Family Matters 
By Mary Kleinsmith 
Buc252@aol.com

Spoilers: none, I don't think
Summary: What do you do when somebody you love unconditionally is in danger?
Rating: PG13 
Classification: MTA, MSR, SA, GA
Archive: Yes, anywhere
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and everything related to them belong to Chris 
Carter and 10-13, with magic added by David and Gillian. I'm only borrowing 
them. Certain other characters belong to friends, so I say a huge thank you 
to those friends. ;-)
Feedback: Please, please, please, please, please, please, please?
Author's Notes: Thanks to all my beta readers, Brenda, Sally, Vickie, 
Debbie, and Dawn. And to Sheila, my medical goddess and information source. 
Please see additional notes at the end of the story - if I say them now, 
they'll spoil the surprise!

Family Matters
By Mary Kleinsmith 


"Mulder, are you sure you want to see THIS movie?" Scully asked as they stood 
in line waiting to buy the tickets.

"Scully," Mulder said exasperatingly. "Every Friday night we go to the 
movies, and every Friday night I ask you what you want to see. Then, every 
Friday night, you tell me to pick. I ask you if you're sure, then ask you 
AGAIN once I've chosen. Every Friday night."

"Is this your way of telling me to put up or shut up?"

"I don't know that I'd have phrased it quite that way, but yeah, I guess so. 
Next week, you pick. No backing down. There are eighteen movies in this 
theater - you should be able to find one you like." Mulder took two steps to 
the ticket window. "Two for Iron Monkey, please."

The three teens behind the refreshment counter recognized Mulder and Scully 
from previous visits. A kind man who'd tipped them very well and shown them 
their pictures had asked for their assistance in plying a practical joke on 
his friends. As they'd chattered between themselves after the man's 
departure, they hoped that they'd get to see the joke played out. There'd be 
no fun in it if the "gotcha" didn't come until the couple was home in bed.

Finally, it was Scully's turn. Mulder stayed close by her side to be sure 
she got the order right. "One large diet cola, one bottled water, and two 
bags of popcorn, please. One without anything - no salt, no butter - and the 
other heavy on both."

"I can't believe it took us six years to get to know each other well enough 
to order food for each other," Mulder said, smiling as he slid his arm around 
her waist.

"I can't believe it took you six years to ask me out on a date," Scully 
laughed back. It had been six months since that day, but it still seemed so 
new to them both.

"Well, at first, you scared me to death, I admit. And then, once you'd 
become the most important person in my world, it just seemed so trite. A 
date. Like two of those kids behind the counter."

Just then, the "kid" that was waiting on them delivered their snacks. If it 
dawned on them that it had been longer than it probably should have, neither 
remarked on it, either to the youth or to each other as they headed for the 
proper theater.

His two coworkers abandoned their patrons as they rushed over.

"So, did you do it?"

"I can't believe they didn't notice!"

"Check out which theater they go into! Could be the best show all year!"

The young man smiled, basking in his friends' accolades as he discarded the 
empty vial in the trash.

"So, are you going to hold up your end of the deal?" Scully asked him as the 
filed out of the theater past four disappointed faces.

"You mean about tomorrow? Of course. A Mulder never goes back on his 
promises." At her raised eyebrow, he corrected. "Well, THIS Mulder never 
goes back on a promise. Besides, your Mom is fantastic - I could never turn 
her down."

"Good. I'm looking forward to it."

They'd moved from best friend to something more romantic six months ago, but 
they'd agreed they wanted to take it slow. Which meant that they had not 
ripped the clothes off each other at the first opportunity, even after their 
mutual admissions of love. One hundred and eighty days. Yet tomorrow night, 
after they finished helping Maggie set up her garage sale and move some 
furniture, it was finally going to happen. Scully would not be returning to 
her apartment alone after tonight, and she tingled at the prospect. Making 
love with Mulder would be wonderful, even if her or his skills proved to be 
rusty or completely disastrous, which she doubted would be the case. They 
would be glorious together because of their love - nothing else mattered.

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

Saturday 8:30 am
Margaret Scully Residence

If I was the kind of person who slept in, Mulder thought, I'd be really 
irritated to be out and about at this hour on a weekend. But he WASN'T that 
type, so standing on Maggie Scully's doorstep wasn't bad at all. Besides, he 
was spending the day with the two most beautiful women he knew - and that 
wasn't just on the surface. He remembered Scully's pride as she'd told him 
that, since Ahab's death had left her Mom well cared for, she'd committed to 
donating the proceeds of her garage sale to the church. Besides the 
satisfaction of a truly charitable act, the only benefit Maggie was garnering 
was the reduction of clutter and reclamation of space in her home.

When Maggie opened the door to them, Mulder was surprised - again - at how 
young she looked. She'd aged so gracefully, and dressed in an old T-shirt 
that hugged her curves and a pair of Levi's, she hardly looked old enough to 
have a 36-year-old daughter. He wondered if she ever dated, ever went out or 
had a man to her house for dinner and an evening of friendly conversation.

"Dana. Fox," she said as she wiped her hands on a rag, then enveloped them 
both in a hug. "Thanks for helping me with all this." She backed away, her 
invitation to enter clear.

"We aim to please," Mulder responded, grinning. He realized he grinned a lot 
these days. 

"I was just making a little breakfast before we get to work. I hope you like 
pancakes."

Scully grinned. "Your famous buttermilk pancakes? Oh, Mulder, you're going 
to love these!"

He watched her take a stack from the oven where they were keeping warm. 
"Anything would have been fine, Mrs. Scully. I'm not too fussy about what I 
eat." Not wanting to sound ungrateful, he added, "but we appreciate the 
effort."

"The next time I drag you over this early, I'll put more effort into it and 
make you my special blueberry waffles. They were always a favorite with my 
other boys."

Mulder blushed profusely. If Scully and her Mom noticed her use of the word 
"other," they didn't think anything of it. The idea of Maggie Scully 
considering him as a son that offhandedly please him, and that, in turn, 
surprised him. He'd been figuratively without parents for so long, he 
thought he was content being without. And he was, for the most part. Mrs. 
Scully just filled a place that had been empty for so long, he'd grown 
accustomed to it.

"Fox . . ." Maggie broke into his reverie.

"Oh, sorry, Mrs. Scully," he stuttered, blushing again. "I was just 
thinking. What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted syrup," she smiled, holding up the small pitcher.

"Yes, thank you," he responded, but before he could reach for it, she was 
pouring it for him. When his pancakes were smothered in the gooey, 
sweet-smelling topping, she turned and did the same to Scully's. He raised a 
silent eyebrow, almost an imitation of her own, and smiled.

"Mom knows I'm a syrup junkie from way back. Can't have pancakes without 
syrup."

"And not just pancakes, I recall," Maggie added. "I seem to remember a very 
stubborn young lady who claimed she couldn't eat her waffles unless each and 
every hole was filled with Aunt Jemimah's best." They all laughed at the 
image.

"Anything less would be sacrilegious!" Scully claimed.

"Speaking of sacrilegious, do you remember when you wanted to take some with 
you to church? You were just a little girl."

"Waffles?" Mulder questioned.

"No, maple syrup," Maggie correctly kindly. Mulder turned confused eyes to 
Scully, only to meet her equally confused ones. 

"I don't remember that."

"It was a month or two after your First Holy Communion. The first few times 
you were so excited and proud, but after awhile, the novelty wore off. Then, 
one day as we were leaving for mass, I noticed your little purse was bulging 
at the seams. When I asked you what was in there, you just said it was 
'something you needed for church.' Well, you don't raise four kids without 
developing a suspicious mind, so I insisted you open your purse. You'd 
filled my smallest Tupperware container with syrup. When I asked you why, 
you simply remarked that the hosts were rather bland and lacking in flavor - 
and they WERE sort of like tiny pancakes anyway - so you planned to dip yours 
in the syrup before consuming to make it more palatable!"

"She didn't honestly use the word 'palatable,' did she? How old is a kid 
when they make their First Communion?"

"About second grade back then - 7 or 8. Not only did she use it, but she 
used it correctly. And I can tell you, she was one unhappy little girl when 
I told her she had to leave it home. Pouted and gave the silent treatment 
all the way to mass. After the service, I had our priest explain to her why 
you can't put Aunt Jemimah syrup on the Body of Christ."

"That is one incredible story," Mulder chuckled, wondering what other tales 
Mrs. Scully could tell on her daughter but being too polite to ask. He 
didn't even realize that he'd cleaned his plate until Maggie offered him 
more. 

Three sets of hands made quick work of the breakfast cleanup, and before 
long, Maggie put them to work. She directed which boxes Mulder should carry 
to the garage, where Dana laid out the wares on the tables her mother had set 
up before their arrival. Box after box was moved, emptied, then priced by 
Scully's mom, the day progressing quickly. When Dominoes delivered the pizza 
that would be their lunch, Mulder realized that while she was a great cook 
and seemed to enjoy it, Maggie, like her daughter, was eminently practical.

Afternoon brought even harder work. Unused furniture was moved from the 
attic, basement, and spare rooms, often requiring Mulder on one side and both 
Maggie and Scully on the other. When Scully plopped down, declaring that she 
needed a break, he was relieved to see that he was not the only one on which 
the hard work had taken its toll. They worked very hard at their jobs, but 
even a foot pursuit wasn't as physically strenuous as the workout they were 
getting today. At last, Maggie herself sat down.

"Well, that's the last of it," she declared, then added, "finally!"

"What about your signs?" Dana asked her mother while Fox just looked 
confused.

"They're all made up. I just have to put them up first thing in the 
morning."

"Why don't you do it now? That way, it'll be easier tomorrow."

"Well, my dear, logical daughter, there are two reasons. The signs are 
paper, and they're predicting rain later tonight." At her daughter's 
expression, she added. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be long gone by 
sunrise, so it won't affect sales."

"I sure hope not," Fox admitted with a grin. "I have no desire to lug all 
that stuff back inside when this is over."

"Although he'll be more than glad to do so," Scully added, speaking for him 
with an equal grin.

Looking at him more closely as he spoke, Maggie questioned if she'd asked too 
much. "Oh, Fox, you DO look bushed. How about if I make us some dinner?"

Dana spoke up, thanking her for the invitation but explaining that they'd 
made plans for the evening. Maggie was typically understanding. "Well, 
then, you kids better get out of here. You're going to want to shower and 
change before going out, I'm sure."

Mulder sniffed the sleeve of his T-shirt comically. "I'd absolutely think 
so," he joked. 

Scully quickly added, "You'd better believe it!"

Mulder stood slowly, feeling aches in muscles he'd forgotten he had. 
Suddenly, Maggie's hand was on his arm. "Fox, are you okay? You look a 
little pale."

"I'm fine, Mrs. Scully, thanks. We'll see you late tomorrow to put away 
whatever's left, okay?"

"Of course, Fox," Maggie agreed, kissing each on the cheek before they strode 
down the driveway to their car.

Dinner was lovely, and Scully found herself torn between the allure of 
sitting together like they were for another hour and the desire to take the 
man she loved home to bed.

She'd expected Mulder to rush her through their meal, knowing that he wanted 
this as much as she did, but he'd been more than calm. Was it possible he'd 
even forgotten what they'd planned for the culmination of their evening? 
Well, she wasn't about to let him.

Mulder was staring into his food, his eyes unfocused, deep in thought. 
Slipping off her shoe, she ran her stocking foot up his ankle and under the 
cuff of his dress pants. If he'd seemed lost in thought before, his 
attention was now fully on her. One hundred and fifty percent. "Hey, 
where'd you go?" she asked.

"Dreaming of you," he answered with an almost-shy smile. "Dreaming of US."

The hazel eyes that met hers, however, were tired and clouded, but the 
sparkle in them was unmistakable.

"We won't need to dream much longer," she said, joining her right hand with 
his left.

"Scully, even after tonight, every moment we're not together, I'll be 
dreaming of being with you. Every time we're in a room together, I'll be 
thinking about touching you, kissing you. The only difference will be that 
now I'll have memories, too."

They whispered quiet endearments as the waiter collected their plates and 
brought dessert. If Scully's mind had been anywhere else, she'd have noticed 
that the plate from in front of Mulder was practically full.

Mulder couldn't believe how tired he felt. The most important night in his 
and Scully's relationship, and he was feeling the need to rub his eyes like a 
sleepy two year old. He wasn't hungry, but perhaps the chocolate ice 
cream-topped brownie and coffee would negate the affects of his day of hard 
work. He definitely wanted to be at his best before they arrived back at 
Scully's place. 

Scully . . . God, she was beautiful. The doubts from the first few weeks of 
their new relationship - doubts that he wasn't good enough for her, that he 
didn't deserve her, that she'd realize these things and go running for the 
hills - were long past. He was secure in the knowledge that they'd be 
together for the rest of their lives. But there was no reason to tempt fate.

They drove his car from the restaurant. Neither one of them had had enough 
wine to affect them in the slightest, both wanting their heads clear for the 
night. The drive took too long, but they had no intention of pulling over 
and groping like a couple of horny teenagers. They eventually arrived, 
Mulder locking his door for the night before gallantly opening Scully's for 
her. They walked arm-in-arm to her door, where he unlocked it and escorted h
er into the darkness with an arm around her waist.

Once inside, she turned to kiss him lightly on the lips, taking his hand and 
guiding him back toward her bedroom.

"I know this will be indelicate and very unromantic, but I need to use your 
bathroom before we do anything else," he said, embarrassed.

"You know where it is," she answered, pecking his lips again. "I'll get 
changed while you clean up."

Slipping into her romantic gown, purchased for this special night, she found 
herself oddly content to hear Mulder reliving himself in her bathroom. Maybe 
it was odd, but it was the sound of comfort between two people, of long-term 
companionship, of love of two lives shared as one. 

"Why don't you hang your jacket on the back of the door so it doesn't get 
wrinkled," she suggested through the door. She heard a rustling of cloth and 
several grunts before the jacket's buttons clicked against the door. 

"Are you okay, Mulder?"

"Just a few sore muscles," he said with another grunt. "Your mom is quite 
the taskmaster."

"You adore her and you know it," she joked.

"I love her. I ADORE her daughter," was his response.

"Well, bring the sports cream from the medicine cabinet when you come out and 
'her daughter' will rub some on your back."

When he emerged, she noticed he'd shed not only his suitcoat, but his shirt 
and trousers as well. Mulder in his boxers was nothing she hadn't seen 
before, but every time struck her like the first. He was, quite simply, 
gorgeous. The feeling was apparently mutual, as his face reflected his 
happiness at beholding her like this.

"Mulder, you're staring," she finally said, eliciting a blink of his eyes. 
It was as if he feared she'd disappear if he closed them for more than a 
thousandth of a second.

"God, you're beautiful," was all he seemed able to say, but it was enough to 
pinken her cheeks.

"Come lay down on your stomach," Scully instructed, taking the tube of cream 
from his hand and leading him to the bed. He did as she said, smiling into 
the comforter as she straddled his thighs. Some women noticed legs, some 
butts, some chests, but Scully had always been a "back" woman. She loved the 
way a man's muscles ripple over his shoulder blades, the dip over his spine . 
. . It wasn't part of the plan, but an extra bonus for her to begin their 
seduction this way.

Mulder jumped slightly as the first bit of cream fell from the tube onto his 
back. Knowing what had happened, she apologized. "Sorry. I should have 
warmed it a bit first. I'll know better next time."

"It's okay, just took me by surprise." 

Quickly, so as to diminish the chill, Scully spread the ointment smoothly, 
massaging tired muscles as she went. Every once in a while, she'd hit a 
tender spot and would hear a slight groan. The small of his back seemed 
especially tight so she concentrated her efforts there for some time. 
Finally, she decided she'd done all she could. 

"Hold tight, I'm just going to put away the cream and wash my hands." She 
expected to return to the room to find Mulder had crawled under the covers, 
or at least sitting up against the headboard, but neither was the case. He 
was right where she left him.

"Mulder, don't you think we'd be more comfortable by the pillows?" she said 
with a grin and an open-mouthed kiss to the back of his neck. He didn't 
respond. Moving to sit beside him, she was shocked to find him asleep. 
"Mulder, wake up!" she declared into his ear. He moved a little, but no 
amount of prodding seemed capable of arousing the man - in any sense of the 
word. With a disappointed sigh, she managed to get him under the covers, 
joining him there after slipping out of her negligee. Well, there was always 
the morning.

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

It couldn't have been too early, as the sun had arisen, when Scully awoke. 
She found herself spooned up behind Mulder, her bare breasts pressed 
enticingly against his back. She lay there, enjoying the sensations with her 
eyes closed, using her other senses to absorb the feel of him, of their 
bodies, of their bed with its crisp, clean sheets. Clean sheets . . . oh, 
yeah.

With disappointment, the culmination of the previous night's events came back 
to her. She buried her nose in Mulder's hair.

"Good morning," she said, nuzzling his ear. "How did you sleep?"

Rather than the answer she expected, he shot out of the bed, making a dash 
toward the bathroom. She hadn't even cleared the bed when she heard the 
unmistakable sounds of someone vomiting. Pushing open the door, she beheld a 
trembling Mulder bent over the toilet, panting. She didn't ask if he was all 
right - it was quite obvious that he wasn't. Wetting a washcloth under cool 
tap water and wringing it out, she applied it to the back of his neck, 
holding it there until it seemed the retching had stopped.

"Do you think you can make it to the bed?" Without a word, Mulder nodded and 
shakily pushed himself to his feet. Slipping her arm around his waist, she 
guided him gently.

"I feel like shit," he muttered, swaying.

"Lie back," Scully instructed after he'd sat on the bed.

"What a time to get sick," he said, covering his eyes with his forearm. "You 
got anything in your little black bag for the flu?"

"You're right about one thing - this does look like the flu. I think I'm 
going to call your doctor. Maybe he can call a prescription into the drug 
store."

"That's silly," Mulder argued half heartedly. "You're a doctor - why not 
just call it in yourself?"

"Two reasons. First of all, I'm out of practice, and I'm afraid I'd be 
missing something, and secondly, I don't trust my judgment where you're 
concerned. There's a reason why they tell doctors not to treat family, and 
you, my love, are about as 'family' as it gets."

"If I wasn't feeling so rotten, that alone would tickle me pink."

"Well, you are, which explains why you're green, not pink." Mulder rolled 
his eyes as she left the room. "I'll be right back."

As she waited on hold for the doctor, she hoped that Mulder was getting some 
rest. His timing couldn't have been worse, but she knew it wasn't his fault 
nor choice.

The doctor came on the line and she explained the situation of Mulder's 
illness and his symptoms. He agreed it sounded like a simple case of the 
flu.

"Give him acetaminophen for the aches and any fever that may develop and give 
him lots of liquids. If the vomiting continues for too long, pick up the 
prescription I'm going to call into the drug store for anti-nausea medicine."

"Will they be pills?" Scully asked, knowing that her partner would never hold 
them down.

"Uhhh . . . no," he responded, and no more needed to be said on that front. 
Scully knew, and would deal with it when the time came.

"Okay, thank you, doctor."

Hanging up the phone, she returned to the bedroom to find Mulder, indeed, had 
nodded off again. After feeling his forehead for fever, she left him to make 
herself some breakfast and to see what kind of liquids she had that might not 
aggravate Mulder's stomach too much.

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

When Mulder wasn't better by eleven, still tossing anything he put down his 
throat right back into the toilet, Scully decided a trip to the drug store 
was in order.

"Mulder?" His only response was a groan. "Mulder, will you be okay if I go 
out for a bit?" Her voice seemed to wake him somewhat.

"Time for mass?" he asked, surprising her. She hadn't even thought about 
church this morning.

"No mass for me today. Too much to do here. I'm just going to run to the 
drugstore and come home."

"Go to mass, Scully. I'm only going to spend the day sleeping and moaning, 
and I assure you, I'm capable of doing that alone for a few hours."

"Are you sure?" she asked, uncertainty in her voice.

"Absolutely. And if I get in trouble, you'll have your cell, right? No big 
deal. Now go, before you're late."

"Okay," she hesitantly agreed, leaving the room, then returning with her 
cordless. "Here's the phone. I'll be at mass, then the drug store to pick 
up your prescription, so it could be almost two hours. Stay in bed, keep 
warm, drink your water . . ."

"But . . ."

"Even if it upsets your stomach. You need to keep hydrated, Mulder. I'll be 
back as soon as I can." She kissed him gently on the forehead, whispering, 
"I love you," before turning to leave. She tried to ignore the lead in her 
stomach telling her this was a mistake.

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

"I'm home," Scully called as she came through the door an hour later. She 
intentionally tried to hit a happy medium on volume, not wanting to wake him 
if he was asleep, but wanting him to hear her if he wasn't. She'd made 
better time than she expected, but had found her attention span during the 
service distracted as she thought of Mulder, and finally sneaked out a bit 
early to be on her way to the drug store and then home.

Breezing into the bedroom, she took in the rumpled sheets but empty bed. It 
didn't take a genius to know where to look next.

"Mulder, are you in there?" she stood at the closed bathroom door.

"Uh huh," he said, his voice sounding odd, and it seemed to take him some 
effort.

"I'm coming in," she warned, pushing open the door. Mulder turned from the 
toilet to her, his eyes begging.

"Oh, my God," she said quietly. It was obvious that Mulder had been vomiting 
again, but it was so much more now. His face was literally gray, not just 
pale, and he panted like he'd just returned from a ten-mile run. Kneeling 
beside him, she touched his face. "What are you feeling, Mulder?"

"Can't catch my breath . . ." he managed, barely. "Dizzy, tired, nauseous. 
Help me . . ." he panted. 

"We need to get you to the hospital, Mulder. If I help you, can you get up?"

Mulder barely nodded, pushing against the toilet with what little energy he 
could muster. Scully assisted him, closing the lid and seating him on it. 
"You have a choice. If you feel up to it, I can drive you, or we can call an 
ambulance."

"No ambulance . . ." Mulder panted. 

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Scully smiled. "Let's get some 
clothes on you."

Scully retrieved his bag from the bedroom, glad to find a pair of sweats and 
a matching shirt included. Appearance wasn't an issue, but she wanted to 
keep Mulder warm on the trip to Georgetown General. His boxer shorts just 
wouldn't serve the purpose. 

Mulder was scarily lackadaisical as she slipped socks onto his feet and his 
legs into the pants. Yet the panting didn't let up, even after sitting in 
the same spot for the last five minutes. A man of his youth and athleticism 
should be way beyond this kind of exhaustion, even while sick with the flu.

Lacing up his sneakers, she turned to study him again. The outlook hadn't 
improved. "Okay, we're going to the car now. Steady . . ."

Slowly but surely they made their way out of the apartment building, but 
Mulder was weak, and getting weaker. No way could this be a simple case of 
the flu. He wasn't even able to fasten his own seatbelt - or had no desire 
to.

She called the emergency room from her cellular as they drove, explaining 
Mulder's symptoms and difficulty breathing. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she 
listened as they reported that the ER was particularly quiet that afternoon, 
and they wouldn't have to wait once they arrived.

"Thank you," she told the nurse. "I'm about ten minutes away."

"Pull up to the emergency entrance's ambulance bay. I'll have a gurney 
waiting."

Breaking the connection, she pocketed the phone. 

True to the nurse's word, there were two orderlies and a bed waiting when 
Scully pulled the car to a screeching halt. She didn't notice that they'd 
also brought an oxygen supply until they slipped the mask over Mulder's face. 
It seemed to immediately bring him some relief, but the grayness remained as 
the doctor and nurse who joined them whisked him away into the confines of an 
examination room. Scully was left with paperwork to complete, and, after, to 
wait. And wait.

Fingering the telephone in her pocket as she paced the waiting room, it 
occurred to her that she had calls she should make. But what would she tell 
concerned family at this point? No, it would be wiser to wait and see what 
the doctor said. They couldn't be that long.

Inside the room, it was a flurry of activity around the sick man. Blood and 
urine samples were taken, temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and all the 
other vital statistics that would help them tell what was ailing the poor man 
before them. Florence, the emergency room nurse on duty, did her best to 
make him more comfortable despite the little pains and indignities necessary 
to diagnose him. She'd never before seen anything like this, and while she 
always thought her memory quite good, could not remember anything similar 
from her medical books or nursing school classes.

She followed the instructions of the doctor, starting an IV on the patient, 
adding anti-nausea medicine and pain killers to the liquids flowing into his 
body. Finally, he seemed to relax and fall asleep.

"I'm going to go talk to the wife," the doctor announced. 

Scully's head shot up as the doctor emerged, holding a clipboard. "Mrs. 
Mulder?" he asked to the room at large.

She stood up and approached him. "I'm Fox Mulder's partner; he's not 
married. I'm also a medical doctor, but I specialize in forensics. How is 
he, Doctor?"

"We have him stabilized, and we're waiting for his test results now. 
Depending on how those come out, we'll know where we'll go from there. I do 
need to know a few things, if you could . . ."

"Sure, what did you need to know?"

"Well, for starters, does he have any medication in his system already? 
Tylenol, Alka Seltzer, Pepto Bismal, Nyquil, any over the counter medicines?"

"No, he shouldn't have anything. Everything he's taken since this started 
he's vomited back up almost immediately. He hasn't even been able to keep 
down plain water."

"When did he first start showing symptoms?"

"Last night he was really drowsy, but I just figured it was overwork. First 
thing this morning, when he woke up, he was nauseous. There's been no 
improvement since then."

"And other than the vomiting and shortness of breath, has he been fairly 
normal?"

"Absolutely," Scully confirmed, trying to review the past twenty-four hours 
in her mind. "He helped move some pretty heavy boxes and furniture 
yesterday, and used a sports rub last night on some sore muscles, but that's 
it."

"Where were his muscles sore?"

"Everywhere, we moved a lot of things. Arms, legs, shoulders, back, all of 
it."

"Well, given what I've seen and what you've told me, I'd say it's definitely 
more serious than the flu. We're going to move him into a room in a few 
minutes. You can sit with him while we wait for the test results if you 
want." He looked at her expectantly.

"I'll be there in a couple minutes. I just need to call some family, first." 


"He'll be in room 215, and don't use a cell phone in here, just in case 
you're thinking about it. There are phones around the corner." 

She found herself irritated that the doctor would speak to her as if she was 
ignorant until she realized that he didn't know any of their history. "We're 
FBI agents, and unfortunately this is not the first time one of us has been 
hurt. I know the rules, doctor, thank you." 

She kept telling herself it was nothing while she dialed the pay phone, 
letting it ring longer than she normally would.

"Hello," finally came a comforting voice.

"Hi, Mom. It's me. How're sales going?"

"Better than I expected, actually. At this rate, I shouldn't even have much 
to pack up."

"Actually, Mom, the clean up is sort of why I'm calling. We're not going to 
be able to come over like we'd planned." Before Maggie could inquire 
further, she added, "Mulder's come down with something, and he's pretty 
sick."

"Oh, the poor dear. Is he at his apartment? Maybe after I close up here, I 
can bring him some chicken soup. I think I still have some in the freezer, 
and I could . . ."

Dana interrupted, wanting to clarify before her mother had made too many 
plans. "Mom, we're at the hospital."

"You're where?"

"I ran out to get a prescription for him, and when I got back, he was much 
worse, so I decided I'd better bring him in." She purposefully didn't 
mention the shortness of breath - no need to worry her unnecessarily. Maggie 
was pretty calm in a pinch, but breathing disorders particularly disturbed 
her.

"Are you at Georgetown?" was the next question.

"Yes."

"Okay, after the sale, I'll be there. If you leave before then, give me a 
call and let me know how it's going, what the doctor says."

"But, Mom," Scully said, feeling guilty. "How will you clean that up all by 
yourself?"

"It's all right, Dana. There are a few people from the parish who surprised 
me and stopped in to keep me company. I'm sure they'll help out."

Scully sighed. "Well, I guess I'd better let you get back to the customers," 
she said, wishing she could keep the comforting voice of her mother on the 
line, but knowing she had at least one more call to make.

"Take care, honey, and give Fox my love. I'll see you both later."

"Bye, Mom."

The next number she didn't know by heart, but the business card in her wallet 
was easily retrieved. She needed her calling card anyway, as this one would 
be long distance. Dialing several numbers, she finally heard it ring. And 
ring. And ring.

Well, that definitely wasn't working, she thought. She hung up, referring to 
the card again, and dialing a new number. This time, it only rang twice.

"Raleigh Police Department," said a friendly, if slightly nasal, voice.

"Yes, I need to speak to Detective Grey MacKenzie. Is he on duty today?"

After a slight pause, the woman responded in the affirmative. "Hold the line 
and I'll ring you back there."

Country music serenaded her while she waited on hold for the welcoming sound 
of Grey's familiar drawl.

"Detective MacKenzie's desk," came a masculine voice, but it wasn't Grey's.

"Yes, I'd like to speak to him, please."

"Who may I say is calling?"

Thinking that it might get her faster service, she added her title. "This is 
Special Agent Dana Scully."

She heard the voice sigh slightly. "Oh, Dana! It's nice to finally speak 
with you. This is Grey's partner, Mark Preston."

"Mark, what a pleasant surprise," Scully responded politely. "I didn't think 
you'd know me."

"Are you kidding?" Mark laughed. "We've heard nothing but 'Fox and Dana' 
since the day Grey came in, announcing he'd found his long-lost brother!"

"They're a perfect match, that's for sure. So, is Grey around? I really 
need to speak with him."

"Oh, Dana, I'm sorry, but he's not. They've got him on an under-cover 
assignment, and he's unreachable. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Damn," Dana whispered before turning her attention back to the phone. "If 
you hear from him, I need you to get him a message. Tell him that Mulder . . 
. I mean Fox . . . is quite sick, and is in Georgetown Memorial Hospital. I 
don't have all the details yet as to what the test results will show, but I 
should know by the time he calls me back."

"Okay, I'll be sure to tell him, and I'm sorry about Fox. Anything else?"

"Oh, yeah. If he tries my cell and can't get through, tell him to call the 
hospital and ask for his brother's room. I'll be there."

"I'm not sure when I'll be able to get ahold of him, but I'll be sure to tell 
him when I do. Unfortunately, contacting him now could endanger his life, 
not just the case."

"I understand. It's poor timing all around, I'm afraid. Not that there's 
ever a good time to be sick."

"No, there isn't. Well, take care, Dana, and I hope Fox is feeling better 
soon."

"Thanks, Mark." As she left the bank of phones, she felt a slight sense of 
failure at not being able to contact Grey. Why did she feel it was so 
urgent? Mulder was just sick. He'd been there before, and she was sure he'd 
be there again, despite the flu inoculations they received every year. 

It took awhile, but she eventually located Mulder's room. He seemed more 
comfortable, despite the oxygen cannula under his nose and the IV running 
into his arm, and was sound asleep. But the gray coloring was still there. 

The sun set so very slowly that before she even realized it, the room was 
dark. She'd been staring so intently at the man in the bed that she was 
caught unaware when a hand soothed her hair. She quickly followed the hand 
to its owner.

"Mom!"

"Hi, sweetie. How's Fox doing?" 

"Stable - that's about all we can say. They haven't gotten the test results 
back, so we don't know what's causing all this, but at least he's stopped 
vomiting anymore and he's breathing easier. That's something."

Margaret Scully moved a chair from the corner next to her daughter. Knowing 
there was little she could do besides offer comfort and her presence, she 
settled into the chair. 

Why did this have to happen now? You didn't have to be a rocket scientist - 
or an Oxford Graduate - to see that her daughter's relationship with Fox 
Mulder had changed. No longer were they working partners, or even best 
friends. Her mother's intuition told her it had developed into something 
much more. Happiness was within Dana's grasp, and Fox's too. They deserved 
that.

An hour passed, then two, and soon a third. A kind nurse offered them each a 
cot in the on-call room, which Scully obstinately refused, but insisted her 
mother take. Rather than aggravate her, and knowing that she was good for 
her word to call when they knew anything, Maggie kissed Scully's cheek and 
went off with the woman. Scully appreciated her mother more and more the 
older she got, but at this point, she wanted to be alone with Mulder and her 
thoughts.

Around 2:00 am, his eyes finally opened; Scully had not let herself drift 
off, awaiting just this event.

"How're you doing?" she asked, taking his hand in her own. 

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," Mulder joked. She knew it was a 
typical defense reaction, but it awakened an anger in her.

"Don't say that, Mulder! Don't you dare even kid about leaving me here 
alone." Despite her ire, she felt the tears coming to her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm not going anywhere." He drew her hand to his lips, 
kissing it. "A man would have to be crazy to let anything keep him from a 
woman like you. Even if she does regularly kick his butt or tell him his 
ideas are nuts."

"I only kick when the butt needs kicking, and only tell you they're nuts when 
they are." Nevertheless, the routine sparring made her laugh. Mulder's weak 
chuckles joined her own just moments before the door opened.

"I apologize for interrupting, folks, but we have the test results back." 
The grim look on the man's face could be deceiving, Scully told herself, but 
she was nervous all the same. If anybody had a right to be grim at this hour 
of the night, it was the beleaguered physician.

"What did they say?"

"It took a little longer to get the results than we originally expected; I 
ran some of the tests again to make sure they were correct."

Scully felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. "Please, doctor, 
just tell us. I'm a medical doctor, so you can be as specific as you need 
to."

"Okay, but it's not good. Mr. Mulder, your blood is showing elevated levels 
of urea and creatinine along with traces of Xylene, a chemical I think is 
causing all the trouble. It's most frequently found in cleaning fluids, but 
this would have to be the pure stuff. Your urinalysis is showing almost none 
of these chemicals are being excreted through your urinary tract."

"Oh, my God . . ." Scully whispered as the pain literally ripped through her 
chest. 

"Now the fact that there was some in his urine proves that it's not a total 
shutdown. At least, not yet."

Feeling out of the loop, Mulder's frustration finally released. "What the 
hell are you two talking about!" he tried to shout in earnest. "What do you 
mean, 'shutdown?'"

"It appears, Mr. Mulder, that your kidneys are failing. Acute Renal Failure, 
due to the Xylene in your system. I want to do an ultrasound to see just how 
bad the damage is, and I'm ordering a series of dialysis sessions. 
Hopefully, by the time that's done, your kidneys will be healed enough to 
pick up the job themselves."

"This doesn't make any sense," Mulder said, incredulously. "There can't be 
anything wrong with my kidneys. I haven't had any problem taking a . . . . 
well . . . I've been urinating as usual."

"That's not always the way it works, Mr. Mulder. What you're experiencing is 
called nonoliguric failure - your body continues to produce and expel urine, 
but it's not taking the poisons in your body with it."

"Okay, so what if the dialysis doesn't help?"

"Why don't we just cross that bridge when we come to it. No need to buy 
trouble," the doctor said evasively.

"What if they don't?" he repeated, and when the doctor didn't respond, he 
turned to Scully. "What if they don't, Scully?"

"If your kidneys don't go back to working on their own, they'll have to put 
you on long-term dialysis treatments. A session every day. Or . . ."

"Or what? I know what dialysis is, Scully. It means no more Bureau. No 
more X-Files. So what's the alternative?"

"A kidney transplant is the only other option, and the only one that will let 
you return to a normal life, Mr. Mulder," the doctor said. "I don't want to 
buy trouble here, but I'd recommend you begin contacting family members, your 
parents, siblings, anybody who could be a donor, just in case. It would be 
better if we had everybody typed and matched in advance."

A silence fell on the room, Mulder and Scully's eyes communicating 
dramatically, though no words were said. 

"I'm sorry, Dr. Scully, is there a problem?" When Scully didn't respond, he 
repeated, "Dr. Scully?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor, I was just . . . distracted. Could you repeat 
whatever that was?"

"I asked you if there was a problem."

"I'm afraid I don't have much of a family left," Mulder said, holding 
Scully's hand even tighter, the fear evident in his eyes. Just a few very 
close friends and . . ."

". . . and one very concerned big brother," came a welcome voice from the 
doorway.

"Grey!" Scully ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted 
her from the floor in greeting. 

"Hi, Dana." He smiled and set her back on her feet, going immediately to 
Mulder's side. "How're you doin', little brother?" He hooked his fingers 
through Fox's, feeling the weakness there. 

"Not as well as I thought, it seems," Mulder answered. "Doc, could you give 
us a little privacy?" 

"Sure. The nurse will be in for your treatment in about an hour. Just relax 
until then and get some rest." He left, and the three occupants watched 
until the door clicked shut.

"Grey, when I talked to Mark, I didn't really expect you to come up here on a 
moment's notice. He said you were under cover. How in the world did you get 
out of the case so fast?"

"Well, my alter-ego did a very stupid thing and got arrested for drunk 
driving and then resisting arrest," Grey smiled. "Somehow I think it's a 
good thing he did something so stupid. I felt there was more to this than 
just being sick as Dana mentioned to Mark, and this just confirmed it."

"What was your first clue?" Mulder asked with a grin. 

"Well, most doctors don't ask to see a patient's family for something so 
minor."

"True," Dana confirmed. "Just bear with me here, Grey. We haven't had a 
chance to regroup on this yet."

"Agreed. So what do we KNOW through all that medical gobbledygook?" Mulder 
asked, motioning to Grey to sit on the foot of the bed while Dana sat beside 
him.

"Okay," Scully sighed, repeating, "what we know. Apparently, a chemical 
called Xylene got into your system, resulting in some kidney problems. Your 
kidneys are hardly working, Mulder."

"What was that about 'urea' and 'creatinine'?"

"Those are two of the poisons your body produces that your kidneys are 
supposed to filter out of your blood. Their presence in large quantities in 
your bloodstream is the proof that they're not. It's backing up into your 
blood stream, and that's what's making you sick." Turning her attention to 
Grey as well, she continued. "They're going to give you some dialysis 
treatments - that's where they use a machine to filter those things our of 
your blood - and are hopeful that it will jump-start your kidneys. The fact 
that they haven't shut down completely already is promising - it could mean 
that the quantity of Xylene in your system wasn't enough to kill you. 

"Anyway, if your kidneys don't improve, you'll have to have dialysis until 
such time as they can find a kidney donor."

"Well, at least I'm not in any jeopardy, right? That's a plus," Mulder 
pointed out with a smile. 

Suddenly, it was all too much. Somebody had tried to kill Mulder, to take 
him from her too soon. Her eyes filled, but she kept them from spilling 
over. "Mulder," she said, clearing her throat when her voice caught. 
"Mulder, you can't be on dialysis forever and still work in the field. If 
they can't find a donor . . ."

"You'll have one. We're blood - you can have one of mine," Grey jumped in. 
"Even I know enough about kidney transplants to know you can have a living 
donor."

"They'll test you," Scully said, "and I'll have them test me and anybody else 
who's willing. But even being brothers doesn't assure a match."

"So, you're telling me that I could die from this?" Mulder asked, a hint of 
fear in his voice.

"I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter. I'm not letting you go, Mulder. So 
just get that out of your head. You're going to get better, we're not going 
to have to worry about a transplant, and we're going to be together forever." 
Scully had tears on her cheeks now, and Mulder pulled her close to him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Mulder assured her. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now rest." She kissed his lips gently and watched as his 
eyes slid shut and his breathing leveled off. It didn't take long.

Scully motioned Grey out of the room, and they made their way to the waiting 
room and the much-needed coffee machine there. "I can't believe you came so 
quickly, but I'm so glad you did," she said, sliding her arm through his. 

"When I got the message about Fox, Mark was careful to tell me that it was 
just something minor - but I just knew I had to be here. That I had to come 
as soon as I could."

"But what about your case? Mark said you were under cover."

"I was, but catching a drug dealer isn't worth Fox's life, and that's what it 
felt like to me. Life and death. Even if I'd stayed, I wouldn't have been 
able to resolve the case. I'd've been too distracted."

Eyeing the bank of pay phones, Scully asked Grey if he'd get her a cup of 
coffee. "I need to call our boss. That Xylene didn't get into Mulder's 
system on its own, so we need to start an investigation into it." With a 
gentle squeeze to her shoulder, he left her to her business.


"Skinner," a drowsy voice responded after a few rings. 

"Sir, it's Scully. I'm at Georgetown Memorial with Mulder."

"Oh, Scully, not again! What did he get into this time?" he asked 
frustratingly.

"He didn't do this, Sir. I believe that somebody introduced a toxic chemical 
into his system. He manifested flu-like symptoms first thing this morning. 
Shortly after mid day, he began experiencing difficulty breathing, so I 
brought him here. They ran some tests, took blood samples, and . . ." Her 
voice caught.

"And what, Agent Scully?"

"And the tests now show that he's in acute renal failure."

There was just a moment's pause. "I'll be right over."

"I didn't call to get you down here in the middle of the night, Sir. But I 
think we need to begin an investigation on this."

"I agree, but I need to start somewhere, and it may as well be with his 
doctors. Take care of him - I'll be there soon."

"Thank you," she said, but the line was already dead.

"I hope you like it with sugar," Grey said, offering her the Styrofoam cup. 
"I figured you could use the energy."

"That's perfect, Grey. Thank you. I really need this." 

"If you don't mind my saying so, darlin', you don't. What you need is some 
sleep - almost as badly as Fox does." He pointed to the cup. "That stuff is 
just a temporary distraction."

"I know, but after this, I need to go talk to my Mom."

"Don't worry, I'll hold down the fort here until you get back."

"I'm only going down to the on-call room," Scully chuckled grimly. "She 
wouldn't leave any more than I would, but I made her a deal. She went and 
got some sleep if I promised to tell her as soon as we knew anything about 
Mulder's condition."

"Your Mom is here?" Grey asked. "You mean I finally get to meet the famous 
Maggie Scully, mother and caregiver extraordinaire?"

"Yes, and she's in rare form. She's going to go crazy when I tell her about 
Mulder's problem. Nobody, but nobody, hurts one of Maggie Scully's kids."

Ignoring the familial implications of that statement, Grey said, "I'm not 
going to pretend to know how your mother's mind works, but I have a feeling 
she'd be a whole lot worse if you kept her in the dark."

"Worse than your worst nightmares," Scully smiled gently, enviously. Her 
mother was capable of a purity of love that she wasn't sure she felt in 
herself. Except for the love she felt for Mulder. He'd told her once that 
she made him a whole person, but the truth was, he made her human, and 
capable of love at a level she wasn't sure she ever believed possible. Must 
have inherited that from Mom, after all, she thought.

Cracking open the door, Scully whispered into the darkness. "Mom . . ." She 
heard sibilant breathing, and somehow knew it came from her mother. Her eyes 
adjusted to the darkness somewhat, enough for her to discern the outlines of 
figures on the cots. The first, distinctly male, short-cropped hair and 
wideness in the shoulders, and the second, thinner with longer hair that 
blended with the darkness. "Mom, it's me," she said, shaking Maggie's 
shoulder slightly.

Through the darkness, Maggie peered up at the shadow above her. "Dana?" It 
took a moment for it all to come back to her, but when it did, she sat up 
quickly. "Dana, what's going on? How is Fox?"

"C'mon outside, Mom. I don't want to disturb anybody else sleeping in here. 
We can talk in the waiting room." Running fingers through her hair, Maggie 
followed Scully, only to have the two of them joined by a handsome young man 
in the hall. He looked somehow . . . familiar.

Scully's mother was no dummy. As a matter of fact, she was an incredibly 
quick study. It wasn't more than minute since they left the on-call room 
before she put the pieces of the puzzle together. "You're Fox's brother, 
Grey?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances," he said 
wanly. 

"I'm sure everything is going to be all right," Maggie said as she moved into 
the waiting area, pulling Dana and Grey toward the chairs on either side of 
her. "Fox will get better, and we'll all go back to my house for a barbecue. 
Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It sounds wonderful, Mom, but I'm afraid we're going to have awhile to plan 
that party. Mulder's not going to recover from this overnight." She sighed. 
"Take a seat, Mom. We're all exhausted, and I can't tell this standing up." 
They settled in two chairs, Grey sitting on a coffee table before them that 
didn't truly look like it could hold his weight. 

Scully seemed to hesitate, inciting her mother to finally ask the question. 
"Dana, what is going on with Fox?"

Scully inhaled deeply before she began talking, explaining it all, from the 
chemical in Mulder's system that did all the damage to the dialysis 
treatments. Maggie listened silently until it seemed like her daughter was 
done talking.

"So once Fox has had enough of the dialysis treatments, his kidneys may be 
back to full function. But Dana, what if they're not?"

"He'll have to have two or three dialysis treatments a day until we can find 
a kidney donor. He'll be weak, and could develop anemia, infections, or 
pericarditis as a side effect of the dialysis alone." 

"I know anemia and infections, but what's pericarditis?" Maggie asked.

"It's an inflammation of the pericardium - the lining around the heart - and 
can cause fever and chest pain." She chuckled faintly. "This is one part of 
my medical training I never thought I'd have to use on him. I should have 
known better."

"Fox is out of immediate danger," Maggie said, knowing it to be the truth. 
"Now, we just have to be sure to be here for him, through all of it. And 
that means that none of us can afford to be less than at our best. Grey, you 
look exhausted, and I know better than to think I'm going to be able to 
convince Dana to leave, so you're going to come back to Dana's apartment with 
me where we'll both get some rest. We should be able to get a couple of 
hours before the sun comes up, and after that, we'll see how long we sleep. 
Later, we'll come back and sit with Fox while Dana gets some rest herself. 
By then, she'll be more likely to be agreeable to that." She looked to her 
daughter with a knowing raise of an eyebrow.

Despite how very badly she wanted to argue the point, Scully decided it was 
better to look at the positive side. "That's good. I want to be here when 
they give him his first dialysis treatment." Her face grew sorrowful, almost 
painful. "He's going to be so afraid, but he'll never admit it." 

"Any sane person would be," Grey offered. "Weren't you, when you had your 
first chemo treatment?"

A dark look came over Dana's face, and Grey was immediately sorry for 
bringing up what must have been a very trying time in her life. The last 
thing she needed was to be reminded of just how mortal they all were.

"Uhhh . . .," Scully began hesitantly. "I'm going to get back to Mulder. He 
might wake up and I don't want him to be alone." Before she could turn and 
go, Maggie enveloped her in a hug. 

"Take care of him, Dana. We'll be back later today."

"Call if he needs me," Grey said, obviously not wanting to leave, but knowing 
he needed the rest just as much as he knew that they needed time alone. Even 
if they couldn't talk to each other . . . love each other . . . they could 
touch. . . say the words . . . gain strength from each other. It was as 
necessary to them as the oxygen in that room. He kissed Dana on the cheek 
and let Maggie show him out of the hospital.

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

Dana slept. Her head rested on the edge of Mulder's bed, her fingers 
entwined with his and the sound of his heartbeat near her ear. It was the 
only way she found herself able to doze in the slightest. And she finally 
dreamed. Of hands, and bodies, and lips, and skin. Of what they hadn't had, 
what they'd denied themselves.

As slowly as it had come, the dream world disappeared equally quickly, 
leaving Scully in an overly-warm room that held cold, impersonal instruments 
- each one of them attached to the man she loved. Until her dream, she 
hadn't let herself think negatively. Mulder would be fine. He'd heal, he'd 
recover, and they'd pick up exactly where they'd left off. 

Now, in the darkness of this room and the solitude of her thoughts, she had 
to admit that nothing was that certain. She HOPED Mulder would heal. She 
PRAYED he'd recover. But nothing was certain. She found herself wishing 
that somebody had stayed.

But Maggie and Grey were at her apartment by now, probably sound asleep in 
her bed and the sofa respectively. Skinner had come and gone after getting 
the lowdown on what was happening, promising to begin the investigation 
immediately. Crime teams would be descending on Mulder's apartment at the 
first stroke of sunlight, and after his, hers would be next, hoping to find 
some evidence of how this had happened to a fellow agent. Despite the fact 
that the chemical was often found in cleaning products, nobody believed that 
it got into Mulder's system by accident. 

When the sun rose, shining into the room's one small window, Scully was no 
longer in the chair. The nurse who came to take Mulder's vitals found her on 
the bed, snuggled up next to him. Waking her gently, the nurse watched 
Scully slide from the bed back into her seat while she took temperature, 
blood pressure, and all the other minutiae that had to be registered on 
Mulder's chart. 

"How's he doing?" Scully asked, watching as the nurse efficiently went about 
her job. 

"Vital signs are about the same, Dr. Scully." She'd whispered the report, 
but it was enough to wake the patient. 

"Mmmm . . . what's going on?" he asked drowsily.

"I'm sorry to have awoken you, Mr. Mulder. How are you feeling?"

"About the same, I guess," he said, seeming to search inside himself. "Kind 
of hungry."

"The doctor figured that would be the case. He left an order for Zofran1. 
It'll settle your stomach, and then we can get you something to eat. You'll 
need your strength, you have a busy day ahead of you."

"Is he on a monitored diet?" Scully asked, knowing how hungry Mulder had to 
be. "If not, I'd like to go out and get him something a little more to his 
liking."

"I don't see any reason that shouldn't be okay, but keep it to clear 
liquids."

Scully turned to Mulder. "How about some chicken soup broth and ginger ale?" 
She inquired.

"Sounds good - but make it 7-Up instead of Ginger Ale," he answered simply.

"You just want 7-Up because the guy in the commercials makes you laugh," 
Scully chuckled.

"He's funny!" Mulder claimed defensively.

"If he's a good boy," the nurse suggested with a smile, "he could even have a 
popsicle. Any flavor as long as it doesn't include cream." Both women 
watched as Mulder's eyes brightened.

"Any flavor, Mulder. What's your pleasure?" Scully asked Mulder with a grin.

"I think you know what my pleasure is." She tried hard not to laugh. "But 
for now, I'll make do with cherry or grape." Kissing him gently, she tore 
her eyes from his and left before she changed her mind.

Scully was gone and back within ten minutes, but when she returned, it was to 
find Mulder's doctor consulting with the nurse outside his room. They looked 
very serious.

"What's going on?" she asked, fingering the plastic bag in her hand, needing 
to do something.

"Oh, Dr. Scully. We were just discussing the course of treatment we're going 
to take for Agent Mulder's condition."

"Last night you said dialysis. What's left to decide?" She tried to 
remember back to her medical school training and residency, but this was 
something they'd only touched on in the general classes. It took a 
specialist to know all the ins and outs of treating kidney failure.

"There is more than one kind of kidney dialysis, Dr. Scully. Which kind we 
use depends on the patient's condition and status."

"And what will you do for Mulder?"

"I'm a little concerned about how he'll react to the most common form. His 
blood pressure is pretty low - he needs something more gentle. I'm thinking 
of a version called CVVHD."

"Okay, so we try the CVVHD. When will the first treatment be given?"

"That's just it. CVVHD is gentler - and slower. But it means he'll be 
treated continuously. We'll put a shunt into an artery in his leg so it 
doesn't interfere with his movement, and another in a nearby vein for the 
reintroduction of the purified blood. In three or four days, we'll do a 
sonogram of his kidneys and see if they appear to be healing. Take him off 
the treatment for a day or so and test his blood to see if they're picking up 
any of the function."

"They will. Mulder's a fighter, you'll see."

"I have no doubt, Dr. Scully. But just in case, I'd like to begin the 
testing process as well. We'll need blood samples from members of his family 
- there's a greater chance of a tissue match with a blood relative like a 
brother or sister."

"I want to be tested, too," she said nervously. "And I'm sure my Mom will as 
well."

"You can add my name to that list," came a baritone from behind her. She 
couldn't help but smile when she saw Skinner's protective bulk coming down 
the hall.

"Thank you, Sir," she said, wondering if their boss knew of the more personal 
aspect of their relationship. They hadn't gone out of the way to keep their 
romance a secret, but by the same token, they hadn't exactly publicized it. 
They figured that "don't ask, don't tell" seemed like the way to go.

The doctor gave some quiet instructions to the nurse, who went to get the 
required equipment as he turned to go into Mulder's room.

"Doctor, would you give this to Mulder?" Scully asked, handing him the 
nearly-forgotten bag that contained his food. "His broth is going to be cold 
and his popsicles melted if he doesn't finish them soon."

"No problem," he said, leaving the two agents in the hall. Scully turned her 
attention back to Skinner.

"I know we've had our ups and downs over time, but it means a lot to us that 
you care enough to be here."

Blushing and uncertain Skinner dipped his head. It was amazing. She'd never 
seen him blush before, and surely had never seen him embarrassed, but he was 
definitely both at this moment. They often took their boss, and friend, for 
granted; maybe they underestimated his need for his own form of human 
contact.

Letting him off the hook, she changed the subject. "Did the team find 
anything at Mulder's or my apartment that could have caused this?" 

"No, I'm afraid not. We took samples of everything in the refrigerators and 
cupboards, and even off the dirty dishes - that would have been in Mulder's 
place." He grinned slightly. "We're hoping that the lab comes up with 
something in a few hours. For now, I've done all I can."

"You could come in and see Mulder," she volunteered. Skinner seemed 
hesitant, but she knew that she, at least, needed to go to him. "I need to 
be there for him. He's expecting a few hours' treatment every day, not being 
hooked to a machine 24/7. If I'm not in there, he may go over the wall." 
She smiled gently, both of them knowing that he was not capable of any such 
thing.

"You might need some muscle," Skinner responded, following as she turned and 
pushed on the door. The doctor was just beginning to explain everything to 
Mulder when she came and took his hand in silent support. She noted that 
some of the food had been consumed, but he was no longer eating.

"Are you sure this is what's best?" he asked, but it was addressed to Scully, 
not to the doctor. Deciding she wasn't about to worry how it looked, she 
kissed Mulder on the temple.

"I know it'll be a nuisance, Mulder, but it's important that it's done this 
way. Trust me."

"Nobody but you," he muttered, looking from her blue eyes to the medical 
staff in time for the return of the nurse, pushing a sophisticated-looking 
piece of equipment. "Okay, stick me where ever you need to, because I'm 
gonna get better. I have too much to live for."

They spent almost an hour discussing the intricacies of the procedure. The 
doctor wanted him to know all the risks, ins, and outs and everything to 
expect before they began. "Are you TRYING to get me to change my mind about 
this?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Of course not, Mr. Mulder, but we have to have informed consent - not just 
consent. And," he added, taking a clipboard from the nurse, "we need it in 
writing."

Exchanging a look with Scully and getting her nod, he quickly scribbled his 
name where the doctor indicated. "Do with me what you will," he declared, 
sinking into the softness of the pillows. "Which leg do you want?"

The machine was moved into place beside his bed, and the blankets were moved 
to reveal his left, less used, leg. Having the equipment attached was not 
pleasant, but once it was in place, there wasn't a great deal of pain to 
speak of. 

When the procedure began, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the red liquid 
making its way up the tube. It was disconcerting. After a minute or two, he 
found he didn't want to look at it anymore.

"My foot's cold," he commented, knowing what would happen next. The nurse, 
careful of the tubing, covered his leg with the blanket once again. "I just 
want to go back to sleep. Why don't you go get yourself some coffee or 
something, Scully. Or better yet, something to eat. You weren't gone long 
enough to have gotten something when you picked up my colorful if 
insubstantial meal. I'm not going anywhere."

"He's right, Scully," Skinner said, drawing attention to himself for the 
first time since he'd entered the room. 

"Drag her out of here, would you, please?" Mulder asked him with a smile. "I 
don't need her getting sick on me." 

"C'mon, Scully. There's a Denny's right across the street - we'll be back in 
less than an hour."

"Are you sure, Mulder?" she asked, the uncertainty strong in her tone. 

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll just catch forty winks, then I'll finish my soup," he 
answered, nodding to the forgotten Styrofoam container that sat on the tray 
table. 

Mulder napped longer than any of them expected, and his soup became two meals 
rather than one. By the time he was sipping on the liquid, kindly reheated 
by his nurse, Scully and Skinner had returned, soon joined by Maggie and 
Grey.

"Hey, how're you holding up, bro?" Grey said, taking his brother's hand and 
trying not to react to how cold the skin was.

"I think the doctors would say 'as well as can be expected,' whatever that 
means." 

Grey eyed the new machine at Mulder's side, knowing what it was, but not 
really wanting to face it. "Well, when your treatment is done, how about we 
cruise the grounds a bit, get some fresh air." He watched his brother and 
Dana exchange a look that spoke volumes, then, conversation completed, Mulder 
nodded.

"That's not going to be possible, I'm afraid," Scully spoke. "The type of 
dialysis the doctor has ordered dictates that he has to be attached to the 
machine constantly for a few days. Mulder's stuck in bed for at least the 
next three." 

Just then, the nurse came in, checking Mulder's vitals and the shunt in his 
leg. Grey flinched at the first sight of the thing - it just didn't seem 
right that his brother would be hooked up like he was part of the machine. 
Apparently, everything was proceeding normally, as the nurse covered the leg 
with his blankets, speaking to the group at the same time. 

"The lab called up that they're ready to take your blood samples, whenever 
you're ready to go down." She smiled at them, looking them each in the face 
for the first time. "I know them down there, though. I wouldn't recommend 
more than two at a time unless you want to stand around for awhile. They're 
not really fast."

"How about we older folks go first, and let the three of you young folks have 
some time together," Maggie volunteered, moving to Skinner's side and 
touching him gently on the arm. There was no doubt who the "older" folks 
were, but the inclusion caused Skinner to blush - something incredible to see 
a second time.

Seeing the hesitation, the nurse added. "It was my understanding that all 
four of you wished to be tested. Have you changed your minds?"

"No, not at all," Skinner said, clearing his throat. "We'll head down there 
now." 

"Sir," Mulder asked from his place in the bed. "Would you do me a favor and 
call the Gunmen? I was supposed to drop off an article I did for the 
newsletter, and I'm obviously not going to make it, so I want them to know 
what's going on. Just tell them not to worry, and I'll get the article to 
them as soon as I can."

"Sure, Mulder. Not a problem. What's the number?" Skinner jotted it on the 
notepad he kept in his pocket as Mulder reeled off the digits. 

"Don't let them give you a hard time," he added. 

"I doubt it'll happen," Skinner said, smiling. "In the last few years, I've 
become quite familiar with your friends. Remember Arlington General? And 
Bermuda?"

This time, it was Mulder's turn to look embarrassed. "I'm not likely to 
forget them," he said.

"Let's not keep the lab staff waiting," Maggie said, leading Skinner out the 
door. It was an image that they couldn't remember seeing before, Skinner 
being led instead of leading.

They stopped in the hallway long enough for Skinner to call the Gunmen, who, 
after hearing the details of Mulder's condition, quickly announced their 
intent to also be tested to see if they were compatible donors. 

Resuming their walk down the corridor, Maggie tried to think of something to 
say to the man walking beside her. She'd only met him a few times, usually 
in times of crisis. But he seemed like a good man. "Thank you for doing 
this, Mr. Skinner. I know I've never said it, but I appreciate all the times 
you've been there for Dana and Fox."

"I'm just doing my job, Mrs. Scully."

"It's more than that, and you know it. And it's Maggie, or Margaret if you 
prefer. You've gone above and beyond a normal boss's responsibilities to his 
underlings. I admit that Dana's father and I weren't thrilled when she 
announced her intent to join the FBI. Meeting Fox after her father's death, 
I felt somewhat better in that I knew he'd protect her. But he can't assure 
her safety." As they got on the elevator, Skinner moved as if to speak, but 
she interrupted. "I know, I know. You can't either. But you try your best 
and then some, and that means a lot to me."

Walter Skinner smiled at the woman beside him. He felt comfortable with her, 
being himself. Being a human being and not just a Bureau employee. "Well, 
I'll deny it if you quote me, but Mulder and Dana have grown pretty special 
to me. They haven't been just 'underlings' for a long time now. And it's 
Walter."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, approaching the nurse at the 
counter hesitantly. "May I help you?"

"Yes, we're here to give blood samples for tissue typing for a patient here." 
Skinner was impressed that Maggie remembered the correct terminology for it.

"Oh, you're the people for Fox Mulder?" she asked, and they both nodded their 
agreement. "Come on in, and we'll get started."

She led them through a side door, indicating a pair of gurneys, side by side. 
"Have a seat, folks. I'll just get the trays and be with you in a minute. 
You're going to want to take off your suit jacket," she said to Skinner.

Maggie stepped up onto the gurney, watching as Walter removed the jacket and 
then pulled himself up without benefit of the step. The nurse returned, and 
went to Maggie first.

"Which arm?" Maggie asked, and rolled up her left sleeve when the nurse 
answered. "There'll be least five more coming in some time today who need 
the same test - would it help if I gave you their names?"

"Sure, just let me finish here and I'll get the chart." Needles didn't 
really bother Maggie, but she didn't have any desire to watch as the 
hypodermic slid under her skin. Looking to Walter, his eyes were glued to 
what the nurse was doing to her, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was a 
distinctly green cast to his face.

"Are you okay, Walter?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just not crazy about . . ."

"Needles, I'd guessed." Maggie ignored the slight smile the nurse wore - 
she'd apparently seen this often enough that it amused her, especially in 
such a masculine figure. 

"All done," the nurse said, withdrawing the sample from Maggie. She put a 
piece of gauze on the inside of her elbow, bending the arm to keep it in 
place. "Just hold that there for a minute."

By the time she turned to take Skinner's sample, Maggie could see that a 
slight sweat had broken out on his strong forehead. The nurse either hadn't 
noticed, or hadn't really cared, despite how kind she seemed. "Are you 
ready?" she asked as he rolled up his left sleeve.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said, embarrassed at his obvious fear. It wasn't 
the first time he'd done this, he told himself, and it wouldn't be the last. 
Just grit your teeth and get over it. He closed his eyes as the needle came 
closer, but was surprised into opening them again when he felt a warm hand 
taking his own right one. Looking up, his eyes met Maggie's look of 
encouragement, a warm squeeze communicating the support. Logically, there 
was no reason for it to have helped, but it did. Before he broke the gaze, 
his left arm was bent with a similar piece of gauze to Maggie's sandwiched in 
between upper and lower arm. 

"Thank you," he whispered to her.

"You're welcome," she said simply, yet he somehow knew that this would remain 
between them. 

"How long before we'll know?" he asked the nurse.

"If any of you are compatible tissue donors? Two or three days, I'm afraid."

"The doctor said that Mulder would have to be on the dialysis for at least 
that long anyway," Skinner said in comfort of Maggie, who was obviously 
unhappy with the answer. "It's most likely that Grey will be the match, and 
then, if necessary, they can do the surgery right away."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that Fox hasn't let himself think that far yet."

"He's a fighter, Maggie. I'm sure he's certain that it won't come down to 
the transplant. But if it does, he'll adapt. Just as he's always done."

Up in the room, Scully and Grey were trying to keep Mulder's mind off his 
predicament. "So, Grey," Scully said, her tone conversational. "What was 
this big case you were working on? Mark made it sound really serious."

"It was for Narcotics. I've been working for a couple of months setting up 
the persona, getting in good with the gang. We wanted to take them down for 
good. Our statistics and information says that this particular group is 
responsible for more than 50% of all the drug trafficking in the city of 
Raleigh. If we could put a stop to them, think about how many kids we could 
keep off that crap."

"Sounds dangerous," Scully remarked. 

"Well, that's part of the job, darlin'. Just the same as yours."

"Your coming up here," Mulder questioned. "What is that going to do to your 
case?"

"I'm afraid my part is pretty much blown. They'll never let me back in after 
I failed to show up for a few meetings. It'll be too suspicious."

"I'm sorry," Mulder said sadly. 

"It's not like you did this on purpose, and no way in hell would I not be 
here, so just forget it. The PD will continue the investigation without me."

"Still, I hate to think that we ruined your case."

"Will you stop it!" Grey laughed. "This is the most preposterous 
conversation I've ever had."

"What's preposterous?" Maggie asked as she returned to the room. 

"It's nothing, Mom. Just business."

"I always found it interesting that you both," Maggie said to Fox and Grey, 
"ended up with careers in law enforcement."

"Yeah, I keep telling him that a career in federal law enforcement could take 
him far, but he seems to be a home town boy," Fox said, eliciting a chuckle 
from everybody. "Hey, I'm not kidding!"

"He's not, folks," Grey smiled. "He's been trying to talk me into joining 
the academy every since we met. I keep telling him that I'm way too old to 
go through that again. Once was more than enough."

"Not to mention the fact that I don't think the Bureau could withstand more 
than one Mulder," Skinner said sternly, but the gleam in his eyes gave him 
away.

"It's too bad he didn't join a few years ago," Scully grinned devilishly. 
"The mere presence of two Mulders would have been enough to bring Blevins out 
into the open. It would have saved us so much trouble."

Fox's face grew dark, and Maggie knew it was from the mention of such a 
difficult time in all their lives. Scully's cancer had not only nearly 
claimed her body, it had nearly claimed his soul as well. If she'd died, 
Maggie knew he would have followed soon after, either by accident or by 
design. And she had no doubt that the reverse would be true should something 
ever happen to Mulder. She thanked God that his life was in no danger. 
Dialysis was a nuisance, but it was no threat.

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

Unfortunately, Mulder's kidneys didn't improve, and the dialysis continued. 
Over the next four days, despite being an active person, Mulder dealt 
exceedingly well with being essentially a captive in the small hospital room. 
While awake, he watched TV and read the case files Scully brought him. 
Thank God for ESPN and the wise and noble person on the hospital staff who 
chose to have it included in the television package. Scully'd argued with 
him when he insisted she go to work rather than spend twenty-four/seven at 
his bedside. She didn't tell him that her investigative time wasn't being 
spent on X-Files, but on discovering how the mysterious chemical agent had 
gotten into his body.

She'd also insisted on checking him thoroughly for puncture marks, signs of a 
hypodermic, but only found those for which the hospital was responsible. She 
returned to her original theory that Mulder was given the chemical orally, 
either by accident or by an intentional effort on the part of one of their 
many enemies. It seemed unlikely that it could have gotten into food or 
liquid he drank unintentionally, but why would anybody do it on purpose? It 
wasn't a foolproof method for murder, so a supposed perpetrator would have to 
be either careless or stupid if that was the original goal. So what would be 
the benefit of only sidelining Mulder?

Given those facts, Scully's attention was drawn to their latest cases. Maybe 
there was something there they didn't WANT Mulder investigating. . . If that 
was the correct scenario, she intended to uncover the plot.

Unbeknownst to her, Mulder was going over it as well. It may have appeared 
that he was engrossed in football or basketball or soccer, but it wasn't so. 
He was reviewing the files for each case, carefully stored in his eidetic 
memory. Scully and Skinner seemed to think they were protecting him by not 
directly answering his questions regarding the investigation into his own 
case, and he knew he'd never convince them otherwise.

The most frustrating thing for Mulder about being in the hospital was the 
inability to be alone. For a man who spent most of his life as a relative 
recluse, having somebody at his side so much of the time was disquieting. 
Nurses, orderlies, and doctors were in and out all day. Either Maggie, Grey, 
or Scully was a constant presence, often doubling up, as they were now. Grey 
was as absorbed as Mulder pretended to be in the basketball on TV - a mutual 
favorite where sports were concerned. Scully, meanwhile, was reading in the 
chair vacated by her mother less than an hour ago. Yet despite how it 
sounded, he appreciated their being there.

The effect these treatments were having on him was odd. Although performing 
no physical exertion, he would suddenly grow tired, his lids sliding shut for 
no reason he could discern. He felt it approaching again, but it felt 
different.

The alarms drew Scully and Grey's immediate attention, the basketball game 
and book forgotten. Scully had hardly discerned which of the machines 
surrounding her partner was screaming at them before a swarm of figures in 
white descended on the room. Instinctively, she backed away to give them 
room to work, but Grey was frozen at his brother's bedside. A nurse she 
vaguely recognized was suddenly speaking to her.

"Get him out of here, please!" It was more an order than a question. "We 
need room to work." 

Knowing what was most important, she pulled Grey by the arm from the room. 
Once in the hall, he grew less dazed. "What are you doing, Dana? Fox NEEDS 
us!"

"No," she responded sternly. "He needs those people in there, and he needs 
us to keep clear heads and out of their way." Grey adopted the genuine 
puppy-dog look she'd seen so often on Mulder, and her tone grew softer. "I 
know you want to be with him - I do, too - and you will be, just as soon as 
he's stabilized and we've had a report from his doctor."

"Do you know what happened in there?"

"I only got a glance at the monitors," Scully responded, "but it looked like 
a sudden drop in blood pressure."

"What would cause that?"

"I don't know . . ."

They fell silent, each with their own thoughts. It had seemed like years 
since they'd left the room when, finally, most of the staff filed out, the 
nurses returning to their other duties. The doctor, however, came directly 
to them.

"I want to thank you for your cooperation in there - I know how hard it had 
to be for you both. Especially you, Dr. Scully."

"How is he?" she asked.

"He's stable, still unconscious, but should be waking soon. Pretty much back 
to how he was before the crisis. It's lucky we got to him so quickly."

"What happened to him?" Grey asked.

"He became hypotensive. His blood pressure dropped suddenly. It happens 
occasionally to patients on dialysis. His body reacted badly to the 
treatments."

"But he HAS to have them," Scully confirmed, nodding her head. "So you 
proceed, and keep an eye on him?"

"Yes. I can't promise it won't happen again any time he's receiving the 
treatments. I'm hoping that the tests come back with a match for one of you. 
The real thing is always better than a machine."

"When will they be back?" Scully asked. Now that they knew the dialysis 
wasn't fail safe, she wanted this other option more than ever.

"I didn't actually expect them until morning at the soonest, but I'm going to 
call down there and see if I can get them to hurry it up."

"Is he in danger?" It was as uncertain as Scully had ever heard Grey sound.

"Well, there are inherent risks in any medical procedure . . ."

Unwilling to accept the formal answer, Grey interrupted. "Look, forget all 
the legalese. We both read the consent forms. Just tell us honestly - is he 
at risk?"

The physician actually blushed. "Okay, honestly. Yes, he could become 
hypotensive again as long as the dialysis continues. And no, I can't 
guarantee you that he couldn't bottom out all the way on us, but every member 
of the staff here is on the alert for just such a complication. He's at a 
lot less risk on the dialysis than off of it if that's what you're thinking, 
Mr. MacKenzie."

"But he'd be at less risk if we find him a kidney," Scully stated.

"Absolutely. Which is why I'm on my way down to the lab. You can go in and 
sit with him if you like."

Her "thank you" was an afterthought, addressed over her shoulder as they 
returned to Mulder's bedside.

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