. Drive to your apartment--I can drive myself home."

I sincerely doubted that, but she was insistent and I figured I could make
her stay if she was bad enough. So I took the next exit and got back on the
interstate heading the opposite direction, towards my own apartment.
=-=-=

She was shivering and her teeth were chattering when I finally got us
hustled into my apartment building. She kept insisting that she could drive
herself home but I wasn't about to let her leave. And so she gave in. Faster
than I expected.

I unlocked my apartment and shoved open the door, pushing her through.

"Go lay down in my bed, Scully."

She glanced over at me, throwing me one of the sauciest looks I'd seen on
her face in a long time, but she shook her head and sat down on the couch.

"I'll be leaving in a little bit, Mulder."

I shrugged, ignoring her, and set the suitcases in the hall as I made my way
to the kitchen. My supply of medicine was well stocked, since I usually
didn't take all of the antibiotics or pain killers I was given, despite the
many warnings by Scully.

Supposedly you could get the same disease worse by not finishing your
medicine, but I never paid attention to that much. I felt better, I stopped
taking medicine. But now that meant I had some powerful stuff stored in my
kitchen cabinet, so I took it all out and brought it back to the living
room.

"What kind of stuff do you need, Scully? It's been four hours since you had
that cough stuff."

I glanced up from the bottles in my arms to see she had closed her eyes and
settled her head against the arm of my couch. Quietly, I spilled the bottles
onto the coffee table in front of her, then sat down in the space she'd
left. 

"Scully?"

Her eyes flickered open and she glanced back to me, pulling herself back
into a sitting position.

"Scully, which one do you want to take?"

She looked at the bottles and laughed, which made her start coughing again,
so hard that she was closing her eyes and curled in on herself. I pulled her
to me and held her tightly until the fit stopped, then stroked her hair back
from her face as she lay there.

"Anything," she whispered.

I grinned. "No. Pick something. I don't know what's good."

"Got Comtrex?"

He frowned. "Is that prescription?"

"No. Cold, allergy medicine."

"Um, maybe. Let me check."

She pulled back from me and I realized just how hot she was with her gone
from my skin. The air of my apartment was like the freezing wind blowing
outside, and I touched her forehead as I stood.

"I'll bring some Tylenol, too."

She nodded as I gathered up all my half empty prescriptions, and then I
walked back into the kitchen, looking for Comtrex.
=-=-=

She yawned again and her eyes slipped close, but then she was struggling and
waking back up again. She wiggled on the couch, getting into a better
position and fighting off sleep. The television was showing one of the Die
Hards, but I couldn't pinpoint which one. It was the airport one, though.
Maybe that was Die Hard 2.

"You're worse than a baby, Scully."

"What do you mean?" she said.

"When Samantha was really little, she used to cry and whimper and move
around, all to keep from falling asleep. Mom would set her down and she'd
cry. Or I'd be pushing her in the swing and she'd start to fall asleep, then
she'd cry and wiggle around. It's exactly what you're doing. Stubborn-"

She elbowed me and wrinkled her nose, making me grin back at her.

"You pushed your sister in her swing?" she said, smiling now too. She
coughed a little then shook her head.

"Yup. When I turned five, that is."

She smiled again and I held out my arms, offering to let her stretch out. I
was surprised when she came willingly, and I leaned us both back into the
couch, letting my legs slide under hers. She was wedged between the couch
and my chest, but when I moved to give her room she laid her head on my
chest and stopped me.

"Feel any better after that stuff?" I asked.

She nodded. "It makes me sleepy."

"I noticed."

The movie flashed back from commercial and she was silent for a long time,
so I watched as Bruce Willis took out some guy on the baggage conveyor belt,
rather nastily, and forgot that she was trying to not fall asleep.

When the commercials came back on, I glanced down at her and saw her eyes
were closed.

"Scully?"

She had her mouth open slightly and I knew she'd drool, but it just made me
smile. I ran my hand down her shoulder and then to her arm, letting my other
hand drop the remote to the couch cushions. I tucked her tightly against me
and kissed her forehead, content to let her sleep.

After a few minutes of flickering darkness and the sound of her breathing
loud against the commercials, I turned back to the television and watched
the movie. I was far from tired and I wanted to stay awake as long as I
could, feeling her against me.
=-=-=

I woke to a crick in my neck and a fuzzy taste on my lips. My eyes opened a
crack and sunshine was filtering through the window and a haze of red was
making my vision seem golden. I realized that the red halo and fuzzy taste
was her hair covering my face.

I brushed it away and saw that she had turned her head into the couch and
one arm was slung around my chest, the other curled under her chin.

I fumbled with my watch--six o'clock in the morning, so I let her sleep.

The TV was still playing and I clicked it off, then set the remote on the
coffee table near the box of Comtrex and the bottle of Tylenol and the glass
of stale water. Scully's weight was only half resting on me but my neck was
sore and tight, so I carefully moved down the couch so that my head wasn't
propped against the arm rest anymore.

She let out a long sigh, but her eyes remained shut and her body relaxed. I
stroked her hair and let my palm rest against her back, splaying my fingers
out. Almost unconsciously, I massaged her neck with my other hand, working
the muscles and brushing aside her hair.

She sighed again and I realized she was awake.

"No, don't stop," she said and I carefully let my fingers continue.

"Good morning," I said. "How do you feel?"

"Mm. . .not so hot."

I laughed silently. "Actually, you do feel hot. How about more Tylenol?"

She groaned, but ended up coughing and I could feel her body shaking against
mine.

I stroked her back until she stopped and then kissed her forehead again.

"Thank you, Mulder," she sighed.

"No problem," I replied and I had to hate how much I liked having her there,
in my arms.

Waking up to her.

"This is nice," she mumbled.

"Uh-huh."

Even as she fell back asleep, I knew it wouldn't last. Either my back would
start complaining and I'd have to get up, or she'd wake up later feeling
better and feeling embarrassed. She liked her privacy and I was intruding, I
was taking away her control and she never could stand for that.

But it was nice, this little moment of feeling warm and needed.

It was enough.
=-=-=-=

end
adios
RM