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Upon opening her eyes in the early hours of the morning, she already knew how the rest of the day would pan out. She wasn’t psychic or anything; belief in such phenomena was something she frowned upon, when her partner brought it up. Rather, it was the burning sensation in her throat, and the fact that her limbs ached when she tried to move that gave her every indication that she needed to know how the day would progress.
She closed her eyes and mentally sorted through the things that she needed to do at work, as she coughed into the side of her closed fist. There was some paperwork, a report that needed to be written, a meeting to attend in the morning, and a trip that her partner had booked for the both of them regarding a case. She did not have the energy to travel, nor could she convince herself that it was worth getting out of bed to finish her paper work. There was little debate in her mind about what she wanted to do; she wanted to stay home.
Her hand groped her nightstand, and when she found her phone, she dialed the number to Mulder’s cell, and waited for him to pick up.
“Mulder,” He answered.
“Mulder, it’s me,” She said, and there was a brief exchange of greetings, which was cut short by her coughing.
“Wow Scully, you sound terrible.”
“Yeah, I’m not really feeling all that great today… I don’t think I’ll be able to join you on this case.”
She could only imagine what his facial expression was upon hearing that news, though she hoped it was somewhere between disappointed and concerned.
“I’m really sorry to hear that. What’s wrong, exactly?” His tone was saturated with concern, which Scully found a little unusual, considering that she’d been under the impression that Mulder didn’t particularly care.
“Well, I have a really nasty cough, I feel exhausted, and weak. It hurts when I swallow or cough, and I haven’t checked but, I’m sure I’m running a fever.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that. I’ll just see if we can maybe rebook our tickets for another day. Make sure you get a lot of rest, and drink plenty of fluids,” He said, though Scully couldn’t help but smile, knowing that as a doctor, it was basic knowledge.
“I will. Hopefully, I should be back on Monday.”
The last thing that Scully remembered, was that she had spoken to Mulder on the phone, got up to get some water, and then headed back to bed to rest. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she knew she had fallen asleep. She was ready to turn over again, and resume sleeping, when she heard her front door close quietly. She struggled to sit up, and slowly climbed out of bed, reaching for her gun that was under her pillow. She padded barefoot down the hallway, and into her kitchen, where she aimed her weapon at the half soaked, hooded figure that was unpacking groceries on her counter.
“Don’t move a muscle, I have a gun, and I’m not afraid to shoot,” She said, her voice a low, husky growl, because of her current condition. The figure put their hands in the air when she cocked her weapon.
“Whoa, don’t shoot!” They said, and Scully was taken by surprise.
“Mulder, is that you?” Reluctant to lower her weapon, she kept it trained on his back.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m going to turn around slowly.” He said, and he did as he had said he would. She lowered her gun, and he subsequently lowered his hood, a sigh of relief speaking the words that he didn’t dare to say: That was close.
“Mulder, what are you doing here?” Scully asked, putting her gun on the table, and then quickly turning her head to cough. Mulder frowned as he watched, and pulled a chair for her to sit.
“I came to bring you some medicine, and some food. If I had called, you probably would have refused, so I didn’t tell you, so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed. I’m sorry if I startled you,” He explained, turning to resume unpacking. Scully did not answer, which Mulder did not regard as any indication to stop, and so when he was finished unpacking, he put some water to boil, and following the directions on the soup package, he started to chop up some vegetables to add.
When the soup was finally ready, Mulder had to gently nudge Scully’s arm, since she had fallen asleep on the table.
“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” His voice did not carry any particular emotion, but without saying it, Scully knew that he was concerned for her well-being. She had never had any of his cooking before—she wasn’t even sure that he could cook (although admittedly, preparing canned soup was not really cooking) as she had never seen him bring his own homemade lunch, but the fact that he had come over to make her something was a gesture she did not take lightly.
Without a word, she did what she was told.
She’d had better soups—it was watery, and too hot, and it didn’t really taste flavorful, but she appreciated it all the same, so when she was about halfway through, she said,
“This is good.”
There was a brief silence between them before Mulder answered,
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He fiddled with his hands as he spoke, cleverly avoiding eye contact with her.
There was another brief pause, and then—
“Do you—uh, is there anything else I could maybe get? I mean, I—I’m not trying to say you can’t take care of yourself—you’re a doctor after all,” He said with a nervous chuckle, “but um, I would like to help. I don’t really have anything to be doing, and I’m avoiding my paperwork, so…”
The gesture touched her; he didn’t want to leave her alone, because he didn’t want to see that she wasn’t well. She smiled a little, and with another harsh cough, she said,
“I’m fine for now, thanks to you, but it’s kind of boring here, so your company is appreciated. I just hope you don’t catch whatever I have.”
Mulder gave her a shy smile, meeting her eyes reluctantly.
“I’ll uh, try not to.”