Date: 95-12-07 23:22:48 EST Insert standard disclaimers here. No copyright infringement is intended of characters created by Chris Carter and owned by Twentieth Television. The rest of this sordid episode is mine, copyright 1995. Oh, the title is to be pronounced with a heavy Austrian accent ... Aisle Be Back ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ by Nicola Simpson "Okay, Mulder, what else do you need?" "Ub, sub bilk ad..." She could barely hear him rasp out his feeble grocery list, but scrawled the contents down carefully on a piece of green paper. She hung up the phone and stretched her arms above her head, a small triumphant smirk on her rosy lips. *Finally*, she had a good excuse to get some decent food into Mulder's kitchen. The last time she was there, she had opened the fridge to get a drink and slammed it shut, her heart pounding in fear and disgust at the new and unusual life forms she had oh so briefly seen within. His cupboards weren't so great either, mostly a collection of dented cans of Chef Boyardee and generic macaroni and cheese dinners. There was ice-cream in the freezer, and some *extremely* soggy lettuce in the ineptly-named crisper, but that was about the extent of Mulder's larder. Now, with her partner sick as a dog, she had an opportunity to plant some items with actual nutritional value within his home without him whapping her lightly on the head with a ruler and sarcastically deigning her "Mother Earth". Thank god. Dana grabbed her purse and coat, and was still smiling as the car growled to life and started towards the grocery store. She found a parking space after only a few circuits of the lot, and whipped out her list as she entered through the automatic doors. Her cart was wobbly and made embarrassing noises along the linoleum floor, but she didn't care. She was in control, she was empowered, she was...grocery shopping for a man? Ugh. She hadn't stopped to realize the domestic ramifications on her way to the store, but now it gave her pause. She just hoped that he wouldn't expect this from her every time he got sick from now on. She walked briskly, squeaking down the aisles past the Count Chocula to place some Mini-Wheats in the cart, lots of fruits and vegetables, yogurt, various cans of soup, peanut butter, cheese, pasta, anything she could think of that he might like. She picked up some cold medicines in the pharmacy, and approached the check-out line triumphantly. Her purchases beeped as malevolently as Mulder would scowl at her when she showed them to him, but she handed over the cash happily. She was nearly humming as she wheeled the cart back to the car and placed the groceries carefully in the trunk. She wasn't humming shortly thereafter as Mulder accused her of trying to kill him. ********** "Scubby! I can'd ead dis-" he gingerly plucked up a bag of mandarin oranges and frowned forlornly, "dis... stub! Id's doo healdy!" "That's exactly why you *should* eat it, Mulder." He wasn't convinced, and his face fell as he extracted the wheat cereal from the bag. "You'll get better faster," she reassured him. He muttered something under his breath, but she had the feeling that it would be unwise to ask him to repeat it. "Just think of all the vitam-" she broke off as he threw a package of fresh pasta at her head. "Mulder!" Dana rubbed her cheek wryly. "There are sharp corners on that thing." He pawed through the rest of the bags, tossing stuff out on the counter, some slipping to the floor unheeded. She scowled at him and began putting the groceries away. She had vainly hoped that he would leave her to it, so she could get rid of some of the other stuff in his kitchen in secret, but to no avail. Mulder was definitely staying there, propped up against the counter, a wool blanket wrapped around him. His eyes and nose were rimmed with red, the only colour in his thin pasty face. She sighed, she felt sorry for him. It must be galling to face down anonymous hitmen and aliens and be knocked out completely by a common cold. Oh, sorry, a cold and a *fever*, as he kept reminding her. His dark head popped up from the last bag with shock delineated on its features. "Scubby!" "Hmmm?" She turned from the fridge to face him. "Dere's do puddink ib here." "What?" "Bubberscotch. I dike bubberscotch." "Mulder..." she trailed off as he leaned heavily against the counter and started wheezing. She sighed and led him over to the couch, where he had built his own little Toomslike nest of used Kleenex's and magazines. He finally stopped coughing and looked up at her, salty tears streaming from his swollen eyes. She sighed again, and grabbed her coat. At the door, she turned back. "Butterscotch?" Mulder grinned sickly. "Bubberscotch." He nodded excitedly, then moaned and dropped his head onto the leather cushions, leaving a slimy trail near the armrest. The door closed behind her. She could hear him start to hiccup halfway down the hall. ********** "Excuse me, I'm looking for the pudding section." The lanky bespectacled teenager's head jerked up from the case of lima beans that he was so engrossed in and looked at her quizzically. "Wahuh?" Dana sighed. "Pudding. Butterscotch pudding." "Oh. Aisle 7, on the left." She thanked him quickly and scurried to Aisle 7. Her mental fingers ran over the left side, near the middle. Rice pudding, chocolate, tapioca, custard, jello, instant chocolate mousse, it had to be in there somewhere. Finally, she pried out the last package of butterscotch pudding, hidden behind a stack of vanilla. Twenty minutes later, Scully was still in line at the grocery store, which was now teeming with people stopping on their way home from work. She tapped her foot impatiently and tried to ignore somebody's red plastic basket prodding into her back and the irritating snap of the bubblegum of the patron in front of her. Sighing, she leaned over as far as she could and peered at the check-out girl. Great. She knew it. *Trainee*, the name-tag read, right below *Sharli* with a heart lovingly drawn over the i. She silently fumed and absently shook the pudding in her left hand. "Mulder..." ********** "Aaaahhhh, bubberscotch." Mulder's eyes gleamed waterily as he ripped open the package. Scully handed him a spoon and watched him devour the pudding, pausing only to breathe in between mouthfuls. After a few swallows, he set the pudding down on the coffeetable and folded his hands on the blanket on his legs. "Scubby?" She silently groaned, recognizing the look on his face. "Yes, Mulder?" "I'b abbergic doo duh colb bedicide you god be." She shook her head. "PARdon?" "I'b abbergic doo Bebadryb. I beed Dyquib." Understanding dawned on her reproachfully. She thrust her arms back in the sleeves of her still-chilled coat and tromped towards the door. ********** Pleasenopleasenopleasenopleasenopleaseno... Yes! 5:57 and the in-store pharmacy was still open. Scully let forth a sigh of relief and approached the counter. She knew that Mulder wanted Nyquil, but she had decided in the frosty car on the way there to get him a prescription cold medicine that would hopefully knock him out for the rest of the night. She rummaged through her purse, looking for her prescription pad. Ever since she became Special Agent Fox Mulder's partner, she had taken to carrying it with her at all times. It saved a lot of time and unnecessary trips to the local doctor, wherever they were. She scrawled on it hurriedly and handed it to the pharmacist, who pinched the slip of paper between her index finger and thumb and narrowed her eyes at Scully. The pharmacist waved the prescription slightly in the air and asked suspiciously, "May I see your medical license, please?" Scully plucked the card out of her wallet and handed it to the white-coated man behind the counter. He peered at it, then focused on the prescription. "This isn't for yourself?" "No, it's for a friend." "I don't think you can do that..." Scully sighed and withdrew her badge. She flipped it open at the man and amended. "It's for my partner." He pursed his lips and shook his shock of grey hair. "Doesn't matter. You need an authorized physician's approval." "But I *am* an authorized physician!" The pharmacist leaned against the counter. "Look lady, I don't know you from Adam. Or Eve. I saw you write up that prescription right here, and your ID can easily be fake. We simply can't fill that prescription, I'm sorry." Scully turned bright red and narrowed her eyes. "You think my FBI badge is a fake?" He shrugged. "Could be. I. Just. Don't. Know. Do I?" She swallowed the angry words rising from her stomach and snatched back the piece of paper from the pharmacist's bony fingers. She stepped back from the counter momentarily to reach over and grab a bottle of Nyquil from a nearby shelf. Banging it down on the counter, she remained silent as he rung up the purchase. Her boots squeaked on the drab linoleum as she stomped away. He beamed after her. "Have a nice evening!" ********** She heard the wheezing as her hand turned on the knob. Though laboured and painful, it was even. She opened the door slowly, and crept through the doorway, her suspicions realized when she saw him asleep on the couch. His dry cracked mouth was wide open and the plaid wool throw was twisted around his long legs. The leather sighed as he shifted restlessly, his wheezing stopping only long enough for him to swallow in his sleep or cough quietly. She tiptoed towards the kitchen, ignoring the tracks her boots were making on the hardwood. Wriggling out of her coat, she eyed the dishes lying around the counter and sighed. Two empty ice cream containers lay near the sink, and two more empty pudding cups were nearby. She put the ice cream cartons in the garbage and reached for the small plastic cups when her sleeve brushed against a spoon, sending it clattering into the sink. "Scubby!" Mulder bolted upright out of sleep, then groaned and slid back down the couch, his sinuses protesting violently. Her fiery head appeared around the corner, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. "Sorry, Mulder." She disappeared again to reach into her coat pocket and withdraw the cold medicine, the one he had requested. She walked back into the living room and placed it on his heaving chest. His eyes opened again, then squinted cross-eyed at the green bottle on his sternum. His limpid brown eyes shifted to hers in the dim light of the apartment. "Spoob?" She returned to the kitchen and opened up the cutlery drawer. A shaky voice emanated from the living room. "Is dere aby iced tea, Scubby?" Her shoulders collapsed into a hunch over the counter and her hand moved quickly over her face tiredly, stopping briefly to rub the freckled bridge of her nose. ********** She simultaneously thanked and shook her fist at the gods that the supermarket was open so late. She passed through the automatic doors yet again, feeling more and more tired. She had had to stop for gas on the way there, a sick Mulder was turning out to be more trouble than a healthy Mulder. She hadn't thought that was possible. "Bottled beverages are in Aisle 6," a lady in a red apron informed her. *Aisle 666 is more like it*, Scully thought grumpily. She swept three large bottle of tea into her basket and marched towards the check-out counter. She stuffed her gloves into her pockets and her right hand rose to rub lightly against her throbbing temple. She could swear she felt a pulse burn brightly in her forehead, and she eyed the Tylenol bottles in the aisle near the check-out. She eased her way out of the line, hearing grunts of approval from the tired shoppers behind her. She walked the few feet, then reached out and took one of the bottles off the shelf. She twisted the cap off, plucked out the cotton and shook two pills into her small hand. After swigging them back with one of the bottles of iced tea, she replaced the cap back on both the bottles and was about to put them in her basket when she heard it- "STOP!" The pharmacist was hurrying towards her, a burly security guard squeaking on the floor beside him. They came to a halt three feet away from her and the pharmacist pointed malevolently at her. "She was tampering with the Tylenol." Scully groaned inwardly, and reached for her ID. The pharmacist continued, "AND she tried to use a fake prescription earlier. She must be some kind of junkie," he assessed triumphantly. Her hand froze in her pocket. "Now just wait a minute, I-" The security guard rested his hand heavily on her shoulder. "You'd better take that hand out of your pocket slowly, ma'am." Dana shuddered with silent fury and withdrew her fingers, clutching to her ID. She handed it to the guard and glared at the pharmacist. The security guard flipped it open and examined it for a minute, frowning. "Looks fake to me," he finally said. The pharmacist smiled widely. Scully turned white, then flushed a bright scarlet, sputtering wordless epithets. The pharmacist chirped gleefully, "Are you going to take her downtown?" Scully's heart sank into bilious fury as the rent-a-cop nodded. *Mulder, when you get better, I'm going to murder you.* ********** His voice echoed in the dark apartment. "Scubby?" Even the Nyquil couldn't soften the whining reproach. "Where are you?" His aching head sank down on the sofa. "I'b dirsdy..." The wheezing soon became even and relaxed again, like Darth Vadar in the shadows lit only by the silent television set on the Sci-Fi channel. THE END