Love Bites

By Sally Bahnsen 
rbahnsen@optusnet.com.au


Summary: Sometimes love just bites.

Rating - you should probably be able to cope with the occasional bad
word and implied           sexual situations.

Written for Virtual Season 13's Valentine Days Special

Disclaimer -- Mulder and Scully belong to CC and 1013 productions.
The dog belongs in the pound.

Category: MT, MSR

Author's notes at end.


Love Bites

By Sally Bahnsen

******************


Georgetown

February 14  

3.10 pm


Sometimes his life with Scully just felt perfect, so perfect that
Mulder, even after all this time, still worried that sooner or later
his bubble would burst and Scully would come to her senses.  How did
a guy like him end up with a woman like her? It was something that
never ceased to amaze him at least 100 times a day, and tonight he
had every intention of proving to Scully that she had made the right
choice committing to their relationship.

Mulder wouldn't exactly call himself a romantic, but, heck today was
Valentine's Day and why the hell shouldn't he celebrate his
extraordinarily good luck at finally beating the odds and setting up
house with the one person who meant more to him than life itself?
He'd decided weeks ago that he was going to make tonight special.
Nothing was going to come between him and the romantic evening they
had planned.

He had offered to accompany Scully to the grocery store while she
bought supplies for dinner but she had insisted she had everything
under control.

So, who was he to argue?

As soon as the front door clicked shut behind her, Mulder pulled on
his sweat pants and sneakers and left the house for a nice relaxing
run. He figured he'd be back long before Scully would, and still have
time to shower and change.  

Checking his watch, he was damn pleased with himself; he'd made
excellent time and was now on the homeward stretch. He'd be back with
plenty of time to spare. In fact, if he made a shortcut through the
park he'd be even quicker.

No Sireee, nothing was going to come between him and their much
deserved romantic dinner at home.

That was  . . . until  . . . .

"Oh crap."  

No, not now. Not today. He didn't need this.

The dog stood between him and the end of the path, teeth bared and
long pink jowls dripping saliva as it growled -- aggressively
defending its territory.  Mulder hadn't seen the animal until he was
practically on top of it, his mind lost to the rhythmic thud of his
feet hitting pavement and the controlled breathing in his chest.

 Scully was going to kill him if he messed up tonight.

"Nice doggy, good boy." He crooned at the big, black, hairy monster.
"No one's going to hurt you."

The dog growled louder and Mulder had second thoughts about moving
towards it.  Slowly, never taking his eyes off the dog, Mulder
started to backtrack.

Maybe reconsidering his route through the park was the best option
here instead of trying to save 10 minutes via the shortcut. After
all, death by Scully had to be better than death by Pit Bull.

Steadily placing one foot behind the other, and still talking to the
dog in a soft, even tone, he didn't notice the glass bottle behind
his left foot until the heel of his sneaker kicked against it and
sent it spinning in an erratic circle along the path. "Double crap,"
he mumbled to himself.

The, dog, already feeling threatened, barked ferociously and then
lunged at Mulder.

Sensing attack might have been on the dog's mind, Mulder was already
airborne, diving to his right when the dog hit.

It was like being tackled by a 300 pound quarterback. Only this
football player had jaws of iron that locked around his left thigh
with the finality of a bear trap. Momentum and shock sent Mulder
sprawling to the ground, the dog's teeth still firmly embedded in his
left leg.

Instinct made Mulder lash out with his right leg, but all he made
contact with was empty space. It was only a split second later that
his self-defense training kicked in and he dug the fingers of both
hands into the dog's eyes. It had no effect. He could feel the teeth
sinking deeper into his thigh. He tried punching at its head, then
chest, still the dog hung on. The flesh, just above his knee started
to tear, pushing an extra burst of adrenaline into his blood
stream.  

Locked in a desperate struggle, Mulder flipped the dog over so it was
beneath him. The change of position allowed him get a better grip on
the animal's head and he simultaneously brought his right knee up to
make solid contact with its stomach. The dog released its grip and
Mulder scrambled backwards, reaching blindly behind him for the glass
bottle that had triggered the attack.  He smashed the base of the
bottle against the ground and held it up in defense.  This time when
the dog came at him he thrust the broken bottle up and in, just below
the rib cage. Blood spurted from the animal's chest and it stopped
mid-flight, hitting the ground on its side and yelping loudly, before
struggling to its feet and running from the park.

Mulder collapsed to ground. His stomach heaved but didn't deliver.
For a minute he just lay there, numb, and shaking, trying to wrap his
head around what had happened.  As the effects of the adrenaline
subsided, he started to feel the pain in his leg.  He rolled over
onto his side, closed his eyes and fought to get his breathing under
control. There was a loud buzzing in his head and he really, really
didn't want to pass out. Not here in the park.

And then he heard voices.

"Hey mister, are you okay?"

He sensed a crowd gathering and hitched open an eye.

Kids. Three or four of them. Maybe between 8 and 12 years old. One of
them crouched beside him. A boy.

One of the younger ones pointed at him "Man, he's bleeding like a
stuck pig."

The boy by his side put his hand on Mulder's shoulder. "You want me
to get you some help?"

And spend Valentines' Day in the ER?  Shit no!

"No, no, I'm okay. I just need a minute."  He pushed up to a sitting
position and examined his leg. And then immediately wished he hadn't.

The sweat pants were shredded just above his left knee and the dark
patch of blood around the torn material was spreading by the second.

"I could go get my mom." The boy offered.

"Or the cops!" Said one of the younger ones.

"No, really, I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

*Good one, Mulder. They're kids not complete imbeciles.*

He stretched out his arm. "Just give me a hand up."

The boys gathered around and helped him to his feet.

Mulder swayed. The boys hung on. "You don't look so good," said the
older one.

"Did you see where the dog went?" Mulder asked, trying to change the
subject.

"Shot clear across the park.  You won't see him for dust!"

"Thanks for your help, now you boys better scoot off home in case he
comes back."

No more attention, he didn't want to draw any more spectators.

"Nah, he won't be back. You cut him real good. Look at the trail of
blood he left behind."  This from the blood-thirsty one.

But they were right. Mulder didn't think the dog would be coming back
any time soon.

"Well, thanks guys. I guess I need to get home and clean up."  He
looked dubiously at his injured leg and prayed for a very long queue
at the grocery store.

*************

Mulder and Scully Duplex

3.45 pm


The walk home had been living hell.  Each step contracted the muscle
above his knee, and each contraction felt like the teeth were still
embedded in his flesh. God, how was he going to keep this from
Scully? He'd promised nothing would go wrong this year.

Once he was back at the duplex, he had one reprieve. Scully was still
out. He knew he was living on borrowed time, but with a little luck -
and he figured he'd just used up most of his bad luck - he'd have
time to clean up and administer his own first aid.

First thing he needed was a shower.

He had thought the walk home was as bad as it was likely to get.
Wrong!  In fact, compared to the shower - where the hot spray seared
into his open wounds - the walk home had been a peaceful little
stroll.  As a consequence the shower was over and done with in a
matter of minutes.

A quick search of the bathroom cabinet produced a healthy provision
of medical supplies. Betadine, butterfly clips, gauze pads and an ACE
bandage. There had to be some advantage to living with a doctor,
right?

Mulder surreptitiously cracked the bathroom door and inch or two and
listened for any sign of incoming danger. All seemed to be quiet on
the Western Front so he snicked the door shut again.

Letting out a long sigh of relief, he sat himself on the closed
toilet lid and began to attend to his leg.  By the time he'd applied
the antiseptic and bandaged the wound his stomach was again hovering
awfully close to the back of his throat, and the bathroom seemed to
be circling itself.  Swallowing hard, he eased himself down so he was
sitting on the floor and leaned his head against the edge of bath.

*I will not pass out. I will not pass out.* Eventually his body
seemed convinced and the nausea subsided about the same time the
bathroom stopped spinning.

He stood up slowly. And swore mightily. His leg had stiffened up and
now throbbed in time to his pulse. This was not good. Not good at
all.

Pain killers. Something strong and fast and very long lasting.

He made another sweep of the bathroom cabinet and found . . .
nothing!

Shit!

How could Scully not have a supply of pain meds? Didn't she know his
propensity for getting hurt? What kind of a doctor was she, anyway?

Okay, think, Mulder. Where would they be?

Another furtive glance from the bathroom told Mulder the coast was
still clear. With nothing more that the towel wrapped around his
waist, he gathered up his bloody clothing and headed for the bedroom.

At least if he was dressed he could cover his bandaged leg. The rest
would be up to him and sheer determination.

He thought about jeans and nearly threw up. No, he didn't need leg
hugging denim right now and opted for a nice loose pair of corduroys.
He added a long sleeved tee and a sweat shirt. For some reason he was
freezing. In fact, he couldn't stop shivering.

God damn.

Could it be . . . ?

Was he going into some kind of delayed shock? Limping heavily, he
made a slow dash to the bathroom and studied his reflection in the
mirror. Pale, sweaty, glassy-eyed.

Oh for fuck's sake!

What did Scully usually do for shock?

Lie down, feet raised, snuggle under blankets, and sip sweet, hot
tea.

No. That wasn't going to happen.

He took off at a snail's pace and made it to the kitchen. One good
thing about stairs was the fact they have a nice, strong banister to
lean on. He was actually able to keep the weight completely off his
leg on the way down.

Okay, treatment for shock. The best he could come up with was a candy
bar and a bottle of iced tea. He snagged both, hobbled painfully to
the living room and turned up the heat to high.

Then he remembered his bloodied sweat pants.

Shit, the stairs again. Not so easy going up.

The pain was becoming unmanageable. He leaned heavily against the
wall and limped to the bedroom. He had to stash the sweats. But where
the hell could he put them?

Think Mulder! You've investigated enough crime scenes to learn from
the best criminal minds in the US.

Right.

Garbage disposal.

He made another trip to the kitchen and found a pair of scissors in
the third drawer. As fast as his trembling hands would allow, he
snipped his pants into tiny pieces and shoved them in the disposal
unit. Flushing the system with water, he turned it on full speed.

Mulder's sweat pants disappeared into a whirring cloud of dust.

He sagged against the kitchen bench, feeling himself slide
dangerously to the left.  He had to sit. He needed to get the weight
off his leg. With slow, careful steps he made it to the couch,
huddled in a corner and snacked on Hershey's and iced tea.

He'd barely finished the last bite of candy when he heard a key in
the front door.

With more dexterity than he thought possible, he slid along the
couch, laid flat on his back and feigned sleep. Scully could never
resist him when he slept. She hated to wake him, and if he could just
manage to pull it off until she'd unloaded the car, then he might
have a chance of avoiding detection.

"Mulder! I'm home."

He didn't move a muscle.

"Mul . . . ?"

He could imagine the look on her face. She was always telling him he
should get more rest. She'd be smiling to herself now and creeping
quietly into the kitchen so as not to wake him.

He thought he heard her mumble something about it being hotter than
hell in there. Then she came around and shut off the heat.

Damn it.

He must have actually fallen asleep because the next thing he knew,
Scully was tracing a finger along his cheek and there was a distinct
aroma of coffee in the air.

"Mulder?"  She spoke quietly. "Want some coffee?"

He stirred. Then froze. And bit back a groan. Then hastily replaced
the grimace on his face with a smile.

"Hey, Scully."  God he sounded like shit. A little bit of throat
clearing helped the problem and he carefully pulled himself up,
leaving his left leg stretched along the seat of the couch. He
checked his watch. "You back already?"

"You must have really been out of it, I've been gone a couple of
hours." She tapped on his left leg indicating he should move it to
make room for her. When the room came back into focus, and the sky
rockets had quit launching themselves through his head, he very
gingerly lowered his leg to the ground.  Scully scooted up next to
him and handed him a steamy mug of coffee.

He only spilled a few drops when he wrapped his trembling hands
around it. Lucky for him, Scully's attention was elsewhere.

"What's for dinner?"  He asked, sipping tentatively at the warm
liquid.

God, his leg hurt.

Scully leaned her head on his shoulder, "It's a surprise, Mulder. I
told you that." She looked up at him and smiled. "Can you believe we
are finally spending Valentine's Day in our own place?" She snuggled
closer.

Mulder grunted. But managed to lift his arm and pull her tight
against him. He kissed the top of her head, remembering last year's
promise of a romantic night in their own home. He also remembered the
subsequent bullet wound to his shoulder and how Scully sat by his bed
all night while he recovered from surgery.

He stroked her hair. "I love you, you know."

She twisted in his embrace so she could see his face.

Mulder's hand clenched involuntarily around her upper arm, and he
barely held back a yelp when her right elbow leaned into his left
hip.  His skin prickled and he could feel sweat beading on his brow.
But he fought valiantly to keep his expression neutral.

Scully cupped his cheek, caressing gently with her thumb." I love
you, too. I love you so much, Mulder."

For a second the pain in his leg was forgotten. He leaned in and
kissed her, a soft, chaste meeting of their lips. Scully reached up
behind his head, gently resting her hand on the back of his neck and
deepened the kiss.  Mulder felt a gentle stirring in his groin, and
when Scully eventually pulled away, he was breathing heavily.

She smiled up at him.  "More coffee, Mulder?"

"Caffeine wasn't exactly what I had on my mind, Scully."

"I'm going to start, dinner. You just stay there and relax." She took
the coffee cup from his hand and headed down the hall to the kitchen.
Mulder slumped against the cushions and gingerly stretched out his
leg.  It ached, and throbbed and felt stiff and bruised and his plan
for a night of wild passionate love was slowly sinking into the
sunset. Along with another broken promise.

He needed pain killers and he need them *now*.

There had to be a way of getting his hands on some. But to search the
house meant walking. And walking equaled pain, which lead to limping
which ultimately would lead to detection and he just knew Scully
would have him straight to the ER before he could even blink.

Was there some way he could get out of the house and to a drug store
without creating suspicion?

"Scully?"  He called to her in the kitchen. "Did you buy wine?"

She appeared in the archway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. The
look on her face said the answer was probably no.

"Dammit! I knew I forgot something."

"Hey, no problem."Mulder said, lightly.  "I'll run to the store and
get some. Red or white?"

"You don't mind going?"

He gave her an 'of course not' look.  "If I'm out of the house, I
won't be tempted to come in and peek at what you're cooking."

She smiled at him. "Red."

"Done deal."  He edged slowly off the couch, using every ounce of
strength he had to appear normal.

"The keys are on the sideboard."  And then, thankfully, Scully went
back to the kitchen.

Taking it slow, he headed towards the foyer. It was a full-blown,
teeth-gritting exercise just to walk at all. With the assistance of
the walls, he eventually made it to the front door, picking up the
keys off the sideboard on the way.

Once he was seated in the car it took him a few minutes to clear his
vision and calm his stomach. Thank God for automatic transmission.

He drove to a small neighborhood shopping mall and parked as close as
possible to the entrance. The pharmacy was well-stocked, offering not
only a large selection of medications, but several grocery and
department store lines as well.  A middle-aged man, perhaps in his
50's manned the front counter.

Mulder knew exactly what he needed. He'd been well educated over the
years as to what pain meds worked best.

He purchased the Extra Strength Advil, a bottle of water, a box of
chocolates for Scully and struggled back to the car. There had been
times when Scully had let him pop more than the recommended one pill,
times when the pain had been particularly bad. He figured tonight
qualified as extreme suffering so just to be on the safe side, he
shook 4 of the capsules into his hand and threw them back with a long
slug of water.  If that didn't get him through the night, nothing
would.

He made one more stop for the wine and then drove the few blocks back
to the duplex.  By the time he had pulled up in the garage, there was
a soft buzz in his head, a kind of numb tingling throughout his body
and his leg was hardly bothering him at all. At that point, he knew
he'd made the right decision.

Inside, the house was warm and there was a delicious smell of home
cooking. The normalcy of it all actually made his chest ache. He
tossed the car keys back on the sideboard.

"Mulder, is that you?"

He smiled and headed towards the kitchen.  "Wine m'lady?"  He
offered, holding the brown paper bag in the air. His other hand hid
the chocolates behind his back.

"Mulder! You're not supposed to be peeking!"

She came towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist." What
took you so long?"

He answered her with the box of chocolates.  

"Who said chivalry was dead?"  She teased.

"Are you sure I can't help you in here?"

"Well, you could pour us both a glass of wine."

"Consider it done."

He was very impressed with the Advil. They'd completely taken the
edge off the pain in his leg. It was only when he took the first step
after standing still that he had to be careful.

He poured 2 glasses of wine and handed one to Scully.  She held it up
and he gently chinked the side of her glass. "To us," he said.

"To us."  Scully smiled at him over the rim of her glass.

Considering the bad start to the evening, Mulder thought things
weren't turning out too badly.  With the pain in his leg under
control, the rest of the night should go as planned. Detection at bed
time was incidental to the equation. At least they would have finally
spent their first Valentine's Day in their own home and his promise
of a drama-free evening would be honored.

Scully opened the oven to check on the progress of their meal.

"Come on Scully, what are you cooking?"

"Okay, it's nearly done anyway. We're having  Beef Burgandy, mashed
potato and green beans. And, for dessert--"

Mulder reached his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.
Leaning down, he trailed a smooth path of feathery kisses just below
her ear, before eventually nuzzling his face in the juncture of her
collarbone and neck.

He felt her shiver and push back against him.

He whispered seductively, "Let me tell you what we're having for
dessert, Scully."

She turned in his embrace and kissed him hard on the lips. Her voice
husky when she eventually pulled away. "I think I can guess, Mulder."

He stroked her hair, tilted her chin and touched his lips lightly to
hers.

She drew a deep breath.  "I think I better get back to cooking, or
we'll be having dessert before the main meal."

He'd drink to that!

Mulder finished his glass of wine and poured another. He topped
Scully's glass up, even though she had barely touched it.

After the second glass of wine, he realized that his stomach was
starting to burn. And the soft buzzing in his ears of earlier seemed
to be getting louder. The smell in the kitchen, previously making his
mouth water, was now making him feel nauseous. And through the
general numbness surrounding his body, he was sure the dull ache in
his leg had increased to a distinct throb again.

Maybe he should sit down.

Taking his third glass of wine with him, he carefully made his way
back to the living room. By the time he was seated on the couch, his
stomach was really starting to bother him and there was a thud in his
head to match the one in his leg.

He propped his right arm on his right knee, leaned forward and
cradled his aching head in his hand. Maybe he just needed to lie down
for a minute, have a little power nap. But he couldn't lift his left
leg. The muscle had completely seized.  Using both hands he eased his
leg onto the couch and slid along so his head was on the armrest.

There was a constant ringing in his ears now and to top it off he
wanted to throw up. No, wrong choice of words, nobody actually wanted
to throw up but, god, he felt as if the only way to stop the burning
in his stomach and chest was to just get rid of its contents.

"Mulder?"

He could hear Scully calling him, but wasn't sure he could respond.

"Mulder, are you all right?"

There was no doubting the concern in her voice.

"Mm, fine, Scully."

But there was nothing fine about the way the words came out and he
was having trouble focusing on his surroundings.

She moved his legs so she could sit next to him. And his mind was too
fuzzy to control the gasp.  "Shit!"  He grabbed at his thigh.

"Mulder, what the hell is that?" She was touching his leg. And
despite the heavy dose of medication he'd taken, he slapped her hand
away and nearly leapt out of the chair.

"Oh my god, Mulder, you're bleeding."

Mulder craned his neck. She was right. There was a dark wet patch
just above his knee. He ran his fingertips lightly over the area,
they came away damp and tinged with red. He let out a quiet groan and
slumped back against the armrest.

Scully's hands seemed to be everywhere. Her palm touching his
forehead, lifting his eyelids and peering deeply at his pupils, two
fingers rested against his neck. When she spoke, he expected anger,
but he heard panic.

"Mulder, sit up."  She had hold of his arm and was helping him to
sit. "What the hell happened to you?"

The room was graying out and he was having a hard time concentrating
on her words. And god, his stomach was on fire. He leaned over
clutching his abdomen.

Scully scooted to the floor, kneeling between his legs; she tried to
straighten him up. "Mulder if you don't answer me, I'm calling 911.
Now, tell me what's wrong?"

Pretense was no longer and option. He was dying.

"Dog bit me. Oh, god, Scully, my stomach."

"Your stom-- "  She laid him flat on his back along the couch and
lifted his sweat shirt and tee, lightly running her fingers over his
rigid stomach muscles. When she shifted her touch to his leg, he
sprang up from the couch, and barely stifled a scream.

"How the hell did this happen?"  She asked as she deftly popped the
button on his fly and unzipped his pants. "Lift your hips."

She lowered his pants to just below his knees. The sudden movement
loosened his pocket and the bottle of Advil fell to the floor.

Scully scooped them up. Looked at the blood-soaked bandage on his
leg, the grimace on his face, his pale sweaty complexion and his
rigid stomach. "Jeezus. Mulder, how many of these did you take?"

"Tonight had to be special, Scully. I didn't want to screw up this
year."

"Bit late for that G-Man."

"I promised you."

He heard her sigh and then she clasped his face between her
hands."Mulder, look at me. I need you to tell me exactly what
happened."

So, he went through the whole sorry story while Scully unwrapped the
bandage on his leg. When the wound was exposed, she gasped.

"Oh, my god!"  

Mulder lifted his head to get a better look. Shit!  The skin was
puckered, and bruised, and red and still oozing blood. The butterfly
clips he'd applied earlier had split as his leg swelled.

His stomach convulsed, and this time managed to follow through. He
leaned over the side of the couch and threw up on the floor. He was
vaguely aware of Scully's hand on his shoulder for a brief second.
There was a soft curse and then she disappeared.

A cool, wet wash cloth caressed his face, wiped his mouth. Scully
pushed a glass against his lips. "Rinse your mouth."  She'd even
brought a bowl for him to spit in. The mess on the floor she'd
covered with towels.

"Mulder," her tone was gentle;" I need to know how many Advil you
took?"

"Scully, I'm sorry, I just didn't want anything to interfere with our
plans."

"Dammit, Mulder, how many pills?"

"Four."

His stomach burned and he heaved again. This time Scully caught it in
the bowl. "Oh, god, Mulder. You're vomiting blood."

Was he? It didn't surprise him; it felt like his insides had
ruptured.

"Okay, Mister, you've got 2 choices. We get in the car now and I take
you to the Emergency room, or I call 911. What's it gonna be?"

"No, no, I'm not spending another Valentine's Day in the hospital."

"Yes, you are. Can you sit up?"

He tried, but every time he lifted his head the room spun, and his
stomach convulsed. He couldn't do it.

"That settles it."  Approximately one minute later Mulder heard
Scully reciting their address to the 911 operator.


GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

February 15

7.00 am

The nurse had disconnected the IV line, and heart monitor around
5.00am. Mulder was moved from the step down unit to a private room
and now -- according to medspeak -- was resting comfortably. But in
reality, he was not in the least bit comfortable. Oh, they'd taken
good care of him; done all the appropriate tests to ensure there was
no permanent damage to his stomach lining. They'd cleaned and
stitched the wounds to his leg, the slight throb in his buttock
reminded him of the tetanus shot he'd endured, and appropriate pain
medication administered via the IV had stopped his leg from hurting.
And then there was the broad spectrum antibiotics working on keeping
infection away.

But he felt like shit, and seeing Scully dozing in the lounge chair
next to his bed, her head twisted awkwardly to one side, only
exacerbated his discomfort.

He'd screwed up again. Big time. At least last year he'd been working
a case. This time it was just plain stupidity. If only he hadn't gone
for a run, if only he hadn't cut through the park, if only he could
just get things to go his way for once.

"Mulder?"

Lost in self-recrimination, he hadn't noticed Scully wake up.

"Hey, Scully."  His voice was croaky, his throat raw.

She came and sat on the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like a complete jerk." He turned his head away from her.
"I've done it to you again."

"Done what?" She pushed his hair back from his forehead.

"Screwed up the one day of the year where couples are supposed to
make an extra effort to show how much they love each other. I should
have been making you feel special, Scully. Not forcing you to spend
another night camped in a hospital lounge."

"Oh, Mulder." She sighed, shaking her head. You idiot."  He turned to
look at her expecting anger, but she was smiling. "Don't you get it?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"You make me feel special every day of my life. You have since the
very first day we started working together."

"But . . ."

"No buts."  She took his hand. "I admit, it would have been nice to
have our quiet evening at home like we'd planned." She brought his
hand to her lips and kissed the inside of his palm. "Mulder, there's
not too many men who would have gone to the extremes you did last
night so I wouldn't be disappointed."  She squeezed his hand. "I just
wish you'd told me what had happened earlier and this might have been
a lot simpler to deal with.  You know, pharmaceutical companies put
recommended dosage on their products for a reason."

Obviously.

Scully was still speaking. "And of course there is the problem of an
animal bite and the chance of rabies . . ."

His eyes widened and his panic face was solidly in place.

She gave him a sympathetic smile and squeezed his hand.  "It's not as
bad as the horror stories.  You'll have to endure five injections
over the course of the next month."

"In my stomach," he whined.

"No, not any more.  The treatment now is more effective and less
painful than the old days.  Five injections, as I was saying, in your
arm.  As a matter of fact, they gave you your first injection
already.  I have the schedule for the next four."

"My arm itches," he said, scratching absently at his left upper arm.

"Don't scratch it!  You'll get it infected and you'll be here even
longer," she warned.  "And I do want you home sometime in the near
future."


"Well, I plan to make it up to you, Scully."

"You can make it up to me by behaving yourself when they spring you
from here.  The doctor said you should be allowed to go home this
afternoon."  

No malice, no 'I'm -over- you- Mulder.' No payback, no resentment.
God, he'd really hit the jackpot when he'd met Scully.

He reached up and cupped her cheek. "Have I told you lately how much
I love you?"

She smiled, a soft gleam in her eyes. "I know it every time you look
at me."

She leaned down and kissed his lips and even in his dozy state, the
effect was immediate. His chest swelled, and when she worked her
tongue into his mouth, so did his groin. He pulled her against him,
and she maneuvered herself so she was stretched along the length of
his body.

"Mr. Mulder!"

They both turned towards the nurse standing in the door way, a tray
in her hand and a smirk on her face.

"Looks like you're feeling a lot better." She smiled and backed out
of the room. "I'll be back later to check your . . .  um . . . vital
signs."

The door closed quietly behind her.

Mulder looked at Scully and grinned, then said in a low voice. "Would
you like to check my vitals, Agent Scully?"

She slapped him lightly on the shoulder and snuggled down next to
him.  "I'm already well acquainted with all your vital signs,
Mulder."

Now that was something he knew to be true. And with thoughts of
better things to come, he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her
tight against him.



THE END

rbahnsen@optusnet.com.au

Author's Notes. -- After writing nothing for over a year, I would
like to thank Vickie and Lisa for encouraging me to get back into it.
Having to whip something up in 2 days was a little bit of a challenge
after writing nothing for so long. But it's been fun.  Thanks, guys.