Chicken Soup
Author: Xenith
xenitha@yahoo.com
Date: Tue, 26 Oct 1999
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
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: Follow up to "Just a Cold"; Mulder
gets his turn on the sick list. Bring your
calamine.
Chicken Soup
When they assigned Scully to the X Files, I
naturally assumed that she was there to spy on
me. The communication between me and my
superiors had been strained for some time by
the time she appeared. Imagine my surprise
when I discovered that, although she was a
skeptic, she was an honest one. I think that
surprised the men who assigned her to me.
And it amazed both them and me that she also
turned out to be loyal.
Now I can't imagine my life without her. It's
been a long two weeks that Scully has been
out recovering from pneumonia. I wanted her
to rest longer, but she just glared at me and
told me that she'd be back the instant the
Bureau doctor released her for duty.
I've stopped by her apartment every day to
check on her; officially I'm there to keep her up
to date on the work she's missing. Yeah,
right.... I've spent most of this time flipping
pencils at the ceiling. It's no fun doing it
without Scully's quiet raised eyebrow at my
boyish antics. And I've been saving the best
cases for her to look at when she gets here:
the crop circles in North Dakota and the
walking mummies in San Jose.
I'll be glad to see her back in the office where
she belongs. Skinner had me do some public
relations stuff because I wasn't "otherwise
occupied". I had to lead the Hoover Building
tour a couple times. I had a few nice
conversations with some pimply-faced
pre-teens. They're interested in UFO's too.
I wonder if acne is catching? For the first time
in fifteen years I woke up with two zits. On my
chin. Really annoying. And Scully's coming
back today. I dressed with special care, wore
her favorite Armani suit (the only one that
hasn't been trashed by mutants or other
baddies, actually). I'm wearing the tie she got
me for Christmas, her favorite after shave.
She breezes in, 8:45 a.m., right on time.
"Hello Mulder, " she says calmly and drops her
car keys onto her desk. She looks well, her
color is back. I, on the other hand, can feel my
heart running a mile a minute. Scully is
*back*!
"Hi Scully. I've got some great cases to show
you." I reach for the pile on my desk and
notice that her eye is trained on the zits on my
chin. Damn.
"Mulder, have you had that rash looked at?"
"Rash? What rash? I've got acne, that's all...."
I start to protest feebly, but the next thing I
know I'm sitting on my desk and she has the
lamp trained on me, giving me the third
degree."
"Have you been near any young children
lately?" She loosens my tie and begins to
unbutton my shirt. Oh, I like this...
"Scully, are you coming on to me?"
"No. You have a rash and it's spreading to
your chest." She pauses thoughtfully.
"Mulder, when you were a child, did you ever
have the chicken pox?"
"Chicken pox? No. Samantha did, but it
missed me. Why...." A terrible realization was
beginning to dawn. Oh shit.
"Skinner had me leading the tour while you
were gone. There were kids in it...a couple
had a really bad case of acne...." I begin and
trail away. No. Can't be. That's a kid disease.
"Well, you need to be home, resting. You're
contagious now, and you'll pass it on to
anybody you're in contact with."
"Great, I get to go home for a few days,
itching..." I begin, but she frowns even more.
"Mulder, chicken pox in an adult is much more
serious than in a child. You may be out longer
than that if you have a severe case...."
My chin is starting to itch a little. I stop myself
from scratching.
"Sculleeee" I can hear the whine in my voice,
and I hate it.
Scully just grins and grabs her car keys. "I'm
taking you home. I'll tell Skinner what's
happened and that you'll need some time off.
To rest."
Rest, hell. I've got files at home I can work on,
I think to myself. Or at least I thought.
Now it's 24 hours later and I'm in bed wishing I
could die. She didn't tell me that this would
feel like the worst damned stomach flu I ever
had coupled with an itchy rash.
EVERYWHERE. I'm flopped on the couch
without even the energy to grab the cell phone
and call for help. Not that it matters. I can't
keep water down, so there's no point in
anybody preparing meals. And I look...well, I
look gross. Better that nobody see me in this
condition.
Whoops---knock at the door. I know that
knock. It's her. Oh God....
"Scully! Come on in, Scully!" I call as loudly as
I can and she lets herself in with her key.
She's carrying a paper sack.
She blanches when she sees me, shivering on
the couch covered with an afghan. The only
parts of me she can see are covered in an
angry rash. I won't describe it, lets just call it
body acne and leave it at that. Gross. Totally
gross.
"I see that your rash has come out," she says
calmly. "How are you feeling?" She feels my
forehead and pulls out a thermometer and
pops it into my mouth. I control my gag and
grimly keep it in my mouth and my stomach
under control.
"One hundred one," she says, then puts it
aside. "I brought chicken soup, you want...."
She never gets to finish the sentence because
I am sprinting toward the bathroom, relieving
myself of the few tablespoons of water I got
down an hour ago. She follows me to the
bathroom to make sure I made it okay, then
leaves for the kitchen.
I stagger back to the couch and huddle in my
blanket. Damn. All I'm wearing are shorts.
She can see most of me. Most of the rash.
Damn.
She returns with a tall glass of water, a bottle
of something and a washrag.
"Mulder, I want you to drink all this water.
You're dehydrated, and you need it." I shake
my head.
"It'll all just come back up again...nothing stays
down," I say miserably.
"Either you drink this or I call the paramedics
and you go to the hospital. I'm not kidding."
Damn, I think she's enjoying this. I reluctantly
prop myself up and take a cautious sip. She
then opens the bottle and pours some onto the
washrag.
"What's that?" I ask suspiciously.
"Lotion. It'll take down the itch." She begins to
gently swab it on my arms and shoulders. It
feels cool and comforting...and the itch goes
down. Ahhhhh.
"Scully, aren't you afraid that you're going to
catch this? You said it's contagious."
She continues swabbing, working her way
down my chest. I'd enjoy this a lot more if I
didn't feel so damned nauseated.
"No, I'm not afraid. Bill, Charlie, Missy and I all
had it one summer. Drove my mom crazy with
all of us sick, but we all had it. Here, let me do
your back."
I obediently turn around and the comfort
travels down my back.
"Mulder?"
"Hmmm?"
"I never thanked you for taking care of me
when I was sick. I wasn't thinking straight."
"Don't mention it. You're returning the favor
now..." I sigh with relief. God, that itching was
intolerable.
"Mulder...drink your water." She says this in
her no-nonsense voice. I am confident that
she will carry out her threat and haul me off to
a hospital if I don't obey. Somehow that's
comforting. Somebody cares enough to make
me take care of myself. I sip the water. My
stomach is starting to settle a bit.
I wouldn't let her get the areas under the
shorts. I have *some* dignity and I can stand
the itching, for now. So when she finishes the
lotion on the rest of me, she puts a clean sheet
on the couch and tucks me in, then sits and
watches sitcom reruns with me for the
afternoon. Then she feeds me chicken soup
and watches more television with me until it's
dark outside.
Then she promises she'll be back tomorrow.
And leaves the lotion behind, a full pitcher of
water and an empty bucket in case I get
nauseated. Now that's a considerate woman.
It's amazing how much better the chicken soup tastes
when somebody who
loves you feeds it to you.
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