From: Kitsunagari
Subject: NEW: Fever - By Kitsunagari
Date: Thursday, 24 June 1999 17:09
TITLE: FEVER
RATING: PG
KEYWORDS: MSR
CATEGORY: XR
SPOILERS: NONE
ARCHIVING: Anywhere with name attached
SUMMARY: Mulder's not acting like himself...or rather, too much like
himself.
FEEDBACK: If domesticated and friendly will be given a kind home and feed
regularly at kitsunagarix@xoommail.com. No feral feedback please!
DISCLAIMER: I'd love to say that Mulder was mine...but alas! I shall have
to confess that he and Scully are the property of Chris Carter, 1013, 20C
Fox etc etc yadda yadda yadda.
FEVER
- By Kitsunagari
Scully put the finishing touches on her report. She and Mulder were in a
small town investigating the murder of a middle-aged woman, Sarah Armstrong,
by her husband, Martin. Martin had claimed that he had had no control over
his actions, and Mulder and Scully had been notified of the case through the
man's claims that he may have been 'possessed'. However, after exhaustive
interviews with the suspect and various people of his acquantaince, Mulder
had finally dismissed the case as having none of the earmarks of a
possession case; however, the motive behind the murder of the man's wife of
25 years still eluded them - by all accounts Martin was, to use a cliched
term, mild-mannered and unassuming. Still, as Mulder had ironically
remarked, "It's always the quiet ones."
Having finished her report, Scully packed up her laptop and carried it and
her suitcase outside and put them in the trunk of the rental car, and then
proceeded to wait for Mulder. After several minutes, she lost her patience
and knocked on Mulder's motel room door. No reply. She knocked again.
"Mulder?" This time the door swung open, greeting Scully with the sight of
Mulder still clad only in his pyjama bottoms, blinking blearily at her.
"Scully?" He squinted at her. "What time is it?"
"Mulder, it's 9am. We're supposed to be gone by now. Did you sleep
through your alarm?"
Mulder blinked a bit more. "Alarm?"
"Mulder, are you feeling okay? You seem a little out of it."
Mulder ran his hand down his stubbled face. "To tell you the truth
Scully, I'm feeling a little disoriented...and it feels like someone's on
the inside of my skull trying to beat their way out with a pick axe."
"You're running a low fever, Mulder," Scully told him in concern, gently
pressing her hand against his forehead and cheek. "Look, get dressed, and
I'll pack up for you."
*******************************************************************
Scully collapsed on to her bed. It had been a long tiring drive, and
Mulder had not really been in a condition to relieve her. He had spent the
entire journey in a deep sleep - so deep that Scully had trouble waking him
up when she got to his apartment. He'd still seemed a little out of it, in
fact Scully had to help support him when he walked, but had turned down her
offer to stay - he hadn't wanted her to catch whatever it was he had, and
had insisted that she leave. Reluctantly, she had.
The phone rang. Sighing, Scully dragged herself off her bed and picked it
up.
"Scully."
Silence.
"Hello?" Scully's annoyance seeped through to her tone.
In a hoarse whisper, she heard "Scully..._they're here_,"
"Mulder? Who's there Mulder?"
"Their eyes! I can feel their eyes..._I can *hear* them listening!_"
Mulder whispered frantically into the phone.
"Mulder, listen to me, stay where you are. I'll be right there."
Silence.
"Mulder? Mulder, are you there? Stay where you are."
"Hurry, Scully."
******************************************************************
Scully knocked on Mulder's door. No reply. She tried again, louder.
"Mulder?" Still no reply. The hair on her neck began to prickle...and she
removed her weapon from its holster, and then unlocked and opened Mulder's
door. Quickly swinging herself in, weapon first, she encountered gloom.
Mulder had all the blinds in his apartment shut, and the only light came
from between the few missing slats. She relaxed her outstretched arms,
bringing the gun closer into her torso, but still keeping it at the ready.
"Mulder? Mulder, where are you?"
In the silence she thought she could hear a muffled sob.
Scully found a lamp in the darkness, and switched it on. Mulder sat on
the floor, hugging his knees, on which his head rested. Another muffled sob
escaped into the gloom. Putting her weapon away, Scully knelt in front of
Mulder, and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead - Mulder's
temperature was now very high, dangerously high.
At the touch of her hand against his forehead, Mulder's head whipped up.
"It's my fault, Scully."
"Mulder, we have to get you to a hospital. You're running a very high
temperature..."
Mulder seemed not to hear her, and looked away, tears streaming down his
face. "It's my fault, Scully. I should have stopped them. But I couldn't.
And they took her. I tried so hard to stop them, but I couldn't." Another
sob. Mulder was obviously reliving his sister's abduction again.
Scully put her hand out and pulled Mulder's chin around until he faced her.
"Mulder, it's me, Scully. You're going to have to go to the hospital."
Mulder's eyes seemed to focus on her. "Scully?" She nodded. His face
crumpled, and more tears escaped. "Scully. They took you too. I tried to
stop them taking you too, and I couldn't. Your cancer, your sister's death,
Emily's death...all my fault. I should have stopped them...but I couldn't."
Another sob. "I'm sorry, Scully." he whispered hoarsely.
Scully wiped away the tears filling her own eyes at Mulder's pain and the
memories he was bringing to the surface and put her arms around him. He
threw his arms around her and held onto her as if his life depended on it.
Whatever this sickness was was giving Mulder one hell of a guilt trip.
There was obviously no getting through to him in this condition. She
cleared her throat. "Mulder, I'm going to call an ambulance, okay?" No
response. Scully gently pulled away and patted her jacket for her
cellphone, and immediately had a vision of her phone resting in its charger,
where she had put it when she had come home, and from where she had failed
to retrieve it when she left her apartment in the hurry to get to Mulder.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. Standing up, she crossed to
Mulder's phone. She put the receiver to her ear and reached down to start
dialing, and realised it was dead. Picking up the cord connecting the phone
to the phoneline, she saw the reason why...the line had been cut. And, by
the looks of his apartment, Scully would have more luck finding gold at the
end of a rainbow than finding Mulder's cell-phone. Sighing, she knelt
beside Mulder again.
"Mulder? Did you cut the phone line?" He nodded. "Why?"
Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her down so that her ear was right next
to his mouth. "Because _they're listening!_" he hissed. Just as suddenly
he released her and sprang to his feet, Scully making a hard landing on the
floor in consequence. Spying the door that Scully hadn't closed on her
cautious entry, he pulled it so that only a crack remained, through which he
peered, looking left and right. "They think that I don't know that they're
there. But _I know_." He quickly shut the door and locked, chained and
bolted it.
Despite being aware of its inherent futility at this point, Scully tried
to reason with Mulder. "Mulder, you and I both have our apartments swept
for bugs regularly. It's been more than a year since any were found."
Unsurprisingly, Mulder seemed not to hear her. "I'm ready for them this
time," he said, pulling out his gun.
Now Scully was alarmed. Mulder was not exactly in a condition to be
bearing arms. She stood, licking her lips, trying to think of the best way
to approach this situation. "Mulder, if you shoot them, that's just what
they want."
"It's just what they deserve! You _know_ that, Scully!" Mulder almost
shouted, actually seeming to hear her this time, perhaps because she was
playing along.
Scully took her eyes off Mulder's gun to look into his eyes. "I know that
Mulder. But for you to spend the rest of your life in prison for it...it's
not worth it Mulder." Mulder's eyes raced from side to side, as he seemed
to think of what she was saying. Scully stepped closer to him, hand
outstretched. "Give me the gun, Mulder." He tightened his grip on the gun,
unsure. Scully took another couple of steps closer to him. "Mulder, it's
me, Scully. You trust me, right?" Dumbly, Mulder nodded, not releasing his
grip on the gun. Scully stepped even closer, until they were not even a
foot apart. "Then give me the gun." Scully's every muscle was tense. When
Mulder still didn't move, "Mulder, more than anyone else I want them to pay
for what they've done." She paused as tears again sprang to her eyes, and
she continued more quietly. "But not like this. Give me the gun." A
couple of heartbeats passed, then Mulder handed her his gun.
Scully sighed and almost sagged in relief. She tucked the gun into the
front waistband of her trousers, intending to empty it of ammunition as soon
as she got the chance. Mulder allowed her to lead him over to his couch,
where she sat beside him. Whatever this illness was, it seemed to be
bringing out different aspects of Mulder's personality to an extreme
extent...guilt, paranoia...she had to get him to a hospital.
"Mulder, listen to me. I'm just going next door to use their phone. I
won't take long, but I need you to promise that you will stay right here."
Scully began to rise off the couch but Mulder's hand grabbed her arm and
pulled her down next to him. "I'm sorry, Scully. You were right. I'm just
so tired of it." Scully nodded and attempted to rise again, but his hand
kept her where she was. Mulder's voice rose. "I'm so sick of the lies...of
the deceptions...I just want my sister!" Mulder had his hands on Scully's
upper arms now and shook her at the end of every sentence as if to emphasize
his point. "I've spent ten years of my life being called Spooky Mulder and
toiling in the basement...I've lost my father, I've watched Scully lose her
sister," Scully, already more than a little alarmed at being so roughly
handled by Mulder, was even more disconcerted when he referred to her in the
third person - it made her realise her danger as he obviously was unaware
that it was she who he was shaking. Meanwhile, Mulder carried on
regardless. "watch her daughter die, and get cancer...I JUST WANT MY SISTER
BACK DAMN IT!"
With that, Mulder slammed Scully down on the couch, still holding on to
her upper arms in a bruising fashion. Both of them were breathing hard,
Mulder from anger, Scully from fear. She knew Mulder would never hurt her
in a rational state of mind, but now he did not seem to be aware of who she
was...
After a couple of heartbeats, Mulder's eyes seemed to focus on Scully, as
opposed to the glazed look that had accompanied his previous rants.
"Scully?" he asked in a low voice.
"Mulder? You're hurting me." A treacherous tear slid down Scully's
cheek.
Mulder looked at his hands and where they were as if surprised to see
them. "I'm sorry, Scully." he relaxed his grip, but as most of his six-foot
frame was sprawled on top of her by this stage, she was not in much of a
position to move. Mulder's eyes roamed over every part of her face, and
then his head dipped to under her chin, where she could feel the graze of
his unshaven chin on the delicate skin of her throat. At first she was
unsure of what he was doing, but then she could hear his intakes of
breath...he was smelling her.
"Mulder..." she said softly
"Mmm, it's definitely Scully alright..." he said quietly, his warm breath
tickling her throat. "I would know that scent anywhere."
"Mulder...what are you doing?" Scully asked, her tones hushed, and not
carrying much conviction.
"Sssh, Scully." She could feel his lips graze her neck as he shushed her.
"I know it's very unprofessional, Scully, but sometimes, I can't help but
wonder what it would feel like, if I were to kiss you...just here..."
Mulder's warm lips pressed softly on her throat. "...or here...here
maybe...and there's always here..." Mulder proceeded to kiss a haphazard
line down her throat, stopping just where her blouse ended in a V above the
top button.
Scully was still breathing hard, but now for an entirely different reason.
She could feel the imprint of his kisses burning as if Mulder's lips still
rested there. A part of her was demanding that she do something to get out
of this situation, and get Mulder to a hospital...but that part was losing
votes rapidly.
Mulder's weight shifted slightly, and she saw his eyes widen slightly.
"What...?" his left hand ran down her side and along the waistband of her
trousers. A patch of skin was exposed by Scully's prone position, and
Scully felt the too-warm warmth of Mulder's hand graze gently along it and
then stop at his gun which was still tucked into the waistband of her pants.
Very gently, and very slowly, he dragged it out and placed it on the coffee
table. He then ran his hand around her exposed skin and began to insinuate
his fingers under her back. Almost involuntarily, Scully arched her back
slightly, and Mulder pulled her weapon out of its holster and placed that on
the coffee table also. He then gently raised her blouse up so that a larger
band of flesh was exposed, including her navel, and began another pattern of
searing kisses.
Scully's sense of practicality made another desperate attempt to reassert
itself. "Mulder..." she croaked, and then cleared her throat.
"Mulder...you're sick, you need..." Mulder moved his attention back to her
throat, and Scully was stopped short as she bit back a moan as Mulder ran
his hand gently over her breast.
Mulder lifted his head and looked into Scully's eyes, brushing an errant
strand of hair off her cheek. His eyes glowed with a dark intensity beyond
that caused by the fever he was running, and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered
his head until his lips met hers. They kissed lingeringly, but gently,
Mulder pulling back slightly and searching her expression as if to look for
a rejection. Scully watched his expression also, and was shocked to see his
face crumple as he began to cry. Without another word, Mulder sat up.
Scully, feeling more than a little lightheaded, did the same.
"Mulder? What's the matter?"
"The bee, Scully. They took you, like before...and I didn't know where
you were..."
"But you found me, Mulder. And when I had my cancer, you found a cure..."
"But they only took you...to hurt me. They know...they know that I can't
live without you..." He sprang to his feet. "It's my fault..." he made a
grab for her gun, but Scully had preempted that move and had closed her hand
around it before he had and knocked his off the coffee table and under the
couch, but he now tried to wrestle it from her. "It's the only way
Scully...if I die, they won't need to hurt you any more..."
Scully was rapidly losing the fight with Mulder - he just about had
wrested it away from her - when his eyes rolled back into his head, and he
fell to the floor unconscious. Scully quickly knelt and felt his pulse and
then wrestled with the many locks on Mulder's door, flung it open, and ran
to the first door.
BAM! BAM! "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. I need to use your phone, sir."
*******************************************************************
Scully straightened up from looking through the microscope lens. "And you
say that this was also found in Martin Armstrong's blood?" she asked the
white-coated Dr Williamson. "Mmm-hmm. I can't say I've ever seen anything
like it...a virus that makes it's host act on the extremities of their
personalities. The worst part for the victim is that they are in some part
aware of what they are doing...yet have no control. They even remember what
they have done. You know several of the police officers in the precinct
where Martin Armstrong was being held also came down with it. You were
lucky not to be infected." Scully nodded her agreement. "I notified the
CDC of course...but the virus seems to have disappeared from sight."
"Agent Mulder has fully recovered?"
"Oh, yes. The fever's gone, and he is no longer contagious."
"Thank you for your help, Dr Williamson."
Scully knocked on Mulder's hospital room door.
"Yeah?"
Scully opened the door, and saw Mulder lying in his bed, looking out of
the window. He did not look over as she came in. She pulled a chair close
to the bed on the same side of the bed as the window.
Mulder finally looked at her. "Scully, I can't begin to..."
"Mulder...you don't have anything to apologise for." She risked a quick
look into his eyes, and saw slight surprise. "For nearly seven years now
Mulder, while we have been so avidly seeking the Truth, there has been a
certain truth that we have both avoided facing. What you said...only
brought that truth into the foreground." She took hold of Mulder's hand and
smiled as he squeezed it.
"That still doesn't excuse..."
Scully cleared her throat in semi-embarrassment. "Mulder - I had my
weapon, you were weakened by illness - there is no way what happened could
have happened, without my letting it."
They both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, contemplating this
momentous shift in their relationship dynamic. A nurse opened the door to
Mulder's room. "I'm afraid visting hours are over, Agent Scully." Scully
nodded, and the nurse closed the door again. Scully stood, keeping Mulder's
hand in hers. "I'll come and see you again tomorrow." she said, looking up
from their clasped hands to meet Mulder's eyes.
"Well, you know where I'll be," he said, smiling that wise-ass smile of
his.
Their hands remained clasped an instant or so more, and then Scully let
her hand drop. As she was just about to put her hand on the doorknob, she
turned. "Oh, what the hell," she said and crossed quickly to Mulder's
bedside, took his head in her small hands, and kissed him.
THE END