Title: Home alone
Author: Lisa (Truthwebothknow)
Category: MT MSR ANGST
Written for the Virtual Season 13's Valentine's Day Special
Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.
Mulder and Scully Duplex
12th Feb 2006
It could have been a particularly pleasant dream but
he was vaguely aware of her featherlike lips whispering
in his ear, touching against his face as he rolled over. A
whimpering noise escaped his throat and his chest heaved
against the heavy duvet. Then a small hand slid around
his waist bringing warmth and unutterable peace as it
settled over his heart.
The next time he was aware of anything he got the notion
he was alone and the side of the bed that was hers was
empty, the sheets now cool. Lying on his side, his fingers
slid over the cotton seeking the warmth his skin craved
but she was definitely gone.
Opening his eyes was difficult, his eyelids heavy with
an overall grogginess he couldn't shake. At last he pried
open one eye and looked across, confirming what he
No Scully. What time was it? Where was she? No
sounds of life coming from the rest of their shared
His heart gave a small stutter in his chest but still
he had no real desire to move. Why was he even
still in bed? He licked dry lips and wondered why
his mouth felt like cooch grass tufts had taken
root in it. He rolled awkwardly onto his back,
feeling heavy and lethargic, slowly coming to.
This wasn't just the last vestige of sleep. There was
a deep ache he couldn't identify and his head was
full of cottony confusion.
He shut his eyes tight when the sun suddenly came
through the window in unrelenting streaks that hurt
his eyes, even behind his eyelids.
Sharp twinges of discomfort blew the last remnants
of the dream away.
He'd been running, he heard laughter as his feet
took off down the street. The laughter getting
louder. Something chasing him, the laughter now
thundering inside his head, menacing....pursuing
him until...until... nothing. He was grabbing at air,
....And he opened his eyes with a start and he was
back in his bed. He lay on his back, panting, spread-
eagled across damp twisted sheets. His arm slack
against the sheets on her side of the bed, his questing
fingers now closing over something cold
and papery. It tickled his palm.
He pulled its crushed texture open with his other
hand and squinted at it. It was a short note in her
familiar script. It made him smile despite his
"I love you. Don't forget to take your meds.
Got called in to do an Autopsy on the
Briggs case. Back as soon as I can."
P.S. REST!!!! You are just out the hospital.
That means do not go jogging, do not
clamber over the furniture. Definitely don't
ditch me for one of The LGM's wild goose
chase stories, no matter how compelling, no
matter how much it tickles your weird
shitometer; in fact please don't leave your bed.
Demerol and Mulder inertia spells big
trouble. Naked and doped up on happy
drops is how I want to find you when I get
home. Or I will break your other leg.
Ooh so not a dream then, a memory. He'd been
hurt on a case. He cringed as the pain in his leg
washed away any doubt that it was a nasty
figment of his imagination. The whole sorry
episode came flooding back and his right leg
began to throb sadistically with every moment
Several days previously.
They were both on a stakeout at the corner of
Johnson and Maine. So far it looked quiet and
Mulder was gamely throwing seeds into his
mouth, cracking the shells and lobbing them in
the back seat, much to Scully's annoyance. But
he was a man on a mission. Too deep in
contemplation and thought to notice her
rising ire, using his Oxford educated brilliant
profiler mind to deduce the ultimate Valentine's
gift for the love of his life, who was currently
scowling at him. He flashed her what he thought
was a winning smile. She rolled her eyes.
Only last week she'd complained that one of
his stray seed husks had laddered her
stockings and since they were car-pooling
now to save time and money, perhaps he
could see his way to cutting down on extraneous
crap found at any given time littering his car. The
back seats alone had begun to resemble a mobile
Starbucks with all the cartons strewn about. A
smirk crossed his lips as he remembered his
suggestion that she dispense with her stockings
once they got to the office.
It had earned him a swat around the head.
He was just flicking through a mental rolodex
of expensive restaurants in the downtown DC
area, hoping that a bribe of some Yankee's
tickets he'd acquired from his friend in ballistics
would get him reservations. He'd left this rather
late as usual, when Skinner's tinny voiced blared
through the walkie-talkie.
"It's going down. Coverage needed at the front
and back of the Chinese supermarket. Choi is
on the move after all."
"On our way sir."
Without further ado they exited the car, Scully
covering his back as they took off in pursuit
of the infamous Triad member who had
kidnapped a politician's daughter after a drug
bust went wrong. She had been in the wrong
place at the wrong time at a DC hotel when
she'd been taken hostage. Time was running
out in finding her. They hoped she would be
here and an all out mission to rescue her was
Cops and a special Swat unit flanked out from
the shop on all sides. It was in a 3-story building.
The part over the store mostly derelict, a haven
for drug users and thugs. Scully donned a
bulletproof vest, as did Mulder and they
entered the front of the building with several
Swat guys at the rear, guns in readiness for
trouble. A noise from a stairwell diverted
Mulder and just out of the corner of his eyes,
a guy shot out from his hidey-hole.
Taking off after him, he chased him around to
another level of the building but he seemed to
have vanished. Mulder twisted and turned but
the guy was nowhere in sight and for some
reason he'd yet to fathom, he'd become
separated from Scully. He waited a few
moments until the guy suddenly broke
cover and dived for the stairs to the roof.
Mulder, gun drawn, headed after him.
Below, unbeknownst to Mulder, Skinner,
Scully and the Swat team were running
after another perp on the ground floor
that had split their attention. They seemed
to want Mulder on his own but by the time
they had realised that, the agent was elsewhere.
In a small room at the back of the store they
came across the trussed up terrified kid that
Choi had grabbed. They promptly arrested
two other guys guarding her and only after they
had marched them off to the waiting sting wagon,
they realised that Mulder was in pursuit of the
main man on his own. They could hear them
pounding through the empty floors above.
Mulder followed his man to the small stairwell
that led up to the roof. The guy just vanished
through the door at the top. He didn't see it too
well, there was a blast of sunlight from holes in
the roof and it glinted off his gun barrel, half
blinding him suddenly. Slowly Mulder made his
way up the stairs, flattening himself against the
wall. He peered around the open door jamb and
stepped through after checking it was clear.
"FBI. Freeze or I will shoot," he yelled just as
a dark head clamoured over the roof. He edged
closer thinking the man had jumped to his death
to evade capture only to find a fire escape
zigzagging down the 3 floors. But as he peered
over the edge he saw someone running down.
The dark head looked up as he took the stairs
two at a time. It was the face of a teen boy, not
Choi. He waved, gave the internationally
recognised gesture for 'screw you' and
continued on down.
Mulder had barely time to swing around before
something huge hit him in the chest, the weight
of it sending him careening back and off the
roof. He frantically grabbed at the dead air all
around him like a madman, trying to grab
something to stop his deadly plunge, legs
swinging wildly as the ground came up to
meet him with a bone shattering crunch,
Choi's mad laugher crashing through his
Scully dove around the corner with Skinner
at her heels just in time to see Mulder
fishtail off the roof. Seconds later a Swat
sharpshooter downed Choi as he tried to
rush back into the building. He only made
it two steps, his laughter dying with him.
"Oh my god Mulder!!"
By the time they reached Mulder, he hadn't
exactly hit the ground. A large florist's van
had broken his fall. Mulder was spread-eagled
in a man-sized dent, quickly sliding off the
bloody wind shield in a huge puddle of glass
His right leg mangled in a sickening zigzag
that resembled the fire escape. The fact that
he was muttering delirious obscenities Scully
took as a good sign that he was alive.
"Say it with flowers this Valentines" logo soon
became clear as Mulder cleared the hood. Skinner
fought down the urge to cringe at the irony. One
look at Scully confirmed she must have been
gritting her teeth at the same thing.
"Mulder!!" She went directly into doctor mode,
carefully trying to catalogue injuries and vital signs.
"Mulder lie still honey. Help is coming. I'm here."
"Love you...sorry...I fucked up...another valentine,"
he muttered through bloodied lips before passing
out. An ambulance siren was the last thing he heard.
An eternity of painful and invasive poking in the
trauma unit and several hours of surgery later,
he awoke to find an ashen Scully by his side,
a shocked Skinner and a herd of nosey reporters
outside his hospital room at GUMC.
"Honey I'm home!" He declared somewhat drunkenly
as the Demerol kicked in and Scully hung onto his
bruised hand like a limpet, looking at him like he might
disappear at any second. Apparently, while he was
napping in surgery he'd achieved Hero status after
the successful bust and recovery of the girl, shaken
but unharmed, and just about every news channel
was baying like a pack of hungry bloodhounds for
the scoop on Agent Mulder and his amazing swan
dive off the 3-story building.
Some hero, he thought. Ko'ed by. a 50 kilo sack of
fragrant jasmine rice. Jeez he'd kept finding the stuff
in his bed and his...well he wasn't going there.
A Doctor Forester breezed in, muttering about the
press loitering outside and held up his X-rays, outlining
the plates and screws that were required to fix Mulder's
shattered tib and fib. Mulder actually giggled and
cracked some quip about Humpty Dumpty. Scully
and Skinner flashed each other a look, while Scully
smiled at Mulder indulgently and mouthed "Demerol."
It transpired that the Kevlar vest had gone a long way
to save his chest from serious injury; he had other
cuts and bruises from the glass and impact but his
leg was another story. He'd be off at least 3 months
while the veritable Erector set inside did its magic
and perhaps if he were lucky, desk duty after that.
The florist truck was a write off. It had ceased to
be. Hauled off to the great scrap yard in the sky.
Scully had filled him in on how Frohike had
wanted to preserve the hood as a piece of
modern art while Langly had wanted to sell it
on Ebay. Byers, apparently the only
one of the trio not to use recreational
drugs that day, declined to comment beyond
the failure to locate the owner if the ill-fated van.
"When do I get out of here Scully?" Mulder
asked after 3 hours of Oprah and a George
Duyba Special on the Biography channel
had almost moved him to request a bed
on the psyche ward.
He didn't dare turn on CNN or any of the
local news channels. He was flavour of the
month, the doctor had gleefully told him.
Another painful twinge from below the sheets
jolted him back to the present. Scully had been
so upset about the whole thing that she had
arranged to spring him after two days, the
orthopaedic consultant agreeing that as she
was a medical doctor, she could care for him
at home as long as he stayed in bed and took
home a whole truckload of Demerol.
He sighed. On the whole Scully had taken it all
rather stoically, considering he expected her to
go coastal after this latest incident threatened to
put a damper on their Valentine's celebration
yet again. In the past few years he'd always
managed to get banged up around the time
of the festival of love and he imagined she
was getting more a little pissed off.
He didn't enjoy pain; he really didn't so it wasn't
too much fun for him either. Well at least he was
home in their bed but the object of his undying
affections was not here and he was oooh so
bored...and hungry. Didn't he have to eat with
these gigantic elephant pills he was supposed
He looked around the room. Umm yum, he
thought as he spied the whole-wheat toast
under cling wrap and hazelnut low fat
yoghurt Scully had thoughtfully left on
the bedside cabinet in the wee small hours,
when her sudden work related exodus
had taken her from their warm bed.
But he was hungry and his leg was now starting
to scream painfully right up into the fillings of
his teeth. He dutifully swallowed the vile pills
set out by the plate, congratulating himself that
he'd managed to do this small thing without
whining...not that there was anyone to whine to.
Something else started vying for his attention.
He needed to drain the lizard, not quite urgent
yet but the cold juice he'd had with his breakfast
had gone straight to his kidney's.
He let his eyes wander around the bedroom, but
no sign of one of those cute plastic pee bottles
like they had in the hospital. Seems his Scully
had been remiss in that department.
He was faced with an immediate dilemma: the
main one being that their lovely upstairs bathroom
had a slight plumbing problem and the only other
place to relieve his business was in the one downstairs.
A pair of shiny new crutches rested against the wall
next to the bed but then came the other problem; he
wasn't supposed to get out of bed. His post op care
was very specific and still groggy from the surgery,
plus the fresh meds might make for quite a desperate
situation should he start tottering around the house
He thought about calling Scully, telling her he loved
her dearly but he had a slight problem, and would
she mind at all if he didn't keep to his promise about
staying in bed as the resulting mess might be
unfortunate for both of them. Better still, could
she come home so they could snuggle?
In the end he thought better of it as he suddenly
got vision of Scully in scrubs, elbow deep in
some stiff's pancreas and other token icky
spaghetti bits. Not exactly a turn on, but the
thought of her in scrubs made him grin like
He was also bereft at the thought that he had
yet to organize something suitably romantic
for Valentine's Day. Well, as romantic as they
could manage with ten pounds of plaster and
bandage on his leg. He had to talk to the
gunmen and fast, now would that wait until
after he had taken care of more pressing
Seizing his cell phone he began to dial before
he realised it was dead. Great, not only did he
leap off buildings and maim himself but also
he'd forgotten, or rather Scully had forgotten
to charge up his phone. He bit back a curse.
So that was that then, it couldn't be avoided.
He would just have to wing getting his ass
downstairs to use the bathroom, but he could
also kill two birds with one stone and call the
Gunmen at the same time. He grinned at the
sudden realization that it was Celebrity Skin
delivery day and he'd be interrupting their
Oh well it couldn't be helped. Onwards and
upwards. He threw back the sheets, quite
startled that the plate and phone went skittering
across the bedroom and smashed
against the wall.
Undeterred, and his need becoming a tad urgent
he swung the good leg out of bed, shifting the
heavily cased one much more gingerly until he
had one bare foot flat on the carpet and the
injured leg stuck out in front of him like a boat
oar. Umm better not think of the sea, boats etc...
He grabbed his crutches and finagled them into
place, but when he pushed upright, the room
spun before his eyes like a merry go-round
and it was all he could do to stay on his one
good foot and not yak up his breakfast. His
leg ached like a mother....
"Okay I can do this," he muttered, wedging
the crutches firmly under his arms and
began the slow arduous trek across the
room to the door and beyond. As he
reached the edge of the landing, not only
was he exhausted but he had a sudden
unpleasant sense of deja vu. His head fell
forward onto his chest and he shut his
eyes tight as a wave of vertigo rolled over
him. This time and for reason's he couldn't
fathom, Oprah Winfrey was chasing him
across the roof and when he final toppled
over the edge he was wearing a superman
cape....what the fu....?
He stood at the lip of the stairs swaying and
was feeling quite disorientated when the
downstairs phone ringing tore a path through
the cotton in his head. His good foot
shifted inadvertently onto the first step
but his toes could not dig into the carpet
enough to stop his forward momentum.
A final sway and his crutches slipped from
his grasp with a clatter and he pitched
forward, too shocked and slacked jawed
to cry out. The hall flooring came up to
collide with his nose at an alarming speed
the answering machine kicked in.
"I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch
He could just make out the hideous song by
R. Kelly even more crucified by the tuneless
squawking of the Lone Gunmen, followed by
colorful metaphors and giggling. "Hey ho
Buck Rodgers ....... Are you there?
"Revenge... is a dish best served cold.
Gonna bust some heads but good", Mulder
slurred into the blood slick parqueted hallway
tiles, vaguely hoping Scully had something to
clean unsavoury bodily fluids from their wood
flooring, as he lost consciousness.
The only casualty of his 2nd swan dive of
the week seemed to be his nose. For that
he was eternally grateful. "Ow," he yelped
as the violent streaks of pain started
bouncing off the inside of his skull and he
lifted his arm to cup his throbbing
proboscis. Bad move, that only made him
dizzy and he finally did throw up. Slap
bang in Scully's Mexican Yucca plant pot that
was conveniently by his head. 'Pottery
Barn' had to be useful for something, he
mused, wiping his mouth on his arm as he
tried to get some idea of his surroundings.
Fortunately his cast seemed intact but his leg
screamed at him to medicate with more Demerol.
The other fortunate thing was that he hadn't
disgraced himself on the floor, but rather the
dampness he'd woken up in was blood not
Mulderpee. However when he tried to shift,
the worse pain of all was from his bladder,
which by now was demanding an urgent
exodus of its contents.
He tried to shuffle on his ass but a sudden
explosion of pain created an equal explosion
of obscenities. Then he heard a key in the
lock at the front door he was currently
sprawled in front of. He looked up in
all his patheticness at the worried
features of Margaret Scully.
She was laden down with a casserole dish
tucked under one arm, the smell from
which made him feel faintly nauseous,
and a big bag of goodies slung over her
shoulder that indicated she'd come to camp
out for the duration.
"My goodness, Fox, Thank god. I was so
worried when I tried to call you and no one
answered your cell phone. Dana asked me to
look in on you while she was at work, dear...
um. " Then she noticed the way he was squished,
limbs akimbo between the wall and against the
staircase, his fallen crutches and finally his sore
swollen nose and the bloody trail on the floor.
His eyes were two miserable pools of hazel that if
she looked at too hard she might fall into. Just like
a beaten spaniel. She placed a hand on her chest
and gasped. "Oh my God. Fox, what happened?
Are you all right?"
"Dropped my crutches. Fell." Could he sound
any more pathetic?
She discarded her baggage on the stairs and
immediately breezed into a mode that was all
Scully business. She felt his forehead, checked
out his swollen nose and glanced worriedly at
his sorry looking legs. "Oh Fox, just look at you."
"I....I seem to have an ...<cough> embarrassing
problem Maggie." He admitted between gritted teeth,
partly from the pain and quite a lot from the fact that
he had just realized that he was nearly naked, wearing
nothing but a stoned expression and a pair of silky
white boxers with little love hearts all over them.
"What's that dear?" She was picking up his crutches
as she peered down at him.
Scully had given him an early Valentine's gift, which
was just as well really considering his folly on the last
case and the resultant battered leg. The boxers were
the most comfortable thing...hell the only thing he
could get on easily over his fucking massive cast.
He really loved them and Scully had given him a
saucy wink at the hospital while he was readying
himself for the trip home, and he adored them all
the more, the silky feel against his.....the way her
eyes lit up as she stared south...ahem.
They were meant only to be seen in the privacy
of their bedroom; unfortunately this was the
wrong Scully who was now gazing at them.
If the ground could have opened up and
He looked beyond Maggie and flicked his eyes
desperately in the direction of the downstairs
toilet, hoping that his partner's mother was as
good at unspoken communication as her daughter.
"Oh I see, let me give you a hand up dear."
Yes, there was a god, and he didn't have to explain
his predicament, it was obviously written all over his
face. Just as well, as he noted that it was damn tricky
trying to cross his legs with one of them entombed
with plaster. He grabbed the crutches Maggie was
holding out to him and she slipped an arm around
his back and left arm as he tried for upright. He knew
Scully would have a conniption when she found out
that he'd moved after bashing his noggin on the floor,
but she wasn't here and anyone could see that this
was of the utmost urgency.
It hurt, god did it hurt and he was scared for one
awful second he might burst and drown the hallway
in spectacular fashion. But after a lot of grunting,
groaning and drawing blood on his bottom lip he
made it to the welcome coolness of the seat.
"Will you be okay Fox...I mean err with...do you
think you need a hand?"
Oh god no!
"Um.... No!.. Thanks. Think I can take it from
here." He grunted as he fumbled with
the slippery silk.
Maggie smiled that knowing indulgent smile only
a mother of boys can have, and thankfully closed
the door and he was at last able to let rip. He threw
his head back in blissful relief and sighed.
As dizzy as he was, he managed to make it out
into the hall again where Maggie was hovering
with motherly concern and a blanket. "Let's
get you somewhere much more comfortable,
Suddenly the front door swung open and clattered
violently against the wall as a flushed Walter Skinner
entered, gun drawn, about the same time as a blast
of cold air shot up Mulder's scantily clad ass and
almost toppled him and Mrs Scully.
The AD's eyebrows shifted quizzically as he
surveyed the bizarre scene. Jeez, Mulder
thought, why was everyone's attention drawn
to his underwear for chrissakes?
"Everything all right here Mrs Scully, Mulder?"
Mulder's mouth open and closed stupidly like
a fish but nothing came out.
"He took a tumble Mr Skinner. I think he's
okay but his poor nose and head will need
"Yeah." Mulder feebly muttered, feeling another
dizzy spell coming on.
"Why didn't you answer your cell Mulder? "
"Umm, er... it's not charged."
"Oh....ahh okay. Sit down Mulder; you look like
you may fall down. "
Been there done that, bought the Tshirt.
"Oh Mulder!" His flame haired partner's face
looked white as she barrelled through the door
so quickly she had to pull up short or fall over
"Scully.. That you?" Suddenly she was all over
him on the floor. Hands everywhere checking
Mulder sucked in his breath. Please Scully, not
...there...not in public.
"I'm here Mulder, what happened? "
"Fell.....needed the errrr the..." he pointed a
shaking finger at that bathroom.
"You weren't supposed to get out of bed. Why
didn't you use the one upstairs? Or better still
the urinal bottle I left specifically for you? "
"What urinal?" Mulder mumbled through the
hand that was still holding his bloody
nose, wishing they were having this
conversation without such an attentive
"The one on the floor by the bedside table."
Mulder gave her a withering look and watched
as realization dawned on her. .
"Oh....er...must have kicked it under the bed. It
was dark when I left this morning. Sorry Mulder. "
Skinner stifled the urge to laugh behind a cough
while Maggie Scully suddenly found
her gold crucifix fascinating.
Scully's guilt trip was cut short by footsteps at
the door and a loud altercation on the path
involving a couple of reporters and photographers
as they tried to get close enough for a picture.
"Crap.." Skinner growled. "Don't worry I'll get
rid of them."
Skinner took off in their direction, waving his
ID and barking orders.
My Hero, thought Mulder dizzily as he was
bundled into the living room by Scully and
her mother, both death-gripping an arm each.
Two minutes later he was happily horizontal on
the sofa, fresh jab of meds in the ass cheek, ice
bag perched on his head and his hair being lovingly
stroked by his beautiful partner as she phoned for
the paramedics. AGAIN.
Three fresh but oddly familiar faces popped around the
doorway like a gaggle of erudite meerkats. Frohike
looked kinda pissed.
"Greetings. Mulder you bum, we were trying to call
you for hours. Why didn't you answer your damn
"Yes ..that's right...an agent down....What the...
Oh Hi." Scully chimed in around the ass chewing
she was giving the person on the other end of the
Mulder closed his eyes at the latest intrusion but
further buoyed by his fresh infusion of pain meds,
"Geez, if it isn't the three American Idol hopefuls.
Sneezy, Dopey and Farty. Know what guys, next
time you find yourselves Sunnyside up on the
sidewalk, I'm gonna call up and serenade you.
Spooky Mulder sings the Macarena, how does
that grab ya? Don't even think about giving up
the day job. The four weekly tabloid showcasing
the fantastic, the creepy and the downright
scandalous reportage of how the shadow
government is betraying and keeping secrets,
the hidden agendas foxing the very echelons
of the American people, right down the wire."
Frohike had the good grace to look sheepish.
Langly giggled, "Did he just say 'Foxing'?"
Scully and her mom both mouthed, "Demerol,"
in unison before everyone's attention was suddenly
diverted by the sight of Skinner's bald head going
past the back window in hot pursuit of something
... or someone.
"Hey he caught a live one." Frohike suddenly
guffawed as he watched the burley AD seize
and frogmarch a reporter around the side of
the house and out of view.
"I'll make some coffee for everyone shall I?"
"Juice for Mulder, Mom. He can't have caffeine, "
Scully cut in before Mulder had a chance to
protest. He rolled his eyes and sucked in a
deep breath, then hiccupped. "Besides, he
may need more surgery. "
Great just great!!!! My day is complete, he thought.
Kill me now.
There was a commotion outside the house, just then.
"Anymore of those creeps skulking around the
back yard? " As if on cue, the paramedics
took that moment to show up and looked
slightly put out at Mulder's comments.
They barrelled in with a gurney and a familiar
bag of torture devices that even in his doped
up state made Mulder cringe.
Everyone seemed to loiter like spare pork pies
at a bar mitzvah as the medics lifted Mulder up
and attempted to get him on the gurney. He was
wobblier than a newborn colt.
With Scully's help and the LGMs encouragement,
their efforts punctuated with open sniggering once
they saw what he was sporting under the blanket,
they eventually got the hapless Mulder loaded into
the ambulance. But to add insult to injury, his
blanket slipped away just as a reporter popped
up and snapped picture of him in all his silken
"What the f...."
Scully immediately sprung into action and
wrestled the guy to the ground, trying to
prize the camera away and the possibility
of his boxer clad ass making the tabloids
later that day. She got in two good sucker
punches before she held her prize aloft
"Hahahhhh!! Got it,"
"I'll deal with this' Skinner groused as he hauled
the dazed guy off to his FBI issue Taurus. "Not
had my workout today and it makes me real
cranky. Thanks for the decaf Mrs Scully."
"My pleasure Mr Skinner." Maggie gave him a
little wave as she turned back to the ambulance
and patted Mulder's hand.
"She always used to fight like that with her
brothers." Mulder nodded and grinned
goofily at the image, his vision of Maggie
swaying a bit, wondering why he could now
see two of her. "Never stood a chance."
Soon a flustered but triumphant Scully was
back at Mulder's side in loving attentiveness.
But for Mulder, the day's events had been all
too much and he finally let the good drugs
render him soundly and blissfully unconscious.
5pm 13th February.
"Look Scully, Trifids." Mulder slurred
through a drugged haze, snuggled up against
his partner as she curled up next to him on the
bed. She was carding her fingers through his
hair and it felt like Nirvana. There were bright
floral displays everywhere, of more multi
colored type of flowers than he could ever
name. Heart shaped helium balloons drifted
in the room's air conditioning. Martha Stewart
would have had multiple orgasms.
"Orchids Mulder, beautiful Orchids and Lilies."
"Zats nice. D'you buy em for me?" he gazed
around the room which was teeming with all
kinds of flowers. "Looks like a funeral home.
Did I die? "
Scully giggled and kissed him on the lips,
mindful of his sore nose which was now
sporting two plugs of cotton wool, one
up each nostril. "No um...no they were a
gift from a Mr. Marucci."
"I'll let him introduce himself." She crawled
off the bed and went to the door, opening it.
"You up to a visitor Mulder?"
"Shit not Consortium?"
"Hell no." She said rolling her eyes. "It's
okay, Mr Marucci, you can come in now."
A small rotund man, Mediterranean looking,
with a huge winning smile that lit up his
brown eyes and a thick moustache under
his nose cautiously entered the room. He
took off his hat and held it to his ample
belly as he smiled at the agents.
"Have we met before?" Mulder's mind
suddenly trawled through all the perps from
VSU still at large that might be out to get him.
The way his luck had gone these last few
days, the guy probably had a violin case
"In a way.." he started.....looking to Scully
for help as Mulder stared at him with
"Mulder...behave.... it's okay. " his partner
scolded sitting back by his side and taking
his hand. "This is Mr. Marucci, Mr.
Valentino Marucci ......of Marucci's Secret
Mulder's mouth opened and closed as
realisation dawned "...UHOH" He gave a
Scully a sheepish look and then looked at
their visitor as he also nodded, grinning.
"I creamed your van!! Jeez ....I'm sorry
..er...I um never saw it till I hit it ...but
"Is okay Mr Mulder. You did Valentino
great favor. The van was not great, no?
Much problems with engine. Si."
"You mean you don't want to sue my
Scully laughed shaking her head.
"I think what Mr Marucci is saying is
that because his van broke your fall
and it was written off, not only did
it save your life, but it enabled him
to get enough on the insurance
payout for a brand new van. "
"Son of a bitch!"
"Yes, Mr Mulder, van was big
"Oh my God.... Scully....jeez I
would have been killed but for
that van. I should be thanking you
Mr Marucci." Scully squeezed his
hand, suddenly tearful with emotion
and she nodded.
"Si.. Is good all round, no? Ahhh...
bueno...You have a great love, no?"
She nodded fervently as Mulder
hugged her closer.
"Mulder..." Mulder stared at her as two
tears slipped down her face suddenly. He
caught one with a finger as she continued,
not taking his eyes off her. "Mulder,
Valentino here, he wants to give us a gift
for helping with ...his problem...to thanks
us. A year's supply of fresh flowers. Isn't
"Oh my god...really? Scully that's great."
"Thank you so much. It's an extremely
kind gesture...We like, Mr Marucci, "
Mulder said, and gestured to shake
the man's hand, Scully now crying in
earnest. He gave his partner a long
lingering kiss. " We like!"
Scully and Mulder Duplex
February 14th 9pm
Mulder had been allowed home after
another battery of tests and prodding,
much to his chagrin. Eventually they
had patched him up and declared him
fit to go home and enjoy St. Valentine's
day with his adoring partner, who on
reaching home showed she was not
about to let a lover with his leg in
plaster get in the way of their
Sex was a little tricky but with a lot of
giggling, fumbling and some thoughtful ledger
domain, they had consummated their love over
several bliss filled hours.
Until there was a knock at the door.
Scully groaned, while Mulder let a smile curl
across his lips. One eye open. "Who the
hell could that be... If that's Mom come back
for her casserole dish....?"
Scully was draped over Mulder's bare chest
at the time, snuggled in like a baby cat
as he dozed lightly from all the aerobics
of the day.
"Not your Mom, Scully," Mulder purred
sleepily into the nape of her neck as he
nibbled the skin there.
"Then who....." She lifted her head from
his chest, halting the path of his kisses,
staring into his eyes as they twinkled
with amusement and mischief.
From below stairs came some muffled
swearing and then the sound of a key turning
in the lock.
"Hellooo.....Lone Gunmen's Romantic
Cuisine service.....Anyone home?"
"Are you naked?" Came Langley's
"Shurrup you ass." Followed by the sound
of a hand making contact with something
hard and organic.
"Er hello....," came the third, more unassuming
voice, followed by a waft of truly delicious
smells drifting up the stairs to the bedroom.
Scully stared open mouthed at her partner
who was now doubled up with laughter,
trying to hold his sore nose and keep
Scully on the bed at the same time.
"Oh Mulder you didn't?"
"I did...they um.... insisted. Happy
Valentine's Scully. Love you."
Suddenly the smells started making her hungry.
It did smell delicious.
"I know how hungry you get after playing
hide the salami Scully..." he whispered as
he lapped delicately at the shell of her left
ear. "And Fro has a little known talent
despite his resemblance to a garden ornament
in short pants, in as much that he holds a
degree in advanced cuisine sciences from
one of the top colleges in the country."
"Uhuh and then some Scully."
"Umm so do you...C'mon....I'm starved and it's
going to take a while to get downstairs."
The meal was delicious as Mulder had
promised and the LGM had done themselves
proud. Frohike was a master chef after all, and
Langly and Byers had been excellent
hosts, serving and making sure the two
love struck agents had the best romantic
Mulder had felt kind of sad, despite his partner's
delight over the gift of such beautiful flowers
from Mr. Marucci. Although romantic, they
were not really from him and he felt the need,
after all he'd put Scully through, for all her
unconditional acceptance him and loving him
as she did, that he decided to arrange something
special himself with help of his friends. A night
to remember from his heart.
"That was a beautiful meal, Mulder....guys.
Thank you. Thank you so much."
"It was Mulder that made all the
arrangements, dear lady...I just ... Only
but the best for you two love birds. You
take care. We'll be off now...give you
Langly grinned goofily but it faded a little when
Byers' foot found its way to his shin.
They said their goodbyes, Fro kissing Scully's
hand as he doffed his cap, and they all
filed out of the door.
They were finally alone.
"I love you Agent Scully. "
"I love you Agent Mulder." They held each
other for what seemed like an age as the
candles burned and they danced to imaginary
music of their hearts, despite Mulder
having to balance with one crutch.
The flowers around them seemed to blossom
more as they swayed, but they were
oblivious to everything but their love for
each other. Scully touched the silver filigree
butterfly pendant that Mulder had given her
earlier. Their lips met and the world
In a wooded glade in a distant place, a
solitary figure admired his beautiful multi
hued garden while he flexed his white
feathered wings....... He caught a silvery
butterfly on his finger as it fluttered past.
Whispered Italian words drifted on the
Our work is done for another year. Keep
Keep them in love, for they have the greatest
of loves that I have ever seen.
Home Alone dedication.
Dedicated to inspired lovers everywhere.
And especially to
Kat and Ady for being MR's first officail
Love birds. 3 Years and counting!!!
To Debbie, because love never dies and
that special someone you miss will always
be waiting in that garden for you.
To LInda, my partner in MT(One of many )
and specail thanks for the name idea!!:)
And Isabel, for your friendship and courage.
David and Tea For the contunued joy you bring
through your work and the way you love each
other. That's an inspiration in itsself.
To M&S who without I would not have
written this story. Most romantic couple
in fanfic CC was never responsible for
And most of all, to my own Valentine,
Keith -- it's a date at Beltane.