Achilles' Heel
Part Five
fran58@wonderhorse.net

See part one for headers.
See http://www.wonderhorse.net/authorspgs/fran58/stories.htm
for previous parts.



Ritter tapped a nervous rhythm on the hard surface of 
Mulder's desk, a single, recursive pattern.  Scully tried, 
for the umteenth time, to block the drumming out.  Peyton 
had been edgy all day.  Scully eyed the coffee maker.  It sat
innocuously on the small cabinet.  Maybe she should sneak
some decaf into their mix.  Maybe they should switch to
herbal tea.

Ritter probably just needed to get out of the office.  He had
been putting in long hours.

"I could use some air.  How about you?"  She looked at
Peyton who was now flipping rapidly through a sheaf of
papers.  "Want to get some coffee or something?"

"We have coffee here."  Peyton didn't even look up.

"Yes... but not latte's..."  She hedged.  "Come on, I'll buy you
one."

"Okay.  I guess I could use a break, but I don't want any coffee.  
I don't even usually drink it.  I had one cup and I can't 
sit still."  Ritter pushed back, stood up too fast, and tipped 
the chair over.

"Slow down, I won't leave without you."  Scully was
smiling, but the back of her brain prickled.  She moved
towards look at the coffee maker.  "Do you take sugar in your 
coffee?"

"Yeah, why?"  He came to stand near her.  "What's up?"

"I don't know yet."  Scully bent and picked up the green,
plastic alien-head cup that served as a sugar bowl.  It had
been Scully's contribution.  The cup had a hinged lid
that formed the top of the alien's head.

"Hey, that's one of the Little Green Men from 'Toy Story',"
Ritter said.

Scully smiled.  "Yeah.  I got it when I took my nephews to
see 'Toy Story on Ice'.  Seemed too good to pass up,
considering."

Ritter let out a short laugh.  "Well, it makes a good sugar
bowl."

"Yeah," Scully looked at the makeshift sugar bowl
thoughtfully, then squatted down to rummage through the
interior contents of the cabinet.  She pulled out a tattered,
nearly empty bag of sugar.

"I'm going to have to give you a rain check on the coffee,
okay, Peyton?"  She was already half-way out of the door. 
"I've got something to check on."

Two hours later, Scully had her answer.  The sugar had
tested positive for an amphetamine substance.  There were
no particulars yet, but she didn't need to wait for those to
draw her conclusions.  Wen had been doping Mulder's
sugar.  He had probably been counting on its sweetness to
overpower any lingering bitterness the powdered
amphetamine might leave.  No wonder Mulder had been so
agitated.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder was convulsing.  His body shook uncontrollably and
he fell to his knees, hitting the hardwood of the floor with a
crack.  He reached out a trembling hand to the wall, hoping
to steady himself.  His brain rattled, ideas careened about and 
collided with his skull.  His last thought was of passing out.

~~~~~~~~~~

The air crackled and the world was a tilted, crazy landscape of
lights and white jackets.  Mulder was laying on his side in the
passenger seat of a car.  He could see the windshield was
covered with a spider web of cracked glass.  A white blur
was poking at his head, checking for wounds.

Mulder had a hazy memory of Jo dragging him into the vehicle. 
She was taking him to a doctor, someone she knew.  She
hadn't called a taxi or ambulance, but tried to drive him herself. 
He had been lucid enough, momentarily, to know she shouldn't
be behind the wheel of a car -- she reeked of alcohol.  Her
response to his suggestion that she call 911 was "No.  I know
where we should go.  Can't wait."  He had asked for Scully,
then, but got no response.  Mulder didn't have the energy to
argue the point. He blacked out again after that.

Strong hands were now pulling him out of the car
and he was suddenly on a stretcher and sliding into the back
of a vehicle.  Ambulance, Mulder thought.   He tried to turn his
head, to look for Jo but couldn't see her.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they reached the hospital, Mulder was fully
conscious, trying to sit up, and annoying the EMTs.  He ran
a practiced inventory of his aches and pains.  He could
move his hands and feet.  He had a ripping headache, but
was thinking clearly.  He insisted the hospital staff admit Jo
first, then refused admittance himself.  He reasoned that he
couldn't keep an eye on Jo if he was a patient himself. 

However, it was, Mulder discovered, much harder to gain
entry into restricted areas of the hospital without an FBI
badge to wave about.  On the couple occasions when medical
staff had refused to let him see Scully, he had been able to get
in to see her by using a combination of bureaucratic double
talk, manipulation and browbeating.  It wasn't working now.  He
was relegated to sitting in the waiting room with all the other
left-behinds.  He hated it.

Mulder fiddled with the controls on the television in the
waiting room for the third time.  The reception wasn't bad
except for the one station he wanted to watch.  Figured.  He
turned and squinted at the clock again.  Almost two hours. 
What the hell was taking so long?

"Fox Mulder?"  Mulder straightened at the sound of his
name.  A nurse in green scrubs motioned to him.

"Yeah?"

"You came in with Josephine Sartini?"  The young man was
bristle-haired and tall.  Taller than Mulder.

"Yes, I did."

"You might want to go on home.  Ms. Sartini will be here for
the night."

"She's okay, though?  What were her injuries?"

The young man consulted his clipboard.  "She was lucky. 
No broken bones, but she's concussed.  That's why we want
to keep an eye on her tonight.  If everything looks all right in
the morning, she'll be released."

Mulder nodded.  "Okay.  Can I see her now?"

The nurse frowned, looking as though he had better things
to do than check Mulder's request.  "I'll see if she's been
taken to a room yet."

Jo had a semi-private room on the fifth floor.  Her hair
looked even darker than usual in contrast to her pale face. 
Mulder felt a prick of guilt.  If he hadn't needed a doctor, she
would not have tried to drive him to the hospital in the first
place.  He knew the logic was off, but there it was, all the
same.

Mulder bent down over the bed and straightened a loose
lock of hair.  He had done this for Scully.  Hovered over her
bed, watching for a twitch, a sign of consciousness.  No
more, he thought with regret.  I've burned my bridges there.
                         
~~~~~~~~~~

Scully hadn't thought that Mulder might be in the room.  He
was huddled over the hospital bed, whispering platitudes. 
She wondered if he had done that for her.  Probably.  Mulder
was a creature of habit, lurking about in hospital rooms
would be par for the course.

She had a sudden memory of her last hospital stay.  Waking
up in the too white room.  Her momentary panic and
confusion.  There was pain in her abdomen and something
heavy on her ankle.  From her prone position, she has
craned her head to see the foot of the bed.  Mulder's leather
jacket lay there, black and grubby looking against the
white, pristine sheet .  She turned her head again to find
Mulder slouched in the institutional chair parked in the corner of
her room.  He was unshaven and grubby himself and she had
felt a surge of gratitude and comfort that was almost
unbearable.

And now he was at someone else's bedside.  Scully backed
quietly away from the door and made her way toward the
nurses' station.  The Gunmen, of all people, had told her
of Jo's admission.  They had picked up Mulder's name on
their police scanner and followed the trail to its logical
conclusion.  Scully wasn't even sure why she had come. 
Information gathering, she supposed.  Maybe just to get
another look at Jo. 

The nurses' station came into view, a bright island as the
hall opened up.  Scully walked past, glancing at the staff
behind the counter, weighing the situation.  If she were
lucky, there would be at least one inexperienced staffer that
she could zero in on.  Someone who wouldn't think to
question her FBI credentials or her status as a non-
practicing doctor not associated with the hospital.  She took
another turn down the hall and circled back to the station.  It
was almost deserted.  A young man sat in front of a PC,
diligently rapping at the keyboard.  He would do, she
thought.

~~~~~~~~~~

No sign of drug use, other than high levels of alcohol. 
Nothing out of the ordinary.  Scully quickly scanned the file. 
Not much information, but then, what had she expected?  A
note circled in red indicating the presence of barbiturates?

She smiled and leaned over the counter.  Keeping her voice
low she asked, "Do you think I could get a copy of this?"

The young man looked up at her from his keyboard.  "Uh,
yeah, I guess that would be okay.  Back in a sec."  He took
the file from her and moved to the photocopier on the other
side of the station.  No one took notice of what he was
doing.  He chatted with a middle-aged woman who sat near
the copier, leaning idly against a chair while the copies
whizzed through the machine.  When it finished, he gathered
up the sheets, slid them into a large envelope and handed
them over the counter to her.

"Scully."

The voice startled her.  It was hoarse and gravelly, but
unmistakable.

She shifted so she was face to face with him.  "Mulder."

"What are you doing here?"

Self consciously she brought the envelope that held Jo's
files closer to her side.  "I came to pick up some
information related to a case,"  She paused.  "What about
you?"

"There was an accident.  Jo is down the hall.  I was just
in with her."  He looked tired.

Scully nodded, not trusting her voice to be steady.  After a
moment's awkward pause, she cleared her throat.  "Is she
okay?"

Mulder nodded.  "Yeah, she's doing okay for now.  She has
a concussion and isn't awake at the moment."

"Well, that's good.  That she's okay."

"Yeah."

Another pause.  Scully felt as though the world had stopped
all movement and she existed in a liquid bubble that
encompassed only her and Mulder.  The folder in her hand
felt awkward and obtrusive.

"And how are you doing, Mulder?"

He shrugged.  "I had a little incident earlier.  I think I might
need to get it checked out."

"What sort of incident?"

He shrugged again, this time grimacing.  His eyes darted to
her face and away.  "I think I might have had a seizure or
something."

Startled, Scully said, "You *think*?  What happened, Mulder?"

He shook her sudden concern off.  "I don't want to go into
that now."  She began to protest.  Mulder scowled and
continued.  "As long as you're here, I do have something to
tell you."

"Go on," Scully's voice was tight.

"I know you've said in the past that whatever arrangements I
made were fine with you.  That you didn't want anything from
me.  But, you know, you were in it, just the same."  Mulder
ran his hand over his already disheveled hair, leaving spikes
where it passed through his fingers.

Scully frowned.  "What are you talking about, Mulder?"
                    
"I thought you should know that I changed my will.  Some...
things have come up."

"I see."

He eyed her.  "So, it's all set up and done.  That's the way it
is."

Scully inclined her head.  "So what you're saying is that the
changes you made affect my status as a beneficiary."

"Yes," he eyed her again, as if he was afraid she might
protest.

"Okay, Mulder.  Are you... can I ask what prompted this?" 
The conversation had turned surreal.  The bubble that held
them suspended from the rest of the world shimmered and
flexed.

"I told you.  Things came up."

"Are you leaving all your worldly possessions to New Light?" 
Scully tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"No, I'm not."  He scowled at her.  "I'm leaving them to Jo."

The bubble intensified, sucking the breath out of her.  "I
see."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, Mulder, I think I do."

Mulder took a warning step toward her.  When he spoke, his
voice was low and ominous.  "No, you don't.  I have other
responsibilities now.  She's pregnant."

The bubble exploded as Mulder whirled around.  He strode
away down the hall in the direction of Jo's room, fists
clenched, leaving Scully standing a short distance from the
nurses' station, sound and light erupting around her.

End Five