untitled
'MAGGOTS
AND NICOTINE'
By:
Xenith
I
remember choking for breath, and Scully's frightened expression.
I could hear a wheezing, whooping noise that would have been
funny if it weren't coming from my lungs.
I could hear her shouting to the doctor and feel cold oxygen
trying to find its way into my lungs.
Good luck.
What happened after is hazy. I dimly remember waking up a time or
two, and each time I could see Scully sitting there holding my
hand between the two of hers. And she sat and looked at me, her
soul in her eyes, as I drifted away again.
A man's voice said something about "cracking the chest"
open and I could hear Scully yelling that somebody would
"die on the table". Good for you, Scully, I cheered
silently. You give 'em hell! Me, I'm there already.
Hard to breathe with your lungs full of maggots, y'know?
Knowing that only made it worse. Bad enough coughing up phlegm,
but...bugs?
I hate bugs.
I'm not afraid of them, you know. No, I just hate them. They're
strange, and alien and pretty frightening if you look at them
close. And my body was infested with them. Hundreds of them.
Squirming.
Gaaaah!
Scully tells me that she came up with the miracle cure: nicotine.
Yeah, pyrethrins! A truly natural insecticide. Too bad it almost
killed me. As I stare at the shiny pack of Morleys and smell the
aroma of good tobacco, I almost wish it had.
My dad smoked Morleys, as did most of his friends. When I started
to smoke in my twenties, that was the brand I chose. Made me feel
mature. All my clothing stank of tobacco, I coughed up phlegm
every morning and spent good money replacing the couch I ruined
when I fell asleep with cigarette in hand.
He smokes Morleys. Him. The one who's caused all the pain in my
miserable life. So now I emulate him, and my dad and all the grey
old men in the quiet rooms who sold us all out, and choose to
puff my lungs out...
Which is dirtier? A lung full of Morley smoke or a lung full of
maggots?
While they were infusing me with the first of the nicotine,
Skinner came to visit. I remember dimly that he told me he'd
tracked down the Morley scientist and convinced him to testify
against the company. From the expression on his face I could tell
that the scientist hadn't had a chance. Scully told me that
Skinner wouldn't rest until he'd gotten a blanket search warrant
to tear the Morley labs apart, and did pretty much that, and with
his bare hands. He had brought in the one person immune to
this...uh..condition, shooting the guy in the shoulder to do it.
So, d'you think the guy cares, or what?
Anyway, Scully pumped me full of nicotine and I promptly got all
the symptoms of nicotine poisoning.
That I remember.
My throat, already parched and scratchy started to burn and I got
the dry heaves. Only they weren't dry for long. I started to
vomit, and cough and vomit some more. Then I saw what was coming
out of my mouth, my nose...maggots. And beetles.
Then I really got sick.
Scully just sat there with the nurse and held my head until the
anti-nausea meds kicked in. I don't know how she could stand to
hang onto me; I couldn't stand myself. God, I was unclean, from
the inside out.
The heaving finally stopped and she helped settle me into bed
while I shook like a leaf. She wiped my face with a damp towel.
Oh, and did I add that when you have a nicotine overdose that you
sweat and drool?
I didn't talk, I was too busy trying to stay conscious. But she
did.
"Mulder, have you ever noticed how one decision can change
your life forever? If I hadn't chosen the FBI, I would have had a
completely different life."
"Better life," I rasped out and she frowned.
"I don't know that. I think I made the right choice, the
only one I could make and I don't regret it. I've only just
realized that, after seeing Daniel again." She stroked my
cheek with the towel, then set it down.
"Not sorry about staying in the basement?" I panted for
air, grateful for the oxygen cannula they'd given me.
"Mulder, don't talk. You'll only make your throat worse. I'm
not sorry I stayed in the basement. It's been interesting work,
valuable work." She looked down at her two hands, clasped
around mine. "I've met lots of interesting people."
Yeah. Mutants and misfits. And me.
"What I want you to know is that I don't regret any of my
decisions. None. Working with you has been the highlight of my
life. Knowing you...I...uh.." she looked uncomfortable and
soft at the same time. Scully? Getting mushy?
Getting stuffy in here. Lungs were feeling heavier than they
were. It was harder to draw air. I felt like I was trying to
breathe jello, then it got thicker and harder to draw inside my
straining lungs.
"Mulder? I just wanted to tell you, to finally tell you how
I feel about you...I lov...Mulder? What's wrong? Nurse! Nurse!
Code blue...Code..."
I didn't hear anything more for a long time. It was just as well,
since Scully tells me that they had to put me on a ventilator
after I stopped breathing on my own. The combination of maggots
and nicotine had finally shut down my lungs. "Respiratory
paralysis" she called it.
When I woke, Scully was asleep in her chair, her two hands twined
around mine. I watched her sleep and tried to be quiet until I
couldn't hold off the coughing fit and woke her.
She jerked upright, terror on her face, until she saw me watching
her. Then her face erupted into a brilliant grin.
"Hey," she said. "Good morning."
"Hey," I tried to answer but nothing came out. Damn.
Laryngitis is a bitch.
She laughed. "Well, for a few days I win all the arguments.
How are you feeling? Better?"
I smiled and shrugged, then pointed to the various medical
equipment surrounding me and lifted my eyebrows. Scully took a
breath and eyed the cannula still feeding oxygen to me.
"The nicotine paralyzed your lungs and you stopped breathing
on your own for a while. But I'm happy to say that both the bugs
and the nicotine are out of your system, for the most part. We
have you on heavy antibiotics to stave off pneumonia and you'll
be here a while longer, but I hope that the worst part is
over."
I moved my lips and she leaned her ear closer to hear me say
"I feel like I've just been fumigated for termites."
She smiled. "Well, I'm glad that's over. We'll still be
suctioning your lungs until we're sure they're clear of debris.
Hey, I know it isn't pleasant but consider the alternative."
While I was in the hospital she talked to me, she treated me, she
commiserated with me, but she never finished the sentence she'd
started before I stopped breathing.
Maybe she's scared that if she tells me she loves me I'll stop
breathing and die? Or maybe that she will?
I've told her how I feel, in words, in actions. I even kissed her
once. Okay, it was a wimpy New Year's kiss, but I tried. And
every time I try, she shies away.
Then she comes back and saves my ass for me.
What a woman.
Is it too much to want to sleep next to her just for one night,
and wake up with her hair on my pillow? To kiss her and hold her
and TELL her how I feel?
But Scully will not be pushed. Oh no, never push Dana Scully.
It's like trying to coax a wild bird to your hand. You move
delicately and cautiously and try, oh so hard, not to startle.
Oh Scully, I'm trying. And you were almost there, in my hand.
And now I sit here in the basement of the Hoover building staring
at the new pack of Morleys, plastic wrapping shining at me from
the wastebasket. I told her the truth but not all of it. This is
the third pack of Morley's I've bought since I left the hospital.
I used to be a pack a day smoker until I quit, and it feels just
like yesterday. But I couldn't tell her and see the
disappointment in her eyes. I can never disappoint her.
So, I let my hand drop to my side and turn away from the
wastebasket. A bird in the hand is worth two in the wastebasket,
huh?
=====
THE END
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