Author’s
Notes: An XF vignette that I wrote literally years ago (according to my
recollections, in 1999). It was
archived on Gossamer, but I never heard anything more about it. Also notable because it is one of very few beta-ed
stories that I’ve written. Having
said that, kow-tows and a CasualWear!Skinner to Kat for beta...
Spoilers:
Not really any... you’ve watched XF before and know basically who Mulder and
Scully are, right?
Classification:
V, UST
Summary: What do you do when you’re cooped up for
forty-five days with your partner? Try
not to kill him, of course.
Disclaimer:
Uh... XF ain’t mine... I own the overly perky nurse though... feel free to
throw darts at her
Forty-Five
Days
By:
Hayseed ([email protected])
“Hey,
Scully?” a voice asked from a hospital bed in some small town in the middle of
nowhere.
The
voice received no answer.
“Scully?”
Still
no reply.
“Scully,
if you don’t say something, I’m gonna assume you’re not breathing.” There was a pause.
A
very long pause.
The
owner of the voice almost decided to make good on his unspoken threat. Almost.
Finally,
though, there was a response. “I’m not
talking to you, Mulder.”
“What
do you call that, then?” Only Mulder
had an audible smirk.
“Keeping
you in bed on your side of the room.”
The
man, Mulder, pouted. “Aw, come on,
Scully. Play nice.”
Scully
had no such intentions and fell silent once more.
Mulder
played along for a while, choosing to watch his heart monitor for a bit. But heart monitors, oddly enough, can be
boring. So, not unsurprisingly, he fell
to bugging the woman once more. “Hey,
Scully? Guess what?”
Nothing.
“Uh...”
he floundered, not really knowing what to say or do next.
In
any other circumstances, he might have just flipped on a television or a
computer or something and left her alone, but the nurse and doctor had long
since removed any and all devices to that nature, forbidding even books.
And
poor Scully. Mulder knew he was
suffering badly enough with just his ‘slight’ optical damage. But to have his eyes completely bandaged...
must have been torture for Scully.
Not
that the room was anything great to see.
Basic, nondescript white, the only color being a bag of something
vaguely red in Scully’s IV drip. He had
decided not to ask her about it since he didn’t have one. Mulder had long since figured that if he was
to survive this experience, it would be best not to test Scully’s
patience. He was certain she got enough
of that dealing with the nurse.
The
nurse. Typically, he would identify
someone with a voice like hers to be busty and blonde and characteristically
less than brilliant. But this
particular Fran Drescher on speed was bespectacled, had the body of a ten year
old boy, and her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. Just what he wanted to be looking at. She did seem to be more of the
romance novel school than a scholar of classical literature, however. Continually bored, Mulder allowed his eyes
to drift over to Scully, who was still making a great show of pretending he
didn’t exist.
He
arranged his hands and closed his eyes, feeling them heave a sigh of relieve at
the absence of light. Mulder prepared
himself for a nap -- only God knew why he was so tired. His head drooped and...
-- -- --
-- --
Scully
felt like shouting for joy when she heard Mulder’s soft, even breathing,
interrupted by an occasional almost-snore.
Fourteen days with only one human contact was bound to start to annoy
her, even though she could only remember seven of those days very clearly. And she wasn’t even going to consider her
eyes.
Except
there it was, begging to be addressed.
Scully had finally concluded that now was not the time for self-pity and
that mourning for her lost sight, albeit temporary, definitely fit that
description. She couldn’t see, but that
would be remedied in the near future -- hopefully within the next ten or eleven
days, the overly perky nurse had informed her.
Her
mind wandered. Away from her bandaged
eyes, out of this room she’d never even seen...
A
thought struck her suddenly and Scully found herself breaking her self-imposed
code of silence.
“Hey,
Mulder?” she whispered.
Soft
snores.
She
spoke louder. “Mulder, wake up!”
Scully
heard the sound of rustling cloth coupled with his moan. “Wha?
Whozzat?”
“Mulder,”
she hissed.
“Scully? You’re talking,” he said in a surprised
tone. “And how did you know I was
asleep?”
“I’ve
told you before, Mulder. You
snore. But I have a question.”
“Yeah?” A cautious voice. Scully knew Mulder wasn’t sure if he had been forgiven. He hadn’t even made his usual token protests
about his belief that he didn’t snore.
Well,
she wasn’t sure either, but this question would hopefully answer that. “Why are we here, exactly?”
A
thoughtful pause. “Know what,
Scully? I don’t think I know. It had something to do with a case...” he
trailed off, probably deep in thought.
“I
remember waking up,” Scully said, trying to jar his supposedly photographic
memory.
“And
the nurses and doctors asking us for ID,” he continued her train of thought.
“We
just popped up in the ER unconscious, they told us.”
“And
that we were quarantined for forty five days in case of exposure to toxic
substances.”
“And
mentioned my -- our -- eyes as an afterthought.” Scully fingered her bandages, trying not to wince.
“Isn’t
life great, Scully?”
She
fell silent once more, anger resurfacing despite her attempts to see his
side. But as far as she was concerned,
this was utterly and completely his fault.
“Scully?”
This
time she did choose to answer. An icy
“What?” was directed toward Mulder.
She
could almost hear him recoil.
“You’re angry... I, uh...” he faltered.
Scully
frowned, but kept silent.
So
did he. Knowing Mulder and his general
refusal to budge on even the smallest of issues, he had probably folded his
arms and was frowning as if she could see him.
Their
silent contest was suddenly interrupted by an unscheduled visit from the nurse.
“And
how are we today?” she asked in her sugary voice.
We’re
in a hospital, what do you think? Scully wanted to tell her.
The
nurse came over to Scully first. “Your
bandages look good, Dr. Scully. There’s
no seepage. Maybe they’ll come off
sooner than you think.” Scully could
hardly believe the nurse was as excited about this prospect as she sounded.
“Thanks,”
she managed dejectedly.
Turning
away from Scully, the nurse called, “How is your vision, Mr. Mulder?”
“Better.” Scully smiled to herself. One word answers from Mulder meant he was
either sulking or trying to chase someone off.
Guess he wasn’t completely enamored of their nurse either.
There
were quiet taps and beeps as the nurse went about her duties. Scully counted off seconds to herself,
knowing the nurse would be gone in less than six minutes.
At
five minutes and thirty eight seconds, the nurse said cheerily, “Well, I’ll
have dinner in here soon. You two have
only got thirty one days left. That
must have been some mess you got into, to be quarantined like this.” Her heels clicked down the hall.
Mulder
groaned. “Only thirty one days left,”
he said, imitating the nurse’s voice.
“Mulder,
what does she look like?” Scully asked.
“The
hazmat suit does wonders for her figure, Scully. Maybe we could get a couple for the --”
Scully
cut him off. “Shut up, Mulder.”
They
lapsed into silence again, but it was more comfortable this time. Scully’s anger was waning, and Mulder was
making a slight attempt to be less of an ass.
Scully
set her mind adrift once more. Some
fine mess, she thought, echoing the nurse’s words. And then it hit her.
“Mulder,”
she said slowly. “Do you remember the
case?”
“Sure,”
he answered without a pause. “It was...
uh... and the...” he faltered and stopped.
“I
don’t recall why we even came to this town in the first place,” she said
thoughtfully.
For
perhaps the first time in a long time, Mulder was speechless.
Scully’s
mind began to whirl that much faster.
“Mulder, do you think --”
He
anticipated her question. “Those
bastards!” he shouted and Scully heard his heart monitor speed up. “They did it again!”
Scully
nodded. “We must have seen something.”
“And
They felt it necessary to erase our memories.
Scully, what did we see?” He was
hyperventilating, too.
Scully
opened her mouth to answer, but a chirpy voice prevented her. “Mr. Mulder? Is something wrong? The
monitor’s gone wild.”
Mulder
made a concerted effort to control himself, by the sound of it. “Uh, I’m fine. There’s no problem.”
The
voice continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“You’re going to have to calm down.”
“Yeah,
sure.” He held his breath in an effort
to follow her orders.
There
was a pause, telling Scully the nurse was gone.
A
few minutes later: “Scully, what are we going to do?”
She
shrugged. “What can we do? Sit out the quarantine, I guess. Hide our tracks better next time.”
“If
there is a next time,” Mulder muttered darkly.
No
comment was necessary. Once he got into
one of those moods, it was best to leave him alone.
Dinner
came and went. Some tasteless mush the
nurse tried to tell them was the healthiest meal available. Other than that, silence reigned throughout
the meal.
“Hey,
Scully?” Mulder finally asked, breaking her reverie.
“Yeah?”
“Wanna
play Twenty Questions?”
Was
he serious? “Uh...”
“Come
on,” he wheedled.
She
gave in. “All right. Is it a vegetable?”
“Nope.” Scully could all but hear the grin in his
voice.
“Animal?”
“Nah.”
“Reticulan?”
An
indignant, “Hey!”
It
was Scully’s turn to grin. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“I’ll
live,” he sighed.
“If
only to kick the Cancerman’s ass one day,” Suclly teased, unwilling to drop the
mood.
“Hey,
you got it,” Mulder cried.
“What?”
“Cancerman
was the answer.”
Scully
snorted. “I bet he is a
Reticulan.”
FINIS