By Peggy
PG0134@yahoo.com

~~~

Facing the Mirror (1/9)

By Peggy

February 15, 2000

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and company belong to 1013
and Fox.  I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: A couple small ones for "Fallen Angel."
 
Rating: PG-13 for the occasional bad word.
 
Category: MT/A

Archive: Sure, just let me know.
 
Feedback: Yes, please. PG0314@yahoo.com
 
Thanks: To Susan for listening to me whine while I
wrote this.  Eternal gratitude to Donna, without whom
it would never have been written at all.  You're a
peach, D!

Author's Notes: Greg Sumner belongs to dee_ayy and
appears in her stories "Shouldering Responsiblity" and
 "Shouldering the Blame".  You don't have to read them
to understand this ... but read 'em anyway ... they're
good!  You can find them (and some other pretty cool
stuff) here:
http://dee-ayy.freeservers.com/

Summary: Mulder deals with an injury and the knowledge
that he's not getting any younger.

______________________

Facing the Mirror

By Peggy
 
 

Standing naked in front of the full-length mirror in
his bedroom, Fox Mulder glared at his reflection and
gave himself a pep talk. *You are not old,* he
informed himself gravely. *Okay, so you've got a few
lines around your eyes, a few more gray hairs. So you
had to switch to the "Over 35" basketball league at
the Y. You are NOT old.* If he said it often enough,
he reasoned, sooner or later he might begin to believe
it. Turning this way and that, he studied himself with
a critical eye. He wasn't a vain man, but he wasn't
blind either. He worked hard to stay in shape and he
noticed the admiring glances that came his way. Though
he'd rather die than admit it he was more than a
little proud of his flat, washboard stomach. The fact
that his various aches and pains had kept him from
exercising as often as he would have liked and that
he'd gained some weight as a result didn't change the
fact that he looked good. *You're in great shape,* he
silently lectured himself. *Not great shape for a man
your age, damn it ... just plain in great shape. You
are not old.*

He'd spent most of the winter feeling every one of his
38 years and then some. His much abused left shoulder
ached when the weather was damp, which it had been
more often than not. He'd strained his back while
wrestling with a suspect and spent a week confined to
the couch with a heating pad, unable to stand up
straight. He'd gone for a long overdue eye exam and
been informed that he needed bifocals. He'd overheard
the teenage girl who lived across the hall refer to
him as "that cute middle aged guy in my building" and
found little solace in the cute part. And just that
morning, rising from his bed, he'd stretched and
groaned loudly, listening to his joints creak and pop
their way into place. He'd begun shuffling toward the
bathroom, cursing the morning stiffness of his knees,
only to freeze in his tracks as the realization hit.
His grandfather used to make that exact same sound
whenever he got out of bed in the morning. And so he
stood in front of the mirror trying to convince
himself that he was not, in fact, as decrepit as he
felt.

*Enough of this*, he thought, shaking his head in
disgust. *You aren't gonna get any younger standing
here staring at yourself in the damn mirror.* Nothing
cleared his head like a good, long run and it had been
a few days since he'd had the opportunity to exercise.
Dressing quickly, he headed out the door.

It was a beautiful early spring Sunday, not a cloud in
the sky and the temperature hovered in the low
sixties. Mulder headed toward a small park about a
mile from his apartment building. It took a few
minutes for his muscles to loosen but soon he was
running easily, not even breathing hard and feeling
good. As he'd expected on such a lovely day, the park
was crowded and he occasionally had to jockey for
position on the narrow asphalt path that circled the
grassy center. He took great pleasure in the fact that
he was easily the best runner there, effortlessly
weaving in and out of the pack, passing a group of
twentysomethings without even breaking stride. *Told
you you weren't old* he thought to himself, smiling as
a very pretty, very young girl approaching from the
opposite direction openly checked him out.

Mulder had circled the track a dozen times when his
stomach began reminding him that he'd skipped
breakfast. One more lap and he'd start home, he
decided. Maybe he'd call Scully and see if she wanted
to meet him for brunch. Rounding a curve, he came upon
a group of weekend joggers: yuppies in designer warm
up suits with beepers strapped conspicuously to their
waistbands. Snorting in disgust he swerved to the
right to pass them and it happened. His foot slipped
off the edge of the asphalt onto the damp grass and he
lost his balance. His right knee gave with a sickening
pop and he hit the ground like a ton of bricks.

Within seconds, he was surrounded by a crowd of people
and all he could do was lie there, clutching his knee
and wondering if it were possible to actually die of
embarrassment. If so, he was well on his way. One of
the yuppies had produced a cell phone from somewhere
and was offering to dial 9-1-1.

"No! No ambulance! I'm fine, really." Groaning, Mulder
pushed himself to a sitting position and flexed his
leg cautiously. The knee had given out before, albeit
never quite so dramatically, and if he could just get
on his feet and get home an ice pack and some Advil
would take care of it. He was doing his best to
persuade the good Samaritans to leave him alone when
he heard a very familiar voice.

"Let me through please. I'm a doctor." The crowd
didn't move and the voice grew more insistent. "I said
let me through!" Mulder watched in amusement as an
obviously annoyed, and slightly disheveled physician
pushed through the crowd and reached his side. Blue
eyes met his and widened with shock. "Mulder?!"

"Hey, Dr. Sumner. Fancy meeting you here."

Nearly a year and half previously, Mulder had been
ordered by A.D. Skinner to have his recurrent
dislocating shoulder surgically repaired. Greg Sumner
was the orthopedic surgeon who'd performed the
operation. The two men were close in age, shared a wry
sense of humor and a love of sports and Mulder had
found himself liking Sumner almost immediately. More
than once on the bumpy road to recovery, he'd been
grateful to have the friendly, down to earth man as
his doctor.

"Mulder, what the hell happened?" Sumner was on his
knees, pushing Mulder's pant leg up even as he spoke.
"And what the hell is this?!"

Mulder was wearing a brace on his right knee, a habit
he'd gotten into whenever he ran or played basketball.
He'd injured the knee several years ago chasing down a
crashed UFO in Wisconsin and it bothered him now and
again. "It's nothing." He told Sumner. "It just goes
out on me every now and then. No big deal."

"Seems to me I've heard those words from you before,"
Sumner smiled. "Think you can stand?"

"Yeah, just help me over to that bench and let me sit
for a few minutes. It'll be fine."

Sumner hauled Mulder to his feet, slung an arm around
his waist and helped him hobble to the bench a few
feet away. The onlookers slowly drifted away, sensing
the drama was over, and the two men were left alone.

"Swing your feet up here and let me examine you,"
Sumner ordered.

Mulder grumbled a bit but did as he was told. As the
doctor removed the brace and began poking and prodding
Mulder asked, "So, what are you doing in Alexandria? I
seem to remember you telling me you lived in D.C."

"I do. But my mother lives just around the corner. I
took her out for breakfast this morning and was just
on my way home when I heard the commotion over here
and decided to check it out. Now, tell me about this
knee. How often does this happen?"

"I sprained it pretty badly a couple of years ago. Got
thrown about 20 feet across a warehouse and landed in
a stack of crates."

Sumner raised an eyebrow at that. "Is this one of
those long stories that you're never going to actually
explain to me? I'm still waiting to hear why your
partner shot you, by the way."

"Doc, you wouldn't believe me if I did tell you,"
Mulder grinned.

"Okay, Secret Agent Mulder, now about the knee.."

"Like I said, I got thrown, landed on it wrong or
twisted it, I'm not sure which. It all happened pretty
fast. Anyway, Scully made me go to the local ER and
get checked out."

"Where was this?"

"Some little town in Wisconsin. I can't remember the
name of the hospital. They examined me, took some
x-rays, gave me crutches and sent me on my way."

"You ever have an MRI?"

"No. They said stay off it, ice it, take Advil. I did.
It got better. End of story."

Dr. Sumner laughed at that. "Hardly the end of the
story if it's throwing your ass over tea kettle in a
public park! Did your knee ever give out on you before
the injury in Wisconsin?"

"No it started afterward. But it's not a big deal. It
only happens once or twice a year. I baby it for a day
or two and it's fine."

"And Dr. Scully lets you get away with that?"

Mulder smiled sheepishly. "Well, I never thought it
was worth mentioning to her. It's really nothing."

"In other words, you hide it from her." Sumner groaned
in frustration. "You'll never learn, will you?"

"Hey, it's nothing ..."

"Stop saying that! It's not nothing. Trust me on this.
And you know it too or you wouldn't have kept it from
your partner all this time. We both know she'd have
made you follow up on it. Now, what exactly happened
today? Did something cause you to fall or did the knee
just give out?"

"It's embarrassing really. I was trying to pass
someone on the path and my foot slipped off the edge
of the asphalt. There was this pop and down I went."

"A pop? Did you feel it? Hear it?"

"Both."

"How's the pain?"

"It hurts," Mulder acknowledged, "but it's not bad. I
could probably walk on it without too much trouble."

Refastening the brace on Mulder's knee and pulling
down the leg of his sweat pants, Sumner stood and
fished car keys out of his pocket. "My car is half a
block away. You sit right here and I'll go get it."

"Thanks, but that's really not necessary. I can catch
a cab."

"Not a chance. I'm going to drive you home, examine
that knee properly and get you settled. Tomorrow
you're going to have an MRI and then come see me at
the office."

"Greg, I appreciate your concern but this is a minor
thing. I don't need an MRI. By tomorrow I'll be fine."
 

"Mulder, you've got two choices here. You let me take
you home or I call your partner. Her number is on file
with the hospital as your next of kin. It would take
me about five minutes to track her down. So, what's it
going to be?"

Mulder glared up at him for a long moment, then threw
up his hands in frustration. "Okay, fine. You can
drive me home. But no MRI!"

Sumner just smiled and patted Mulder's arm indulgently
before heading off to get his car.

*****

"Nice place," Sumner commented, staring at the cue
ball festooned coat rack curiously. "Hey! Are those
bullet holes in the ceiling?"

"Yeah, Scully did that defending herself against ...
well, it's kind of ...."

"A long story?"

"You got it."

Sumner helped Mulder over to the couch but stopped him
when he tried to sit. "You got anything on under these
sweats?"

"Yeah boxers. Why?" Mulder eyed the doctor
suspiciously.

"Because I need the sweats off to examine you and I
didn't want to flash the people across the street.
Also, I think we'd do better with you lying on the
floor. It's a firmer surface and I'll have more room
to work."

Mulder sighed and struggled out of the sweats as
Sumner pushed the coffee table back to give them more
room. Then the doctor helped him lie down and knelt
beside him. Taking Mulder's leg in both hands he said,
"I want you to bend your knee about 15 degrees for
me." Mulder obeyed. "Now, I'm going to manipulate your
leg. I want you to relax and let me do all the work,
okay?"

Mulder nodded and concentrated on relaxing his
muscles. Dr. Sumner grasped Mulder's thigh with one
hand and held it firmly. He placed the other hand just
below Mulder's knee. Holding the thigh still, he began
to gently pull the lower leg forward. At first, Mulder
felt nothing, then he gasped and grabbed the other
man's arm as he felt his leg begin to slip out of
joint. "What the hell was that?!"

"That, Mulder, was a positive Lachman's test." Sumner
repeated the action with the left knee, which showed
no signs of slipping. "Now, I want you to stay on your
back and flex your hips about 45 degrees so your knees
are at a 90 degree angle and your feet are flat on the
floor." When Mulder was in position, Sumner shifted so
he was sitting on Mulder's right foot. Noting the
agent's incredulous expression, he smiled. "Odd, huh?
But that's how the test is done. Gotta hold the leg
still and this is the easiest way." Grabbing Mulder's
leg just below the knee with both hands, he again
pulled gently forward. Again Mulder felt the alarming
sensation of his knee slipping. After repeating the
process on the left leg, Sumner pushed himself to his
feet and helped Mulder get up and onto the couch.

"So, don't keep me in suspense," Mulder said as he
pulled his sweats back on.

"You've got all the signs of a torn anterior cruciate
ligament. You felt and heard a popping when your knee
gave out and you fell to the ground. You've got pain
and swelling. Both the Lachman's test and the anterior
drawer test are positive for instability. We need that
MRI to confirm but I can tell you right now that you
need surgery and the sooner the better."

"What?!" Mulder sat bolt upright, glaring at the
doctor. "No! No way! I've lived with this for years
and I'm telling you it's no big deal. So it's a little
unstable. Fine. I'll be more careful. I'll wear the
brace everyday if I have to but I am NOT having
surgery."

"Mulder, I know this isn't what you want to hear but
it's true nonetheless. I'm guessing you had an
undiagnosed partial tear all this time. But now it's
torn all the way through and your knee is dangerously
unstable. You're at risk for frequent falls, for
damage to other ligaments, increased risk of
arthritis. There's no way you can be a field agent
with your knee in this condition. You just can't."

Mulder groaned and fell back against the arm of the
couch. "There's no other way?"

"If you had a desk job, if you lived a very sedentary
lifestyle then maybe you could avoid surgery. But
that's not the case. You're a young, active man with a
physically demanding job. You need to have this
surgery."

"I gotta tell ya, doc ... I'm not feeling very young
at the moment."

Sumner smiled sympathetically. "Nothing like a good
knee injury to ruin a perfectly nice day, huh? Don't
let this get you down, Mulder. It's actually a very
common injury. I do this surgery all the time and I'm
pretty good at it if I do say so myself. You're young
... even if you don't feel it at the moment ... you're
in excellent physical condition. I have every
confidence you'll sail right through this. Now, do you
still have those crutches?"

"Yeah, somewhere. Bedroom closet maybe."

"Use them. Stay off that knee. Keep it elevated. Ice
it. Wear the brace. Take 4 Advil every 6 hours. It'll
help the pain and reduce the inflammation. If the pain
gets worse, call me. If the swelling gets worse, call
me. Got it?"

"Got it," Mulder sighed.

"Good. Now, let's find those crutches and then I'm
going to call and make an MRI appointment for you.
I'll pull some strings and get you in first thing
tomorrow. When the MRI is done, come straight to my
office. I'll fit you in. And Mulder ..."

"Yeah?"

"Call your partner."

"She's not gonna be happy about this you know?"

"I know. She's going to give you five kinds of hell
for keeping this from her and she's going to have a
thousand questions for me. Why don't we just call now
and get it over with, huh?"

Mulder had to smile at Dr. Sumner's very accurate
assessment of Scully's reaction. "Yeah, okay. Hand me
the damn phone, would you?" He punched in the familiar
number and waiting for an answer.

"Scully."

"Hey, Scully. It's me. Can I interest you in a late
breakfast? My treat?"

Her tone was instantly suspicious. "What do I have to
do in return?"

"Oh, not much. Just deliver the breakfast and, uh,
help Dr. Sumner find my crutches. I don't know what
the hell he's doing in my closet but he's making a
hell of a racket."

"Dr. Sumner?! Your crutches?! Mulder, what did you do
now?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story ..."

*****

"Agent Mulder, nice to see you again!"

He couldn't believe that Dr. Sumner's perky young
receptionist remembered him after all this time. "Hi,"
he said with a smile. "I have an appointment ... I
think."

"You sure do. It'll be a few minutes though so why
don't you have a seat? I'll let the doctor know you're
here." The young woman rose and started toward the
back of the office, then paused and turned back.
"Agent Mulder, can I get you something to drink while
you're waiting? Coffee? A soda?"

"Thanks, but no. I'm fine."

"Okay then. But if you change your mind you let me
know." Flashing him another big smile she disappeared
down the hall.

"Well, you certainly seem to have made an impression
on her," observed Scully, who'd taken the day off to
play chauffeur.

"What? With who?"

"With little miss coffee, tea or me there."

"Oh come on, Scully, she was just being friendly."

"Mulder, when was the last time a secretary offered to
fetch you coffee?"

Mulder shrugged, "I don't know. Last week maybe.
Secretaries do that ... don't they?"

"For you maybe," Scully's tone was disgusted. "But I
didn't see her offering to get me coffee. I doubt she
even noticed I was here. How the hell do you do it,
Mulder?"

"What can I say, Scully? Not all woman have your
ability to resist the Mulder charm."

"It's not easy, Mulder," she said dryly. "But I do my
best." She pushed him gently toward a chair and
ordered, "Sit."

Mulder, who'd forgotten how exhausting trying to get
around on crutches could be, sank into a chair with a
groan. As the promised few minutes became 15 and then
30, Mulder fidgeted in his seat, glancing at his watch
and sighing. He knew the news wasn't going to be good
and he just wanted to get it over with The brief
period of youthful energy he'd had while running he
day before was a thing of the past. He felt old and
tired.

Scully, who'd been sitting quietly next to him reading
a magazine, flashed him a sympathetic smile. "You
doing okay?"

"My ability to charm office workers aside, I feel like
I'm falling apart piece by piece."

"That's what you get for living life on the edge,"
Scully teased.

"Life on the edge? Shit, Scully, all I did was go for
a run. I fell off the freaking sidewalk! The only edge
I'm on is the edge of total physical meltdown."

"Oh, Mulder," Scully shook her head at his
increasingly morose tone. "You're being a bit
melodramatic, don't you think? I know this is
upsetting but it's really not the end of the world.
You'll have the surgery, you'll recover in record time
like always and in a couple months you'll be good as
new."

"I wish I could be as certain of that as you are," he
sighed. "But I have come to realize lately that I'm
not a kid anymore, Scully. Ten years ago I'd have
gotten up from a simple fall like this and walked
away."

"Not necessarily, Mulder. I did some research on ACL
injuries last night. They're actually very common. And
do you know who is most likely to sustain an ACL tear?
Athletes, and age is not a factor. It can, and does,
happen to everyone from 15-year-old gymnasts to 40
year old NBA stars. You're in good company, Mulder.
And you are way too young to be having a midlife
crisis, especially over something like this!"

"Scully, if you tell me I'm only as old as I feel, I
swear to God I'm gonna smack you."

*****

For the second time that morning, Mulder stripped to
his boxers and T-shirt and put on a shapeless cotton
gown that barely reached his knees. And for the second
time that morning, his partner gave him a long,
assessing look and smirked.

"Shut up, Scully." He hoisted himself onto the exam
table with a grunt.

"What? I didn't say a word."

"Just shut up, Scully."

The door opened to admit Dr. Sumner. "Morning folks.
Sorry to keep you waiting. So, Mulder, how's the
knee?"

"Better. Swelling's down and it hardly hurts at all."

"Very good." Sumner pulled a reflex hammer out of his
pocket. "Let's check you out, shall we?" He tested
Mulder's reflexes, his range of motion, palpated the
knee thoroughly and repeated the tests he'd done the
day before. "Dr. Scully, have you ever performed the
anterior drawer test?"

"Once or twice during my orthopedic rotation in med
school but I never saw a positive result."

"Want to give it a try?"

Scully glanced at Mulder for permission. "Go ahead,"
he sighed and soon she was sitting on his foot pulling
on his leg.

"That's amazing!" Scully glanced over her shoulder at
Dr. Sumner. "Can you actually dislocate the leg?"

"Yes, if it's unstable enough and you pull too hard.
That's why you go slow and keep a nice, gentle
traction. I've never caused a dislocation myself but I
had a classmate who did."

"Ouch," Scully exclaimed.

"Another good way to determine instability is roll the
patient over into a prone position and pull up on
....."

Mulder cleared his throat noisily. "Uh, hello? I'm
right here, guys."

Scully released his leg and smiled guiltily. "Sorry
Mulder. I know how you hate people talking around
you."

"I'll forgive you this time. But could you uh .."

He wiggled his toes against her butt and she jumped up
with a startled, "Oh! Sorry!"

Mulder turned to Dr. Sumner, "So, are we done here?
Can I put my pants on?"

"We are," he replied with a grin. "And yes you can.
Get dressed and meet me in my office. I think you know
the way."

"Yeah," Mulder grumbled, pushing himself off the
table. "All too well, unfortunately."

*****

Dr. Sumner was on the phone when Mulder and Scully
tapped at his door a few minutes later. He motioned
them in and gestured toward the chairs in front of his
desk. "Okay, Frank ... that's what I suspected ...
yeah, Mr. Mulder brought a copy of the films with him
..." At this, Sumner flashed Mulder a quick smile and
mouthed *One second*. "Okay, Frank. The patient's here
now so I gotta go. Thanks for calling .... yeah, you
too ... bye"

Hanging up the phone, Sumner pulled a plastic model of
a knee off a shelf behind him and circled the desk to
perch on it's edge directly in front of Mulder. "That
was the radiologist with the results of your MRI. As
you probably gathered, it showed a torn ACL."

Mulder slumped in his chair dejectedly. Even though
he'd known it was coming, hearing the words out loud
was still a blow. "So this means surgery, huh?"
 

continued in part 2
 

=====
 
 

"Yes, Mulder, I'm sorry but it does. As I explained
yesterday, if you weren't so active or if you were 20
years older we could consider other options. But in
your case surgery is the best choice."

"Is it a Grade III tear?" Scully asked. "Was there any
sign of damage to the other ligaments?"

"Is it Grade III," Sumner confirmed. "That means a
complete tear, Mulder. And amazingly enough there was
no sign of any other damage."

"So what next?" Mulder asked, looking from Sumner to
Scully and back. "What does all this mean? And what
exactly are you going to do to me?"

"I've got a video that I'm going to send home with
you. It explains the whole process in great detail.
Complete with some nifty footage of actual surgery I
might add. But for now, I'll give you the short course
in ACL repair and try to answer some of your
questions. Do you know what the anterior cruciate
ligament is?"

Mulder shook his head.

"Okay, let's start there, then." He shifted the model
in his hands and pointed to a white band that ran
through the middle of the joint. "This is it right
here. It plays a very important part in maintaining
the stability of your knee, as you're beginning to
discover. The ACL holds the femur, or thigh bone, and
the tibia ... that's the large weight bearing bone in
your lower leg ... in place. As you can see, it's
connected to the back of the femur, runs down through
the middle of the knee joint and connects to the front
of the tibia. It prevents the bones from moving
backward and forward or from side to side. It's
especially important during strenuous activity such as
running, pivoting, hitting the ground after a jump. In
a stable knee, the tibia can't slide backward or
forward more than a couple of centimeters but in the
case of an ACL tear it can very easily slip out of
place. Follow me so far?"

Mulder nodded. "So, how do you fix it? Sew it back
together?"

"Unfortunately it's not that simple. The ACL is
usually too badly damaged to even attempt that sort of
repair. And even if it were possible it's not a good
idea. The result is either a ligament that's too long
to function as it should or a very flimsy ligament.
You're no better off than you were before the
surgery."

Mulder glanced at Scully for confirmation and she
nodded. "He's right, Mulder. I did a lot of research
last night and that's absolutely true."

"The only way to fix a torn ACL is to replace it,"
Sumner continued. "We go in arthroscopically, remove
the damaged ligament and replace it."

"With what?"

"There are a couple of options. There's been some work
done with manmade grafts but I won't use them ... the
results are poor. There are grafts from cadavers ...."

Mulder cringed at that and Sumner laughed. "Don't
worry, I only resort to that in desperate
circumstances. That's not the case here. The best way
to go is to harvest a graft from the patient's own
body. We take part of another ligament and transplant
it to where the ACL used to be."

"And you do all this arthroscopically?" Scully asked.

"Everything except harvesting the graft. That requires
a small incision." Turning the model again, Sumner
pointed to a vaguely triangular shaped structure just
below the kneecap. "This is the patellar tendon. It's
used so often to provide a graft for ACL repair that
we refer to it as the gold standard. What I'll do is
make a 3 to 4 inch incision in the front of your knee
and remove the middle third of the patellar tendon
along with small blocks of bone from where it attaches
to the kneecap and the tibia. These are essential in
binding the graft into place. It makes the interface
between the graft and the bones of your leg very
strong."

The more he heard, the more anxious Mulder found
himself becoming. "You're saying you're going to take
out pieces of bone?"

"Yes, but very tiny pieces, about 2 centimeters.
You'll never miss them, I promise."

"And this tendon is going to work properly after you
take the middle of it out?"

"Absolutely. Like I said, we do this all the time.
I've done hundreds of these surgeries and I've never
had a problem using the patellar tendon graft. After
the graft is harvested the remaining portions of the
patellar tendon are stitched together and studies have
shown that within three or four months the tendon and
the bone have healed and are as good as new. I
actually had a case a couple years ago where I was
able to re-harvest another graft from the original
tendon when my patient tore the nice new ACL I made
for him and had to have another reconstruction done."

Mulder gulped audibly at the thought of going through
this twice. He was beginning to suspect that once was
going to be too much for him. He was feeling more than
a little overwhelmed. Scully, sensing his discomfort,
reached over to squeeze his hand. "You okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, I just ... this is ..." He took a deep breath
to steady himself. "It's just a lot to take in all at
once, you know?"

"We can stop right here if you want," Sumner offered.
"You don't have to know all the gory details if you it
bothers you."

"No, I want to hear this. I hate not knowing what's
going on. So, go ahead, Greg. How else do you plan to
torture me?"

Sumner flashed him a smile and continued his
explanation. "Once the graft is removed the rest is
done arthroscopically. The remains of the torn ACL are
removed, the bone is prepared for receiving the graft.
Basically we grind away a couple millimeters so we
have more room to work."

Mulder paled at that and slumped even further in his
chair.

"Hang in there, Mulder, we're almost through." Sumner
indicated two places on the model, one on the femur
and one on the tibia. "I'll drill holes here and here,
thread the graft into place, secure the bone blocks I
mentioned earlier into the holes that have been
prepared for them, put in a couple of screws ..."

"I'm going to be walking around with screws in my
knee?!"

"Yeah, for a while. But I'll use the new bioabsorbable
screws which will dissolve slowly over time after
they've served their purpose. So, after the screws are
in place, I'll irrigate the knee, put in a couple of
small drains to collect any excessive bleeding ...
they'll be removed in about 24 hours, by the way ...
and close you up. You'll get an injection of Marcaine,
which is a long acting local anesthetic, directly into
the joint which will help manage your post-op pain.
Makes a huge difference in how you feel when you wake
up, I promise. The knee will be wrapped in sterile
dressings, the drains connected to a collection
container and you'll have a Cryo-Cuff to help reduce
bleeding and swelling. A knee immobilizer goes over
the whole business and you're off to recovery."

"Cryo-cuff?" asked Scully. "I'm not familiar with
that."

"It's a combination compression dressing and ice
pack," Sumner explained. "A device which resembles a
blood pressure cuff goes around the knee and is
connected by plastic tubing to an ice chest. There are
reservoirs in the cuff that fill with ice water and
keep the knee nice and cool. It works wonders at
reducing post-op pain and swelling. We'll be sending
one home with you, in fact, and you'll need to use it
as much as possible the first week."

Ice packs were the last thing on Mulder's mind just
then so he paid little attention to the explanation.
Scully kept track of that sort of thing for him ...
thank God. "Bottom line here, Greg, how long am I
going to be off my feet?"

"Actually, the sooner you're up moving around the
better. You'll have a brace and crutches at first but
many of my patients have been able to walk without the
crutches within a week or two. It just depends on how
much pain you have after the surgery. You'll need the
brace for a while though ... several weeks at least,
possibly several months."

"Months?!"

"Don't panic," Sumner held up a placating hand. "I
always tell my patients worst case scenario just in
case. How fast you recover depends a lot on you,
Mulder. If you follow instructions and work hard at
your physical therapy it will make a huge difference
in your recovery time. I've had patients dependent on
crutches for two months. I've had patients who were
out jogging every day within two months. It varies a
lot so I just can't give you a definite answer."

"What about work?"

"You can go back half days after two weeks, if you
feel up to it. Full time in a month or so. Desk duty
only, of course. And since I know what you're going to
ask next, the answer is that I don't know when you'll
be back on field agent status. Again, it depends on
how fast you recover."

"So, when do we do this?" Mulder sighed.

"Well, I'd like to wait a couple weeks. Your knee is
still somewhat swollen from yesterday's fall and I
want to give that a chance to resolve. Also, I'm going
to give you a list of some simple exercises to do. The
stronger the muscles in your leg are the better. In
many cases I have to be concerned with getting the
patient's muscles built up before surgery but that's
not a problem with you. All that running you do is
about to pay off, Mulder. You've got excellent muscle
tone in your legs so we don't have to worry about
building them up, just maintaining where you are now."
Sumner got up and circled the desk to glance at his
calendar. "How about two weeks from today?"

Mulder glanced over at Scully and she nodded. "Sounds
good to me, Mulder. I'll call Skinner this afternoon
and arrange for the time off."

"So, Mulder, what do you say? Two weeks?"

"Since I don't seem to have much choice, yeah, that
will be fine."

Sumner flashed him a smile. "It's not the end of the
world Mulder."

"Yeah, Scully told me the same thing out in the
waiting room. And you're right, but this is just so
damn frustrating!"

"It is," Sumner acknowledged. "But in the long run
it'll be worth it. The day will come when you can be
as active as you want without worrying about that knee
and you'll be glad you had it taken care of. And I
speak from personal experience. Five years ago I had
the exact same surgery you're about to have. Same
knee, even."

Mulder looked up in surprise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was up in Vermont doing some skiing.
Basically, I was showing off and it backfired."

"What was her name?" Mulder asked with a grin.

"That's the worst part ... I never did find out. I was
laying there in a heap, she went off to get the ski
patrol and I never saw her again."

Scully shook her head in amusement as the two men
commiserated, not over a damaged knee, but over the
tragedy of not getting a pretty girl's phone number.
Finally she interrupted, "So, if you boys are done
talking about the one that got away, is there anything
else we need to discuss regarding ... oh, I don't know
... knee surgery?"

Sumner gave her sheepish smile and got back down to
business. "I think we've just about covered it. I'm
going to get you a sturdier brace, Mulder, and I want
you to wear it whenever you're on your feet. You can
probably lose the crutches tomorrow but take it easy
on that knee. Stay off it as much as you can and keep
icing it. Work if you feel like it but don't overdo."
He glanced at Scully. "You're going to have your hands
full keeping him in line."

"I know, but I've had years of practice."

"I bet," Sumner's smile grew to a grin, much to
Mulder's disgust. "Anyway, I'm sending the video I
mentioned with you, along with pre op instructions and
a pamphlet that explains the exercises I want you to
do. I'll give you a scrip for some pain meds; if you
don't need them, don't fill it but you'll have it in
case."

"Does he need any pre-op testing?" Scully inquired.

"We'll draw some blood before you leave. I'll have the
nurse come in while I'm getting the brace and such.
You're not 40 yet, are you Mulder?"

"Not quite ... though it's looming large on the
horizon."

"Yeah, for me too. Next month, in fact. But since
you're under 40 I don't think we need a chest x-ray or
an EKG, just the blood work. So, you sit tight for a
few minutes while we get everything organized and then
we'll get you on your way. Any more questions?"

"What about complications?" asked Scully. "What are
the risks involved with this surgery?"

"Well, as you know there are risks involved in any
surgery, reaction to anesthesia, excessive bleeding
and such. I don't expect any problems there. We knew
from past experience that Mulder is prone to post-op
nausea and which anesthesia disagrees with him so
we'll take steps to avoid the problems we had after
his shoulder surgery. As for the other, there's no
history of excessive bleeding in any of your previous
surgeries, Mulder, so I'm not worried about that. And
we'll be checking your clotting time when we do the
pre-op blood work just to be sure."

"When you say steps to avoid nausea, you don't mean an
NG tube, do you?" Mulder asked suspiciously.

"No, not at all. That's only done in cases of
emergency surgery when the patient hasn't been
fasting. I'm talking about giving you anti-nausea meds
prior to surgery and avoiding the anesthesia that gave
you trouble in the past."

"Well, that's one thing to be grateful for," Mulder
sighed.

"Now, as for complications specific to this surgery,
there's infection, improper placement of the graft ...
not that *I* would ever do that ... lingering pain
around the harvest site, freezing of the joint. These
are all rare and I'm not at all concerned about them
happening. The only problem we might run into is a
fairly insignificant one. When we make the incision to
remove the patellar tendon graft, we often sever a
small nerve. What that means is that patient end up
with a very small area of numbness on the front of
their knee. It's usually no more than 3 or 4 inches in
size, has absolutely no affect on the functioning of
the joint and in most cases, as the nerve heals, the
area of numbness gradually decreases in size or even
goes away completely. In my case, I have a very tiny
area that's still numb but I don't even notice it
unless I start poking at my knee looking for it."
Sumner stood and circled the desk again. "I think that
about covers it for now. I'm going to go get that
brace and send Nancy in to draw your blood. You sit
tight for a few more minutes okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Mulder replied. "No use trying to make a
break for it anyway with these crutches. I wouldn't
make it to the hallway before you caught me."

Sumner grinned and thumped him on the shoulder. "You
got that right! So save us all the trouble of chasing
you down, okay?"

When the doctor had left the room, Mulder turned to
his partner with a sigh, "I'm really going to have to
do this, aren't I?"

"You really are," she confirmed, giving his hand
another squeeze. "But it's going to be fine. You've
got a good doctor and you've got me to watch your
back."

Mulder couldn't help but smile at that. "Watch my
back, huh? Admit it, Scully, you just like checking
out my ass in those hospital gowns."

"Hey, I never said there weren't benefits to watching
your back, now did I?"

*****

If standing naked in front of a mirror looking for
signs of advancing age was disheartening, standing in
front of a mirror wearing nothing but a knee brace was
even worse. But that was exactly what Mulder was
doing.

He'd just gotten out of the shower and was supposed to
be getting dressed and heading for Scully's place. He
had to be at the hospital at 6:00 the next morning and
her apartment was so much closer, it seemed sensible
that he should spend the night. Truthfully, Mulder was
looking forward to it. Scully had a great guest room.
Soothing color scheme, firm mattress, soft sheets that
smelled like springtime ... how the hell did women get
their laundry to smell like that anyway? She'd
promised him his favorite Ethiopian take out for his
'last meal'. She'd even agreed to watch 'Austin
Powers' without commenting. He'd been making bets with
himself all day as to how long it would take her to
break that promise. So why, instead of getting ready,
did he find himself back in front of the damn mirror?

Because, as he was sitting on the edge of his bed,
strapping on the knee brace, it hit him. In less than
16 hours he'd be in surgery. And hot on the heels of
surgery came the recovery. Seemingly endless weeks of
tedium broken only by painful physical therapy. Just
thinking about it was almost more than he could bear.
How he was supposed to actually get through it was
beyond him.

The two weeks since his appointment with Greg Sumner
had been some of the longest of his life. He wore the
brace ... hot, heavy, itching horror that it was ..
faithfully. He did his exercises, iced the knee
religiously until all traces of swelling were gone. In
short, he'd been a very good boy. Dr. Sumner was
pleased with the status of his knee and had given him
the go ahead to have surgery as planned. Susan, the
physical therapist he'd been seeing once a week, was
pleased with his muscle tone and range of motion.
Scully was pleased at how he'd refrained from
complaining about being limited to desk duty and
agreed to spend his first post surgical week at her
apartment with only a token protest. Mulder even
suspected that Skinner was pleased at the prospect of
having him out of the office for several weeks.

The only person who wasn't pleased, was Mulder
himself. He was bored, frustrated and more than a
little nervous. Being a good little patient was
exhausting, emotionally and physically, and he found
himself feeling even more decrepit than he had before
the injury.

Although he'd been assured repeatedly that he would
regain full use of his knee, Mulder secretly harbored
doubts. He'd watched the video Greg had given him over
and over again and it had only exacerbated his
anxiety. This was major surgery. They were going to
literally rearrange his knee. What if he were one of
the unlucky few who didn't have a positive outcome?
What if he did not regain full use? What if he were
forced to wear a brace all the time? The prospect of
living his life at less than 100%, of being unable to
rely on his own body, was appalling to Mulder.

This injury was minor compared to some he'd suffered
in the past but it troubled him deeply. In part
because it was caused by something so inconsequential.
Although both Scully and Sumner insisted his age had
nothing to do with it, he couldn't help but believe
otherwise. He'd fallen off a curb, for God's sake! His
foot slipped off the edge of the track .. a height of
less than an inch ... and he was facing surgery
because of it. Mulder was the first to admit that he'd
abused his body for years. He'd been injured countless
times because of his recklessness. His eating habits
were abysmal. Yes, he exercised but he was the first
to admit it was because he depended on the physical
activity to clear his mind, because he enjoyed the
adrenaline rush and because being physically strong
came in handy when one chased down mutants for a
living. He certainly didn't do it because it was good
for him. And yet he'd always bounced back, recovering
with amazing speed. Gunshot wound? No problem.
Congealed blood secondary to exposure to an alien
virus? Piece of cake. His recuperative powers were
legendary. And now, they seemed to have deserted him.
The fact that he had been felled by an uneven jogging
path was incomprehensible. If it wasn't a result of
his age, what else could it be? Mulder felt as if his
body had betrayed him and he didn't like it one bit.

The ringing of the phone jarred him from his unhappy
reverie. 'Mulder.'

"Mulder, it's me. Are you almost ready to go?"

"Hey, Scully. Yeah, I'm just getting dressed."

"Why don't I come pick you up? You know how hard it is
to find a parking space in Georgetown and you really
won't be needing your car anyway."

"Thanks, but that's not necessary. I was just going to
catch a cab."

"A cab? With your suitcase and crutches? Let me pick
you up."

"I don't mind taking a cab. Besides," Mulder
protested, "I haven't used those crutches in 10 days."

"I know that, Mulder," she replied patiently, "But you
need to take them to the hospital with you tomorrow.
You're going to need them after surgery."

"Oh." He hadn't thought of that. "But wouldn't they
give me a new pair?"

"Sure. To the tune of $150! Bring the crutches,
Mulder. And don't call a cab. I'm going to pick you up
and we'll have dinner at The Red Sea on the way home.
No take out tonight, Mulder. A real restaurant with
real china and real silverware, okay?"

"Okay, Scully. I give. But I'd like to point out that
at The Red Sea you eat with your fingers."

"You know what I mean," Scully sighed in exasperation.
"I'm leaving now so get your butt in gear." There was
a brief pause and then, "Oh, and Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you wearing?"

Mulder burst out laughing. Though both of them lived
by the motto "I'm fine," somehow Scully always seemed
to know when he was feeling down and knew just what to
say to make him feel better. "At the moment, Scully, I
am wearing a knee brace and a smile," he informed her.

"Bet it's a good look for you, Mulder." He could hear
the smile in her voice.

"Well, if you really wanted to see ..."

"I've seen it," she reminded him. "Without the brace,
but I've seen it. A couple of times. But thanks for
offering. I'm on my way and I'm starved so you'd
better be socially presentable when I get there!"

Mulder hung up the phone and hurried to get dressed.
He'd learned long ago not to keep Scully waiting when
she was hungry. When he was socially presentable as
instructed, he pulled the crutches out of the closet
and sat them by the door with his suitcase. He made a
circuit of his apartment making sure he was ready to
go. Answering machine turned on? Check. Computer
turned off? Check. Weapon safely locked in the desk?
Check. Automatic timer on the coffee maker
deactivated? Check. Perishables from the fridge
disposed of? He snorted at that one. If the slightly
lumpy quart of milk he'd thrown out earlier qualified
as a perishable then check that off too. Meg Miller
from across the hall, who thought him cute but old,
was going to feed the fish and bring in the mail and
the newspaper while he was gone. He'd given her the
spare key and paid her $10 yesterday. Check.

"Okay," he sighed to himself. "Guess I'm ready."
Scully's call had temporarily banished his gloomy mood
but it returned with a vengeance as the reality of the
situation came crashing down on him. He was having
surgery in the morning. They were going to slice open
his knee. The thought made the knee in question, and
it's healthier twin, just a little weak. Was it too
late to change his mind? Ask for a second opinion? Run
for the hills? "Get a grip, Mulder." He lectured
himself. "You can do this. You can. Besides, try to
back out now and Scully will kick your ass." Mulder
shrugged on his jacket, gathered his things and headed
down to the lobby to wait for his partner with all the
enthusiasm of a death row inmate heading for the
electric chair.

*****

6:00 AM the following morning found Mulder and Scully
sitting in the admitting office of Northeast
Georgetown Medical Center. Scully was quietly leafing
through a 4 year old magazine and Mulder was
fidgeting.

"Mulder, could you please stop bouncing your leg?
You're jiggling my seat."

"Sorry."

A few minutes passed in silence.

"Mulder, could you also please not drum your fingers
on the arm of my chair?"

"Oh, sorry. Didn't realize I was doing it."

Another few minutes of silence came and went.

"MULDER!"

"What?!"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing! I was just sitting here. I didn't move a
muscle. I just ..." He trailed off as he realized what
he'd been about to do. Without even thinking, he'd dug
into his jacket pocket, found the omnipresent bag of
sunflower seeds and was about to pop one into his
mouth. "Oh, sorry." He surrendered the bag. "Nervous
habit. I wasn't thinking."

As she tucked the seeds into his overnight bag, Scully
gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's perfectly normal
to be nervous before surgery. Just don't let yourself
get too worked up, okay? It's going to be fine."

"I'm okay, Scully. No plans to hare out or anything.
But if we're going to do this, let's get on with it!
I'm not good at waiting."

"I've noticed that," Scully said dryly. "It looks like
they must have a busy surgical schedule today. There
are certainly enough people here. But I'm sure it will
be our turn soon."

As if on cue, one of the admitting clerks called out
"Fox Mulder? Right over here please." Grabbing his
overnight bag, Mulder made his way over to the counter
and took the seat the clerk indicated. Within a matter
of minutes he was registered, had signed his name half
a dozen times, answered a long list of questions, been
outfitted with a plastic hospital bracelet on his
right wrist and relieved of his overnight bag and
jacket. He was on his way to the pre-op unit.

*****

"Are you decent?"

"As decent as I'm gonna be," Mulder grumbled. "Come on
in."

Scully slipped through the curtains that surrounded
his cubicle and smiled at the sight before her. Mulder
was perched on the edge of a gurney wearing a sour
expression and a standard blue hospital gown that
barely reached his knees.

"Shut up," Mulder snarled.

"I didn't say a word."

"No, but I know what you were thinking."

"You decent, Mr. Mulder?" The nurse who'd greeted them
upon their arrival in pre-op was back.

Mulder rolled his eyes and said nothing. Scully
answered for him. "He's ready. Come on in."

"Okay, great." The smiling, 40ish blonde pushed
through the curtain armed with a chart bearing
Mulder's name and a plastic tote full of IV supplies.
Mulder eyed the latter suspiciously.

"My name is Dusty and I'll be your nurse while you're
here in pre-op. Dr. Hunter, your anesthesiologist is a
little busy right now so I'm going to go ahead and
start your IV as soon as I get your vitals." Moving
with practiced efficiency, the nurse proceeded to take
his BP, temperature and other vitals and start an IV
in the back of his left hand.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked
cheerfully.

"Not for you, no." Mulder grumbled. He noted Scully
and the nurse exchanging an amused glance.

"Well, it's done now and you've got one less thing to
worry about." The woman's unflagging good humor was
beginning to get on Mulder's nerves. Flipping open his
chart and pulling out a pen, she continued, "Okay, now
for the really painful part. Paperwork!"

"In other words you're going to ask me the same
hundred questions they asked me in admitting and then
the anesthesiologist and every other person who walks
in here is going to ask them again."

"Oooh, you've had surgery before!" Dusty smiled and
clicked open her pen. "And I'm not going to ask
exactly the same questions as they do in admitting ...
but close! Don't want us to miss something important
or operate on the wrong leg now do you? That's why we
double and triple check everything. So, let's get
started, shall we? You haven't had anything to eat or
drink since midnight have you?"

"No."

"Okay, good. You're Dr. Sumner's patient, I see. Which
means you're on his pain management protocol. You've
been taking Tylenol, Ibuprofen and Elavil for the last
24 hours?"

Mulder confirmed that he had. "I also took a Tylenol
and an Ibuprofen this morning with just a little sip
of water. Greg said I should. Something about it
helping with post-op pain."

"You just answered my next question. And that's
correct. It seems to help decrease post-op pain quite
a bit. Now, next on our list is allergies. It says
here you're allergic to Ativan and Morphine."

"He is," Scully spoke up quickly. "And he has problems
with the anesthetic Etomidate. Gives him severe
post-op nausea."

Dusty added the information to Mulder's chart. "I'll
make sure Dr. Hunter knows that, though I believe he
uses Diprivan and Isoflurane for ACL patients so it
shouldn't be a problem. And I have a nifty little
allergy bracelet for you to wear as well." The nurse
completed the rest of the checklist quickly and
attached a bright red plastic bracelet listing his
drug allergies to Mulder's right wrist. "Now, I'll
raise the head of the stretcher a bit for you and have
you swing your feet up and lay back, okay?" When he
was settled, she pulled a blanket from a nearby
cabinet and draped it over him. "Keep that right leg
uncovered for a bit, would you? I need to shave that
knee."

"What on earth for?" asked Mulder.

"You don't want any hair in the wound, do you? Oh,
that reminds me ..."

Within minutes Mulder was wearing a blue paper shower
cap and having his leg shaved. He glared at Scully who
was struggling to hide a smile.

"There, all finished," the nurse declared. "Bet that's
a first for you, huh?"

"Actually, no," Mulder admitted. Both woman shot him
an incredulous look. "Track and field!" he exclaimed.
"I was on the track and field team in high school. I
had to tape my ankles when I ran long distance. A lot
of my team mates did it!"

Dusty was clearly amused as she finished gathering up
her supplies. "I'll be nearby if you need anything,"
she told him between chuckles. "Good luck, Mr.
Mulder." She slipped through the curtains and was
gone.

*****

"Mr. Mulder?" A tall, white-haired man dressed in
scrubs parted the curtains and stepped into the
cubicle. Mulder nodded, noting that the man was
carrying his chart in one hand and a syringe in the
other. Was everyone who came through that curtain
going to have a needle in their hand?!

"I'm Dr. Hunter. I'll be your anesthesiologist today.
Sorry to have kept you waiting. We had a couple of
emergency surgeries in the wee hours that have us a
bit backed up. I see the nurse got your IV started. I
just need to go over your chart and then I have some
Valium for you."

For the third time that morning Mulder was led through
the same checklist. He answered by rote, almost
predicting the questions. Yes, he was Fox Mulder and
yes he was here for an ACL repair of his right knee.
No, he hadn't eaten. Yes, he'd taken his pre-op meds.
No, he wasn't allergic to anything other than the
three meds listed on his allergy bracelet. Finally,
the checklist was done and the anesthesiologist gave
him the green light for surgery.

"The orderly will come and get you when it's time for
surgery," Dr. Hunter told them. "It shouldn't be much
more than half an hour. In the meantime I'm going to
give you this Valium and let Dr. Sumner know that
we're good to go."

"How much Valium is that?" Scully asked, as Hunter
prepared to inject the contents of the syringe into
Mulder's IV.

The doctor named a dosage which meant nothing to
Mulder but caused Scully's eyebrows to shoot up.
"That's a bit excessive, don't you think?"

Dr. Hunter glanced at Scully in surprise. "I assure
you, ma'am it's the correct dosage."

"It's too much," Scully insisted. "Mulder only weighs
180 pounds. That dosage would be more appropriate for
someone much larger."

"Are you a nurse, Mrs. Mulder?"

Mulder crossed his arms and sat back with a smile,
waiting for the fireworks. Scully had told him long
ago that nothing annoyed her more than some pompous
male doctor assuming that any female with a little
medical knowledge must be a nurse. "I have great
respect for nurses," she'd told him. "But why doesn't
it ever occur to the members of the good old boys club
that a woman might be a doctor?!"

Scully didn't disappoint him. She wasted no time
informing the anesthesiologist, through clenched
teeth, that she was a physician NOT a nurse. "And I'd
like to see that chart, if you don't mind." Her tone
made it very clear that it didn't really matter if
Hunter minded or not.

As Scully studied the chart, Mulder studied her. While
she'd been quick to point out her status as a doctor,
she'd made no attempt to correct the mistaken
assumption that she was his wife. Dr. Hunter was the
second person to make the mistake that morning, the
registration clerk had done the same thing, and Scully
had let it slide both times. It occurred to him that
over the course of their partnership many people had
mistakenly referred to her as Mrs. Mulder and she
never said a word unless they were acting in an
official FBI capacity. *Interesting,* he thought to
himself. *Very, very interesting.*

He startled at the sound of his partner's raised voice
and realized he'd apparently missed a whole
conversation. "Well, then get Dr. Sumner in here and
let him explain it to me! I'm not allowing you or
anyone else to give Mulder this much Valium for no
good reason!" Scully's voice was icy.

"Fine," snapped the anesthesiologist, whipping the
curtain back and stomping away.

"Jeez, Scully! What the hell did you do that for? He's
going to kill me in my sleep just to get back at you."

"I hardly think so, Mulder. And what did you want me
to do? I'm not going to stand here and let him give
you too much Valium without an explanation!"

"Scully, I appreciate you looking out for me. You know
that. But I'm nervous enough as it is. Please don't
piss off the people who are going to be operating on
me."

"If he weren't such a jackass ..." Scully began
indignantly.

"Then he wouldn't be the Joe Hunter we know and love!"
Greg Sumner stood at the foot of the gurney, dressed
in scrubs and smiling. "Hi Mulder ... Dana. I hear we
have a problem."

Mulder relaxed back against his pillow and let Scully
deal with the situation. This was her area of
expertise after all.

"Greg, thank goodness!" she exclaimed. "Can you please
explain this Valium dosage to me. It's way too much!"

Sumner took the chart from her hand and read the order
that she pointed out. "That does seem a bit high ...
oh, wait a minute, I know!" He glanced at Mulder with
a smile. "Someone had a bit of an anxiety attack prior
to his last surgery and I was hoping to avoid a repeat
performance."

Mulder groaned in embarrassment. He barely remembered
the incident but supposedly he'd almost lost it while
waiting to have his shoulder repaired some 16 months
ago.

"You had a rough time before, Mulder, and I was hoping
to make things easier for you. I thought it would be
better to waste you on Valium here in pre-op so you
wouldn't even remember being in the OR. I meant to
tell you when I saw you for your follow up visit last
Friday but I completely forgot. Sorry for the
confusion."

"Why didn't Dr. Hunter just tell me that?" sighed
Scully.

"Because he's a pompous ass who doesn't like to be
questioned," Sumner grinned. "But he's a great
anesthesiologist so I put up with him. So, are we
going to go ahead with the Valium or not, kids?"

"It's okay with me," Scully replied, "if you think
it's best." She glanced at Mulder. "Okay, Mulder?"

"I guess so ..." Mulder began, then he paused. "No,
actually, I'd rather not if I don't have to. What
happened last time was out of character for me, Greg.
Honestly, I hadn't had an anxiety attack since
college. I don't know why it happened that day but it
hasn't happened since."

Sumner looked at Scully for confirmation and she
nodded. "It's true. Mulder is a reluctant patient but
he's usually pretty cooperative and I've never seen
him be unduly anxious about his own health. Usually,
he's just the opposite, in fact."

"Well ..." Sumner considered it for a long moment,
then pulled out a pen and scribbled something in the
chart. "Okay, I'll trust you on this. I won't have you
going into the OR without at least some mild sedation
though. It's easier for everyone involved if you're
relaxed. But I'll cut the dosage back to the normal
amount for a man your size. You'll be a little fuzzy
but you won't be out of it, okay?"

Mulder nodded his consent.

"Great. Let's get to it then. I'll have Dusty give you
the Valium since our buddy Joe is probably sulking
back in the OR somewhere." Sumner closed the chart and
hung it on the end of the gurney. "You two have any
more questions for me?"

"You'll let me know how things go, won't you?" asked
Scully.

"Of course, of course. You'll be in the surgical
waiting room?"

Scully nodded.

"Surgery usually takes about 2 hours or so. I'll track
you down when it's all over. You can even sit with our
boy here in the recovery room if you want."

"That would be great, thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, I have to go get scrubbed right
now or the OR crew is going to be hunting me down and
giving me hell!" Sumner squeezed Mulder's shoulder
reassuringly. "I'll see you inside, okay?"

"Can't wait," Mulder said dryly.

*****

Forty minutes later, Mulder was sprawled bonelessly on
the gurney half asleep. Scully, he noted through
drooping eyelids, was still reading the ancient
magazine she'd dragged along from admitting. He
wondered what was so fascinating. He also wondered why
she suddenly closed it and stuck it in her purse. Then
he realized he was moving.

"Huh?"

"Hey there, Mr. Mulder." He found himself looking up
into the smiling face of an orderly. "Didn't mean to
scare you there. Thought you were asleep. I'm Art, by
the way, and I'm going to take you to the OR."

"Okay," he mumbled and settled back to watch the
ceiling tiles go by.

When they reached a large set of double doors, the
gurney stopped and the orderly turned to Scully. "This
is where you have to part company, ma'am. Go on and
give your man a kiss and I'll take him on in."

Mulder gave his partner a sly look. "Yeah, honey, give
your man a big ole kiss, would ya?" he slurred.

Scully stared at him through narrowed eyes for a
moment, then muttered, "Oh, what the hell?" and leaned
over the railing to plant a kiss at the corner of his
mouth. "See you when you wake up ... pumpkin." She
murmured in his ear.

Mulder was smiling as the orderly wheeled him through
the doors.

*****

"There's the man of the hour!" Sumner was almost
unrecognizable, swathed from head to toe in blue
scrubs and wearing a mask and goggles. "How you doing,
Mulder?"

"I'd be better is I was home watching The Today Show,"
Mulder offered. "But I'm okay."

Sumner laughed, as one of the nurses assisted him into
a gown and gloves. "Well you're going to be sleeping
like a baby in a few minutes so just lay back and
relax."

"Oh, yeah, this table is sooo comfortable." Sighed
Mulder, squirming just a bit on the hard, narrow OR
table. He didn't get far as he was thoroughly strapped
down. A moment later, a mask was lowered over his nose
and mouth, he took a couple deep breathes as
instructed and felt himself drifting off to sleep.

*****

Scully glanced at her watch for the 10th time in as
many minutes. It was 11:00, 3 hours since Mulder had
been wheeled into the operating room. Just as she was
about to find someone and ask what was taking so long,
Greg Sumner appeared in the doorway of the waiting
room.

"Is Mulder alright?" Scully asked immediately.

Sumner smiled and nodded. "He's fine. Sailed right
through the surgery. Come on, I'll take you to him."
As he escorted Scully to the recovery room, he
explained that he'd been delayed not by Mulder but by
another patient who had showed up for surgery with a
terrible cough. " .... so I had to rush right out of
the OR and go examine him and wait for a chest x-ray
to be done." He concluded. "As for Mulder, he's in
recovery and doing fine. He's been awake once or twice
but, of course, it will take time for the anesthesia
to wear off so he was pretty groggy. He was sleeping
like a baby last I saw him."

"No nausea?"

"None so far. We used different anesthesia than we did
with his shoulder surgery and loaded him up on Elavil
pre-operatively to try and avoid it. I wrote an order
for IV Reglan in case he does get nauseated but I
think he'll do okay."

"What about the knee? Any problems there?"

"Nope, not a one. The ACL was a total mess as expected
but the rest of the knee looked good. The graft went
off without a hitch."

"Thank goodness," Scully sighed. "Mulder has the worst
luck sometimes."

"Yeah, I've noticed that," Sumner replied with a grin.
"Ahh, here we are." He directed her through the
recovery room doors and to the nurse's station in the
center of the room. "Hey, Jan, how's it going?"

"Going good, doc," the pretty dark-haired nurse
replied.

"This is Dana Scully, Jan. She's Mr. Mulder's next of
kin and she's going to sit with him for a while. I
know it's not our usual policy but she's a doctor so
she's knows what not to touch and she won't pester you
much. Oh, and she'll come in handy if our boy over
there gets rambunctious."

"Fine by me," Jan replied. "We can always use an extra
pair of hands around here."

"How's Mulder doing?" Scully had located her partner
the minute she walked in the room and was assessing
his condition as best she could from 15 feet away.

"He's resting comfortably. Vital signs are all stable"
the nurse assured her. "He's been drifting in and out.
No nausea, no pain to speak of so far. He did ask for
you though so he'll be glad to see you. Go on over and
see him. I'll round up a chair for you."

"Thanks." Scully turned to Dr. Sumner. "How long until
he goes to his room?"

"I like to keep my patients in recovery for about an
hour and he's about halfway there now. We should have
him tucked into his bed by noon. I'll be up to see him
later on today and I'm just a phone call away if
there's a problem, okay?"

"Okay, Greg. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. Now, I gotta go break the news to the
coughing man that he's not having surgery today after
all. I'll see you this afternoon."

Scully made her way over to Mulder's side and leaned
on the bed rails to study him. His color was good and
he did appear to be resting quietly. Even though she'd
done a lot of research on ACL repair, she was
surprised by the size of the brace and bandages that
adorned his leg. "Is this the Cryo-Cuff?" she asked
Jan, as the nurse placed a chair next to Mulder's bed.

"Yep, that's it. The cooler sitting on the bedside
table is full of ice water. It circulates through the
hose into pockets on the cuff that's wrapped around
the knee. Works wonders on keeping pain and swelling
down. It'll be on most of the time he's in the
hospital and he'll probably have one at home, as
well."

"And the brace is on already. Is that normal?"

"Oh yes. They put it on as soon as they finish closing
and dressing the wound. The girls upstairs will be
getting him out of bed before the day is over, if he's
up to it. Sooner he's up and moving around the better,
as I'm sure you know." Scully nodded in agreement. "It
just makes things easier for everyone if the brace is
already there." Jan continued. "Not all our ortho guys
put it on in the OR but Dr. Sumner always does."

"He's a good doctor, isn't he?"

"He's a great doctor," Jan said emphatically. "And I
don't say that about just anyone. Your friend here is
lucky to have him for a surgeon." The nurse checked
Mulder's vitals and gave Scully a thumbs up. "I'll be
right over at the desk. You just yell if you need
anything."

"I will. Thanks again, Jan."

Mulder was stirring as she took her seat, no doubt
roused by the sound of their voices. Scully slipped
her hand through the bedrail and lay it on Mulder's
arm. "Hey, partner. You awake?"

"Hmmm ... what?" He voice was rough and slurred and
his eyes weren't quite focused when they met hers.
"Hey, Scully. Where you been?"

"Cooling my heels in the waiting room watching bad
daytime TV."

"Oh. I've been here. That lady ..." he waved a limp
arm in the general direction of the nurse's station,
"she's pretty and she gave me ice chips. But I still
don't much like it here."

"No," Scully said with a smile. "I don't suppose you
do. How are you feeling? Do you have any pain?"

"Feel sleepy," he sighed, his eyelids drooping. "Can't
feel my knee though. Is that good or bad?"

"That's good, Mulder. Remember, Greg said they'd
inject it with something that would numb it right
before they brought you out of the OR. That way your
knee has a chance to recover from some of the trauma
of surgery without causing you pain."

"Oh ... well thas okay then. I'm gonna go back t'sleep
now. Whatcha you gonna do?"

"I'm going to stay right here and keep an eye on you."

" 'kay. Thas good. See you ... " he trailed off in the
middle of his sentence and was soon snoring lightly.

*****

Mulder slept through most of his stay in recovery,
hardly even stirring when they came to transfer him to
his room on the 10th floor. Scully knew it would take
time to get Mulder and all his paraphernalia moved to
she made a quick trip to the cafeteria. It had been a
long time since she'd had that piece of toast at 5:00
AM.

When she entered room 1024 carrying a container of
yogurt and a diet soda, she was surprised to find her
partner awake and sitting up in bed.

"Hey, Scully. I'm starved. I don't suppose you brought
me anything."

"Sorry, Mulder but no. I didn't expect you to be
awake."

"It's not easy to sleep through the transfer process
... though I tried my best. I still feel kind of foggy
but more with it than I did in recovery."

Scully settled into the chair nearest his bed and
opened her yogurt. "I don't mean to be rude, Mulder,
but I'm starved." In between bites, she asked how he
was feeling.

"Better than I expected, actually. No nausea so far,
thank God. And my knee hardly hurts at all. They still
have me on Tylenol and Ibuprofen, don't they?"

Scully nodded.

"The nurse said they were going to hook me up to one
of those IV pumps where you control your own pain med
in case I need something stronger."

"Did they say what med?"

"No, I don't think so. But she went to get me a lunch
tray so she should be back soon. You can quiz her to
your heart's content." Mulder watched Scully spoon the
yogurt into her mouth. "What is that, exactly?"

"Strawberry-banana parfait. It's good."

Mulder's face crinkled in disgust. "As hungry as I am,
that still looks repulsive."

"Just as well I didn't get you any then, hmmm?"

A nurse arrived a few minutes later carrying a tray.

She was a plump, motherly woman in her 50's. "Here we
go, Mr. Mulder. We're going to start you off on clear
liquids ... I know, I know," she laughed when she saw
his expression. "No one likes clear liquids but it's
best to start slow after surgery. If you tolerate this
you can have real food for supper." She maneuvered the
tray table into position and raised the head of his
bed a bit higher. "I'm Marilyn and I'll be one of your
nurses while you're here on 10 West. You go ahead and
get started and I'll be back in a few minutes with
that pump I mentioned."

Mulder nodded and began inspecting the contents of the
tray. Suddenly, Scully's yogurt wasn't looking so bad.

"Excuse me, Marilyn?" Scully spoke up before the woman
could leave. "I was wondering what pain med Dr. Sumner
ordered. I know you normally use Morphine with the
pump but Mulder is allergic."

"You must be Dr. Scully," the nurse said with a smile.
"Not to worry. Dr. Sumner ordered Demerol and we're
aware of Mr. Mulder's allergies"

"Ah, Scully, your reputation precedes you," Mulder
teased.

"Yes, Dr. Sumner told us, and I quote: 'Mulder has a
rare talent for getting into trouble. Luckily his
partner is a doctor who is very good at bailing him
out so don't hesitate to call on her'."

"Seems that YOUR reputation has also preceded you,
Mulder," Scully replied with a laugh.

*****

The afternoon passed quietly. Mulder ate his lunch and
kept it down. He napped off and on, channel surfed
until Scully snatched the remote from his hand and
demanded he choose a station. His only complaint was
that the IV fluids made him have to pee every hour on
the hour and no one would let him out of bed.

"Later," they kept telling him. "When you aren't quite
so woozy." And then they'd hand him a urinal.

Greg had stopped by just after lunch, done a quick
exam and assured Mulder that the surgery had gone
well. "I have a present for you," he'd said, producing
a videotape from the pocket of his lab jacket.

Mulder had eyed it with trepidation. "What is that?"

"Your surgery."

"Really?"

"Yep. Your knee in living color. Inside and out. A
little something to keep you entertained while you
recuperate."

"Gee ... uh ... thanks. I think." Mulder had accepted
the tape as cautiously as if it were a bomb and
quickly handed it to Scully. "Here, add this to your
video collection."

As the anesthesia wore off, Mulder's pain began to
increase but it wasn't intolerable. The pump was set
up to give him a preset dose of Demerol every 10
minutes. All he had to do was push a button, there was
a soft beep and a minute later, relief. He'd only
resorted to pushing the button a few times, hating the
dry-mouthed, groggy feeling he got from the Demerol.

Around 5:00, just as he was finishing his supper ...
real food, as promised ... Scully stood and stretched
with a groan. "Mulder, if you don't mind I'm going to
take off for a while."

"Sure, Scully. You don't have to baby sit me all
night. Go on home if you want."

"No, I don't want to go home just yet. But I am going
to run down to the cafeteria and see if I can find a
sandwich or something. I might even take a walk around
the block. I need to bring your crutches in from the
car anyway."

"Scully, you can go home, really. I'm fine."

"I know, but I'll just sit at home worrying about you.
I'd rather stay a while longer." She pulled the TV
remote from her pocket and tossed it on his tray
table. "Here, this should keep you out of trouble
while I'm gone. I'll be back in an hour or so."

After she'd gone, Mulder picked up the remote and
flipped aimlessly through the channels a few times.
"Nothing," he sighed. Finally, he turned the TV off,
lowered the head of his bed and settled in for a nap.
He'd barely closed his eyes when a pair of orderlies
wheeled a gurney into the room and deposited an
elderly man in the other bed.

Mulder soon discovered that his new room mate, Mr.
Pokorny, had fallen and fractured a hip. Mr. Pokorny
was 87 years old and hard of hearing. Extremely hard
of hearing. During the course of the next hour, Mulder
learned the true meaning of the word hell.

Marilyn: Mr. Pokorny, do you know where you are?
Mr. P: No, I don't have a car.
Marilyn: (loudly) MR. POKORNY, YOU ARE IN THE
HOSPITAL.
Mr. P: What?
Marilyn: (even louder) YOU'RE IN THE HOSPITAL. THE
HOS-PI-TAL.
Mr. P: Yes, I want to go to the hospital. My hip
hurts.
Marilyn: (screaming) MR. POKORNY, YOU ARE IN THE
HOSPITAL NOW!
Mr. P: I did not know that.
Marilyn: You broke your hip.
Mr. P: Huh?

Marilyn left. Thirty seconds later another nurse came
in.

Nurse: Mr. Pokorny, my name is Claire. I'm a nurse and
you are in the hospital because you broke your hip. Do
you understand?
Mr. P: Can you speak up, honey?
Claire: (yelling) YOU BROKE YOUR HIP.
Mr. P: Did what?
Claire: (shrieking) YOU BROKE YOUR HIP
Mr. P: How'd that happen?

Mulder hit the Demerol button. It beeped. Ten minutes
later, just as he was about to drift off ...

Marilyn: (at full volume) MR. POKORNY, I HAVE TO TAKE
YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE.
Mr. P: Huh?
Marilyn: (amazingly even louder than full volume) YOUR
BLOOD PRESSURE. I HAVE TO TAKE YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE.
Mr. P: Whatever you say, honey.
Marilyn: DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY?
Mr. P: I have a niece in Baltimore.
Marilyn: DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL HER?
Mr. P: You want me to call who?

Mulder hit the Demerol button. It beeped again.

Five minutes later ...

Doctor: Mr. Pokorny, my name is Dr. Bailey. You have a
broken hip.
Mr. P: What's that, son?
Doctor: (shouting) YOU BROKE YOUR HIP.
Mr. P: I keep telling you people my hip hurts but
nobody does anything about it.
Doctor: YOU NEED AN OPERATION.
Mr. P: Say again?
Doctor: YOU NEED SURGERY.
Mr. P: Do I have to pee? Hell, yes, I have to pee!

Mulder hit the Demerol button. It didn't beep. He
wanted to cry.

*****
 

"Thank you so much," Scully's voice was positively
syrupy as she spoke to the orderlies who wheeled Mr.
Pokorny, bed and all, from the room. "I really
appreciate this."

"I don't know how you did that," Mulder sighed, "but
bless you."

"Nothing to it," she replied calmly, resuming her seat
by his bed. "I merely explained to the nursing
supervisor that while I sympathized with the poor
man's situation, it was impossible for you to rest
with him in the room. I suggested that everyone would
be happier if you and he were separated."

"I suggested that too. Several times in fact. They
told me they were full up and had nowhere else to put
him."

"Yes well, I may have suggested it a little more
forcefully ... and with my badge shoved in her face.
And I may have mentioned that you are a heroic federal
officer responsible for saving countless lives and
that you'd been wounded in the line of duty."

"Dana Katherine Scully!" Mulder's voice was outraged
but he had a gleeful smile on his face. "You lied to
them!"

"I most certainly did not!" But she refused to meet
his eyes as she protested. "What did I say that wasn't
true?"

"Well, for one thing, I wasn't injured in the line of
duty ... unless tripping while jogging on a Sunday
somehow qualifies."

"But that only exacerbated a pre-existing condition
that WAS incurred in the line of duty."

"No it wasn't! I took off on my own to chase a UFO and
got tossed across a room by an alien. I wasn't on duty
then either."

"Okay, okay, so I lied. It worked didn't it?"

"Yes, it did and I'm grateful." Mulder readjusted his
pillow and sank back with a groan.

"You feel all right, Mulder? How's the pain?"

"It's not bad. I'm fine. Sick of laying here." Mulder
flashed her a wicked grin and added, "But we heroic
federal officers have to make these sacrifices once in
a while, don't we?"

"Go to sleep Mulder."

*****

Amy, the nurse covering the evening shift, finished
taking Mulder's vitals. "So, Mr. Mulder, you feel like
getting out of bed?"

"Can I? This soon?"

"If you feel up to it, yeah. The sooner the better. A
lot of doctor's do this surgery on an out-patient
basis and send you home after a couple hours. Dr.
Sumner is a bit more cautious but he still wants you
on your feet as soon as possible. So, you wanna try
it?"

"Yes, absolutely. I'm going crazy just laying here."

Amy unhooked the Cryo-cuff and helped Mulder sit up.
"You've been in bed all day so you're bound to be a
bit weak and dizzy at first. Take your time, okay?"

"I will" Mulder promised.

Scully circled the bed and took hold of Mulder's right
arm while Amy carefully guided his legs to the floor.
Next thing he knew he was standing. Weak and dizzy as
predicted, his right knee screaming in protest, but
standing nonetheless.

"How're you doing?" Amy inquired.

"Okay. I just need a minute. My leg is killing me."

"That's to be expected. Just give it a few seconds and
it should settle down to a tolerable level. Dr.
Scully, can you grab those crutches?"

"Of course." Scully retrieved them from the corner and
helped Mulder get them into position.

"Is the leg settling down at all?" asked Amy.

"Yeah, it's better. Can I try taking a step? Am I
allowed to put weight on my leg?"

"You can bear weight as tolerated so go ahead and give
it a try. If it's too painful then stop. Why don't you
try making it to the door and back? That's about 20
steps round trip. I'll walk along side you and push
the IV pump." She glanced at Scully. "Can you spot him
on the other side? Don't hold onto him, just be there
in case he has a problem."

Scully moved into position. "You ready Mulder?"

Mulder nodded. Tightening his grip on the crutches, he
set his right foot cautiously on the floor. "Ouch."

"Same as when you first stood up ... give it a minute
and it should ease up" Amy advised.

It did. He hitched forward awkwardly. One step. Then
another. It wasn't easy and it hurt, but he made it to
the door.

"Doing great," Amy said encouragingly. "How's the
pain?"

"It bothers me more than it did just laying in bed but
it's not too bad."

"You want to try heading back or do you need to rest a
minute?"

"I'm okay. Let's head back." Mulder turned around
carefully. "Hey, since I'm already up and headed that
way can I go to the bathroom before I get back in
bed?"

Amy appeared hesitant and he gave her his best
pleading look. Scully muttered "Oh, please!" under her
breath but the young nurse smiled and capitulated.

"Okay, just this once. But you absolutely are not to
try going to the bathroom alone, got it?"

"Scout's honor," he assured her.

"Mulder, you were never a Boy Scout!"

"I was an Indian Guide, Scully. It's the same thing.
But Indian Guide's honor sounds stupid."

The three of them crept back across the room and into
the small lavatory. Amy positioned the IV pump so that
it wasn't in his way and pointed to the emergency call
bell. "If you have any problem at all, ring this bell.
We'll be right outside."

"I will, thanks." Mulder waved them out the door and
began nudging it closed. Suddenly he *really* had to
go.

Just as the door was about to click shut, Scully
grabbed it. "Maybe I should stay in here with you."

"I'm fine, Scully."

"You just had surgery. You've only been out of bed 10
minutes. You could lose your balance, you could get
dizzy ...."

"I'm fine, Scully." He replied, a bit more firmly. "My
back teeth are floating, but I'm fine. Now, if you'll
just back up a bit so I can close the door I'll do
what I have to do and go straight back to bed."

"I'd just feel better if I were in here with you."

"And I'd feel better if I could pee in peace! Get out
of here, Scully."

"But, Mulder ..."

"Scully, I've been going to the bathroom by myself
since I was 3 years old. I don't need you to hold my
hand or my ...."

"Mulder!!"

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "But I'm getting
desperate here. I'm okay, really. Now please go so I
can go, would you?"

She went, reluctantly, and he pushed the door shut
with a decisive *click*. It turned out that
maneuvering his IV line, crutches and other 'things'
was more difficult than he'd imagined but he managed
and was soon nudging the door open so Amy could grab
the IV pump and help him out of the bathroom.

"I can't believe how tired I am from walking across a
room," he groaned when he was settled back in bed.

"It's been a big day, Mulder and the Demerol is making
you drowsy besides. You'll probably be tired for a
couple of days," Scully told him. "Why don't I turn
down the lights and you can try to get some sleep?"

"Okay, but I want you to go home."

"Mulder ..." she started to protest but he cut her
off.

"You've been here all day, Scully. You have to be
almost as tired as I am. That little trip to the
bathroom wore me out and I'll probably sleep right
through until morning. There's no reason for you to
sit here and watch me sleep. I'll be fine."

"Well ..." she gave him a long, assessing look.
"You'll behave yourself?"

"I'll be the perfect little patient."

Scully made a rude noise in response.

"Hey, I've been a good boy so far, haven't I, Amy?"

"Yes you have," the young woman agree. "He's right,
Dr. Scully. He's doing fine and we'll keep an eye on
him. Why don't you go home? He's going to be
discharged in the morning and then you'll have your
hands full. Rest up while you can!"

"You'll call me if there's any problem?"

"Of course."

"All right, I'll go. But I'll be back first thing in
the morning and I'd better get a good report, Mulder."

"Indian Guide's honor," he replied with a grin.

*****

Mulder didn't sleep straight through until morning as
he'd predicted. In fact, he didn't sleep much at all.
His little jaunt across the room had caused an
increase of pain in his knee. The incision felt hot
and tight and he had hideously painful muscle cramps
in his thigh. All in all, it was a long, uncomfortable
night.

He was picking listlessly at his breakfast when Greg
arrived shortly after 7:30.

"Hey, Mulder, how's it going?"

Mulder grunted and waggled his hand in a 'so-so'
motion.

"Rough night?"

"Yeah. I didn't sleep much more than two or three
hours. Damn leg kept cramping on me. Oh, and I had to
pee every 15 minutes. When can I get rid of this damn
IV?"

"Soon," Greg assured him. "I want to examine you, make
sure there are no signs of infection, and then we can
pull it and start you on oral pain meds. You want to
finish eating first? I've got other patients to see
and I can come back."

Mulder pushed his tray table away with a grimace. "No,
this stuff is awful anyway. Let's get this over with."

Greg had disconnected the Cryo-cuff and was in the
process of removing the brace when Scully entered the
room carrying a large cup of Starbucks coffee.

"Oh God, please tell me that's for me," Mulder
exclaimed.

"It is," she said, glancing at Greg, "if your doctor
says it's okay."

"I usually advise my patients to cut back on caffeine
... but go ahead. You look like you need it."

Mulder practically snatched the cup from Scully's
hands and downed half of it in one huge gulp. "Oooooh,
that's gooood," he groaned rapturously, falling back
against the pillow. "Scully, you're a saint."

By this time, Greg had removed the brace and was in
the process of cutting away the gauze dressing on
Mulder's knee.

Scully circled the bed to peer over the doctor's
shoulder while Mulder studiously looked the other way
and sipped his coffee.

"It looks good," he heard Scully remark as the last of
the gauze fell away.

"It looks very good, " Sumner agreed. "Minimal
swelling, minimal drainage, no more bruising than I
would expect and no sign of infection."

Mulder risked a quick glance at his knee and
immediately regretted it. "You call THAT looking
good?" he exclaimed. His knee was swollen and ringed
with bruises, including a huge one just above his
kneecap. There was a 3 inch incision down the center
of his knee that was held closed with several thick
black sutures plus several small incisions from the
arthroscopic surgery each closed with a single stitch.
Worst of all, there was a drainage tube emerging from
under his skin, connected to a small plastic container
partially full of bloody fluid. It had been hidden by
the various dressings and braces and he hadn't known
it was there. Swallowing hard at the sight, he wished
he still didn't know.

"Yes, Mulder," Sumner reassured him. "It looks very
good. You're going to have swelling and bruising after
what we put you through in the OR yesterday. The
bruising will probably get worse before it gets better
in fact. But the incision is nice and clean with no
sign of infection. I'm very pleased so far.

"So far? What else do you have to do?" Mulder was
liking this less and less.

"I just need to pull this drainage tube and redress
the incision. Then we can pull that IV and start
making arrangements to get you out of here."

"The sooner the better."

"We've got some things to do this morning before we
turn you loose, but I'll do my best to have you on
your way by noon," Sumner replied. "Now, sit the
coffee down and brace yourself because I'm going to
pull this drainage tube.."

"Here? Now?."

"Yep. It's like pulling off a Band-Aid Mulder. Do it
fast and it's over before you know it."

Mulder handed the cup to Scully and wrapped his hand
around the bed rail. "Get it over with," he growled.
He felt Scully's hand close over his and squeeze and
then .... "Oooooh shiiiit!" he howled as Greg simply
grabbed the tube and yanked. He actually felt all the
blood rushing out of his head and heard Scully calling
his name as he slowly tipped to the side.

Next thing he knew he was flat on his back with
Scully, Sumner and Marilyn staring down at him in
concern. "What?" he mumbled blearily.

"You fainted," Scully informed him gravely.

"No I didn't" he protested indignantly, shaking his
head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs from his
brain. "I've never fainted in my life."

"Well, now you have." Greg gave him an apologetic
smile and patted his shoulder. "Sorry about that,
Mulder.  How you doing?"

"Like pulling off a Band-Aid, huh?"  Mulder growled.
"I swear to God, I will never forgive you for that."

"Hurts like hell, I know. But it had to be done and
honestly, injecting an anesthetic into the area
beforehand hurts just as much as simply pulling the
tube. It's a no win situation."

"Did your surgeon do that to you after your ACL
surgery?" Mulder inquired.

"Yep."

"Good!"

"I guess I deserved that," Greg chuckled. Turning to
Marilyn, he said, "Redress the wound for me, would you
please? And keep him flat on his back for a little
while."

Marilyn nodded and bustled out of the room to gather
fresh bandages.

"I'm fine," Mulder protested, struggling to prop
himself up on his elbows.

Scully planted a hand in the middle of his chest and
pushed him back down. "Stay there," she commanded.
"You passed out, Mulder. You're white as a sheet and
your blood pressure is low. Just do as you're told,
okay?"

"Well, looks like you're in good hands, Mulder," Greg
said with a smile. "I'm going to go finish my rounds,
give you a chance to recover a bit and then I'll come
back and go over your instructions, okay?"  Mulder
gave a frustrated sigh but nodded his agreement.

*****

"Well, how's our boy doing?" One hour later, Greg
Sumner was back. "Feeling better, Mulder?"    "Yeah,
I'm okay." His knee was bandaged and back in the
brace. He'd rested, drank some juice, had his blood
pressure checked several times and was sitting up
again at last.

"You look better. Got some color back in your cheeks
anyway. Marilyn tells me your BP is back to normal as
well." Sumner pulled a chair up next to the bed and
settled into it. "You ready for your discharge
instructions?"

"If it means I get to go home, then yes, by all
means."

"I promised to have you out of here by noon. No more
fainting and I'll keep my promise," Greg laughed.
"Okay, post-op instructions. Marilyn will have a bunch
of handouts for you with all this in writing but I'm
going to go over it with you briefly now. If you have
any questions, speak up okay?"

"Don't worry, she will," Mulder replied with a
sideways glance at Scully.

Greg smiled at that and began his explanation. "As I
told you, the surgery went very well. No complications
and I don't expect any to develop ... as long as you
do as you're told. First and foremost, take it easy.
Your knee is very fragile right now. Wear the brace,
use the crutches, ice it, take your meds. Get lots of
rest. Someone from PT will be stopping by to show you
some exercises that you'll need to do. I won't get
into that now because the folks from PT can explain it
much better than I can. But I will tell you that these
exercises are vitally important, Mulder, so do them
even if they hurt ... and they will."

"Oh joy," sighed Mulder.

Greg flashed him a sympathetic look and resumed the
instructions. "Keep the incision dry. Wrap it in
plastic wrap before you shower ... and shower
carefully." He glanced over at Scully. "Do you have a
walk-in shower stall or a tub/shower combination?"

"It's a walk-in. There's just a tiny ledge across the
front to keep the water from running out ... it's
maybe an inch high."

"Okay, good. That should be okay. But you might want
to be nearby when he showers in case he needs help."

Scully nodded seriously while Mulder made a strangled
sound and blushed. "Oh for heaven's sake, Mulder. I'm
a doctor ... and as I mentioned just the other day, I
have seen it before."

"Scully! Jeez!"

"When you shower is the only time you're allowed to
take the brace off, by the way." Sumner continued,
doing his best not to laugh at Mulder's obvious
discomfort. "And it goes right back on as soon as
you're done. I want you to sleep in it, understand?
It's hot and heavy and uncomfortable but you need to
wear it. The folks from PT will set up a therapy
schedule for you and I'll see you in the office a week
from today," he concluded. "Any questions?"

"What about the crutches?" asked Mulder. "Do I have to
use them the whole week?"

"You need to give yourself time to heal, but we do
want your knee to regain normal range of motion as
soon as possible. Use the crutches the first couple
days. After that play it by ear. If you can walk with
just the brace, go ahead. I'd suggest using the
crutches when you leave the house for at least a full
week though. Anything else?"

"You mentioned meds," prompted Scully.

"Yes, Marilyn will have the scrips along with your
other paperwork. We're going to continue the Tylenol
and Ibuprofen ..."

"Same dosages?"

"Yep. 600 mg of Ibupofen and 1000 mg of Tylenol every
6 hours. I'm also giving him 5 mg of Oxycodone, which
is a long acting narcotic. You only take it if you
need it, Mulder. The Tylenol and Ibuprofen might be
enough. Also, I'm giving you something for nausea.
That hasn't been a problem so far, but Oxycodone has
been known to cause nausea ... that doesn't mean you
shouldn't use it if you're hurting Mulder. I'm going
to give you Tigan suppositories ...."

Mulder rolled his eyes and groaned, "Oh, this is
getting better and better."

"Hey, if you need them, you'll be glad to have them,"
Greg replied. "But I'm betting you won't need them.
I'm just being cautious here."

"You aren't going to give him an antibiotic?" asked
Scully.

"I don't think he needs one at this point. We've been
pumping him full of heavy duty IV antibiotics for
almost 24 hours now and as you saw for yourself, he's
got no sign of infection. There's been so much talk
about antibiotic resistant bacteria lately that I've
gotten a bit more selective about what I prescribe and
when. And with his medical history, I'd bet he's been
on antibiotics often enough for two people."

Scully acknowledged the truth of that statement with a
smile. "So you think he'll be okay without an
antibiotic?"

"I do. And you'll know if he's developing a post-op
infection. Just give me a shout at the first sign of
one and I'll call in an antibiotic order. So, if there
are no more questions, I think that about covers it.
I'll tell Marilyn to pull your IV and let you get
dressed. I'll sign your discharge papers and as soon
as PT is done with you, you can get out of here,
okay."

"Okay, Greg," Mulder offered his hand which the doctor
shook. "I know I've bitched a lot, but thanks."

"If you didn't bitch a lot, Mulder, I wouldn't
recognize you!" Greg told him with a grin. "Keep an
eye on him, Dana. And I will see you in a week!"

*****

Marilyn returned soon after Greg's departure and
rebandaged Mulder's knee. "I'm going to pull that IV,"
she told him, "and then you can go ahead and get
dressed. I hope you brought pants that will fit over
the brace."  She was fastening the bulky thing around
his leg as she spoke.

"I've got shorts, actually. Baggy knit ones that I
wear for running."

"Perfect. Hope you have several pairs of them cause
you're going to be needing them these next couple
weeks."

As Marilyn busied herself turning off and
disconnecting the IV, Mulder studied the brace on his
leg.

It was twice the size of the one he'd worn before
surgery ... and twice as uncomfortable. A hinged metal
bar ran from mid thigh to mid calf on each side of his
leg. Four thick nylon straps connected the bars and
looped around his leg, two above the knee and two
below, fastening in place with Velcro closures. It was
hot, heavy, itchy and he despised it. Unfortunately,
it would be his near constant companion for the next
several weeks.

"Okay, there we go," Marilyn had finished
disconnecting the IV and stuck a Star Wars Band-Aid on
the back of his hand with a flourish.

"Star Wars?" Mulder flashed her a smile.

"You just look like a Star Wars kind of guy," the
nurse replied with a smile. "I'm going to leave the
Cryo-cuff off so you can get dressed. You're taking it
home with you, right?"

"That's what Greg said."

"I'll just empty it out then. Someone from physical
therapy will be coming to see you before you leave and
they'll go over all the instructions on how to use it
and how often. If you need any help getting dressed
just ring the bell, okay?"

"Thanks, Marilyn, but I think I can manage.

*****

In the end, however, he couldn't. His knee was
painfully stiff and he just couldn't seem to find away
to maneuver himself into his boxers. After several
awkward and painful attempts, he gave in to the
inevitable. "Hey, Scully ..."

"Can't do it, can you?"

"No, and you don't need to sound so damn smug about
it. Get your ass in here and help me."

Scully slipped through the privacy curtains that had
been pulled around his bed, with an "I told you so"
smile on her face". She helped him swing his legs over
the side of the bed, then knelt and slipped his boxers
and jogging shorts over his feet. She pulled them up
to just above his knees, taking care not to bump his
incision or jostle the brace too much. "Okay, Mulder,
think you can stand?"

He pushed himself gingerly to his feet and Scully rose
with him, tugging the boxers and shorts the rest of
the way up. "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"
she said brightly. "Now, let's get rid of this gown
and get your shirt on."

"Scully, you are enjoying this way too much," he
grumbled as she untied the gown and slipped it down
his arms. "I think at some point we need to sit down
and have a long talk."

Scully just smiled and handed him his sweatshirt.

Mulder tossed the shirt on the rumpled bed and reached
for his crutches. "I'm gonna go clean up a bit first,"
he announced as he began the arduous 6 foot journey to
the bathroom. "And I'm relatively certain I can brush
my teeth without assistance."

"Okay," Scully's expression was a mixture of sympathy
and amusement. "But I'll be right here if you need
me."

"I won't," he half snarled, shoving the bathroom door
shut behind him.

Without the IV pump, maneuvering in the small room was
much easier and Mulder had no problem washing up and
brushing his teeth. He briefly considered shaving
since he hadn't done so the day before but decided
against it. He was not totally unaware that he had a
certain rumpled charm when unshaven.  He was also not
unaware that his partner thought so too ... though she
would not have admitted it under torture.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Scully
engrossed in conversation with a young man dressed in
scrubs and a lab coat. "Mulder, this is Hendrix. He's
from the physical therapy department."

"Hendrix!?" Mulder questioned, awkwardly juggling his
crutches and pulling on his sweatshirt. "No offense,
but ... "

"I know, I know," the man sighed. "My parents were
hippies. I was supposedly conceived at Woodstock. I
guess it could be worse. My dad could have been a big
Canned Heat fan for example. Anyway, according to your
chart, you don't have much room to talk there, Fox old
buddy. Were your parents hippies too?

"Hardly! Try uptight, upper middle class New
Englanders."

"Then how did you end up with a name like Fox, if you
don't mind me asking?"

"You can ask about it, just don't use it. Mulder will
do fine. And it's a family name. My paternal
grandmother's maiden name was de Vos which is Dutch
for 'the fox'. My dad was William Fox and I'm Fox
William. Lucky me." He glanced over at Scully and
found her staring at him looking positively dumb
struck. "What?"

"Mulder, we've been partners for what? Seven years?
You never told me that!"

"You never asked," he replied with a shrug.

"Never asked ..." Scully wanted to scream. "It's
driven me crazy all these years and all I had to do
was ask?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Turning back to the therapist, he
said, "I hear I have to let you torture me before I
get out of here."

"That's right. I'm going to go over the Cryo-cuff with
you and then I'll show you some exercises that will
help strengthen your leg."

"Okay, but I think I've pretty much got the hang of it
just from watching the nurses," said Mulder, perching
on the edge of the bed. "You fill it with ice water,
strap the cuff on and lay there bored out of your
mind, right?"

"Close," Hendrix smiled. "Fill it with half ice and
half water and refill it every 6 hours or so. The cuff
goes right over your bandages and it should be snug
enough that it doesn't slip but not tight. Then put
the brace over the cuff. Raise the cooler up so it's
higher than your leg. That allows the water to flow
down the tube and fill the reservoirs on the cuff.
When the water gets warm from your body heat, lower
the cooler. The water drains out of the reservoirs and
gets rechilled, then you raise the cooler again. Piece
of cake."

"How often should we use it?" asked Scully.

"Constantly, the first week. Take it off to go the
bathroom and to do your exercises and that's it. Sleep
in it. Seriously. This is very important because if
you don't keep the swelling down you're going to set
back your recovery and be in a world of hurt."

"I'm in a world of hurt now," Mulder grumbled.

"That's what you think. Wait till I get done with
you!" Hendrix lowered the head of the bed and helped
Mulder swing his legs up and lay on his back. Then he
removed the brace, explaining, "You'll leave this on
to do the exercises when you're at home, but I need to
check your knee out and make sure you're doing things
properly so this gives me easier access," he
explained. "Now, straighten that leg out for me as
much as you can."

Mulder tried and pulled up short when the pain in his
knee instantly magnified threefold. "Ow!"

"It hurts, I know," Hendrix said sympathetically, "but
getting full extension .. that is getting your knee
completely straight ... is the single most important
part of your recovery. If that knee is not at full
extension within the first few weeks, you could end up
with scarring that would require more surgery. You
don't want that, do you?"

Mulder shook his head.

"So bite the bullet and give it another try.
Straighten it as much as you can no matter how much it
hurts."

Mulder took a deep breath, closed his eyes and
straightened his leg. "Holy shit!" His knee was
screaming in protest and it brought tears to his eyes.
 

Hendrix made him hold the position to a count of 5 and
then allowed him to relax. "Good job! You got zero
degrees extension on your first try!"

"Please tell me that's a good thing," Mulder gasped,
scrubbing at his watery eyes with the heels of his
hands.

"That's a very good thing. That's full extension and
most people take a week or more to get there. Now,
let's have you roll over on your stomach so I can
check your flexion."

"Sounds like fun," Mulder muttered, but he did what he
was told, with assistance from Scully and the
therapist. "What now?"

"Now, bend your knee and bring your heel as close to
your backside as you can."

"I hope you don't expect my heel to actually touch my
backside. I couldn't do that before I hurt my knee."

"Most people can't," Hendrix laughed. "Just do the
best you can. I'm going to hold onto your leg, help
support some of the weight."

Even with the therapist's help, the pain was
excruciating. But Hendrix once again gave him high
marks. "You got 100 degrees flexion. That's about what
we'd expect to see two weeks post-op. You're just a
regular little overachiever, aren't you?"

"Does that mean I get to test out of the rest of the
course?"

"Not a chance. Go ahead and roll over." When Mulder
was once again settled on his back, Hendrix began
explaining the exercise program. "The muscles in your
leg took a beating during this surgery and you need to
get them strong and healthy again for your new ACL to
function properly. I won't kid you, Mulder. Most of
this is going to hurt ... some of it is going to
really hurt ... but it is vitally important. You need
to do these exercises three times a day or I promise
that you will be sorry."

Some of the exercises were simple, though
uncomfortable as promised: lying on his back, propped
up on his elbows and contracting the various muscles
that helped the knee function, squeezing a rolled
towel that was placed between his thighs, even
squeezing the muscles in his butt.

"Do what?!" Mulder burst out laughing.

"You heard me. I know it sounds silly but your gluts
help keep your balance when you walk. Didn't you tell
me you came from a tight-assed New England family?
This should be easy for you!"

"I believe the word I used was uptight, but okay, you
want me to flex my ass, I'll flex my ass." Mulder
didn't even try to interpret the expression on
Scully's face. "What's next?"

"There are a couple of things I want you to do
periodically throughout the day. When you're laying on
the couch with your Cryo-cuff on, do ankle pumps."

"Ankle pumps? This doesn't involve women's shoes, does
it?"

Hendrix chuckled, "No, it doesn't. Just keep your leg
straight with your toes pointed toward the ceiling.
Pull your toes as far toward your head as you can, the
slowly stretch them as far toward the opposite wall as
you can. I know it looks a little silly but do it
anyway. As for the other, do you have a desk chair
with wheels?"

"No."

"I do," Scully piped up. "You'll be staying with me
this week anyway, Mulder. After that we can trade
chairs if you still need it."

"Obviously I can't show you this one since we don't
have a chair here, but it's easy. Sit in the chair
with your foot flat on the floor. Then just gently
push yourself forward and back. Keep your foot on the
floor and let your knee slide in and out of flexion as
far as you can tolerate. Use the right leg only and
make slow, gentle movements. Don't want you propelling
yourself halfway across the room or anything."

"That sounds easy enough," said Mulder. "Are we done?"

"Not quite. I got two more for you. They're the ones
that are going to hurt the most and you're going to
need help with them." The therapist glanced at Scully.
"He's staying with you?"

"Yes. I can help him. It's no problem."

"Great. I'm just going to explain the first one
because this bed is all wrong for it. It's called the
prone leg hang and that's basically all you do: lay in
a prone position ... that's on your belly ... and let
your leg hang off the edge of the bed. If the bed has
a foot board, lay across it and hang off the side. The
edge of the mattress should hit you just above the
kneecap. Let the weight of your leg pull your knee
straight and hold it for 10 seconds, then relax, then
do it again. Sets of 10 repetitions 3 times a day."

"What do I do to help?" asked Scully.

"Sit on the floor and help support the weight of his
leg. He won't be able to do it alone at first. If
you're strong enough, take all the weight of his leg
during the resting phase so he doesn't have to move.
What I usually tell people to do is hold the leg just
below the knee and just above the ankle. There's a
fairly big size difference between you so if it's too
much I suppose you could prop his ankle on your
shoulder...do it however works best for you, just make
sure that knee stays straight!"

"No problem," Scully assured him, looking just a bit
annoyed that he would question her ability to perform
the task.

"Good, now this last one is the worst. I won't lie to
you Mulder, this is going to hurt like hell but you've
got to do it."

"Let's just get it over with then."

Hendrix had Scully stand beside him on Mulder's right
and directed her to support his leg with one hand
below the knee and one below the calf. "You're here to
help, give him a boost if he needs it, but let him do
as much of the work as he can, okay?" Scully nodded.
"Mulder, I want you to keep your leg straight, lift
your heel about 4 inches off the bed and hold it for a
count of 5 seconds."

Mulder swallowed hard and stared at the therapist in
horror. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Sorry, but no. Like I said, it's a bitch to do but
it's important. It's going to be tough at first but it
will get easier, I promise. Now, I need you to at
least try, okay?"

Scully gave his calf a brief squeeze and smiled
encouragingly. "You can do this Mulder. *We* can do
this."

Mulder nodded, braced himself firmly on his elbows and
lifted his heel off the bed. There were no words to
describe the intensity of the pain. His head snapped
back, tears filled his eyes and he hissed, "Fuck,
fuck, fuck, ..." through clenched teeth until Hendrix
gave them the signal to stop. As soon as his leg was
back on the mattress, Mulder fell back with a groan
and covered his face with his hands.

Scully was at his side instantly, gripping his arm.
"Mulder? Are you okay?"

He nodded, not daring to speak for fear that he would
burst into tears.

Scully kept patting his arm soothingly and Hendrix
said "You did great, Mulder. I know it hurt, but that
was terrific," in a sympathetic voice.

"Please tell me we're done," Mulder said shakily,
finally lowering his hands and pushing himself up to a
sitting position.

"We're done."

"Thank God!"

"I've got some pamphlets for you that explain the
exercises we just reviewed. And there's someone in PT
from 7 AM to 7 PM everyday if you have any questions.
Are you going to do your therapy here at the hospital
or are you using the PT in Dr. Sumner's office
building?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"Nope. They do good work there. It's really more a
matter of what's easiest for you."

"Well, they're closer to my work and to my apartment
so ..."

"That's fine. I'll just write up a progress report on
what we did today and send it over to them. You're
seeing Dr. Sumner in a week?"

"Yeah."

"You can set up your therapy sessions then. I'm
guessing they'll want to see you 3 times a week at
first and then slowly taper the sessions off. But I'll
let you hash all that out with them. So, I think the
doc already released you so I'll let the nurses know
we're done. You just have some papers to sign and then
you're out of here. I'll put those pamphlets I
mentioned with the rest of the discharge papers and
like I said, we're here if you need us."

Mulder smiled. "I'd say it's been a pleasure ..."

"But it hasn't, has it?" The young man grinned.
"That's okay. People are generally a lot happier to
see me leave than to see me arrive! I'm used to it.
So, that's it, we're done, I'm outta here. Good luck
to you."

"Thanks, Hendrix."

"You're welcome ... Fox." With a last smile and a
wave, he disappeared out the door.

Mulder turned to Scully, who was still hovering over
him in concern. "Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Get me the hell out of here!"

*****

"And that's the last one," Marilyn announced as Mulder
signed his name for the fourth time. "You are
officially discharged."

Mulder handed the pen back to the nurse. "Marilyn,
you've been very kind but I hope I never see you
again."

"I hope so too," she laughed, handing him a large,
manila envelope. "These are your walking papers ... so
to speak. Instructions for wound care and exercises
and how to use the Cryo-cuff, your prescriptions, all
sorts of goodies. You have an appointment with Dr.
Sumner in his office next Monday morning and you're to
call him if there are any problems in the meantime.
His office and pager numbers are on the appointment
card."

"Why don't I go get the car and meet you at the door?"
suggested Scully.

"Do you know which entrance to go to?"

"Oh yes, Marilyn," she laughed. "We've done this a
time or two before. Scully took the envelope and
tucked it into Mulder's overnight bag. Slinging the
bag over her shoulder and hoisting the box that
contained the Cryo-cuff she headed out the door. "I'll
see you downstairs, Mulder."

Marilyn assisted Mulder into a wheelchair and handed
him his crutches. "Can you hold onto those?"

"Seems like I'm going to be holding onto them for
quite a while. Might as well start now."

When the reached the first floor and the large glass
door labeled 'exit' came into view, Mulder breathed as
sigh of relief. "Freedom."

"You really can't wait to get out of here, can you?"
Marilyn seemed amused as she watched him lean forward
in the chair and peer out the doors eagerly. "No one
wants to be here, mind you. But some are worse than
others."

"I'm a lousy patient," Mulder admitted. "I don't mean
to be but I'm just not good at being sick. I guess I'm
too impatient to be a patient."

"You did just fine," she squeezed his shoulder as she
spoke. "I didn't mean that you were difficult, just
eager to leave. Trust me, after 37 years on the job, I
know a difficult patient when I see one. Take that
doctor of yours for example."

"Greg?!" Mulder twisted around in the wheelchair to
stare up at Marilyn in surprise.

"Oh yes," she nodded with a grin. "I took care of him
when he had his knee surgery and let me tell you, he
was awful! Rang the bell every 5 minutes, complained
about the food, insisted on reading every notation on
his chart. Nearly drove us crazy! Now don't get me
wrong, Dr. Sumner is a wonderful surgeon and normally
he's a real sweetheart but you know what they say
about doctors ..."

"They really do make the worst patients, huh? I'll
have to remember that next time he starts giving me
grief."

Just then the overhead paging system crackled to life
and they heard a voice say, "Code 99. Room 1025. Code
99. Room 1025."

Mulder wasn't entirely sure what a Code 99 was but he
had his suspicions and the expression on Marilyn's
face confirmed them. "That's your floor. If you need
to go ..."

"No, it's fine. They can handle it without me."

"Room 1025. That's right across the hall from where I
was."

"Yes."

"Mr. Pokorny?"

Marilyn nodded.

"Oh." Mulder cast his eyes toward the floor, surprised
by the wave of sadness that swept through him. He'd
shared a room with the old man for an hour. They'd
never even spoken directly.

"He was very old," Marilyn said softly. "His health
was fragile. I doubt he would have survived the
surgery."

"Still ...." Mulder trailed off, not sure what he
wanted to say. But Marilyn seemed to understand,
giving his shoulder another squeeze.

"Looks like your ride is here. Ready to go home?"

Mulder glanced up and there was Scully's car pulling
up to the door. "Yeah, Marilyn. I am definitely ready
to go home."

*****

Getting himself in and out of the car had proven to be
a challenge and Mulder had felt every bump in the road
on the way home. But they made it to Scully's
apartment without incident. She wasted no time getting
him settled on the couch and setting up the Cryo-cuff.
 

"Jeez, Scully, I'm barely in the door. Can't I have a
minute to catch my breath?"

"Nope," she said amiably and continued about her
self-appointed tasks without so much as breaking
stride. When he was ensconced on the sofa to her
satisfaction, with the TV remote, cordless phone and a
glass of water within easy reach, Scully announced
that she was going to the pharmacy to fill his
prescriptions. "How about I pick up a pizza for lunch
while I'm out?"

"That would be great. Don't forget to get pineapple."

"Mulder, please, no pineapple. You know I hate that."

"But ..."

"No pineapple, Mulder. I mean it. You know the rule.
Whoever picks up the pizza gets to choose the
toppings. No pineapple."

"Not even on half? They'll put it on half. I'll pay."

"Alright," she said grudgingly. "But only because
you're incapacitated. And only because you're paying.
Where's your wallet?"

"In the overnight bag," he said happily, reaching for
the remote control and flipping on the TV. "Take
enough to get beer too."

"No alcohol, Mulder. You're taking a pain pill as soon
as I get back. Narcotics an alcohol do not mix."

"One beer, Scully. Just one and I won't take a pain
pill until bedtime," he wheedled.

She completely ignored the sorrowful look he flashed
her and dug his wallet out of the overnight bag. " No
alcohol. And besides, there's only $5 in here."

"I must have forgotten to go to the bank. Take my ATM
card."

Locating the card, Scully plucked it out and stuck it
in her pocket. "I should be back in about an hour. I
have my cell phone so call if you need me. And don't
even think about getting off that couch."

"I'll be on my best behavior."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Scully grabbed her car
keys and his prescriptions and headed toward the door.

"Hey, don't you need my PIN number?"

"No."

Mulder raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Your PIN number is 0223 ... my birthday, Mulder. I'm
flattered. Your computer password used to be TrustNo1
but you changed it to ElvisLives last year. The ID
number on your video rental card is ...."

"Okay, okay, you made your point! And I'd be more than
happy to play this game by telling you your badge
number and your bra size but I'm starved. Go get that
pizza, would you please?"

"I'm going," Scully laughed as she opened the front
door. "And you don't know my badge number."

"Maybe not," he muttered as she pulled the door shut
behind her. "But I do know you wear a 34B."

"I heard that! And it's 34C."

Mulder waited until the click of her boot heels had
faded away down the hall to retort, "You wish!"

*****

Mulder spent the remainder of the day on the sofa,
only getting up to use the bathroom. He refused the
pain pill Scully offered him after lunch, insisting
that the ice, Tylenol and Ibuprofen combination was
enough to control his pain. The morning's activities
caught up with him in the late afternoon and he slept
for several hours while Scully quietly did chores
around the apartment and started dinner.

"Mulder," she gently shook him awake just after 7:00.
"Dinner is ready. Do you want to eat?"

"Mmmm ... what?" He blinked at her sleepily and ran
his fingers through his tousled hair, making it stand
on end even more.

"Dinner," she smiled at him affectionately. As
annoying as Mulder could be, he was cute as hell when
he was sleepy. "Do you want some dinner?"

"Yeah, it smells good. You make it?"

"No. My mom filled the fridge with all your
favorites."

"I love your mom."  Mulder yawned, stretched and
struggled into a sitting position.

Scully helped him swivel around and prop his leg on
the coffee table.  "I thought I'd fix us a tray and we
could eat in front of the TV. There's a basketball
game on in 20 minutes."

"Hey, that's right. Magic and Jazz. I almost forgot.
Sounds good. Thanks, Scully."

They spent a companionable couple of hours in front of
the TV but by the time the game was over, Mulder's
eyelids were at half mast.

"You ready for bed?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It's been a long day."

"It has," Scully agreed. "I'm tired myself. But we
really need to do those exercises at least once
today."

"I know," Mulder groaned, letting his head loll
against the back of the couch. "I don't have to like
it though, do I?"

"No, you don't." Scully stood and offered him a hand
up. "But the sooner it's over the sooner we can get to
sleep. Let's go."

Mulder made his way slowly to the spare room and
settled himself on the bed. With Scully's help he
worked his way through the exercise routine that had
been laid out for him. By the time they finished, he
was white-faced and sweating.

"You okay, Mulder?" Scully perched gingerly on the
bed, careful not to jostle him.

"Yeah, I just need a minute." His eyes were closed and
his voice was tight and shaky. "And I could use one of
those pain pills if your don't mind getting it."

Scully knew her partner was hurting when he not only
agreed to take the Oxycodone but actually asked for
it. She got the bottle and a glass of water and
supported his head while he swallowed the pill.

After he'd rested a few more minutes, Mulder hauled
himself up and went into the bathroom to get ready for
bed. When he returned, smelling of soap and
toothpaste, Scully had turned down the bed and was in
the process of setting up the Cryo-cuff. "You didn't
put a mint on my pillow," he teased wearily.

Scully helped him strip to his boxers and crawl into
bed. After she'd hooked up the Cryo-cuff and pulled
the covers up around him she leaned over and touched
his shoulder briefly. "Can I do anything else for you,
Mulder? Are you alright?"

"Pain's better," he murmured, already half asleep. 'M
okay. Just tired."

"Sleep then. I'll be right next door. You call me if
you need anything."

Mulder nodded, stifling a yawn with his hand. "Night,
Scully."

"Good night, Mulder." Scully switched off the bedside
lamp and slipped quietly from the room, taking care to
leave the door half open.

*****

Continued in part 6