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The call came at 2:04 am Saturday morning. Mulder didn’t have to guess who it was or hear the pain-filled voice on the other end to know he was needed. “I’ll be right there, Scully,” he told her as he jumped out of bed, completely awake. She was sick and scared enough to admit to being sick and scared and he knew he’d be breaking some traffic laws to get there quickly. He hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket, and headed to Georgetown.
Scully hung up the phone, her hand shaking. She couldn’t stop shivering and the nausea was the worst it had ever been since she started treatment. She was dizzy and weak and knew she would feel safer with someone with her. With Mulder with her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her stomach settled until she could stagger to the bathroom.
She only made it halfway down the hall before her knees gave out; she fell to her hands and knees with a thud. Her head spun as she emptied her stomach on the hardwood floor. She tried to stand, but the motion was too much and her bruised knees couldn’t bear her weight. She retched so hard that she lost control of her bladder, but she didn’t have time to care before she began to black out. Everything around her grew fuzzy and she collapsed to the floor in a heap. The last thing she remembered was the trickle of blood seeping from her nose.
Mulder knocked and paused briefly before opening her door with his key. Her apartment was dark, save for the street lamps shining through the windows and a couple nightlights. “Scully?” He half whispered her name, not wanting to rouse her neighbors. He started down the hallway and froze. Illuminated by the dim nightlight was his partner, crumpled on the floor.
“Scully!” He no longer cared if her neighbors woke up. He found her pale, unconscious and frail, laying in a puddle of vomit and urine, her face streaked with blood. He found her pulse and she moaned. He scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom. He deposited her on the floor and started running a bath. She finally roused when he switched on the light.
“Hhmmm... Muld...?” Her eyelids fluttered but she couldn’t open her eyes in the too-bright light. She moaned and tried to cover her eyes, but she lacked the strength to hold her head up. Her head lolled to the side, bumping her cheek on the cool porcelain tub. She moaned again.
“Hang on, Scully. Gonna get you cleaned up.” He removed her soiled pajamas before she realized what was happening and lifted her into the tub.
The hot water jolted her into consciousness. “Mulder!?” Her skin flushed pink, and not because of the water temperature. The full realization of what had transpired since her phone call hit her and she hid her face in her hands, trying to escape the indignity of it all.
Seeing her embarrassment, and wanting to preserve what tiny shred of dignity she had left, Mulder covered her nude form with a towel. “Relax, Scully. I need to wash your hair.”
Hoping he wasn’t bringing back bad memories of Donnie Pfaster, Mulder added some lavender bath oil to the water to calm her. He used a wet cloth to remove the excess vomit from her hair. Then he grabbed the shower hose and her moisturizing shampoo and gently washed her hair, massaging her scalp as he went. He felt her relax slightly, but she kept her face buried in her trembling hands. After he had rinsed the red tresses and wrapped her head in a towel, he gently took her hands and lowered them. She was unable to meet his gaze. “Oh, Scully,” he sighed as he washed her face of the dried blood. He then gathered her dirty clothes. “Soak for a minute, Scully. I’m going to put these in the laundry.” He left her to soak in the hot bath as he found her mop and cleaning supplies. He cleaned up the mess in the hallway and put everything in the wash.
Meanwhile, Scully sat in the bath, willing herself to not cry. He’s seen you naked before, she tried to tell herself. They had the unpleasant shared experiences of several decontamination and quarantine events, and their bodies were no longer secret. But this was different. She had been healthy then, not sickly, not skin and bones. She hadn’t wanted him to see her like this; lying in her own vomit and piss, unable to stand and helpless. She wiped a stray tear away as Mulder knocked on the door.
“Scully?” He opened the door and knelt beside the tub. He could tell she was upset and embarrassed, and his heart ached for her. “Scully, lets get you cleaned up and back to bed.” His voice was gentle, as was his touch and it brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back. He got a cloth and lathered it up with lavender body wash.
“Mulder, no...” She tried to protest.
“Scully, you can’t just sit in the bath and expect to get clean. As my mom would say, ‘you’re not clean, just wet.’” Her shoulders slumped and she silently permitted him to start. He washed her back and arms but stopped before going further. She met his gaze. He was asking permission with his eyes. Her chin wobbled and she bit her lip, but nodded her consent.
He lowered the sodden towel and washed her chest with a reverence that nearly made her weep. Mulder tried to hide the frown that tugged on the corner of his lips as he realized he could easily count her ribs. He knew she was sick, but she was so strong and hid it so well that he almost forgot how sick she really was. It broke his heart. He washed her legs and feet, massaging as he went. He paused once more. “Almost done, Scully,” he said, again silently asking her permission to continue. She covered her face with her hands and nodded, lacking the energy to fight. Mulder quickly and gently washed between her legs and pulled the plug from the drain.
She began to shiver as the water receded. “Come on, Scully,” he said, holding out a towel. She stood with some effort and collapsed into his arms no sooner had he wrapped her up.
Mulder helped her out of the tub and sat her on the toilet seat. He swiftly dried her off, then pulled a long flannel night shirt over her head. He readied her toothbrush and stood back as she leaned heavily on the sink while brushing her teeth.
As soon as she set her toothbrush down, Mulder scooped her up and carried her to bed. She began to protest, but a wave of dizziness silenced her. As they crossed the hallway, she noticed the mess was gone and sighed heavily into his shoulder, a silent ‘thank you’ for not mentioning the messy, embarrassing task. In the bedroom, her sheets were turned back, ready for her. A can of 7-up sat on her nightstand as well as a bucket in case she got sick later. Mulder laid her down and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I’ll be back, Scully. I’m gonna tidy up your bathroom.” He left her for a moment. She heard him walk down the hallway and a minute later, she heard her washer start.
He reappeared in her doorway. “How do you feel?” Concern was etched on his face.
She closed her eyes. “I’m fine...” She stopped. No, not tonight. I’m not fine at all. “Mulder, I’m not fine, I feel awful. I’m humiliated. I’m sick.” Tears spilled from her eyes as she confessed truths he already knew. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, but...” She held out her hand to him. “Don’t go. Please.” Her face crumpled as she lost her battle with her tears.
Mulder couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Scully.” He kicked off his shoes and wrapped a throw blanket around his shoulders. He laid down behind her, on top of the blankets, and spooned her into him. She sobbed out her frustration into the pillows while Mulder held her tightly, whispering sweet assurances into the crown of her head. Finally, her cries subsided and her breathing evened out into the peaceful rhythm of sleep. Only then did Mulder allow himself to close his eyes.
They slept until mid-morning. Mulder moved them to the couch, creating a comfy nest from pillows and blankets. He loaded “Caddy Shack” into the VCR and kept her warm and safe for the rest of the day Saturday. Scully still felt ill and weak and didn’t resist when Mulder hovered around her. She would allow it for just one day. Plus, having Mulder put her head in his lap and absently stroke her hair felt comforting.
“I’m really not hungry, Mulder,” she pouted.
“Please, Scully, just one little bite for me?” he said with puppy dog eyes as he fed her bites of dry toast, spoonfuls of soup, and sips of 7-up, ginger ale, and water.
“I’m too weak, Mulder,” she groaned.
“I’ve got you, Scully,” he said as he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom when her legs gave out.
“You don’t have to do this, Mulder,” she choked.
“But I want to, Scully,” he said, holding her hair back as she vomited up what little food she had eaten. They repeated this several times during the day.
“Ow! Mulder, it hurts,” she cried.
“It’s okay, Scully, I’m here,” he soothed, as an excruciatingly painful migraine made light and sound intolerable. He gently stroked her hair until her medicine kicked in and she was able to sleep.
“I like this show, Mulder,” she giggled.
“I’m glad, Scully. Did I ever tell you about that time in St. Olaf when I saw the Abominable Snowman...” he joked as they watched The Golden Girls after her headache ceased, thankful that she had genuinely laughed for the first time in weeks.
“I can’t sleep, Mulder,” she said with a shaky voice.
“I’ll hold you until you fall asleep, Scully,” he whispered into her hair as he spooned her in bed.
She made it through the night without being sick. She felt less dizzy and a tiny bit stronger than Saturday. Sunday was a new day and she would own it; she had to. Mulder turned her couch into a nest of pillows and blankets once again and Scully spent most of the day cocooned there. But Mulder didn’t hover today, at least, he tried not to.
He still sat with her head on his lap, but only because she wanted to, not because he had placed her head there.
He still fixed her food, but she fed herself without too much coaxing.
He still held her hair when she threw up, but it was only once, and he didn’t have to carry her to the bathroom.
He still drew her a bath, but she washed herself and didn’t need help getting dressed.
He still ran his fingers through her hair, but only because she liked it, not because of a debilitating headache.
He still put the movies in the VCR, but she chose what to watch and so they cuddled up in the blankets during “The Exorcist.”
Mulder was glad to see Scully returning to her old self, but he knew she would dive into work head-first on Monday and she really wasn’t ready. While she napped, he made a couple phone calls.
“You don’t have to stay, Mulder,” she sighed. “I feel better. I should be fine tonight.” She really wanted him to stay, but couldn’t bring herself to ask; not after everything he had done for her.
“I’ve got a change of clothes in the car, Scully. We can drive into work together.” He glanced down at his feet. “Unless you really don’t need me for anything.” He wanted to stay with her just one more night, knowing she wasn’t up to par, but he didn’t want to crowd her like he tended to do. She had finally lowered her defenses and opened up to him and he didn’t want to scare her away by crowding her.
Scully fidgeted with her hands. “I guess I don’t need you for anything but... if you want... I mean,” she sighed. “I would feel better knowing you’re here.” She looked up at him, “but you don’t have to feel obligated to stay.”
Mulder smiled. “Then I’ll stay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll sleep on the couch if you want your bed to yourself.”
She thought a minute. “I’d rather have you with me. Just one more night.” Then back to business as usual. It’s what I need right now.
He kissed her forehead. “Just one more night, if that’s what you need, then back to business as usual,” he said, seemingly reading her thoughts. “You look exhausted. I’ll clean up our mess and be there in a few.”
Scully crawled into bed and Mulder joined her soon after. They fell asleep spooned together.
Monday morning came too quickly. Mulder showered and dressed in his slightly wrinkled suit. He helped Scully pack an overnight bag, insisting she would need it for their next case. She was dressed in a skirt and blazer that hung unusually loose from her small frame. Her skin had a somewhat healthy glow (healthier than he had seen all weekend at any rate) and it wasn’t from makeup. Scully looked like Scully. Mulder knew she was still exhausted, but he didn’t hover; he didn’t want to upset her.
They walked into their basement office. A fresh X-File sat on Mulder’s desk. “Here’s the file I was expecting,” he said. He flipped through the file. “Ghostly sightings at the National Museum of the USAF,” he read.
“In Dayton? By Wright-Patterson?” Scully cocked her eyebrow. “Mulder, you mean to tell me we’re going all the way to Dayton, Ohio because some tourist thinks they saw a ghost in an old airplane?”
“We’ve been on worse cases, Scully,” Mulder shrugged. He knew this would be a hard sell.
“How am I going to justify an expense report for this? Never mind a field report!” She shook her head, suddenly regretting her decision to come in to work.
Suddenly, the door opened and AD Skinner walked in. “Good morning, Agents. I’ve got your plane tickets here.” He handed them each an airline ticket. “I assume you’ll be on your way shortly?”
Scully looked at her boss, aghast. “Sir, I don’t mean to step out of line, but you can’t be serious?!”
Skinner gave her a stern look. “I’m very serious, Agent Scully! I take every case seriously, as should you. I expect this this attitude from Agent Mulder, not from you. You will go to Dayton and treat this case with the same professionalism as any other. Am I clear?”
Scully, looking chastised, narrowed her eyes in a glare. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Her tone was biting, but Skinner ignored it.
Skinner nodded. “Good. I’ll see you two in a couple days.” He winked at Mulder as he left the room. Scully, sulking by the file cabinet, didn’t notice.
“Ok, Scully, you ready?” Mulder tried to sound cheery, knowing her feelings had been hurt.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever.” She grumbled, following behind Mulder to the car. She sulked all the way to Dulles. She sulked in the airport, but ate a bagel with real cream cheese at Mulder’s urging. She was a bit puzzled as they boarded the plane; their tickets were for first class seats. They never flew first class to anywhere, especially not on the Bureau’s dime. She was too tired and irritated to argue and decided it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Mulder briefly discussed the case before the plane took off. They were to meet with museum staff and witnesses upon arrival in Dayton. The next day, they were scheduled to investigate the museum for themselves. Their return flight didn’t leave until Wednesday evening. The whole thing still sounded like a massive waste of time, but Skinner was oddly adamant that they waste their time.
Scully gripped the arm rest as the plane took off. Mulder knew she hated flying, but she never complained; she had long-ago accepted it as part of her job, and she was too much of a hard-ass to give in to irrational fear. But since she had taken ill, flying had gotten worse. She wore a surgical mask most of the time when flying. Her immune system wasn’t dangerously suppressed, but she felt safer. And the motion of the plane now made her nauseous. She snatched the air sickness bag from the seat in front of her and pulled her mask off. Mulder rubbed small circles on her back as her stomach contents filled the bag. Embarrassed and miserable, she excused herself to the bathroom as soon as the seatbelt lights extinguished.
Scully returned to her seat to find a cold cup of ginger ale, a blanket, pillow, and blackout mask. She smiled wearily at Mulder. She drank her soda, grateful that it calmed her stomach. He helped her get comfortable, which was much easier in the plush first class seats. She was asleep within minutes and remained so until it came time to land. Mulder was relieved that she wouldn’t be in abject misery for the whole trip.
Their rental car was a typical sedan, but everything (including the heat and air conditioning) worked. They drove to the National Museum of the US Air Force. She and Mulder met with Mr. Randall Murphy and Miss Leah Knickel, two tour guides who had allegedly experienced paranormal phenomena at the museum. Scully listened with feigned interest; she couldn’t even summon the energy to take notes. Mulder did the note taking and most of the talking. It was late afternoon by the time they were done.
Mulder drove to their hotel. Yet again, Scully was surprised by how nice the place was, compared to the norm. It was a real Marriott instead of the run-down motels the Bureau usually sprang for. They opened the door to a suite with two full size beds and whirlpool bathtub. The TV was hooked up to cable (which actually worked) and the microwave and mini fridge were nice touches.
“Shouldn’t we have separate rooms?” She didn’t want to get accused of consorting with her male partner when they turned in expense reports.
Mulder shrugged. “This was all they had left, Scully,” he lied, taking her bag. “You look exhausted. Take a nap before dinner while I’ll start on the case notes.” Mulder opened the laptop at the desk. Scully crawled onto the closest bed and kicked off her shoes, sinking into the plush mattress. She fell asleep as Mulder typed.
Scully awoke to the smell of pizza. “Have a good nap?” Mulder opened the pizza box and turned on a basket ball game. He patted the couch cushion next to him. “Mushroom and extra cheese!”
She really didn’t feel like eating, but her mouth was watering. Mulder could see her hesitation. “You haven’t eaten since this morning and you threw that up.” He held up a delicious-looking slice. “C’mon, Scully.”
She sighed and sat next to him. She took the slice and sank her teeth into the crust and gooey cheese. It tasted like heaven. “Mmmm... so good,” she mumbled. She finished that slice and picked up another. Mulder was happy to see her eating, though he was silently praying to whatever gods that may exist that she wouldn’t be sick later. She drank the Diet Coke he bought for her and leaned back on the couch.
“Shame for that whirlpool tub to go to waste,” Mulder sighed, eyeing the bathroom. “Why don’t you have a bath? I think I’ll make use of the exercise facilities downstairs.”
Scully looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Just how did we score such a nice hotel? The Bureau must have made a mistake. We’re lucky to have electricity and running water in most of our accommodations.”
Mulder shrugged. “Skinner approved it. I’m not questioning the Bureau’s mistake, Scully. Go on, enjoy it.”
She smiled. “I think I will.” She grabbed pajamas from her bag and disappeared into the bathroom. Mulder removed his dress clothes and threw on an old tee and shorts and headed downstairs.
When he returned, Scully was sitting in bed with a book on her lap. Her damp hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She snuggled into her bathrobe and pushed her glasses up on her nose. Her skin was flushed pink from the hot water and she looked relaxed. She looked up at Mulder. “The whirlpool tub was a great idea, Mulder. You should try it.” She eyed his sweat-stained shirt. “Looks like you need it.” She smirked as she returned her gaze to her book.
Mulder chuckled. He was glad to see her in a much better state than just a couple days ago. She was still too thin and her exhaustion showed, but she was in a good mood and obviously felt better. He grabbed a clean shirt and boxers and locked himself in the bathroom. Scully was right, the tub was nice.
Mulder left the bathroom, switching off the light. He found Scully had dozed off while reading. Her lips were parted in sleep and she was snoring ever so slightly. He chuckled as he slipped her glasses off without waking her, then closed her book and set both on her nightstand. He adjusted her pillows, eased her into a reclining position, and pulled the covers up around her. He lightly kissed her forehead and climbed into his own bed. He missed the closeness of the past two nights, but he was eternally grateful that she was well enough NOT to need him. Mulder was surprised when he actually started nodding off to sleep.
Tuesday morning came quietly. Mulder woke up first and dressed. He let Scully sleep a little longer before gently tapping her shoulder. She mumbled something as her eyes fluttered open. “Mulder, what time is it?” She sat up and yawned.
“8:15. Plenty of time to get ready and enjoy the continental breakfast before heading to the museum.” He sat down on his bed, smiling.
She looked at him with raised eyebrow. “You’re going dressed like that?” Khaki pants, button down shirt and no tie definitely wasn’t the norm for a Federal Agent working an active case.
“We’re technically on a ghost hunt, Scully. No need to look like Feds. Skip the power suit, today.”
She sighed. This was completely unprofessional, but nearly everything about this case had been unusual. She didn’t argue for once. She pulled a blue, ankle-length skirt and white knit top from her bag. She didn’t remember packing this outfit, but Mulder had helped her pack. She shrugged and retreated to the bathroom to get ready.
She accompanied Mulder to the hotel lobby for breakfast. Her appetite was slowly returning, as it always did post-treatment. She ate a cup of fresh fruit and drank a glass of orange juice and cup of tea. Mulder was thankful she could once again eat without being sick. After breakfast, they left for the museum.
“What exactly are we looking for?” She flipped through the case file.
“Ghosts, Scully.”
“Mulder,” she whined, rolling her eyes.
“I’ve got an exhibit brochure with haunted hot spots marked.” He parked the car.
“How are we going to know if the place is haunted? We don’t have any ghost hunting equipment, not that I even know what we would need...”
“The museum staff had personal experiences, Scully. No concrete proof of anything. We’re just going to walk around the exhibits and see if we see or feel anything like they described. I thought it best we looked more like tourists than FBI agents.” He patted her back. “Ready?”
No, I’m not ready, she thought. This is the dumbest excuse for an X-File I’ve ever seen! You and Skinner have lost your damn minds and if Skinner wouldn’t chew me out again, I’d ditch your ass and go back to the hotel! She sighed. She really wanted to go back to the hotel and forget this, but she had sworn an oath when she joined the FBI and she didn’t feel like defending herself to Skinner. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’m ready.”
Mulder frowned. He knew she would be less than thrilled, but her reaction was disheartening. He grabbed her cardigan from the backseat and they headed indoors. After an hour of wandering around, visiting the antique planes which Mulder had circled in the brochure, Scully’s frustration was reaching the tipping point. After reading the specs and historical information on a menacing black Sikorsky CH-3E, she had had enough.
“What are we doing here, Mulder?” She threw her hands up in the air. “We’re not experiencing anything and we’re wasting our time!” She folded her arms over her chest.
Mulder sighed. “You’re right, Scully. I’m not feeling anything, though this chopper is a bit creepy.” He noticed the surprise in her eyes; he had just admitted she was right. “I’ll take care of the field report. Any negative fallout will come down on me.”
Her voice softened. “Okay, so what do we do now?” She wasn’t quite as irritated as she had been moments ago.
“Well, how about we look around the museum for awhile longer, as tourists, and enjoy ourselves. The Space Gallery is over there,” he urged, wagging his eyebrows. “Then we can grab some lunch and enjoy our trip. We don’t leave until tomorrow evening, after all!”
“Ok. Fine. We can see the space exhibits.” She started walking in the general direction. Mulder offered his arm. She hesitated a moment, but took hold of his arm when she felt her knees get weak. She was starting to feel fatigued, but was loathe to admit it.
Leaning on Mulder, she found she did enjoy the rest of the museum , especially since she wasn’t trying to catch a ghost. She knew she would enjoy it more if she wasn’t so damn tired, but she didn’t want to ruin it for Mulder. She was grateful when he wrapped her cardigan over her shoulders.
Mulder stopped in the gift shop before leaving. He handed her a red T-shirt with the outline of the state of Ohio and “Home of the Wright Brothers” across the front. She rolled her eyes but took the gift. Then he produced packs of “astronaut ice cream” and dehydrated strawberries. “For dessert,” he said, smiling.
It was barely noon when they left the museum. Mulder could tell Scully was tired. He had an idea. He had planned to save it for tomorrow before their departure, but decided she could use a relaxing day. They drove for 20 minuets, with Mulder stopping at a Kroger grocery to grab a few things. Scully had fallen asleep by the time they reached Sycamore State Park.
Mulder parked the car and got everything ready. He opened her door and woke her up. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered as he lightly touched her shoulder.
She awoke with a start. “Mulder, where are we?” She looked around at the trees and the clear sky.
“A state park. I thought you might like to relax.” He stepped back, allowing her to see the picnic area and the blanket he had spread out for them.
“Oh, Mulder,” she hung her head but smiled. The blanket was spread out under a shade tree by a pond. He had set out a lunch of chicken salad sandwiches, fresh fruit, bottles of water and their astronaut snacks. He offered his hand to her and helped her out of the car.
They sat in near silence, enjoying the sounds of nature and the light breeze. After they had eaten, Mulder leaned against the tree. Scully felt herself starting to doze off again. She laid down on the blanket, relishing the feel of the warm sun on her face.
Mulder watched her until she was asleep. He disposed of their trash and grabbed and extra blanket from the car. He leaned against the tree again and gazed at his partner. She looked relaxed and her freckles darkened against her pale skin. He noticed her shivering in the breeze. He pulled her closer to him and settled her head in his lap. He covered her with the other blanket and placed his hand on her shoulder. She slept on through the afternoon.
“Get up, Scully! It’s raining!” Mulder had dozed off and awoken to darkened skies and raindrops tapping on his face.
She looked up, confused. Mulder scooped up his partner and both blankets and ran to the car. “Mulder! Put me down,” Scully yelled, though she couldn’t quite keep herself from smiling. He deposited her in the car and ran to the driver door. He was drenched by the time he got in.
“Sorry, Scully! I didn’t want both of us to be cold and wet.” He started the car and headed back to the hotel. He looked over at her, still cuddled in the blankets, hair mussed from sleep.
“Thanks for the picnic, Mulder. I’m sorry I slept through it.” She sighed.
“Don’t worry about it, Scully. I’m glad you got to relax.” He drove through the downpour back to the hotel.
They held the blankets over their heads as they ran into the hotel. Mulder let Scully use the bathroom first. She emerged wearing sweatpants and the souvenir shirt from the Air Force Museum. She curled up on the couch with the picnic blankets while Mulder took his turn.
She was watching a movie when he returned. Suddenly, she bolted up and ran for the sink. Mulder saw the bright red drops splash on the white porcelain before she stopped the dripping with a tissue. He moved to her side, but stayed quiet.
She was visibly upset now. “What are we doing here, Mulder?” She grabbed another tissue, trying to staunch the flow from her nose. “This case is bullshit. We’ll never be able to justify our expenses, even if it was the Bureau’s mistake!” Her hands were shaking as she wiped away the blood. “Skinner bit my head off for not taking the case seriously, but there isn’t even a case!”
Mulder looked down at his feet. “Scully, I have something to confess.” He waited until he had her attention. “I know this case is bullshit. So does Skinner. He’s sorry for hurting your feelings, by the way.”
She raised her eyebrow. “I don’t understand, Mulder.” She carefully removed the blood-soaked tissue, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped. It had.
“Scully, you had an awful weekend and you aren’t completely recovered from it.” He held up his hand when she started to protest and stopped her before an angry ‘I’m fine’ could leave her mouth. “Scully, I knew you would jump back into work and give it 200%, because that’s who you are. You won’t allow yourself to rest. Skinner and I both know this, so we organized a bullshit case, and finagled first class plane tickets and a nice hotel. It was Skinner’s idea to have me in the same room so I could keep an eye on you.”
Her face was a mix of emotions. She was angry, but it seemed to be fading. “Mulder... I don’t know what to say.”
He exhaled. “You don’t have to say anything, Scully.”
She slapped his arm. “I’m mad at you,” she said with a less-than-convincing scowl. “But, thank you.” She wiped at the dried blood still crusted to her nostril. “I’m fine, Mulder, really,” she said. “You don’t have to take care of me. I feel better than I did this weekend.”
“I know, Scully. But I’m here if you need me.” He turned around, giving her the space she almost always craved.
“Mulder,” she held out her hand to him, unable to meet his gaze.
He stepped closer and tilted her head towards him. He took a wash cloth, wet it, and finished cleaning her nose and face. A single tear slipped from her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.
“I’m scared, Mulder,” she whispered tearfully into his chest. He didn’t speak right away and she wasn’t sure he had heard her.
“So am I, Scully,” he finally mumbled into her hair. “When I found you in your apartment, I thought you were dead.” She looked up at him with fresh tears in her eyes. “But I found your pulse and knew you hadn’t given up. You’re the strongest person I know, Scully. You’re not a quitter and neither am I. We will fight this until we win or you say stop.”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. She allowed herself to cry a few tears and he rubbed small circles on her back. She pulled away slightly, looking up at him. He looked down at her and wiped away her tears. He kissed her forehead and led her back to the couch.
“We have the rest of today and most of the day tomorrow to relax.” He flipped channels on the TV. “We should make the most of it. A real case will be waiting on us when we get back to DC.”
Scully curled up in her blankets and leaned against her partner, her exhaustion mounting. “So, everything about this case was fake?”
“No, the file was real and so were the witnesses. But it wasn’t ever really on my radar to investigate. Even I knew the Bureau wouldn’t justify an expense report over $5 for this, and local ghost hunters have been crawling that museum for years. There’s really nothing to investigate. That’s why I had to get Skinner involved. He booked everything and signed for it.”
“I’m still mad at you. And Skinner. I don’t like being deceived.” She frowned at him. Mulder looked properly chastised and her expression softened. “But I appreciate everything you’ve done for me the past few days.” She felt herself growing sleepy again, but she fought it. “Are you hungry? I’ve gotten my appetite back.”
Mulder smiled. “I’ll order in. What tickles your fancy?”
She giggled and looked through the stack of take out menus from the hotel desk.
After a nice Italian dinner, Scully relaxed in the whirlpool tub, letting the water jets relax her sore muscles. She put her sweats and souvenir shirt back on and sat on her bed to read. Mulder switched off the TV and flopped in his bed. “What do you want to do tomorrow, Scully?”
“Hmmm. Sleep in.” It was a luxury she rarely afforded herself, especially in the middle of the work week, but since it had been pre-approved by her boss, who was she to argue?
“What else?” He was sitting on his bed watching her.
“I don’t know. Is it supposed to rain tomorrow?” She really wanted to sleep until they had to leave for the airport.
Mulder switched the TV back on and found a local news station. Scully read her book until the weather came on. Rain all morning. Clearing by afternoon. Good weather to fly home. “Can we stay here until the rain ends? Then maybe find somewhere nice to eat lunch before we go to the airport.” Scully hoped Mulder wouldn’t be upset by her lack of enthusiasm. She really just didn’t feel like doing anything.
He seemed to have expected her answer. “Sounds fine to me, Scully.” They spent the rest of the evening relaxing. Mulder watched the local news and Wheel of Fortune while Scully read. They watched Jeopardy together with Scully being the clear winner. Finally, they settled in for the night.
“Mulder.” He wasn’t sure he’d heard it. It might have been a dream. He noticed distant thunder and paid it no attention. “Mulder!” It was more insistent and definitely not thunder nor a dream. His eyes were open and scanning the room. He saw Scully sitting on the edge of her bed, bent over with her head clutched in her hands.
“Scully, what’s wrong?” He rushed over to her.
“My head. I need my meds.” He could tell she was in agony. He ran to her purse and pulled the bottle out, filled a cup with water and took it to her. She swallowed the pills and held her head in her hands. He could feel her trembling in the dark.
Mulder climbed into her bed and pulled her down into his arms. She didn’t resist. He covered them up and began rubbing her back. She began sobbing. “I don’t want to die, Mulder! I’m not ready to go yet!” The thunder grew louder and lightning flashed; rain pounded the windows.
Mulder kissed her heated forehead and stroked her hair. “It’ll be okay, Scully. I’m not giving up on you. I’m here.” She wept into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her tears. She cried until her head stopped throbbing. She remained curled in his arms, hiccuping and gasping, gripping his shirt. “Breathe, Scully,” he soothed, placing his big hand on her chest. He waited until her breathing and pulse slowed to normal. The storm raged on outside.
He untangled himself from her grasp for a moment and returned with a wet rag. He wiped the sticky tears and snot away. He wrapped her in his arms again. “Don’t let go, Mulder,” she whispered. “Don’t let go.”
“I’m right here, Scully. I’m not going anywhere.” He held her the rest of the night and into the morning.
She was asleep and calm. The storm had passed but the rain remained. Mulder cradled his partner in his arms until the dim, gray light peeked through the curtains. Scully stirred slightly. Her eyes fluttered open and she seemed a bit surprised to see Mulder. Then everything came flooding back to her and her face reddened in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Scully.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to leave the hotel until noon. Rest. Relax while you can.”
“Then back to normal tomorrow. I need normal tomorrow. I don’t like being needy. I don’t like feeling like this.”
“You don’t like being cuddled by your extremely handsome partner? Scully, I’m offended!” Mulder teased her lightly.
The corner of her mouth twitched up into a half smile. “I didn’t say I didn’t like that part.” She frowned again. “I don’t want to get used to it. I don’t want you to get used to it. It’ll just make things more difficult when...” Her lower lip quivered as she fell silent, unable to finish her though.
“Scully, whether you let me hold you or not, I’ll never accept you dying. I’m here for you regardless; in whatever capacity you need. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what tomorrow holds.” He blinked back a tear.
Tears slipped from her eyes as she buried her face in Mulder’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered through her tears.
“Tomorrow we will be as normal as we can be. Go back to sleep, Scully.” Mulder held her as she cried herself back to sleep. She let him hold her until it was time to get dressed. She let him hold her hand as they ate a light lunch at a little diner and in the car as they drove to the airport. She let him comfort her on the flight home. She let him walk her into her apartment and hug her in her living room. She even let him kiss her forehead and cheek when he wished her a good night. Tomorrow will be normal, she told herself.
And it was.