Title: 14-DAY QUARANTINE (1/1) Author: aka "Jake" Rating: PG-13 (Language) Classification: V Spoilers: Post-ep for "Darkness Falls" Summary: Remember the end of "Darkness Falls"? Mulder and Scully are quarantined in a high containment facility in Washington after being exposed to Luciferene. What do you suppose our heroes did to pass the time? Disclaimer: Do these characters really belong to Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions? If so, no copyright infringement intended. Fun, yes. Profit, no. Author's notes: As usual, I should to be working on a RL writing project, but Scully "isn't out of the woods," so to speak, and Mulder is feeling guilty. RL will just have to wait. 14-DAY QUARANTINE By aka "Jake" //We have an emergency evacuation situation. Requesting quarantine facility for two, possibly three victims with undiagnosed infection or exposure to unknown biological vectors. Repeat, that's an emergency evacuation situation. Two, possibly three victims...// HIGH CONTAINMENT FACILITY WINTHROP, WASHINGTON APRIL 16, 1994 DAY 1 //Attention, all personnel. High-level bio-clearance required on third floor.// Jesus, Scully. I-- "How are you feeling?" It takes me a minute to realize the words didn't come from me. A man -- a doctor? -- stands beside Scully's hospital bed. He's dressed in regulation containment gear: gloves, boots, full face mask. His concern is for my welfare; he's directing his question at me. "Better. How did the tests come back?" I sound nasal. My sinuses ache. A hose snakes from my nose to the wheeled oxygen tank beside me. My skin burns like hell. Scully... Swathed in bandages, Scully is still unconscious. The doctor walks over to a desk and picks up a chart. "Your respiratory charts were good," he says to me. "We're more concerned with the extent of damage due to inhalation. There were large concentrations of the chemical determined as Luciferene." Luciferene? A chemical named after the devil himself? That can't be good. "Which is...what?" "The same enzymes we find in fireflies and other bioluminescent insects. Our entomologists are still trying to determine the specific epithet of the insects you encountered." Hm, I wonder if my lungs are glowing like a couple of lava lamps right now. Oxygen tank in tow, I shuffle over to Scully. She doesn't move. "Scully?" Her burns are worse than mine. Panic hammers my chest at the sight of her. "How is she doing?" I ask the doctor. "She's still not out of the woods, so to speak. She lost a lot of fluids. Two or three more hours of exposure, she might not have made it." Might not have...? Shit. "I told her it was going to be a nice trip to the forest." The man, the doctor, whatever-the-hell he is, says nothing and starts to walk away. "How are you going to contain it to the forest?" I ask, stopping him. "What if the swarm migrates?" "The government has initiated eradication procedures. They're quite certain that by using a combination of controlled burns and pesticides, they will be successful." "And if they're not?" "That is not an option, Mr. Mulder." No, I suppose it's not. **Two or three more hours...she might not have made it.** What in hell did I lead you into, Scully? - - - - - - DAY 2 Wake up, Scully. Please. - - - - - - DAY 3 "Welcome back." I'm grinning from ear to ear. Dragging my chair closer to Scully's hospital bed, I take care not to dislodge her IV. She blinks at me, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. A fiery rash covers her face; she looks as if she spent a long weekend on Daytona Beach and forgot her sunscreen. "Hey," she whispers back, and then chokes on the word. A wet cough rattles her entire body, doubling her in half while she gulps for air. The insects did a hell of a number on her lungs. When her cough subsides, I chance holding her hand. Tiny blisters stipple her fingers, her arms. "Gotta watch out for those itsy-bitsy spiders, Miss Muffit." She starts choking again. Nurses, dressed in containment suits, rush into the room. I move out of the way, head for the door. "Mulder?" My name rasps from Scully's throat. Ignoring the nurses' scowls, I return to her bedside. She clears her throat, takes a shallow breath. "I'd've...preferred Bigfoot." Me, too, Scully. Me, too. - - - - - - DAY 4 "More water? Juice?" I hold a pitcher over Scully's glass. She protests with a shake of her head and an upraised hand. I pour water into her glass anyway. "Drink up, Scully. Those bugs practically sucked you dry." "At least they weren't Spinney's brain-sucking amoebas." She humors me and sips her drink. Her skin is starting to peel. Her lips are so dry, I'm afraid she's going to crack them open when she suddenly smiles. "What's so funny?" I ask. "Our desiccation. Um, how's your...manhood?" Ahhh! The mummy we found cocooned in a tree. Very funny, Scully. "My manhood is just fine, thank you. Althooough, it itches like hell." Every square inch of my body -- inside and out -- itches like hell. "Care to scratch me?" "No scratching -- doctors' orders." "Spoilsport." Her smile fades. "Mulder, what happened to Larry Moore?" This is the question I've been dreading. "He didn't make it, Scully. He died three days ago." - - - - - - DAY 5 Scully managed to take five or six steps without the nurse's help this afternoon. I owe God, big time. - - - - - - DAY 6 "We need to talk, Mulder." Uh-oh. Scully and I don't talk. Not much, anyway. "What about?" She fusses with her IV; the doctors insist she keep it in, at least one more day. "Something you said to me out in the woods." I'm not liking her frown. "Gonna make me guess?" "'Cut the sanctimonious crap.'" "I...? Oh." Oops. "That." "I wasn't being sanctimonious, Mulder. When you gave Spinney the last of the fuel, you made a decision that risked the entire group." "Spinney saved us." "Spinney's dead. So is Moore." "Are you saying *I* killed them?" "I'm saying..." She takes a long breath, trying to control her temper. "That's not my point." "What is your point?" I don't like being accused of murder, or even accidental manslaughter. My actions were completely justified. I didn't do anything wrong. She glowers at me. "We're supposed to be *partners,* Mulder." - - - - - - DAY 7 The docs have me on corticosteroids to help with the inflammation and itch. Scully tells me the steroids are not the same type that some bodybuilders use. True or false, I'm feeling pretty damn good. I'm thinking I could take on Arnold Schwartzneggar in arm wrestling right now and actually win. "Care to go for a stroll, Ms. Scully?" I offer her my arm. Freed from her IV earlier this morning, she's eager to try walking without it. Still a bit unsteady on her feet, she links her arm with mine. "Not too fast, Mulder, please." "Baby steps, I promise." We inch across the room to the door. There's really nowhere to go. The hall is as cheerless as her room. We're on this floor all by ourselves, except for the doctors and nurses, who still dress in containment suits before they come anywhere near us. "We're missing the cherry blossoms," she says. I suppose she's right. Back in DC, the trees must be in full bloom. Here...we don't even have a window. The air in the hall smells sterile and we both long for freedom. "It's just another week, Scully," I say, but my words don't lift her spirits. She's still angry with me. I feel her pull my arm. I catch her just before she collapses. - - - - - - DAY 8 Scully's had a setback. Her IV has been reattached. Meds pump through her bloodstream. Even so, she can hardly breathe. The doc says he might need to put her on a respirator. For now, she wears an oxygen mask. I can't stand to look at her but I can't stand to be away either. - - - - - - DAY 9 The nurses told me I should talk to her. They said a coma... Not knowing what else to talk about, I began reciting unsolved cases to her, starting with the A's and working my way through the alphabet. So far, we've made it all the way to "F." "You're gonna love this one, Scully. 'F' -- 'Flying Clowns.' The mother of a fifteen-year-old girl in Bangor, Maine, claimed her daughter was able to move objects with her mind. Sherri Beaufort -- she's the daughter -- had an argument with her mother on November 23, 1993. After an exchange of angry words, Sherri was sent to her room to cool down. She sat on her bed, fuming over the argument, while she stared at her collection of ceramic clowns on the nearby bookcase. Suddenly, one of the clowns flew off the shelf, hit the far wall where it smashed to smithereens. Thinking someone might have slammed a door elsewhere in the house causing the clown to fall from the shelf, Sherri decided to try to toss another clown -- on purpose -- just by thinking about it. She concentrated on the statue. It vibrated, jittered, bounced twice and then soared through the air...uh...is this story too scary?" Scully doesn't respond and I'm wishing I had telekinetic powers so I could make her get up. "Scully?" The ventilator hisses. Scully's chest rises and falls. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I didn't ask your opinion about Spinney and the fuel." - - - - - - DAY 10 "You should notify her family, Mr. Mulder." The doctor holds out a cell phone. "We're doing all we can to stabilize her condition, but her recovery is uncertain." What am I going to tell Scully's mom? "I took your daughter into the woods and she died because there are two million bugs per person on this planet and that's just too damn many." - - - - - - DAY 11 Mrs. Scully flew out to Washington even though they won't let her see Scully, or me. She waits somewhere on the floor below us, badgering the doctors for more information. They have nothing new to say. - - - - - - DAY 12 //Fox?// "She's awake, Mrs. Scully." I trap the phone between my shoulder and my ear. My hands hang on to Scully for dear life. //That's wonderful news! Can I talk to her?// "She's still on the respirator." The machine breathes for her. Lights blink. A monitor announces each of her heartbeats with a high-pitched beep. "But she's going to be okay. The doctors say she's going to be okay." - - - - - - DAY 13 "Mom's downstairs? Oh, Mulder, you shouldn't have called her." Scully's words scrape past aching vocal chords. She's barely spoken a word since the ventilator tube was removed an hour ago. "She wants to be here." "There's nothing...she'll only worry..." Scully closes her eyes. Dark circles shadow her raw cheeks. God, she looks exhausted. "Mulder?" I sit beside her on the edge of the bed and stroke her arm. The motion is almost automatic after nearly two weeks. "Hm?" "I owe you an apology." She opens worried eyes. "For what?" "I lost it out there. In the cabin." She struggles to sit up. "I thought...the bugs... I panicked. I...I almost broke our only light and--" "Scully, it doesn't matter. It's over." "Without the light..." "It's over." I gather her into my arms as gently as possible so I don't hurt her. She leans into me. Combing back her hair with my palm, I kiss the line of concern that peaks her brows. "Shhhhh," I say against her feverish skin. "It's over." - - - - - - DAY 14 Finally, the doctors have decided we're no longer a threat to ourselves or to others. Scully's feeling much better and is anxious to go home. We'll be released as soon as the paperwork is signed. Mrs. Scully was given the okay to visit with us while we wait. A broad smile lights her face when she greets us in the hall outside Scully's room. In her arms she carries a large bouquet of cherry blossoms. "For you, baby." She kisses Scully on the cheek and presents her with the flowers. Scully presses her nose to the pink blossoms and breathes in their sweet perfume. "Oh, Mom. These are beautiful. You don't know how much I've missed home." "They aren't from me, sweetheart." Mrs. Scully gives me a wink, and says, "Read the card." Scully catches her mother's wink and raises an eyebrow at me. "Mulder...?" I shrug and smile. She digs the card from the boughs and struggles to open it one-handed. "Allow me." I steal the card from her and pretend to read. "Roses are red; Bigfoot is brown; Is anything more scary than a Flying Clown?" "Give me that." She snatches the card out of my hand. "That's not what it says." I hold my breath while she reads the words I told Mrs. Scully to write. A smile spreads across her face. "'Dear Scully,'" she reads aloud. "'I.O.U. one walk beneath the cherry blossoms. No Olympic National Forest. No mummified loggers. No itsy-bitsy spiders. Payable on April 16, 1995. Your partner, Mulder.'" "We are still partners, aren't we Scully?" She waves the card at me. "I'm holding you to it, Mulder. Right now, let's go home." THE END Authors notes: Yeah, yeah, schmaltzy, I know. But hey, I almost never write schmaltz. I'm allowed one or two, aren't I? And before any of you argue that Mulder didn't meet Mrs. Scully until Season 2's "Ascension," go back and rewatch the opening scene or reread the transcript. It is *possible* they could have met before. It's a stretch, but nothing in the dialog specifically proves they are meeting for the first time. Feedback, good or bad, is welcome on this or any of my stories. Send comments to nejake@tds.net. You can find all my fic at http://akajake.net