Date: Sun, 21 May 2000

Title: Clearing the Decks
Author: Vickie Moseley
Finished: May 21, 2000
Summary: Dana Scully, newly assigned agent to the X Files Division, deals
with the dilemma of having two men in her life.
Spoiler: Deep Throat, Pilot
Category: UST, MT, S/O (but not for long)
Rating: PG-13 for Ethan's potty mouth
Disclaimer: Carter, you made a good call. Ethan was a jerk! I'm glad you
dumped him. But since you did give us the cut tape, I had to do something
with him. As always, I won't infringe, just play a little. Now, where's
the three inches of celluloid that has the real kiss from Memento Mori? <G>
Archives: yes
Comments: Go get the DVDs. Inundate FOX with requests for more past
seasons on DVD--all of them. These things are great!
Thanks, Susan because you're always there :) And Brandon, the next one will
be MSR, I promise.

Clearing the Decks
By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

United Flight 327
Mariette Field to
Dulles International
5:45 pm

Dana Scully looked over at her partner and sighed. Fox Mulder was
sleeping, finally. He'd been so agitated one minute, lethargic the next
and it was driving her crazy that he refused to go to a doctor in Idaho.

"Just take me home, Scully. I don't trust anybody out here."

Under normal circumstances, she would have considered that sentence yet
another sign of a paranoid personality. But since teaming up with Mulder
only 3 weeks before, paranoid was taking on a new meaning. Was it paranoid
to think Col. Budahaus was kidnapped from his home by a military unit, kept
away from his family and ultimately brainwashed to forget the things that
he had learned about military aircraft and UFO technology? Yup, sure
enough, in any book she currently owned, it was paranoid. Was it true?
She was grudgingly, and only to herself, beginning to see that it very
possibly could be.

And her partner, that was another story. Fox Mulder, in the three weeks
they'd worked together, had been alternately insufferable and charming.
He'd gone out of his way to help her during their trip to Oregon, but had
smilingly left her with the chore of writing all the reports, save his own.
She even ended up doing the expense report for both of them. When she
quizzed him about a total at the diner where they'd sat with Teresa Nemman,
he hadn't blinked as he recited '$4.12 and I left a 50 cent tip". She
learned, in the course of twenty minutes, that he had a near photographic
memory, could remember the smallest detail, and could even find anything he
was looking for instantly in the landfill he called an office.

So why couldn't he remember anything that had happened to him during the
18-hour period he'd been missing inside Ellens Air Base?

It scared her that he could have been drugged and she had no idea how it
might cause him to react. He could become violently ill while they were in
the air and she'd have no way to treat him. He might loose consciousness
and then she'd have the problem of getting him off the plane. Or he might
just become violent, and he was twice her size and still had his gun.

He twitched in his sleep and she jumped a foot.

Calm down, she warned herself. Nothing she'd seen had indicated that
Mulder had a violent personality. If anything, he appeared to be calm and
cool in some instances where she was more than ready to throw a punch.
Like with the good Doctor at the mental hospital in Oregon who obviously
knew more than he was telling, or Sheriff Miles, who was hiding his son's
actions from their investigation. She was ready to deck both men, Mulder
seemed to take it in stride. Even just two days before, when physically
attacked by the men who'd run them off the country road near Ellens, Mulder
had taken the shot to his kidneys with a moan, but no attempt to retaliate.
Of course, the men had taken his gun, but still . . . No, she didn't
think he'd become violent. But under the influence of some drugs, it was a
whole other question.

"Sam!"

He jerked forward, wide-eyed, pale and shaking. He blinked and seemed to
not know where he was. Finally, he turned his eyes to her and looked
totally confused at her presence next to him.

"Mulder? Are you all right?" she asked, hoping to bring him back from
wherever his nightmare had dragged him.

He blinked again, as if placing her face. After a long time he nodded.
"Scully?" he asked, and it almost sounded like he was hoping that was her
name, not just opening the way for a question.

"Yeah, Mulder, what?" she answered, feeling a blush grow in her cheeks for
some reason. He was looking at her so intensely.

"Do we land soon?"

She looked at her watch. "In about another hour or so. Are you thirsty?
The flight attendant was by again, but you were sleeping and I didn't want
to disturb you."

He shook his head and leaned back in the seat. "Nah, I'm fine," he told
her, but she knew he was anything but fine. Tremors had been wracking his
body the entire five hours they'd been in the air. He hadn't eaten
anything since she'd retrieved him from the base, and she was pretty sure
he'd been sick a couple of times, but it was speculation on her part
because he never said a word to her about it.

He shook his head a few times, as if clearing cobwebs and then abruptly
stood up and staggered back toward the restroom. She fought the urge to
follow him, to stand outside the door and listen. C'mon Dana, that's just
plain gross, she berated herself. She had to give the man some privacy,
didn't she? But if he was sick and hadn't even attempted to restore the
liquid his body was rapidly losing, he was going to be dehydrated by the
time they landed.

The flight attendant made another pass through the aisles, collecting
garbage and empty cans. Scully stopped her and asked for a ginger ale and
a glass. It was waiting on her tray when he returned a few minutes later
and he eyed it critically before sitting down. She waited until he was
settled in his seat and then she poured a glass of the soda and handed it
to him.

"I'm not thirsty," he said, closing his eyes. She set the glass down and
pinched him on the arm.

"Ouch! Scully, you don't have to get violent. I'm just not thirsty right
now," he sputtered angrily.

"And you're showing all the signs of dehydration, Mulder. Your skin, even
after sweating, shows no resilience and it's dry and pale."

"You're checking out my skin, Scully?" he repeated with a waggle of his
eyebrows. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Not in this case, Mulder. You are sick. You may not want to admit it to
me, but it's the truth. And I know how you can get about the truth." She
said the line while extending the ginger ale toward him again. He took it,
reluctantly and sipped at it before putting it down.

"What are your symptoms?" she asked, turning toward him and examining him
with her eyes only, not touching him.

"Tired. Nauseous, but the famous Dr. Scully figured that out already. I
have the headache from hell and I'd really like it if my assigned partner
would just leave me alone and let me go back to sleep." He dropped his
gaze from her face and closed his eyes again, feigning the sleep he'd just
requested.

"What's your doctor's name and what hospital does he work from?" she asked,
ignoring his attempts to shut her out.

"Don't have a doctor and I don't go to hospitals."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. What had she just been thinking
about? Something about insufferable?

"Fine, then. I have plenty of friends from medical school who practice in
the DC area. I'll call one of them as soon as we land," she said casually.

"You aren't going to let this drop, are you? God, I didn't know they
assigned me a pit bull," he muttered and turned away from her, as if trying
to find a more comfortable position.

"Don't think calling me names is going to get me mad enough to ignore you,
Mulder," she warned. "And we have to find out what was injected in your
arm, why you're sick."

He flinched and opened one eye to look down at his right wrist, where a
bruise the size of a quarter stared back at him. He shook his head. "It
doesn't matter, Scully."

He was infuriating her. "Mulder, it matters to me!"

He turned the most baleful gaze toward her and she almost lost her breath.
His emotions were so raw and staring right at her. "Why?" he asked in a
voice just barely above a whisper.

She had to swallow before she could answer. Then, she slammed the door on
her own growing discomfort and crossed her arms in defiance. "Because I
don't let anybody play doctor on my partners."

His face brightened into a faint smile. "Oh, well, as long as there's a
reason," he said and then went back pretending to sleep.

He didn't sleep for long. In less than five minutes, a sour look had
crossed his face and he was dodging the flight attendant to make his way
back to the restrooms again. Scully sighed, toying with the half empty can
of ginger ale in her hand. When he returned, he looked even more pale.

He held up his hand as she started to speak. "Save your strength, Scully.
I think you're gonna need it to carry me off this damned plane. And yes,
I'll go to the frigging doctor, but I'm not staying. They can give me
something to stop the vomiting and I'll go home and sleep it off." He
closed his eyes again and effectively ended any discussion on her part.

By the time they landed, Scully was seriously thinking about calling for an
ambulance. Mulder was leaning on her heavily and threatening to drag them
both to the ground. She searched frantically for a wheelchair, but they
were all in use. Finally, they made it out to the parking garage and to
her car.

Mulder was no help whatsoever once they were safely in the car. He leaned
his head back and Scully was sure he was asleep before she had pulled out
of the lot. At least she hoped he was asleep and not unconscious. She
headed directly for the nearest hospital, Georgetown University Medical
Center.

GUMC
7:18 pm

Mulder had been taken down to have a CT scan, at Scully's insistence. The
ER doctor had noted some bruises, indicative of a struggle, and while they
waited for the lab results on the blood and urine, the two doctors agreed
it would be a good idea to rule out head trauma. Mulder just groaned and
did his best to ignore all efforts to engage him in conversation, even
direct questions about his health.

Scully guiltily felt relieved when the orderly came and wheeled her partner
to the X Ray department. He'd been vacillating between deathly sick and
obnoxious for the entire two and a half hours they'd been in the hospital
and he was seriously wearing on her nerves.

He'd bitched about the IV they'd inserted, complained about the blood
they'd drawn and flatly refused to give a urine sample until she threatened
to have the nurse bring in a catheter. And every fifteen or twenty
minutes, he'd lean over and retch bile into a small bowl, dropping to
exhaustion for a few minutes against the pillow, then rallying enough to
bitch some more. When he left, the silence was almost deafening. So it
was no surprise when her pager going off caused her to jump a foot off her
plastic chair.

She saw the number, recognized it instantly and closed her eyes with a
groan that would have given any of Mulder's a run for its money.

Ethan. Her 'significant other' for the past 8 months.

He was calling her from his work.

With a 911 after the number, which was their secret code to call back
immediately, regardless of the situation. She had yet to use the code,
Ethan was making it a habit in the three weeks since she'd joined Mulder on
the X Files.

She looked around, spotted a passing nurse, and asked directions to the
nearest pay phone. Fortunately, it wasn't located in another wing of the
hospital. She dropped some coins in the slot and dialed the number to the
control room at CBS's Washington newsroom.

He answered on the first ring.

"Where the hell have you been?" was the greeting that met her salutation.
She chewed on her lip and fought to find enough control not to scream back
into the phone.

"Ethan, we landed just a little while ago," she said, as calmly as she
could.

"I know! I was there! I grabbed a cab to the airport, figured I would
surprise you at the gate and we could stop for a bite to eat on the way
home. Sort of a welcome home for the weary traveler. Except the weary
traveler never showed up!" Sarcasm had never been one of Ethan's finer
points and it was definitely getting on Scully's one raw nerve.

"I'm sorry I missed you. I had other things on my mind," Scully hissed
through clenched teeth.

"Ole Spooky, I presume," came Ethan's terse reply and Scully found herself
silently counting to ten to keep from yanking the phone out of the wall.
When she'd calmed down enough to trust her voice, she spoke.

"For your information, Ethan, Mulder and I are at GUMC Emergency right now.
So if you're quite finished with your little tirade . . ."

"Georgetown Med, why the hell didn't you say so? Dana, what happened?"
Ethan demanded but before she could get a word in edgewise, he stormed on.
"You were hurt in the field, weren't you? I swear to god, I'll rip his
arms off, that sanctimonious son of a bitch! How dare he put your life in
danger just to satisfy his egotistical jaunts into the 'Twilight Zone'!
I'll kill the bastard!"

"Ethan!" she shouted into the phone. "I wasn't hurt!"

It took him a few minutes to catch up with what she'd said, but the wind
finally left his sails. "You're OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Mulder is pretty sick and I forced him to go to the
emergency room. I had to practically carry him off the plane," she
explained, but from the sounds of shouting in the background, she knew she
wasn't being heard. Ethan was busy telling the cameraman that he'd be back
in half an hour.

"I'll be there in ten to pick you up. Be ready at the entrance," he said
when he deemed to speak into the phone again. Before she could get her
objection out, he'd hung up the phone on her.

She slammed down the phone with a resounding clank. "I don't have time for
this Ethan," she reasoned with the battered receiver, and got up to find
her partner.

7:40 pm
GUMC

Mulder wasn't even trying to stay awake. The CT scan had exhausted what
little reserves he had left and the doctor had ordered Compazine for the
nausea. He was snoring quietly on the gurney while Scully talked softly
with his doctor.

"He was dehydrated on arrival, but the unit of saline seems to have helped.
Aside from that, the blood work shows no detectable drug or toxin. I will
tell you he's borderline anemic and I would love to keep him here for the
night, but it would just be for the rest. He's exhausted from the vomiting
but I think we're winning that battle."

"So you didn't find anything out of the ordinary in the blood work?" Scully
scowled, regretting the accusatory edge to her voice.

The ER resident took it in stride. "There was nothing to find," he
offered. "Look, sounds like you had quite a trip. He must have picked
something up out in Idaho, a virus or something. This could be an allergic
reaction to something he ate. But as it stands, I recommend bed rest for
the next 24 hours, and he should probably take it easy even after that.
The shot of Compazine he got an hour ago seems to be taking effect, and
it'll help him sleep tonight. If he wakes up and the nausea's back, give
us a call. He should call his own doctor on Monday and set up an
appointment to get the anemia taken care of. He's not been taking his
Flintstones vitamins, if you ask me," the young man added with a wink.
He'd been flirting at her all night.

Scully was not interested in the pass and just glared in return. "Thank
you, doctor. I'll make sure he follows orders."

The young man signed his name with a flourish to the discharge papers and
handed them to Scully. He flashed her another smile and exited the cubicle
through the curtained partition.

Scully blew out a long breath. Mulder was asleep, and from the looks of
him, even the Hounds of Hell couldn't wake him. But somehow, she had to
get him home. She was pondering the situation when a nurse poked her head
through the slit in the curtain.

"Did you say your name is Scully?" the nurse asked and Scully nodded.
"Well, there's a guy out in the lobby asking for you. He seems rather
insistent."

She sighed and tried not to bite off her lip in frustration. Then, an idea
took hold. It wasn't her best idea, far from it. But the way the night
was progressing, she knew in her heart it wasn't her worst idea, either.

"Could you bring him back here, please. I want him to help me get my
partner out to the car."

The nurse shot her a dubious look and retreated. Scully walked over to the
gurney and began the Herculean task of waking the 'dead'.

Shaking hadn't made a dent, but she discovered that pinching his earlobe
got the desired results. He growled and his eyes dragged open. He
muttered something that sounded like 'damn it, Sam', but finally he was
glaring at her through drooping eyelids.

"Scully. Where are we?"

"Hospital. They've discharged you. Time to go home."

That elicited a small smile of triumph. "Told you they wouldn't keep me,"
he sneered and rose up enough to swing his feet over the edge. Almost
immediately he started to pitch forward toward the floor.

"Steady there, Mulder," she told him not unkindly. "You're circling for a
landing on another planet at the moment, and you need some assistance.
Hold up a minute, help is on the way."

On cue, a very disgruntled Ethan Minette pushed his way through the
curtain. "Dana, I told you to meet me at the entrance half an hour ago,"
he said. It was obvious to Scully that he was in the same mood he'd been
in when she spoke to him on the phone, but she didn't have time to deal
with it.

"Get his other arm, Ethan. We have to get him in that wheelchair." She
said it with such authority that Minette obeyed without question. Once
Mulder was properly in the wheelchair, and they started out of the cubicle,
Ethan found his voice.

"Wait a minute. What's going on. Where is he going?" he asked, hurrying
to keep up with her brisk stride toward the door, even though she was
pushing the chair with a sleeping man in it.

"We're taking him home. And then you're getting a cab back to work," she
told him.

"Where are you going?" Minette snapped suspiciously as he took the keys
from her to get her car to the door.

"I'm staying with him. I don't know if he's ever had Compazine before, but
even if he has, I can't be sure that it won't have an adverse reaction with
whatever else is in his system."

Ethan stopped and scowled. "Don't they know what else is in his system?"

Scully frowned and shook her head. "They didn't find anything. But that
doesn't mean there isn't something there. They just didn't look hard
enough."

Ethan blinked and then bristled. "Dana, this is Georgetown University
Fucking Medical Center. I think they would know if he'd been drugged. Or
got high on his own," he added with a glare toward the slumped and silent
agent.

"He's not high, Ethan," Scully hissed. "And just because they found
nothing means nothing. They wouldn't know what to look for. But I need to
get him home, and standing out here arguing with you is not getting that
task accomplished. Go get the car, please."

He huffed his way over to the car, muttering under his breath, but once
they'd loaded Mulder in the back seat, an icy silence enveloped the
interior of the automobile. Ethan started the car and head out onto the
street.

"He lives in Alexandria. Hegal Place," Scully directed when they hadn't
gone very far.

Ethan nodded curtly and made the correct turn. They didn't speak again
until she directed him to park in front of Mulder's apartment building.

"I suppose you want me to help you get him up to his apartment," Ethan said
in disgust. Scully simply glared at him and he cursed under his breath,
but got out of the car. In a minute, he had Mulder half slung over his
shoulder and was making his way up the walk to the door. Scully hurried
out of the car and around the two men, so she could get the door open.

Mulder woke up a little in the elevator. He stared in confusion at Ethan,
then saw Scully standing on his other side and smiled. The smile faded
abruptly as the elevator jerked to a stop and Mulder turned a greener shade
of pale. But they made it to his apartment door without incident.

Ethan leaned Mulder against the wall. "C'mon, buddy. I need you give me
the key," he said, but Dana stepped around him and produced a key off her
own key ring.

"I've got it," she said self-consciously and refused to look her boyfriend
in the eye as he man-handled her partner into the apartment.

"Just lie him down on the couch. He doesn't have a bed . . . that I know
of," she added with a shrug and tossed his bags on the floor near the door.
She was rummaging around the kitchen, looking for a suitable bowl or
bucket, when Ethan grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Look, I'm willing to ignore the fact that you've talked about no one else
but this creep for the past three weeks. And I can understand that you
have to travel with him to investigate these harebrained cases he comes up
with. And I can even forgive you for not being there when I went to the
airport to meet you. But Dana, what the hell are you doing with his key?"
He was breathless from his rant and she could hear him grinding his molars.
It was his least appealing habit of many less than appealing habits.

"We exchanged keys, Ethan," she said slowly, through clenched teeth. "No
big deal. I gave him a ride to the airport, and he said if he didn't
answer right away I could let myself in. What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" he shouted back at her. "Dana, I thought we
were in a serious relationship. What the hell is going on here?"

She scowled at him, and then it turned into a snort. "Are you jealous?"

He didn't answer. He just crossed his arms over his chest and stood to his
full 5 foot 11 and a half inches. She hated it when he tried to tower over
her.

"I don't believe you," she seethed. "I've bent over backwards to reassure
you that I'm not interested in other men, Fox Mulder in particular, but you
just don't seem to get it. Well, frankly, Ethan, I'm beginning to wonder
if I'm interested in you!"

"Oh, I think you've made that pretty clear, Dana," he growled.

Before she could answer that accusation, Mulder leaned over and got sick,
bile hitting his coffee table and the floor but just missing his shoes.

Scully hurried to his side. "Ah, Mulder," she sighed. "Let's get you
cleaned up."

She didn't even notice that Ethan had followed her until she heard him take
in a deep breath beside her. "I think it's time for me to leave," he said.
He stalked over to the door, then turned to face her. "I'll be clearing
my things out of your apartment."

It was her opening. She was supposed to run to him and beg his
forgiveness, admit she'd been stupid and stop them from making a terrible
mistake. But she just didn't have it in her.

"I'll be by to pick up my things from your place sometime next week," she
heard herself saying before giving it any thought at all.

"So that's how it's going to be, huh?" Ethan said, his anger slowly melting
into dejection.

She was slow to answer. "Yes, that's how it's going to be," she agreed at
last.

She turned back to Mulder so she wouldn't have to watch Ethan walk out of
her life.

Morning came eventually. She'd fallen asleep in Mulder's arm chair and
woke with a crick in her neck. Mulder was slow in waking, and crawled to
the bathroom and back before collapsing on the couch again. She left him
for a few minutes to get some jello from the corner grocer. He ate it
listlessly and was asleep again in minutes.

It was mid afternoon before he was awake long enough to hold a
conversation. She gave him chicken broth and tea.

"Scully, you didn't have to stay all night," he admonished as she cleared
away the dishes.

"You were pretty sick, Mulder. I was worried."

"I appreciate it, but you should put in for overtime. That was above and
beyond the call of duty. So, should I call Minette and apologize for
monopolizing your time." He'd obviously meant it as a joke, but he winced
when he looked at her face. "Oh oh. What did I do now?"

"You did nothing, Mulder. Nothing at all."

"I kept dreaming that I was at the fights, Scully. Tell me it was really a
dream," he begged. Again, off her look, he closed his eyes. "I thought I
heard a man's voice."

"Mulder, forget about it. A woman has to kiss a lot of frogs to find her
prince. Ethan turned out to be a toad. That's all."

"How long were you two together?" he asked, settling back on the pillow of
the couch.

"Eight and a half months. And as far as our breaking up is concerned, it
was inevitable, Mulder. He didn't like me going out into the field, and it
was one thing I refused to compromise on."

"Now I feel sick, tired, and guilty," Mulder said with scowl.

She grinned at him, in spite of his downcast expression. "Well, stop it.
At least the guilty part. And as for the tired part, you should try to get
more sleep. It will make you feel better."

"Go on home, Scully. I've damaged your life enough for one weekend,"
Mulder groused as he rolled on his side, trying to get comfortable.

"Who's gonna make me, Mulder?" she grinned at him. At his shocked
expression, her smile grew. "I'll leave a little later, after you've slept
a little more. I want to make sure you've stopped vomiting before I leave."

"Oh, so this is a house call?" he deadpanned.

"You could say that," she shot back.

"But you're a pathologist," he returned with the corners of his mouth
holding as still as he could manage.

"Just keep reminding yourself of that, Mulder," she slingshot back to him.
"Go to sleep, Mulder."

"Yes, ma'am. No way I'm gonna argue with you when you're in this kind of
mood."

"You're learning, Mulder. You're learning." And so am I, she thought to
herself.

The End.

Vickie

The minute he heard the phrase "vampire alligators" he
should've known to pack more underwear.

>From LEAVE A MESSAGE by Amanda Finch and Tim Scott. A MUST READ, find it
on Ephemeral :)

Come visit my website brought to you by the fabulous Shirley Smiley!

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