Just a Cold 
By Xenith 
xenitha@yahoo.com 





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.

Rating:G

Category: V, MSR-lite

Spoilers: none

Archive: Sure!  Just tell me!

Feedback: Love it! Love it!

E-Mail address: xenitha@yahoo.com

Website: Go here to read more of my stuff!
http://members.xoom.com/merlin717/index.html

Discussion List:  Yes!!! Yes!!!

Summary: Scully gets the flu. Mulder learns what it's
like on the other side of the hospital bed.

Author's note:  No angst here, minimal torture. Just
had to write something in between papers.

JUST A COLD

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.