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Maybe (X-files fanfic, M)


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Title: Maybe

Author: Frick

Fandom/Orginal: X-files

Disclaimer: Not mine (we can only dream), no profit made.

Rating: G

Summmary: Mulder's sick. Maybe he should go home?

Author's Notes: Inspired by recent SciFi channel reruns. Written for a sneezefic list challenge.

“I can't seem to shake this cold,” Mulder said by way of apology as he sneezed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Or maybe that hour.

Skinner ignored the comment as completely as he had ignored the earlier sneezes. He barely allowed the flow of his dressing down to be impeded by the interruptions, much less offered any sort of acknowledgment.

Scully handed him another tissue, her lips forming a silent 'bless you' as she had each time he'd sneezed. How she managed to do so without obvious irritation was beyond him. Perhaps being raised in the Church brought out a politeness lacking in most of the rest of humanity. Or maybe it was simply her innate kindness. Or maybe she was just sick of listening to him sniffle like a five year old. Not that it made a difference either way, but Mulder still wondered. Nature? Nurture?

Pulling himself out of the foggy-headed, cold medicine induced reverie with an effort, Mulder attempted to focus on what Skinner was saying. Without much success. His head ached, the pounding of blood in his ears almost louder than Skinner's simmering anger. Admittedly, their last case hadn't gone well. A child had been purportedly abducted by aliens. There were several points of similarity between that abduction and the disappearance of Mulder's younger sister, Samantha and though he had told himself not to – he had hoped that more would be revealed. Unfortunately the boy had been kidnapped by a much more mundane being – his estranged father. Needless to say, neither Scully nor Skinner was surprised at this outcome.

As though this wasn't enough, after four hours on an airplane with who knows how many germs being recycled through the canned air, Mulder found himself stuck with a virus that wouldn't quit. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, trying to ease the pressure, but that only succeeded in making his nose tickle again. At least he had a tissue.

He ducked his head, burying his nose in the Kleenex as the sneezes hit. “Huhh... chuff! Huhesshh-uh.” The groan slipped out before he could stop it. One thousand and two. It was starting to hurt. At least the noise was somewhat muffled. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, blowing his nose and reducing the tissue to a sodden mess. He lobbed it towards the trash with one hand and missed. Amazing, he thought as he moved to retrieve it, even after four days of almost constant practice he still couldn't make a basket.

Skinner sighed deeply. Emphatically. “I can see none of this is getting through to you. Go home, Mulder. Quit spreading your disease all over the office. Take a day or two. And when you get back, I want a proposal on how to keep the Deputy Director off my ass about the lack of progress.”

“Yes sir,” Scully said.

Mulder muttered something that might have passed for agreement and opened the door. Scully stood to follow, but Skinner raised a hand, stopping her.

“A moment, please Scully. There is something I need to clarify.”

She nodded. “Feel better,” she said softly to Mulder, then the door closed.

Go home. He shook his head. The only thing waiting there was a pile of dishes that needed washing. Probably a pile of bills that needed paying. Certainly piles of old tissues and take out containers. Not exactly anything that said rest, relax. Work was what relaxed him and so he turned back down to the office he shared with Scully. She was quite meticulous about hand sanitizing, so he knew she wouldn't get sick.

The elevator ride to the basement seemed to take forever. He leaned against the back wall and coughed. His throat burned and he dug in his pockets, hoping for a lozenge. He came up with a used Kleenex, a pencil stub, a candy wrapper and some lint. Of course. He shivered as he unlocked the door and nudged the thermostat a few degrees higher.

Collapsing into his chair, Mulder booted up his computer. He figured he'd do Scully a favor and get started on their report. She'd be pleased not to be stuck with the paperwork, or a long discussion about whose turn it was that lasted until either she came up with proof that it was Mulder's turn or just gave up in exasperation and did it herself.

An hour later he was regretting his decision. Deeply. He had nearly completed the reports, but for the last quarter of an hour (give or take) he'd merely been staring blankly at the blinking cursor. He rubbed his eyes, knuckled his nose. It was tickling again.

“I should have known.” Scully's voice held a mix of exasperation and a deeper warmth, a tone she took with him more often than he would admit deserving.

He widened his eyes, going for the innocent look. “What?”

She crossed the room, heels clicking on the tile. No-nonsense sound, just like her. “I thought Skinner told you to take the day off... but perhaps I was wrong?” She pressed one cool hand on his forehead and he closed his eyes for the barest instant. His shoulders slumped marginally. “You have a fever, Mulder. If you don't take care of yourself, you won't get any better.”

“I know,” he sighed, straightening and moving away from her touch. It would be too easy... “I was finishing up the reports.”

Scully's brows shot skyward. “Now I know you're sick. Go home. You can finish them when you come back.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Suddenly the tickle overwhelmed him and he turned away, sneezing into the crook of his elbow. “Hhhchht! Hehessh!” One thousand and four. “Sorry.”

“Disgusting,” Scully said, but she her eyes were kind when she handed him a tissue. “Go home Mulder.” And this time, he did.

He meant to stop at the corner market on the way, but by the time he parked his car it was all he could do to climb the stairs to his apartment and unlock the door. Exhaustion hit him in a wave and it was pulling him down. He kicked off his shoes, leaving them where they lay in the middle of the hallway and stumbled into the bedroom.

He collapsed on the bed fully clothes, and finally surrendered to the sickness that had been building for days. He curled up on his side, but after a moment his back ached. He rolled over. But in that position the sun shone directly into his eyes, even through the curtains. He couldn't remember the last time he was in here during the daytime. Or even the night time, for that matter. He rolled onto his stomach, but that didn't feel right either. He turned back to his side. It was no use. His body ached all over – his bones, his muscles, his joints, his eyelids, his hair. He should have let Krycek kill him. At least he'd be put out of his misery.

Giving up at last, Mulder stood and yanked the comforter from the bed, wrapped it around himself and, shivering still, made his way into the living room. He shoved a stack of papers, journals and crumpled tissues onto the floor and curled up, leaning his head against the armrest. He closed his eyes. Even now he was nowhere near sick enough for daytime television. What he wouldn't give for a movie.

He wished Sam were there. Though she was the younger of the two, whenever he was sick she would take it upon herself to take care of him. She'd bring him tea and soup and dry toast. He'd protest, grumble about the order of things and she'd call him a jerk and a horrible patient and a baby. But her hand on his head would be cool and soothing as she petted his hair. And her voice would be sweet as he hummed.

Go home, they'd told him, but without Sam he was never home. He was just in a house. He coughed and the sound nearly drowned out the sound of knocking at his door. The hell, he thought. It had better not been a solicitor or he'd have no qualms about sneezing on them. They'd deserve the plague.

“Come in,” he called, voice stuffy and hoarse. “'S open.”

“Letting anyone in are we?”

Scully. He should have known. “As if they could make me feel any worse.” He coughed again. Lovely – he sounded like death. “Making sure I actually did as I was told?”

“No,” she lifted a bag onto the coffee table, heedless of the clutter. “I thought you might need supplies.” She pulled out a take-out container from their favorite Chinese restaurant. The scent of won-ton soup drifted out as she opened it and Mulder sat up. His stomach growled, reminding him he had yet to eat. A carton of orange juice followed, along with a new box of Kleenex, a pack of sunflower seeds, aspirin, cough drops and NyQuil. And then, from the bottom of the bag she produced a video – porn.

A laugh burst from Mulder, his first in days. “Have you eaten,” he asked, his tone much more gentle.

“No, I was just on my way home and wanted to stop off. I knew your cupboards would be bare.” She turned to go.

As though Alexandria was on the way to Georgetown. “There's plenty of soup. And I promise not to start the video until you're gone.” Stay, he wanted to say. Please.

And maybe she heard because she turned back. “Thank God for that.” But she pushed his feet out of the way and sat beside him.

Maybe he was home, he thought as the soup warmed the center of his belly. Maybe.

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That? Freakin' ADORABLE, you hooker! :) One thousand and four.....*CACKLE* That was so damned brilliant.

Omfg, I love your X-files fiction....

Drop me a line or a PM, alright? I miss you...


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That? Freakin' ADORABLE, you hooker! :blink: One thousand and four.....*CACKLE* That was so damned brilliant.

Omfg, I love your X-files fiction....

Drop me a line or a PM, alright? I miss you...


Thanks darlin'! Always good to get feedback from you. :drool: And consider yourself PMed. I miss you too!

~ Frick

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Guest shiranui

Hey Frick, I really liked your story. You know I used to LOVE X-Files when it was on air... and seriously, I should buy the series to enjoy it again :blink:

There was a character called Krycek in this series... he didn't appear to often though *booh!* but I really liked him too. Ooooh, there should be a story with him as well :drool:

Anyway, it's so typical Mulder, not going home but staying in his musty office trying to finish up the work.

Thanks so much for writing this... ;):D

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  • 5 years later...


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