Title: All The King's Horses
Author: Waddles52
Rating: PG 13
Category: MT
Summary: Mulder has a really rotten day with a series of minor but
embarrassing injuries.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Used without permission for my enjoyment and
yours too, I hope.
Note: Written for the November Fic Challenge at Mulder's Refuge.
Thanks to Super Beta Lisa for her usual quick and thorough work.




After quieting the third assault on his eardrums in the past half
hour, a tired hand threw the covers back even though its owner
desperately craved more sleep. However, the alarm clock didn't
lie. It was time to get up and dress for work.

Fox Mulder glanced at the offending timepiece with blurry eyes. At
the same time he wished he were a drinker. At least then he'd have
an excuse for the vise-like pain enveloping his head.

Most people would just call in sick, but the higher-ups in the FBI
tended to frown on that, especially on the day of the quarterly
review. While Skinner most definitely would not crack a smile, his
partner Dana Scully would most likely maim him for life.

After spending hours over the past few days accounting for every
mile flown or driven, every penny spent for food, lodging or fuel,
and every criminal incarcerated as a result of their investigations,
Special Agent Fox Mulder's attendance was not only expected, it was
mandatory.

The coffee pot in the kitchen clicked on and started its repertoire
of slurps and groans, sending even sharper pain signals to his sore
head. Mulder flipped the light switch in the bathroom and opened
the medicine cabinet hoping to find relief in a little green
bottle. Bingo! The Excedrin Migraine was right where he'd left it
the last time his head threatened to explode. Trembling fingers
struggled with the childproof cap as tired eyes watched the only two
tablets in the bottle roll down the drain after the cover finally
yielded.

His mouth spouting expletives far too early in the morning, Mulder
made his way to the toolbox he kept in the closet. By hook or by
crook those headache tablets would soon find their way to his
stomach to ease his pain.

A few minutes later the trap had been taken apart and the treasure
rested in the palm of his right hand. As he rose up to exit the
dark underworld beneath the sink, his head once again exploded in
pain accompanied by a brilliant fireworks display when his cranium
connected with the sink.

If he could have seen past the sparkling lights in his field of
vision, Mulder would have noticed the air turning blue as he let
loose another string of offensive words. What did he care? The
instruments of his relief were gripped tightly in his right hand.

Just as he swallowed the precious tablets, the agent heard a plink
and the bathroom was thrown into darkness.

"Of all times for a light bulb to go out," he groaned as he made his
way back to the closet to get a new one.

Flipping the lid down on the toilet, Mulder climbed up to change the
light bulb. He noticed that the seat was loose and made a mental
note to fix it over the weekend. Just as he gave the bulb a final
turn, the seat wobbled sending the unsteady agent flying into the
wall. He heard a sharp crack as soft-tissue met unyielding plaster.

"At least I landed on my feet," he thought as he rubbed the ugly
looking bruise that was forming. The shoulder pain did serve the
purpose of taking his mind off the now full-blown migraine.

Downing a cup of coffee as he showered, shaved and dressed, Mulder
began to feel more like he could face the day. With one last check
to make sure he had his keys and wallet, he took the steps to the
ground floor. With the way his morning had already unfolded there
was no sense in taking the unpredictable elevator.

After settling himself behind the wheel of his car he turned the key
and was greeted with the sound of silence. He muttered poisonously
under his breath and popped the hood latch. He wanted to determine
if the battery cables were clean and in place and they would have
been if someone hadn't taken the battery. The special agent slammed
the hood down and kicked the right front tire out of frustration
over the fact that he forgot to lock his car. Limping heavily, he
went back to his apartment to call a cab. Was it too early in the
day to have a nervous breakdown?

Fortunately, the cab arrived quickly and rush hour traffic was
fairly light. Mulder paid the driver as a heavy rain began to fall.

Considering himself lucky to have missed most of the flooding rain,
he made his way into the building. Despite all of his earlier
mishaps, he had managed to arrive with time to spare.

His long legs carried him the length of the lobby. The elevators
were just in sight when he felt his feet begin to slide on the wet
floor. Before he could regain his balance, he found himself falling
hard onto his ass. For a second or two he felt nothing and then the
pain hit along with the peculiar feeling of an electrical shock down
his spine and legs.

To make matters worse people who ordinarily wouldn't give him the
time of day appeared, offering to help him up. He grabbed the
nearest hand and Agent Smith from white-collar crime helped him to
his feet. After assuring everyone that he was fine he limped to the
stairs. The last thing he wanted was to put up with questions about
his wellbeing while he waited for the lift. This day just kept
getting better.

Mulder took the steps very slowly, giving in to the pain in his
lower back. At the same time his migraine decided to make an encore
appearance. "Crap!" The last word was forced from his mouth quite
loudly as he missed the last step and landed on his tailbone once
again.

The pain took over for a few seconds and he was unaware of anything
but the excruciating misery in his lower spine. When it finally
eased up enough for his other senses to return, he noted a familiar
figure standing over him.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Ah, the voice of his partner. Usually her vibes were akin to
heavenly music to his ears. Today her tone fit right in with the
hellish morning he'd already experienced. He gave her a pain-filled
grimace.

"What do you think happened to me?" he snapped. His voice was
anything but friendly. "Do you think you could give me a hand here?"

"I don't know. Are you going to bite it off?" Scully sighed and
helped him up, keeping her arm around his waist all the way to their
office. Once there she helped him remove his overcoat and cringed
as he tried to sit in his chair.

When he had finally settled into the most comfortable position
available to him at the moment she dared to speak. "Having a rough
day?"

Mulder nodded yes making his head hurt a little more.

"Care to fill me in?"

Her partner managed to hit the highlights while trying to maneuver
around the most embarrassing parts as Scully started the ritual that
brought the coffeemaker to life. All the while Scully listened
intently, noting how miserable her partner looked.

Scully felt duty-bound to examine his injuries and Mulder ignored
her for the most part, supplying a groan here and there as she
touched a particularly sore spot. His attention was drawn back to
her very quickly when he heard the words "tailbone" and "drop your
pants."

"My tailbone is fine. No need to examine me," he countered, his
face turning a lovely shade of red. Any other time that set of
demands would have sent his imagination into overdrive and produced
a leer but this morning he just gaped at her stupidly.

"If it is so fine then why did I practically have to carry you in
here?"

"It was just a culmination of everything that happened this
morning. I'm a little sore but I'll live."

His words didn't sound that assuring to Dana Scully. Before her sat
a man who could whine all day over a mere paper cut and be back to
work less than twenty-four hours after a bullet wound. She was sure
he was hiding a fairly painful injury or two.

"If you're so fine, you can find these files. We may need them for
the meeting and you've changed your filing system again." Scully
handed him a post-it with the names of several files.

"Sure, no problem." With a smug look on his face he attempted to
rise from his chair. He was halfway up when the pain hammered into
his lower back and tailbone. All of the air rushed from his lungs
with the sudden explosion of pain. Despite his best effort he
couldn't move.

Scully observed him with a knowing look.

"Um, I think I'm stuck," he managed to gasp.

"Well, I won't say I told you so." Scully stepped back in to help
him. "Maybe you'll let me examine you now."

With Herculean effort, Mulder managed to pull himself up and
carefully walk to the file cabinet. "And maybe I won't."

The look of triumph on his face lasted until he had to squat to
reach the last file in the bottom drawer.

She hated to see him in pain, could almost feel it on his behalf,
but Scully decided it would be best not to interfere. Sometimes
Mulder had to discover things the hard way.

Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead as Mulder tried to
complete his task. He finally gave up and laid his arms on top of
the file cabinet, resting his head on them. "Scully, if they gave
out awards for the shittiest morning, I would win hands down." He
took a deep breath and filled her in on everything that had
transpired since he got out of bed. She helped him move gingerly
toward his desk as he recounted every embarrassing detail.

He flinched in pain as Scully found the evidence of his collision
with the sink top. She checked his pupils for signs of
concussion. "That's quite a goose egg you've got. You probably
need to put some ice on it."

Mulder groaned in response.

"You need to have that tailbone examined." She held up her hand to
block her partner's response. "You need to get an x-ray to make
sure there's no bone displacement."

"This is embarrassing, Scully," he sighed, leaning heavily against
his desk. "Besides, we have that meeting with Skinner."

"I'm sure he can juggle his schedule and see us later. I don't
think you could sit through a meeting right now."

Scully picked up the phone and explained the situation to Skinner's
secretary. After a few more words she replaced the receiver. "It's
not a problem, Mulder. Skinner is re-scheduling all of his
appointments. He woke up with a migraine and called in sick."

While he was generally sympathetic to the plight of others, at that
moment Mulder felt like calling Skinner at home and demanding his
presence. By golly, he'd made it in and anyone in the same
condition should do likewise. Since he usually enjoyed his job he
opted to mutter, "I can't believe this." Then he turned and vomited
into the wastebasket.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours later Mulder was declared the owner of a non-displaced
fracture of the coccyx. Nothing could be done but go home to lie on
his stomach or side and take the strong painkillers that the doctor
had prescribed. After downing two of them as soon as Scully pulled
out of the drugstore parking lot, the battered agent began to get
over his embarrassment.

After all, it was just another bone in a long string of fractures
and he had earned it honestly, if not heroically. He would remind
himself of those facts every time he considered sitting down on the
light blue, inflatable plastic do-nut that would be his constant
companion for the next few weeks.

Scully had managed with great difficulty and a lot of swearing from
him to get him up to his apartment and on the bed. She suppressed a
chuckle as she blew into the blue ring in order to inflate it.

Ah, Scully. If he didn't already love her with every ounce of his
being, this whole episode would have led him to that conclusion.
While she could have teased and embarrassed him, she took his pain
seriously. He could forgive the slight giggle while blowing up that
stupid cushion. It did look funny.

Once he was situated on his stomach and as comfortable as possible,
she brought him an ice pack and placed it gently on his sore
bottom. Her offer to stay and look after him for the next few days
was quickly accepted.

The pain pills did their job and made him so sleepy that he began to
forget the torture of his injuries. As his eyes closed he began to
recite something so softly that Scully just caught the tail end of
it. "All the kings' horses and all the king's men couldn't put
Humpty together again."

He drifted off to sleep knowing that if his partner had taken care
of Humpty Dumpty he would have been back together again in no time.

The End