Subject: Submission: New Years Eve
Date: Thu, 31 Dec 1998

Summary: Just another night, another ER, another sick Mulder . . .
Spoilers: Season Six, but not real bad
Category: V H A MSRmusings
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: It's New Year's, guys. You did Christmas, I did New
Year's. Next year we'll flip, huh? But till then, I don't infringe.
Archives: Yes, please
Comments: sent to me, vmoseley@fgi.net. Happy New Years to
the Mulder Torture Anonymous Mail List. You guys are the
greatest, not to mention, the fastest readers I've met <G>

New Year's Eve
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

Milwaukee Medical Center
Prompt Care
December 31, 1998

Ahhh-Choo!

"King me," Fox Mulder sniffed as he slid his black marker into the
last row of the checker board. His partner, Dana Scully, glared at
him, but did as she was told.

"Do you need another tissue, Mulder?" she asked disdainfully as he
blew his nose in the same tissue she had given him fifteen minutes
before. How it was managing to remain in one piece was more
than her mind could handle.

"Nah, this one is bine," he sniffed and made the choking noise in the
back of his throat. The same noise he'd been making all day and
the noise that had finally become so annoying that Scully had
threatened him at gun point to accompany her to the nearest
medical facility.

"Mulder, if you have to cough, for God's sakes, just cough! That
strangled sound coming out of you is a perfect imitation of a death
rattle," she groused and moved one of her white checkers.

He smiled at her and made the noise again. "That sound, Scully?"
he asked innocently, and then proceeded to pick up not only the
just moved white piece but it's nearby companion piece which was
also in his path. "This is too easy, Scully," he said and this time
allowed the cough to come all the way from his toes.

Scully sat there and waited patiently until the coughs subsided. She
didn't say anything, just quietly handed him another tissue, which
he took with a frown.

"What are we doing here, Scully? I have a cold. It can wait 'till we
get home," Mulder complained for the sixth or seventh time since
they'd entered the building.

"I have no intentions of lying in my bed, listening to you hack up a
lung in the room next door all night, Mulder," she said, pretending
to concentrate on the board in front of her. Now, if she could just
remember what move she wanted to make.

"It's not bronchitis. You're over-reacting," he said, folding his
arms in front of his chest.

"Like you did with Ronnie Strickland?" she asked, and smiled with
triumph as she picked up one of the black checkers and added it to
her pile.

"Salt in old wounds, Scully. So beneath you," Mulder said and
moved a black piece out of her way. "Overactive mother instinct,"
he muttered under his breath.

"Common sense of a two year old," she countered in muttered
tones as she gathered another black checker.

"Fox Mulder," came a woman's voice from the front of the waiting
room and both agents exchanged tired looks and picked up their
coats to follow the nurse back to the examining rooms.

"What seems to be the problem?" the nurse, whose name tag
announced her as 'Paige', asked as she took out the chart and
started to make notes.

"He's been congested for the past two or three days and today he
developed a cough. It's got a pronounced rattle to it. I think we're
dealing with either bronchitis or the early stages of pneumonia,"
Scully said, reading over the woman's shoulder as she wrote. Paige
glanced over to Mulder, seated on the examining table and he
merely rolled his eyes.

"I have a cold," he said simply and then flashed her a smile. Paige
smiled back and winked.

"Well, 'Mr. I have a Cold', the doctor will want to take a look for
himself." Paige flashed smile at Scully. "All other opinions
notwithstanding."

Mulder giggled and it turned into another nasty cough. Scully shot
him a satisfied look that only lasted a moment when she realized he
was beginning to hurt.

"Well, let's take a temp and blood pressure, just to be safe," Paige
said, interrupting the silent conversation that was taking place in
front of her.

To Mulder's eternal relief, Paige had an aural thermometer. It
beeped in a second and she looked at the reading, then wrote it
promptly on the chart. Scully tilted her head to read the number
and then shook her head as she looked at her partner.

"It's 101.7, Mulder. I _knew_ you had a fever," she added with a
sigh.

"And I didn't deny it," he shot back. This time, he was able to stifle
the cough a little and instead make the sound Scully had become so
fond of.

"That doesn't help, you know," Paige said cheerily. "In fact, it only
makes it worse. Now Mr. Mulder, if you would please take off
your clothes and put on this gown," Paige said efficiently as she
handed him an extremely thin article of cotton. "The doctor will be
in soon." She scooped up the chart and gave Scully a glare, then
left the room.

Mulder sat there, staring at the door. Then he looked down at the
'gown' in his hands and shook his head. "I'm out of here," he said,
and started to get up but a small, well-manicured hand restrained
him.

"We need to get antibiotics, Mulder. If we stay, they'll give us a
prescription for antibiotics and we can get out of here."

"And we could use our guns, break into a all night pharmacy and
get the same antibiotics," Mulder said dryly. "And I wouldn't have
to freeze to death while dying of embarrassment in the process."

"You are being childish," she told him.

"No, Scully, _you_ are being overbearing! I didn't want to come
here, I just want to go back to the motel and sleep . . ." He had to
stop in mid-rant while the coughs doubled him over. After the
worst had passed, he braced himself on the exam table and held his
breath for a moment. A look of intense pain froze his features.
Finally, he spoke. "Shit, that hurt."

"My point, precisely," Scully said firmly, then softened her
expression. She got up from her chair and walked over to place a
hand on his arm. "Mulder, I'm not doing this to be mean, or to be
overbearing, or even because I have an 'overactive mother instinct'.
My job, as I've read it for almost six years, is to watch your back.
And right now, you're back has a bad cough and probably a lung
infection which could be viral or could be bacterial and will
probably get worse if we don't treat it. All I'm doing is my job."

He didn't speak for a moment. Then he looked at her, with a
sadness that took her breath away. "That's all. Just your job."

She shook her head and reached up to ruffle his hair. "Well, I have
to admit, seeing you in those little threadbare gowns is a secret
pleasure of mine," she said, just suppressing a grin. "Come on.
Give me a show," she added and gave him a smile that lit up the
small room.

He closed his eyes and smiled in return. Finally, he nodded. "But
you wait outside until the curtain opens. This ain't no burlesque,"
he drawled. She smiled and nodded and left him alone for a few
minutes to change.

"Mrs. Mulder? Mrs. Mulder?" It wasn't until a hand touched her
shoulder that Scully realized Paige had been calling her. "I'm sorry,
Mrs. Mulder, but I need some more information on your husband."

Scully started to go into her standard explanation that they weren't
married, they were just partners, when she stopped. For some
reason she remembered the wink Paige had given Mulder back in
the exam room. It had looked innocent enough, but it had still
raised her blood pressure a few notches. Besides, it wasn't like
there was anyone to contradict her.

"What information?" she asked with a pleasant expression plastered
on her face.

"Well, I need his age . . ."

"38."

"His height, unless you want me . . ."

"6 foot, in bare feet."

"Would you know his . . .

"One-forty-five. Oh, wait. One-forty. He's been feeling bad for a
couple of days and he hasn't been eating well at all."

"Allergies?"

"None. He suffers a little from hay fever, but has no allergies to
food or medication."

"And when was the last time he saw a doctor?"

"I'm a doctor," Scully said, with a very knowing smile on her face.
Paige blushed slightly, but enough to let Scully know: Message
received. "He was hospitalized in mid November. Boating
accident," she supplied and watched as Paige noted it on the chart.

"Thanks," Paige said sweetly and turned on her heel to hurry down
the hall. Scully smiled to herself and knocked softly on the door.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Mulder's disgruntled voice was muffled, but
audible. Scully entered the room and saw her partner, sitting on the
exam table with both their coats wrapped around him. "It's
f-f-f-freezing in here, Scully. Hope you don't mind?"

"You're just torturing me by not giving me a floor show," Scully
winked at him as she sat back down in her chair.

"I heard you talking outside. What are they saying?"

Always the paranoid one, her partner. But this was too good to
pass up. "Well, they're quarantining the whole clinic. We're pretty
sure you have Ebola," she said with a deadpanned expression. His
look informed her that she was _not_ funny and she relented.
"Paige forgot to fill out the top part of the insurance form."

"So she asked you? Gee, Scully, next time I'll just phone in my
exam and send you in my place," Mulder griped, but the words held
no malice. Another coughing fit nearly toppled him from his perch
on the table.

"Mulder, why don't you lie back, take it easy? You know how
these places are. The doctors are the same ones from the ER and
that means . . ."

"We're here till retirement," he sighed. He sniffed again, then took
his coat that had been covering his shoulders and wadded it up to
form a pillow. Punching it a few times for good measure, he laid
down on his side facing his partner.

She took pity on him as he struggled to cover himself with her
overcoat. "Here, let me," she growled affectionately and he
allowed her to pull the coat away from him only to cover him with
it again.

"This is a nice coat, Scully," he said sleepily, and yawned for effect.

"I never thought it would have to cover you, but I think I may have
to remember this the next time I go coat shopping," she replied and
stood next to the table, allowing them both the luxury of close
contact. Gently, she stroked his forehead. "Sleep, Mulder. It may
be a while before the doctor gets here." In minutes, his breathing
had evened out and she could tell he was dozing.

Scully had reviewed the facts of osteoporosis, had weighed herself,
had counted the number of surgical scrub packages and even
glanced briefly at the other pages of the Girl Scout calendar
hanging over the small desk. She refused to look at either her
watch or the oversized clock on the wall. That only made the time
pass more slowly.

<<Time is a universal invariant>>

She smiled to herself as she remembered that conversation with her
partner almost six years ago.

"Not in this zip code, either, apparently," she sighed and settled
down to watch her partner sleep.

So much had changed in six years. Six years ago, she'd been a wet
behind the ears, untested, newly minted field agent. She knew what
they called them. 'Cherry' new agents. Just waiting to be plucked
from the stem.

And then she ran head long into the greatest force she'd ever met.
Fox Mulder on a mission.

Truth be told, and now she had the courage to tell herself the truth,
she'd been terrified of him. She'd heard he was brilliant, his first
impression left her considering him more of a kook than a genius.
He was arrogant, that had never changed. He was disrespectful of
authority, as he remained. He was the truest friend she'd ever
encountered.

And somewhere along the line, she grew to love him more dearly
than life itself.

She thought back on Paige and her mistaken assumption. The
young nurse wasn't the only one in the last six years to make that
mistake. Several people, from doctors and nurses, to patients
entering a fertility clinic, had taken one look at the oddly matched
couple and labeled them 'married' at first sight.

After all this time, it was probably true.

Her mother had often told her that marriage was a state of being,
not just a legal union. And in her heart, Scully had romanticized it
as such. But she's never stopped to consider that what she had
with her partner was so close to the actual definition of marriage
that it could not be denied.

For better or worse. From Indiana to New Mexico. For richer, for
poorer. Visions of a sunken charter boat and compensation for a
drive through Nevada came to mind. In sickness . . . Her own
cancer, his brush with death on an almost annual basis made that
one a given. And in health? Well, sometimes, that too.

Till death do us part? But has death ever parted us? she wondered
to herself. Could it part us? She doubted it's power over them as
much as she doubted the power of the Consortium over them.

"Wow," she couldn't help but exclaim at this revelation she'd just
received.

There was a knock at the door and Mulder slowly opened his eyes.
"Wow, what?" he rasped and coughed into his coat/pillow.

"Nothing," she said hurriedly as the doctor came in the room.

"Ah, Mr. Mulder, Happy New Year," said the young man. "I'm
Dr. Marty Brothers, and I got the short stick tonight."

Scully regarded him cooly, noting that he was under thirty if he was
a day.

"Happy <<cough>> New Year," said Mulder dryly and struggled to
sit up. Dr. Brothers gave him a hand.

"Says here that you've got a nasty cough and some upper
respiratory congestion," said Dr. Brothers as he unwrapped Mulder
from Scully's coat and listened with a stethoscope to Mulder's
chest. "I'm not going to ask you to cough, but could you just
breath normally through your mouth."

Mulder did as he was told and tried valiantly not to cough. It didn't
work, and he ended up doubled over again. Dr. Brothers patted
him sympathetically on the back.

"I think we're gonna need a couple of x rays, just to be on the safe
side," he said to Scully. He jotted something down on the chart
and turned to Mulder. "Paige will be back in to take you across the
hall. I promise it won't take as long now that you're in the
pipeline. With luck, we'll get the film developed fast and see
what's going on, then give you something to help you get some
sleep tonight. Both of you," he said to Scully with a wink.

Scully gave him a weak smile and was silent until he left the room.

"Toddler!" she exclaimed. "Mulder, that, that, _child_ . . ." she
fumed.

Mulder was laughing and coughing at the same time. "Scully, he
probably as old as you were when you graduated medical school.
Hey, I'm just happy he knew which end of the stethoscope to use,"
he gasped out. "Or where to put it," he added after the coughing
slowed down.

"Save your breath, Mulder," Scully warned him. "At least he won't
be running the x ray machine," she muttered.

It didn't take too long, it took longer. By the time Dr. Brothers got
back to them with the developed x rays, another hour had passed.
Scully was feeling very disgruntled.

"Well, the good news, folks, is that there is no sign of pneumonia.
The bad news, of course, is that you're starting 1999 with a pretty
nasty case of bronchitis. I'm giving you some strong antibiotics, a
prescription strength expectorant, another prescription for
decongestant and I'm ordering bed rest for the next week."

"What! I can't stay in bed for a week! I'm on a case!" Mulder
cried and Scully got up to stand next to him.

"Mulder, we're following another truck of fertilizer. Kersch can
send someone else out here for that. This is our ticket home!"

The frown that had graced his face was transformed as the wisdom
of Scully's words hit him. "You're right. We're on the first plane
home!" he said, coughing for emphasis.

"Well, after a good night's sleep," chimed in Dr. Brothers.
"Anyway, we have a pharmacy right here, so fill these on the way
out and remember . . ."

"Bed rest, yeah, I remember. Can I have that in writing?" Mulder
asked. "For my boss?"

Dr. Brothers smiled. "You have it in writing. It's on the bottom of
the release form I'm giving you. Go home, see your own doctor in
a week and make sure you take all the antibiotics . . ."

" . . . Even if I start to feel better, yeah, I know. Hey, thanks, Dr.
Brothers."

"You're welcome. And Happy New Year, in 15 minutes, that is."

Scully looked down at her watch as Mulder looked at his. "Well, I
guess we're not making it to Times Square this year, Scully,"
Mulder said with a twinkle in his eye.

"No, guess not. Since we're about 1000 miles west of there," she
answered as she handed him his clothes and turned her back so he
could dress with some modicum of privacy.

"A week off, Scully. Hey, wanta call Kersch and tell him the
doctor said I needed 24 hour care?" he asked, wiggling his
eyebrows.

"Keep it up, Mulder, and you'll be in Intensive Care," she warned,
but her eyes were laughing with him. "Come on. Let's get you to
bed."

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say those
words to me, Scully?"

She bit her lip to keep from replying. She knew for all his talk, he'd
be asleep in the car before they even got back to the motel. And
then she'd have to half drag, half carry him to her room. To be on
the safe side, she'd tuck him in the spare bed. And she spend the
night, listening for his breathing, making sure he wasn't coughing
too much.

Yep. It sure felt like they were married.

the end.

Vickie

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"We're gonna party like it's
1999"

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^