From: "Mecedes DiNunzio" Date: Tue, 13 Jul 1999 11:46:28 -0400 Subject: Sick Again ******************************49-99 = 50!******************************** TITLE - Sick Again AUTHOR - Ski email - Snow@edmail.com DISCLAIMER - Alas, Neither Mulder nor Scully are mine. (If they were would I be here? I think not! I would be lying on the sand with cool tropical breezes caressing my brow.) I'm sad to say they belong to that surfer dude who is himself lying on the sand and to that production company of his, 6-12 or is it 7-11?(6 of 1, half a dozen of the other.) Ah, well some goofy numbers like that. Math never was my strong suit. RATING - Duh, I don't know. PG I guess. There is some naked Mulder bottom SUMMARY - Mulder is sick again. Scully comes to the rescue and brings him to the hospital. Boy, did he get himself a cold this time. He never remembered blowing his nose quite as much. He'd used up a whole box of tissues in just two days. It was a good thing that it was a long weekend he thought. It gave him lots of time to stay in the apartment and rest without anyone around. He hated being sick, but what he hated more was people questioning him about how he was and offering advice. He knew they were just trying to be nice but when he was ill what he most longed for was privacy. Trying to sleep was the worst part of the cold. He just could not get comfortable. His sinuses were congested. When he lay down on his side he could feel the mucus flow from one sinus to the other. If he lay down on his back the mucus would slide into his throat and make him gag. He tried to get settled with his head facing down but the pressure of the weight of his head caused too much pain on his sinuses. No matter what he did, he couldn't breathe right. He knew lots of people who could sleep sitting up and he would give a whole week's pay if he could but, he couldn't. He decided to get dressed and go down to the local drug store to see what over the counter medicine he could find. When he got there a whole row of cold medications beckoned him. There were so many choices that he was at a loss to decide. He picked up one, it indicated that it would relieve nasal pressure with a new and improved decongestant. "Beginner's luck," he thought. He grabbed some cough drops and headed towards the counter. Then he remembered the used up box of tissues and went back to get another one. The clerk rang up and bagged his items and he was back in his apartment in less than 15 minutes. He swallowed the cold pills, popped a cough drop into his mouth and settled down on the couch. With the remote control, he turned on the TV and started channel surfing. He found an old science fiction movies staring a very young Ramond Massey. What more could he ask for? He'd watched no more than a few minutes before he doze off. The phone woke him. "Hello," he grumbled into the receiver. "Mulder? Is that you?" questioned the voice on the phone. It was Scully, his partner. "Yes, it's me," he added a little more clearly but, it was obvious in his tone that he was definitely not himself. "I was watching a movie and I guess I fell asleep." As he spoke, his voice cracked as if he had the beginnings of laryngitis. "Oh. I'm sorry I woke you. I know it's late but I just wanted to know if you had a chance to look over the report that I left on your desk this morning. I didn't get to talk to you before I went to make arrangements for the autopsy at the morgue. It's due to Skinner's office next week. I just wanted you to look it over to see if I left anything out." She knew the report was complete but she wanted to give Mulder the opportunity to review it and to add any details he felt were important. "The report? Uh, no, I ,uh actually, I think I left it on my desk. I was in a hurry to get home and I guess I forgot it. I'm sorry Scully. If you really want though, I can go in tomorrow morning and give you a call after I look it over," he added in a low tone. What he really wanted to do the next day was nothing, just stay home in the apartment and try to shake the cold that was quickly becoming worse. He felt guilty about forgetting the report though. By rights both he and Scully were responsible for field reports but it always seemed that Scully was the one stuck with the despised task. He absolutely hated the tedium of all the paperwork required whenever they were finished with a case. Since she had done the whole thing herself as usual, the least he could do was read it over. Scully was torn. She wasn't really concerned about the report but she did want to give him a chance to look it over before she handed it over to Skinner. She could easily go into the office and pick it up and take it over to him but it was obvious that Mulder was not well and she didn't want to pressure him. After hearing Mulder's voice on the phone, Scully decided she wanted to check in on him. She knew he'd be alone all weekend and he didn't sound good. If she went in to get the file she could save him the trouble and she would also have an excuse to stop by his apartment. "No, no," she scoffed. "You sound tired and I can get it and bring it over. I don't have anything planned for tomorrow. I'll just pick it up in the morning and bring it by." Mulder knew immediately what Scully had in her mind but under the circumstances he decided to go along with her. "Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow." He surprised her by adding, "And Scully, I don't suppose you could bring over a little chicken soup with that file, could you?" Although she suspected that Mulder would know that she had ulterior motives, she never expected him to read her intentions so clearly. "I'm sure that could be arranged. Mulder, I know you've got a cold and you don't feel the best but I really want to get this done and off my chest. Do you need anything else? I could stop at a pharmacy and pick up something that might help you feel better." "No thanks," croaked Mulder. "As a matter of fact, I just got back from there before I fell asleep" "Okay then, I'll see you sometime tomorrow. Try to get some sleep." Yeah, right, he thought to himself and hung up. He thought he'd felt bad earlier but now he was worse. Not only were his nose and sinuses stuffed up, but his throat decided to join in to cause him more grief and his head, not willing to be left out, started pounding on its own. He never read the directions on the package of pills and just took more and more thinking that if one or two would help just think what three or four would do. He also swallowed a few aspirins to stop the headache but just succeeded to add to his discomfort because the cold medication had aspirin in it too which caused an overdose and started his ears buzzing. He tossed and turned for hours. He couldn't remember ever being this miserable with just a cold. As dawn approached, he fell into a fitful sleep which lasted about two and half-hours. After he woke up he stayed on the couch for another half-hour but when he couldn't fall back to sleep he gave in and got up. His throat was no longer just sore, it was on fire. His ears had stopped buzzing from the aspirins but now they were clogged and they talked to him every time he swallowed. His whole body ached and he felt hot. He had a fever and he knew his temperature was high. He resigned himself to the fact that what he had was more than a spring cold. "Damn!" Scully went into the office the next morning and retrieved the file she wanted Mulder to examine. She glanced around the office. Mulder was no ordinary agent. You could tell that just by looking at the things he kept. There was a poster on the wall with a picture of a UFO and the words, "I Want To Believe." Right next to it were meticulous lists of names, dates and places. Scientific studies were nestled between copies of tabloid magazines with headlines so bazaar that even young children could see the absurdity of them. He had replicas of ancient writings next to drawings done by monkeys and apes. He had a whole collection of old Mad magazines. He also had the most impressive collection of paranormal books outside the Library of Congress. She gathered up the files and left the office. Then she stopped for lunch and picked up and order of chicken soup to take to Mulder. She also got a carton of orange juice and some vanilla ice cream, comfort food for the sick. She put the things into her car and started for his apartment. His apartment was on the second floor, number 42. She rang the doorbell even though she had a key, and waited for him to answer. She heard him inside the apartment. He opened the door and Scully's eyes widened when she saw him. She couldn't believe the sight in front of her. He looked positively terrible. His eyes looked like they had sunken into his head and there were huge dark circles under them. His nose was red and his hair was totally disheveled. He was dressed in sweat pants and a tee shirt that had obviously been slept in and that had seen better days. When he spoke he did so in a whisper and then he started coughing in the middle of what he was trying to say. If she hadn't seen him herself she wouldn't believe anyone could look so bad so quickly. She had seen him in the office only yesterday morning. She admitted to herself that he had looked a bit tired but the deterioration was so rapid and so intense as to be baffling. She followed Mulder into the living room where he'd obviously had been camped out. The trashcan was overflowing with used tissues and the empty box of cold medication lay on the floor next to it. The suit he'd worn to work on Friday was draped across the chair and on to the floor. Mulder was careful about his clothes and this careless abandon said volumes about his present state. There were half empty glasses of water and souring milk standing on almost every horizontal piece of furniture in the room. Mulder seemed totally unaware of the condition of his apartment. After Scully surveyed the disarray she studied Mulder closely. There was no doubt that the man was sick, very sick. She opened up the container of soup, got him a spoon and put it on the coffee table in front of him. He smiled weakly, took the spoon and began to eat. After about five or six spoonfuls he looked up at her and indicated that he'd had enough. She offered him the orange juice but he turned that down. His throat was killing him. She got him the ice cream which he thankfully swallowed. The coldness felt soothing to his throat. He asked about the file but she told him that it could wait awhile. To herself she said it would have to wait a long while. When he finished his ice cream she forced him to get into his bed. "The couch is no place for someone as sick as you are. You need rest and lots of it." He shuffled into the bedroom. She had to hold onto him so that he wouldn't fall because he was very unsure on his feet. Then he settled into his bed. Although he'd told himself that he didn't like anyone around him when he felt like this, he was very grateful that Scully was there. No sooner had he gotten into bed than he started coughing again. Scully went into the other room and returned with his box of tissues. He coughed up some phlegm into the tissue. Scully could see the blood red color of the contents. She pretended that she didn't notice and Mulder quickly dropped it into a basket that was next to the bed. She felt his burning forehead and went into the bathroom to get a wet washrag for it. "Listen Mulder, I left something in my car. I'm going downstairs but I'll be right back. I'll let myself back in." Murder merely shrugged indicating that he heard her. She went down to her car, opened the trunk and got her seldomly used medical bag. Although she was an MD she was a pathologist and most of the examinations she did were on corpses. She wanted to get Mulder to his own doctor but this being a holiday weekend at that she doubted she could reach him. Besides, she said to herself, what other doctor would make a house call? She went back upstairs and let herself into the apartment. When he saw her walk back into the bedroom with the bag, he knew immediately what her plan was and he protested by sliding down beneath the covers. "What do you think you're going to do?" he croaked. "What do you think?" she retorted. She walked over to the bed and sat next to him. She uncovered his face. He resigned himself to the fact that right now she was the only one who could help him so he let her continue. She took out a thermometer and said' "Here, put this under your tongue." To herself she added, Like a good little boy.' He did as she was asked. Then she felt his wrist and took his pulse. She then watched his breathing and mentally calculated his respiration rate. After a few minutes she removed the thermometer. It registered an alarming 103.6 degrees. "Well doctor?" he questioned softly. "Do you think I'm going to live?" "Yes, you're going to live, if I have anything to do with it!" She reached into her bag and took out a small flashlight and a tongue depressor. "Open wide and say ah." Mulder obediently replied, "Ahhhhhh." But then he gagged and began coughing again. "Sorry Scully," he whispered. Next she examined his ears. The were obviously infected as was his throat. Lastly she took out her stethoscope. She asked him to sit up so that she could listen to his lungs. She didn't like what she heard. Again she was at a loss as to how he could have gotten so sick so quickly. "How long have you been feeling badly?" she asked him. He didn't answer right away and she thought that perhaps he hadn't heard her. She started to ask again and he waved his hand to indicate that he didn't want to answer her. Finally he said, "I don't know." She lost her temper. "What do mean you don't know? It's a simple question. How long haven't you been feeling well? I know that yesterday you looked a little peaked but how long before that have you been ill?" He paused, "Maybe a week, or so." "A week OR SO! What does or so' mean?" she snapped. "Maybe two weeks." "But Mulder," she added, "You've been in the office or out in the field everyday. I know I've been spending a lot of time doing autopsies and coroners reports and I haven't been around as much but you never said anything." She realized how silly that sounded. Of course he wouldn't say anything. If he were sick he would hide it from her for as long as he could. He never wanted to burden her with his problems, especially since her bout with cancer. She added, " As a matter of fact if I remember correctly you drove up to Connecticut for a couple of days last week. Were you sick then?" "Well," he confessed, "I never went to Connecticut. I have a buddy in the local police force and he copied the file for me and faxed it on a secured line. I read it over right here. I just wasn't up to that drive." "You what! If Skinner ever found out you'd be under suspension. Those files were strictly confidential." "I know. I destroyed the faxes after I went over them. There was nothing really important in them. It was strictly a routine case. Skinner just wanted me to handle it because it involved a prominent politician up there." She digested what she had just heard. Maybe it wasn't so strange that he was in such poor shape after all. If she knew him, and she thought that she did, he probably had been ill for almost two weeks and most certainly for one. He wouldn't tell anyone. No one would ask him. She hadn't noticed anything the few times she saw him recently. Okay, she told herself, that makes more sense. But now she was confronted with making a decision as to what the next course of action should be. Regardless of whatever she considered, Mulder would most certainly resist. She was sure he would be content if she would give him some antibiotics and leave. She began to think that was probably exactly what he'd expect her to do. No wonder he didn't protest so much when she offered to bring over the file herself. She wondered if he actually left the file on his desk on purpose so that she would have to come over. Chicken soup, ha! And she fell for it. She could have kicked herself if he hadn't been so sick. He would have been right too. He obviously needed something stronger than anything that he could get over the counter. He also needed someone to take care of him. He certainty couldn't take care of himself. He could not be relied upon to take prescribed medications. She knew that from both past experiences with him and from seeing the empty box of over the counter meds on the living room floor. He had told her he'd bought them yesterday and already he had consumed all that were packaged. He could barely talk and when he walked into the bedroom she had to help him. 103.6 temperature! She could stay with him. Try to sleep on the couch but that was not a good idea. Even though she was an MD she had no practice and it would be difficult for her to obtain the needed antibiotics. He also needed an IV because the fever had dehydrated him. He needed more than she could give him. She knew what she needed to do but she was reluctant to even suggest it to him. He needed to be in a hospital. "Well Scully what do you think?" He hoped he could talk her into giving hem something that would finally make him feel better. She was a doctor after all and so he thought she could get something with a prescription that would be stronger than the over the counter stuff he'd been taking. Maybe something that would end his infernal coughing. He hoped that she would have something in her bag that she could give him that would put him to sleep or that would really cure him quickly. What he didn't expect however was what she said next. "Mulder, you need to be in a hospital." That was all she said. She could think of lots of arguments and reasons, but she knew how he could talk his way out of almost anything if given half the chance. She gave him nothing to discuss. There was no alternative in her eyes. It was pure and simple. He was totally taken off guard. He never expected to hear her say that. He began to wonder why he had agreed to let her come over in the first place. He should have known better than to confide in anyone even Scully. He shook his head, sat up as tall as he could in the bed, looked her straight in the eyes and said, "NO!" With just as much determination as he showed, she countered, "Yes!" He slid down a little. He didn't want to argue with her. He didn't want to talk to her at all. He felt awful and he wanted her to leave. He wanted to go to sleep and forget that he was sick. He slipped all the way down onto the pillow and closed his eyes. He turned his head to face the other way. So far as he was concerned the subject was over. She was determined that it wasn't over. It wouldn't be until she saw him safety tucked into a hospital bed. She decided to blackmail him, "So, you say you never did go to Connecticut last week? That should be really easy to prove. I'm sure Skinner would love to know about that." She felt terribly guilty using what he had told her in confidence. She thought to herself that if he wasn't so sick she would never even consider it but under the circumstances she had no other choice. She realized that she could be destroying any possibility of him ever trusting her again. She was jeopardizing their partnership and even more importantly, she was risking their friendship. She reasoned however that his health, and possibly his life, was more important. He opened his eyes. He looked long and hard into hers. At first he was angry, very angry and hurt too. He felt betrayed. But as he studied her face he began to understand why she had threatened him. Finally he resigned himself to the inevitable. "Okay," he whispered, "I guess you're right." She was stunned he gave up so easily. She momentarily thought that he was just humoring her so that she would drop her guard and then he would change his mind and counter with some unforeseen excuse. But he didn't and then she really started to worry. For him to give up without a fight was so unlike him. She told herself she knew what needed to be done, but she had to decide how. Her instincts told her to call for an ambulance and he'd be safely whisked away in no time. But she knew that Mulder would prefer to have Scully drive him in without all that commotion. She also wanted to call his doctor and let him know what was happening so that he would check in on Mulder as soon as possible. She asked Mulder for his address book, found it on his desk and dialed the number for the doctor's office from the phone on his desk in the living room. As she suspected the answering service was taking all the doctor's messages. Scully gave Mulder's number to the service operator who promised the doctor would call her right away. Sully hung up and while she waited for the doctor ring her back, she looked around the apartment for some things that Mulder would want with him. She returned to the bedroom to ask him but he had fallen asleep. She gathered some items for him, his glasses, a pair of pajamas, not an easy thing to locate, his toothbrush and toothpaste and a couple of magazines that were in a pile of mail on the hallway table. She found a bag and put the things into it just as the phone rang. "Hello, Doctor Sullivan?" she answered. "Yes, what seems to be the problem?" he asked. Scully explained everything including what she had discovered upon examining Mulder. The doctor agreed with Scullly's recommendation and indicated that he would contact the hospital immediately. He told her that he would call ahead to make the arrangements. Scully roused Mulder from his sleep. She was thankful that he was dressed in sweats and that all she had to do was round up some shoes and socks and grabs a jacket for him. She helped him get ready then she grabbed the bag and headed him out the door. When they got to her car she threw the bag into the back seat and helped him get in. She started up the car and although she felt the need to get there as quickly as possible she managed to drive within the speed limits. When they arrived Mulder was incoherent. She took him straight to the ER room realizing she couldn't get him to the admissions office without help. She pulled up to the ambulance bays, jumped out of the car, grabbed a wheelchair and called to a nearby orderly for assistance. Together they got Mulder out of the car and into the wheelchair. Even in his present state he managed to complain insisting he could walk. The orderly and Scully exchanged knowing glances. "You stay right where you are," the orderly commanded and they wheeled him up to the desk. The nurse in charge took in the sight before her. She directed all her questions to Scully. "What do we have here?" "He has a fever of 103.6. His pulse is weak. He's been sick for a few days and I believe he has pneumonia. I called his family physician, Dr. Sullivan about 20 minutes ago and was directed to bring him here." "What's his name?' "Mulder, Fox Mulder." "Has he ever been a patient here before?" Scully immediately answered, "Yes, several times." The nurse typed the information into the computer, which quickly displayed Mulder's name followed by an extensive list of dates and diagnosis. The nurse muttered, "Oh my." In a louder tone she stated, "I'll say he's been here before." The nurse hit some buttons on the keyboard and a hospital bracelet ejected from a small machine next to it. The nurse pulled it out and expertly attached it to Mulder's wrist. She then directed the orderly to wheel him to one of the exam rooms. "Come on Mulder. Time to get up. You need to get on the gurney." Mulder looked from Scully to the orderly to the gurney. He hated ER rooms. He hated everything about them. The look, the smell, the memories they brought up. He hated the hospital gowns, which never seemed big enough to cover everything he wanted covered. He hated the sight of the instruments many, which he didn't dare, think of what they were used for and worse the many more that he did know what they were used for. The gurneys were always too high and too narrow. They were usually cold which was especially disconcerting because he always was stripped of his clothing being left with the flimsy gowns that he despised. There never seemed to be any concern for modesty. Doctors and nurses and orderlies and even clerks were constantly waltzing into the exam area to ask questions, check on his vitals or fill out forms. Inevediatable they would need a urine sample and think nothing of handing him a urinal and expect him to fill it while they were standing there. Sometimes ER rooms would be extra busy because of an accident and he would be left out in the hallway without any privacy at all. It seemed anyone and everyone would pass by him and stare. But at least, as usual, he had Scully was there. She was always sensitive to his needs and tried to make it easier on him. He stood up on shaky legs and with some help managed to get up on the gurney, which served as an exam table. The effort caused him to break out into a sweat and he began coughing again. Scully could hear the sound of mucus in his chest every time he let out a cough. Without warning he began to gag and cough up some of the green mucus. A nurse entered the exam area and quickly grabbed an emesis bowl and handed it to him. He continued hacking for several minutes intermittently coughing up the foul substance. Scully stood by with her hand on his back trying to help support him as the coughs racked his body. Finally his hacking subsided. "That was fun," he replied to no one in particular. Scully tried to comfort him, "It'll be better soon Mulder. Once you get some meds into you the infection will stop and you won't feel so bad." Mulder knew she was right but he was living in the here and now and he couldn't see that far ahead. The nurse helped him remove his shirt. She took his temperature, blood pressure, respiration rate and pulse. After marking it down on his chart she excused herself explaining the doctor would be in momentarily. As if on cue a tall man with bright red hair came in. Although both he and Scully could both be called redheads the colors were as different as night and day. The doctor's shade was almost comical. Coupled with an overabundance of freckles he almost gave the impression of being a clown. Scully said to herself if his name turned out to be Ronald she would not be able to contain herself. "Hi, I'm Doctor Parker," he said as he introduced himself. "I understand you're not feeling so well today. What seems to be the problem?" Mulder began to explain but his throat was so scratchy that his voice could hardly be heard. Scully jumped in. "I'm his partner I stopped by his place this morning to go over a report and found him like this. He's has a sore throat, his ears seem to be infected and his lungs are congested. He had a fever of 103.6 less than and hour ago and just a few minutes ago when we arrived he was incoherent. I believe he is dehydrated and I'm sure you'll find he is suffering from pneumonia. I called his regular doctor and he directed us here." "I see." He turned to Mulder, "Is that correct?" Mulder nodded but the motion made him dizzy and he reached out for support. "A bit dizzy too I see. Okay let's have a closer look at you." The doctor examined Mulder. He hummed and hawed and grunted and shook his head. He ordered and extensive round of tests. "It's a good thing your partner here brought you in. I don't think you realize how sick you are Mr. Mulder." Mulder just stared. He knew the doctor was right but he was still upset with Scully for the way she tricked him. "The first thing I want is a chest x-ray." The doctor turned to Scully, " I agree with your diagnosis of pneumonia." Then to Mulder, " I'll need a picture of your lungs. Let's see how bad it is." The nurse came back in with a wheelchair and the dreaded hospital gown. She helped him into it and then took him to the radiology department. Scully stayed behind to fill out the paperwork. After all the necessary pictures were taken Mulder was returned to the exam area in the emergency room. "Hey Mulder, that didn't take long. How're you doing?" "Just fine," he remarked. He never liked hospitals and he certainty wasn't turning over a new leaf now. He realized that he needed to be admitted but knowing that didn't make him any happier about the situation. It was obvious that Mulder was wiped out. The nurse helped him back up to the gurney and took the wheelchair away. Seconds later Dr. Parker came back in and explained that since Mulder was going to be admitted the rest of the blood work and other tests could be completed after he was settled, in however he ordered an IV with an antibiotic drip. Mulder groaned. He hated needles especially IV's, which were nothing, but a needle that was permanently affixed to his arm. The worst kind of needle. He was assigned to the third floor, room 311. After the IV was in place an orderly came in and Mulder was taken to his room on the gurney. Scully grabbed his hand as he was wheeled down the hall and into the elevator. She tried to comfort him but his eyes were closed and he was almost asleep. When they got to his room Scully unpacked the few things she'd grabbed for him. After he got into bed the floor nurse checked all his vital signs and marked them down on his chart. She made sure the IV was flowing properly set up a nasal cannula and then left. Scully took a seat next to the bed and watched him. When he was pursuing a suspect or hot on the trail of an x-file he seemed to be indestructible. He would work hour after hour unrelentlessly. When he was like that she couldn't keep up with him. She always thought that he had some kind of superhuman strength that he could tap into whenever he became possessed by a case. But when he was sick or injured, which unfortunately happened often, he reminded her of a small child, a vulnerable helpless waif. That's how he looked to her now. His hair was mused, his face was flushed with fever. He looked lost lying in the bed with the IV tube and the nasal oxygen. The hospital gown was tied loosely around his neck, which gave the impression that it was much too large for him. His eyes were closed now but when they were opened they had the glazed over look that a fever can bring. She felt so protective of him when he was down. She felt like she was the only person who cared about him, the only one who was concerned about his well being. Sure, his mom was still alive but she never was the motherly type. She was cold and distant towards her only remaining child. Scully couldn't understand her attitude. She herself was raised in a warm loving family with laughter and joy. There were special times with her sister and with her two brothers. She idolized her dad and was so close to her mother that Scully often thought of her as another sister. Her family was the exact opposite of the Mulder's. Granted Mulder's sister had been abducted when she was only 8 and he was 12 and she was sure it put a terrible strain on the family. She couldn't help think though that if it had happened to her family the tragedy would have brought the Scully's closer together. They would have drawn upon each other for strength and not for blame as the Mulder's had. Scully got lost in her thoughts and didn't notice when Dr. Sullivan walked into the room. He cleared his throat which broke the spell and Scully looked up. Her eyes were filled with unfallen tears, when she looked up one lone tear fell. She embarrassedly wiped at it with the back of her hand and made a quiet apology. He introduced himself to her. "I'm Dr. Sullivan. You must be Dr. Scully. I believe we spoke earlier today. " She nodded, extended her hand and confirmed his statement,"Yes, I'm his partner but I'm a doctor too. Unfortunately being a doctor comes in handy too many times with Mulder as a partner. I called you this morning from his apartment. Thank you so much for your help. I knew he needed close medical care and I wanted to make sure that you would be in charge." She felt like she was babbling but she wasn't able to control herself. "How's he doing now?" he asked her. "Well, he's sleeping. He has been for about an hour. I think the trip here, the exam in the ER and the x-ray's wore him out. I don't think he's been sleeping too well at home and he just conked out." Dr. Sullivan called out his name and Mulder stirred. He slowly opened his eyes. They were unfocused at first but soon he recognized Scully. She was holding his hand again and softly rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. "Your doctor's here Mulder. He'd like to look you over." Mulder turned his head towards the doctor and gave him a small nod in greeting. "Hi," he croaked. Scully excused herself to give Mulder some privacy. "I think I'll go get a cup of coffee. I'll be back in a bit," she spoke directly to Mulder and said, "You be a good boy now." Mulder chuckled at the joke and Scully left them alone. "Well Mulder," the doctor started, "I see you've got yourself a nasty bug here. Your temperature's up, your pulse is down and your respiration rate is soaring. Your x-rays show that 50% of your lungs are filled with mucus. Your ears are infected and after a throat culture I'm sure I'll find you have strep. How did you manage to run yourself down like this?" Mulder just shrugged his shoulders. He began to explain that it was just a fluke but when he began talking he started coughing uncontrollably. Again he began to heave phlegm. The doctor handed him an emesis bowl and Mulder threw up into it. "God, I hate it when that happens," "he wheezed. The doctor took the container from him and handed him a glass of water. "Here, take a drink of this. I'll give you something for that cough. You're already on antibiotics and I'm going to prescribe a sedative. I want you to get as much sleep as you can." Mulder normally protested taking anything that made him groggy but, at this point he didn't care. "The lab tech should be in soon. He'll need a blood and a urine sample and as I said I want a throat culture done. You just rest and I'll be back to see you tomorrow." Mulder was afraid to start another coughing fit so he just grunted his acceptance. Scully had returned and was waiting outside Mulder's room. When the doctor came out she questioned him at length. Finally, satisfied with all the answers he gave her she thanked him and turned into the room. When she looked at Mulder she could see that he was exhausted and though she normally wouldn't leave his side when he was hospitalized, she decided to go home. She wanted to retrieve the report she'd left at Mulder's apartment and she also had some calls she wanted to make. She would return later in the day to check up on him. When she walked out, Mulder was asleep. A few hours later the nurse came in and took his vital signs again. She checked on both the oxygen tube and the IV. She registered the information on his chart then she gave him two sleeping pills. He swallowed them obediently, a first for him. Although he had complained about being brought to the hospital and had insisted that Scully had overreacted, he knew that she was right. He still felt awful physically but mentally he felt much better. It seemed like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt like he could finally relax. He knew that he would be able to sleep again if for no other reason than the two little pills he had just taken. He didn't wake when Scully returned so she let him be. He slept fitfully but he slept throughout the night. He barely remembered the night nurse coming in to check on him. The next morning he woke up felling more rested but he didn't really feel any better. His vital signs showed only slight improvement. His temperature was still dangerously high though not as high as it had been. His pulse was weak and his lungs were so congested that standing next to hem you could hear the gurgling sounds they produced whenever he inhaled. The nurse gave him his morning meds, replaced the IV and then brought in his breakfast tray. He looked it over and found nothing on it that appealed to him. He drank the orange juice and simple poked at the rest of the meal. As he lay in the bed his mind wandered without focus. His chest hurt. His throat hurt. His ears were buzzing again and he felt so very weak. Just sitting up for breakfast wore him out. But the worst part was that Scully wasn't there. He knew he was being selfish. She had been there for him yesterday and she deserved some time to herself. It wasn't like she could really do anything for him that the nurses weren't already doing. But still he missed her. He wanted her. He needed her. He began to feel sorry for himself. He felt so alone. He knew in his heart that he loved Scully but he couldn't get the message to travel from his heart to his brain. Sometimes it almost came out. Once, after his caper in the Bermuda triangle he actually told Scully that he loved her but he had been suffering from a concussion and Scully didn't believe him. "Oh brother!" How many times had he replayed those two little words in his head? "Oh brother!" Now what was that supposed to mean? "Oh brother, Oh brother, Oh brother, Oh brother!" He could still hear the tone of her voice when she said it. He fell asleep again with those two words bouncing around and around in his head. Before long, Dr. Sullivan came in to see Mulder. He had been dreaming and when Dr. Sullivan called out to him he thought that he was back in the hospital in Bermuda. He was sure that Scully and the gang would be there next to his bed. When he opened his eyes he looked about in confusion. He saw that he was in a hospital but it was a different hospital. Scully wasn't there, neither were the guys. Slowly he realized where he was and he let out a deep sigh of longing. "Well Mr. Mulder, you don't sound as if you feel much better. A little melancholy? " Mulder found his voice, "Yeah, I suppose so. This is not exactly party central." "Ah, but your voice is better. How about your throat? Still feel like fire in there?" "Well, yeah I think so. Maybe not as bad as it was but it's still sore." "I'm not surprised. The throat culture came back positive. Let me have a look." The doctor took a tongue depressor and a small flashlight out of his pocket. "Say ahhhh." Mulder complied but this time without the gagging reflex. "Yes, it's still mighty nasty in there but after a few days on the antibiotic you'll be feeling yourself. Let's take a look at those ears now." Mulder turned his head first to one side and then to the other. "Actually they already look better than yesterday. Good, good. Now let me listen to your lungs." He adjusted the stethoscope and listened first to Mulder's chest and then at his back. "Hummmm, still sounds pretty congested in there. It'll be awhile before that clears up. I'm going to start you on an oral expectorant. Try to cough up as much as you can. You need to get rid of that mucus as best you can. The antibiotics will break it up and most of it will end up in your stomach and then out but every little bit you can expel will certainly help. And sleep. Sleep or rest is the best thing for you. I want you to stay in bed lying down as much as possible. No little strolls around the corridor and don't get up for anything except nature calls. Understand?" Mulder didn't like what her heard but he agreed. He doubted he would be able to anyway, at least not yet. He was most grateful to be allowed bathroom privileges and at this point didn't want to jeopardize that freedom by being contrary. Tomorrow however was another story. He couldn't believe it but he fell asleep again, and this time without the aid of sleeping pills. Just before noon he awoke. The sound of clanging lunch trays woke him. As soon as the nurse did her required duties and removed the IV from his arm Mulder decided it was time to visit the men's room. He pushed off the covers and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He put out his hands to steady himself before getting up and them pushed himself up to a standing position. "So far so good." He made his way to the bathroom by holding onto the bed and then guiding his hand along the wall for support. He was glad that no one was in the room to watch his little performance because as he walked he felt the breeze across his back and bottom. Hospital gowns have never been intended to be used for the purpose of modesty. If anyone had been watching him they would have had quite a show. Finally he reached the door, pushed it open and made his way to the toilet. After relieving himself, he prepared himself for the return trip. When he opened the door he saw that his lunch tray had been brought in and placed on his bedside table. He noted that he actually felt a little hungry. "Guess I'm getting better," he commented to himself. At that very moment Scully walked in. "Mulder, what are you doing out of bed? You shouldn't be up. Look at you, you can hardly stand. Did the doctor tell you that you could be out of bed?" Mulder didn't know whether he was happy to see Scully or angry because she was grilling him. He'd missed her so much he could barely stand it and now he felt annoyed by her comments. He was also a tad embarrassed because of his current state of dress. He kept his back to the wall as he continued on his journey to the safety of his bed and the security of his covers. Not realizing the predicament Mulder was in, Scully immediately went over to help him return to the bed. Mulder quickly let go of the wall so that he could secure the flaps of his gown when he saw that she was coming towards him and he lost his balance. Scully saw him tottering and grabbed him before he fell to the floor. He let go of the gown and held onto her arms until he felt steady again. The gown got caught in his hand as he reached forward and before Mulder knew it not only was his backside showing but his front side was exposed too. Scully saw everything and Mulder immediately blushed a bright red. Although Scully was a doctor and in fact had seen Mulder in his altogether before, she too turned crimson red. She managed to free the gown from Mulder's hand, return his modesty to him and then to get him settled back into the bed. He instantly grabbed the covers and pulled them up to his chest. "Mulder, I'm so sorry. I was afraid you were going to fall. I just wanted to help you." "I know, I know it's just so, so, embarrassing. And besides," he added, "I'm jealous. When will it be my turn to, um, uh help you out." With this he gave her his best puppy dog look. "Don't go there Mulder!" Then she added with a look of playfulness, "Not unless you're really ready to go there." Because of his somewhat dazed state he wasn't exactly sure what had just transpired between them but, he felt that it was another, "Oh brother," moment only this time it was his turn to say the dreaded exclamation. For a brief second he questioned himself but then he quickly add his own version, "Oh, sure," and he left it at that. Scully did a double take, just as unsure of his meaning as he was of hers when they were in Bermuda. She furrowed her brow and was about to pursue the matter when the nurse came in. "Oh, good. I just wanted to check in with you. You were in the bathroom when your tray came in and I wanted to make sure you saw it." She glanced at Scully and nodded a silent hello. Scully returned the gesture. "I'm sorry I snapped at you Mulder. I was just afraid that you were going to fall. Without my help that is. Tell me, what did the doctor say this morning? any improvement?" "Well," Mulder continued, "To answer your question yes, there is some improvement. My throat doesn't hurt as much, he said my ears looked better and that my fever has gone down slightly. " "What about the pneumonia? What did he say about that?" "The same." Scully nodded knowingly. "Hmmmm." "What's with the hmmm'? Do all doctors take a special class in med school called hmmmm' 101? I think Dr. Sullivan said that at least 5 times when he was in earlier. Is that some kind of non-committal utterance designed to confuse the masses?" To which she replied, "Hmmm." "Well Scully believe it or not I actually realized that I am beginning to feel hungry. I don't know what's on that tray but I think I'm going to take a peek." He picked up the dish cover, survey the contents on the plate and groaned. "How do they expect anyone to eat this stuff? If I wasn't sick before I certainly would be if I swallowed any of this." Scully had seen what he had been served and she involuntarily turned up her nose too. "Listen, if you want and you promise again to be a good boy, I'll go over to the diner across the street and get you something a little more palatable." She chuckled to herself when his eyes lit up and he had the look of a little boy who was just found out that Santa had brought him a puppy. At that very moment she would have done anything he'd ask her to do. No questions asked. If he only knew. "How about a nice chicken salad sandwich on whole wheat bread?" she suggested. That was not exactly his first choice but under the circumstances he agreed. "And some fries?" he begged. She cast him her most stern "I don't think so look," and his face fell. "How about a coke and a little cole slaw?" "OK." With that she gathered her things and headed out the door. Mulder settled back to wait. The phone rang. He didn't even know he had a phone. He looked over to the table alongside the bed and located the instrument. He picked up the receiver. "Hello?" "Hey Mulder, you in again?" It was Langly, one of the Lone Gunmen. He was probably one of only three friends he had in the world. He laughed to himself. Not counting Scully that is. In reality Langly wasn't really a separate entity. Together with his cohorts Byers and Frohike they were a set. Mulder never remember ever seeing any of them without the others. It was like they were joined at the hip or should he say hips. "Hey Langly, how'd you find out I was here? Scully call you?" "Nah, You know us Mulder, we have our ways. So what's up this time? Shot, knifed, poisoned, what?" "Oh, I see, your intelligence is limited to where I am and not as to why. You're slipping." Mulder could hear Langly repeating his words to the others. The next thing he knew he heard Frohike on the line. "What do you mean we're slipping? I'll have you know that we have the best means of, of , of getting information than anyone you know. And that's without access to government channels." He sounded kind of gruff. Again Mulder heard the sounds of the telephone changing hands. "Mulder? This is Byers here. I'm sorry about those two goons. How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" Mulder always wondered how Byers fit in with the other two misfits. He was so well mannered, impeccably if not stylishly dressed. "No, Scully's here. I've just got a little case of pneumonia. I'll be okay in a day or two. Scully came over to the apartment and forced me to come in." Byers smiled to himself. It always amazed him how Scully who was a fraction of the size of Mulder could get him to do whatever she wanted him to. And they weren't even married. "Well okay then, take care. If you change your mind and want anything just give us a call. Take care." Mulder hung up the phone and waited for Scully's return. He sat and thought about everything. He finally concluded that he was a lucky man. He had good friends, he'd come out of this okay as he always did. But most important of all he had Scully!