untitled
'JUST
A COLD'
By:
Xenith
When they
made Mulder my partner, I never anticipated the relationship
becoming the enduring friendship that it has. I spend my days
with him, my weekends working on cases ranging from the bizarre
to the unbelievable. But I think our relationship has hit a new
mark today, and I'm not certain whether it is a height or a
nadir.
I have the flu. I have had the flu all week and it isn't getting
any better. Neither is my temper.
When I started sneezing in the office, I would find boxes of
tissues miraculously sitting at my elbow, when nothing was there
before. Then later, through the stuffiness of my red nose, I
would catch a whiff of chicken soup. Mulder was constantly
popping through the door of our basement office with cartons of
the wonderful soup created by the corner deli.
"Mulder, you didn't have to do that..." I'd comment
crossly, as he removes the lid and hands me a spoon. "I'm
fine. I just have a cold. You don't have to baby me."
Nevertheless, I take the spoon. I've had their soup before.
Mulder just sits on the desk in front of me grinning while I
finish off the carton.
Today, I can feel my sinuses clearing a bit, but my lungs have
been congested and are starting to hurt. Suddenly, I am coughing.
I grab two tissues just in time and cough until I am out of
breath. This is not sexy. My nose is red. My eyes are red. I
can't breathe. And the most gorgeous man in the Bureau is staring
at me intently, as though I were a breakable thing of china. I
stare right back at him, daring him to mother me any more. He
just grins, and returns to his desk, picking up a file.
I stare at him for a bit, then return to my own work. My headache
is increasing, and I am starting to feel cold. I reach for my
jacket and put it back on. Damn that thermostat, it's always
either too hot or too cold in here. I reach for my pen and knock
over the coffee cup on the corner of the desk. It falls and
shatters, spilling cold coffee on the floor.
"Damn!" I scrabble for the pieces, feeling suddenly
dizzy and lightheaded. I can feel myself starting to fall as I
grab for the desk, when two strong arms catch me and hold me
steady while I wheeze for air.
"Hey, Scully," he says with a worried look. "You
look tired. Why don't I drive you home?"
"No, Mulder, I am fine. Just fine." I sit down in my
chair with a thump and give him a glare. He does the smart thing.
He sits down and goes back to work.
Periodically through the day I look up and catch Mulder's eyes
following me with a worried look. I just glare steadily back at
him, daring him to say anything, anything at all. I am fine, God
damn it! And it's getting colder in this room.
By now I am shivering and the jacket isn't enough. I have
borrowed Mulder's trenchcoat to use as a blanket, but I am still
cold. It's almost 5:00 p.m. , and time to go home. I stand up and
move to go. Instantly, Mulder is there, taking back his coat and
draping it over his arm.
"Scully, why don't you let me drive you home. You look
terrible." He can be very irritating sometimes.
"I am perfectly able to drive myself home, thank you. I'm
fine. I just have a cold," I say through my stuffy sinuses.
I've given up trying to breathe through my nose. No point. I grab
my car keys and head for the elevator. Mulder follows me as I
stagger toward it. When did my sense of balance get so bad? I
stumble and fall against the back of the elevator. This time
Mulder is too late to catch me. I look up and can see him bending
down, reaching for me with a frightened look on his face.
"Mulder? S'all right...s'just a cold..." I am able to
say before breaking into a coughing spell. I feel myself lifted
into strong arms as the elevator moves upward. I fight against
it, this is humiliating. What will the other agents think when
they see Fox Mulder carrying Dana Scully around in his arms?
"Mulder...let me DOWN...this minute.." I wheeze,then
begin coughing again. Mulder punches the button for the parking
garage.
"Scully, you're burning up. You've got one hell of a fever.
I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No..no hospital. Don't need hospital...just home and
chicken soup...and vapo-rub, " I mumble but he isn't
listening. I'm still freezing, but Mulder should be patented as
an electric blanket. I snuggle close to him, smelling aftershave,
sunflower seeds and eau de Mulder. Nice. I fade off into an
echoing darkness and am dimly aware of being in a car and moving
somewhere. Hard to breathe. Really hard to breathe. Wish I could
stop coughing. God I hate this. And in front of Mulder, too.
I can hear him talking to me while we travel. He's telling me to
keep breathing, just keep breathing and everything will be all
right. Of course it will. It's just a cold. Is there any doubt
that I'll keep breathing? It's cold in this car, too. I'm
shivering harder and I can dimly see Mulder turning the heater
on, still talking. He reaches his hand and puts it on my
forehead. His hand is cool, but soft and feels good. I'm sad when
he takes it away.
I'm hazy while the doctor examines me, and soon find myself
moving again, into a nice soft bed. Nice bed. Not nice IV. Sleep,
breathing a little easier. More air? Mist tent, I think.
I wake up and a bright sun is coming through the windows of my
hospital room, gleaming hazily through my mist tent. Mulder is
folded into an armchair with a five o'clock shadow, wearing
yesterday's suit. Where the hell am I? I look around and realize
that I am in the hospital. That realization, sets off my cough
and when I can gather enough breath to look around again, Mulder
is awake.
"Well, good morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit. What happened?" I wheeze and hope dimly
that the cough doesn't start up again.
"Pneumonia, is what happened. You, Dr. Scully, neglected
your cold and were generally run down in health. And so, here you
are, until you are recovered enough to go home. Where you will
rest some more." Mulder looks solemn. "I'm so sorry,
Scully. I overwork you, make you work late, miss weekends. You've
lived on burgers and potato chips since you became my partner.
You're working so hard you ignore illness to work some
more."
"Mulder, you aren't exactly holding a gun on me, are you? I
mean, I like what I do. I just..."
"You just behaved like me, ignored how bad you felt and kept
on working until you collapsed. Well, now you're the one in the
hospital bed. And I..." Mulder gives me a rueful smile.
"I have developed an appreciation for your point of
view." He leans forward. God, he's good looking, rumpled
from sleep...oh, he's saying something.
"I'll make you a deal. You slow down and take care of
yourself and I'll do the same. Okay?"
Mulder, slow down? That'll be the day, but I'll take him up on
it. Anything that keeps him out of the hospital is a good thing.
And after all, it's just a cold.
=====
THE END
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Disclaimer:
The X-files belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, not me.
I'm only borrowing the characters for now. I'll put them back
when I'm done.
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