Home Alone

Title: Home alone

Author: Lisa (Truthwebothknow)

Rating: PG13

Category: MT MSR ANGST

Written for the Virtual Season 13’s Valentine’s Day Special

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

comments: dragonrider1@ntlworld.com

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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

already knew.

No Scully. What time was it? Where was she? No sounds of life coming from the rest

of their shared home.

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,

falling, falling….

….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 rude awakening.

“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.”

Scully xxx

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.

Love Scully.

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 of recollection.

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 launched.

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.

“Shit!”

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 ears.

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….and rice. 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.

Georgetown Memorial.

8pm.

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.

Present day.

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 to take?

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 alone.

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 a fool.

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 matters?

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 collective pervefest.

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 déjà 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 just as

the answering machine kicked in.

“I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky….”

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? Hellooo….?”

“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.

“Hi.”

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. And teddies.

“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 swallowed him….

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.

“Thanks Maggie.”

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, dear.”

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

checking out.”

“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. ”

“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 her boss.

“Scully.. That you?” Suddenly she was all over him on the floor. Hands everywhere

checking for injury.

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

audience.

“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 phone?”

“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 phone.

Mulder closed his eyes at the latest intrusion but further buoyed by his fresh infusion

of pain meds, threw back.

“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.

“What the…”

“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?” Maggie enthused.

“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 finery.

“Shit..!

“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

with glee.

“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.”

“Where’s Sculleeee?”

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.

GUMC

Washington DC

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.”

“Huh?”

“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 concealed somewhere.

“In a way..” he started…..looking to Scully for help as Mulder stared at him with

profiler eyes.

“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

Garden florist’s.”

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

umm. sorry.”

“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 ass?”

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 beech.”

“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 that wonderful?”

“Oh my god…really? Scully that’s great.”

“You like?”

“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

festivities.

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 unmistakable snorting.

“Shurrup you ass.” Followed by the sound of a hand making contact with something

hard and organic.

“Ow!”

“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.”

“Oh Mulder…..”

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.”

“Uhuh and then some Scully.”

“Smells good.”

“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

evening ever.

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 some privacy.

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

faded away….

XXXXXXXX

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

fragrant air….

Our work is done for another year. Keep them safe.

Keep them in love, for they have the greatest of loves that I have ever seen.

The end.

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.

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