From: Ten <kristena@ocean.com.au> Date: Sat, 26 Apr 2003 22:18:01 +1000 Subject: "New Millennium: On My Own" (1/1) by Vickie Moseley Source: xff Title: New Millennium: On My Own Author: Vickie Moseley Summary: Continuation of the New Millennium series. Scully has to go back to work, and even though Maggie is there to help, Mulder is on his own. Category: A MT Rating: PG-13 Timespan/Spoiler Warning: This story follows 'The Connection' in the New Millennium series. Mulder was abducted, just as shown in Requiem, but the similarity with the television show ends there. Disclaimer: No infringement intended. (You were expecting something more flip, more glib, right? Darn it. I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time, I promise!) Archives: I will be submitting to Gossamer separately. All others please ask. Author's notes: We're still at it! And you're to blame! Every single person who reads these stories just encourage us to continue. See what you've done? To find the rest of the series, check out Ten's site: http://bitter-moon.com/tenxffic/index2.html New Millennium: On My Own by Vickie Moseley Slick walls. Sounds. People moving, slowly, too slowly. Smooth skin, but rough at the same time. It feels upsetting, like nails on a chalkboard _Hurry, hurry!_ Running down the hall, the floor is as slick as the walls. Pushing, shoving. Move! Move! Move! Damn it, pick up your feet and move! Falling, falling, fall . . .ing . . . Thump! My whole body jumps as I land on the pillowtop mattress we have. Actually, late one night when Scully and I were just falling asleep after some heart pounding husband and wifely activities, she explained to me in full medical terms how the sensation of falling at the end of a particularly vivid dream is in fact simply the body's jerk response. Fight or flight. Or freefall. Whatever. I remember pulling her close, covering her mouth with mine more to get her to shut up so I could sleep than because I didn't want a lecture on bodily reactions. As it turned out, we ended up reacting again that night. How long ago was that one? Would that have been the time? No matter. My eyes are still closed, mentally calculating exactly when our child was conceived. No, there was no possible doubt about it. It was the window seat. Wow. That was one hellacious orgasm. Peel paint off the walls orgasm. That was the one. I smile and roll over to whisper in Scully's ear that we really need to try that particular venue again before she and the baby get too far along to make it work within the laws of gravity and physics. But when I put my hand out to her side of the bed, I find the sheets empty and cold. My eyes are opened a split second later and I'm blearily staring at our alarm clock. 10:15 am. Ten fifteen A.M.? I don't remember ever sleeping to the middle of the morning before. Well, not unless I was on heavy painkillers or after a full night of working on case notes or a profile. Just goes to show how long I have to go with this whole recuperation bullshit. But that only answers half my questions. As I push myself up and get ready to swing my legs over the side of the bed, there is a soft knock on the door. "Scully?" Not that she would knock, but who else could it be? As it turns out, I forgot completely that Maggie was coming over again this morning. "Sorry, Fox. Dana went into the office this morning, remember? She's going back half days this week. I came by to help out with the laundry." I smile half-heartedly at the lie. OK, I've managed to mess up more than my share of pajama bottoms lately, but I know good and well that Scully has kept up on the laundry, precisely to ensure that her mother doesn't end up putting two and two together and coming up with four when the real answer is closer to five. No, Maggie is here because my wife doesn't think I should be left alone right now. I'm an invalid. Can't have the invalid falling down and hurting himself, now can we? I really hate this recovery shit. "Are you hungry? I can bring you a tray?" Maggie offers and I tamp down my temper. I'm mad at my body and its inability to spring back as quickly as it used to. No use taking that out on my mother-in- law. Especially when she's the last person on earth who deserves my wrath. "I'd really like to try going downstairs to the kitchen, if you don't mind," I say as cheerfully as I can muster. She frowns for a moment, and I can see her formulating a thousand reasons against my proposal. Ah, c'mon, Maggie. It's just a few steps. I put all my effort into appearing well enough to make it to the first floor of our home. You know I'm ready for this, Maggie. You'll be right there if I need help. And oddly enough, a smile comes to her lips. "Well, I guess since I'll be right there, what's the harm?" Hot damn! I wonder if I can sneak in a request for some bacon? "How about I make you some scrambled eggs and orange juice? Maybe I'll see if I can find where Dana hides the bacon. But don't you rat me out, Fox. It'll be our little secret," she grins. Shit, this is too easy. Now I'm starting to feel guilty about abusing her trust. I have to watch myself with this ability I seem to have. I could get myself in some real trouble if I'm not careful! "Yeah, sure, that would be great, Mom," I tell her with a nod. Maggie stands by the door while I shuffle into the bathroom and take care of some pressing business. At least I managed to make it through a whole 12 hours without needing a change of clothes or sheets. Might have to put that down in some record book somewhere. Scully and I must have been dog tired last night. I mug at myself in the mirror, swipe at my hair with a comb and run the toothbrush around my mouth. Not exactly well- groomed, but as good as it gets these days. When I exit the bathroom, Maggie looks like it's causing her physical pain not to reach out and put her arm around me to give me some support. I decide I've been enough of a bad boy already this morning, so I hold my elbow out to her. "May I escort you to the dining room, my lady?" She giggles, I love Scully women and their giggles, and takes my arm. "Why yes, kind sir. My date seems to have stood me up again!" "The thoughtless cad," I reply and with some effort and a death grip on the banister, we make it all the way down to the first floor. I fall in love with this house all over again. Our furniture looks pretty good in the living room. I find Mom's dining room set, complete with the breakfront, fits like a glove in the formal dining room. The chandelier even hangs directly centered above the table! As we shuffle-walk through the rooms to the kitchen, I smile. "You helped her unpack, I see," I say and lean over to give Maggie a kiss on the cheek. She smiles and blushes ever so slightly at my buss. "She was so worried, well, you know that, before. So we've been taking it slow, just a box here and there while you've been napping. Surprising how much headway you can make without four little people underfoot." I have to grin back at that. "Yeah. Our 'little people' are still easy to manage," I shoot back. "Oh, you!" she says and helps me lower myself to one of the chairs of the dinette in the kitchen. "So, eggs, bacon if I can find it, toast?" "Don't worry about the bacon," I tell her, trying to assuage my guilty conscience. "Oh, it's no trouble, Fox. I know it's here somewhere," she calls as she starts digging through the freezer section of our side by side refrigerator. "Here it is! Now, I'll just pop this in the microwave to thaw a bit while I get the pan for the eggs." I'm finally getting my appetite back. After three eggs and four strips of bacon, not to mention the two slices of whole wheat toast, Maggie is grinning like a Cheshire cat at me and my stomach feels like it might just explode. But it feels good and I have to admit, I'm pretty content at the moment. "Feel up to watching a little television?" Maggie asks and I don't give it much thought. "Daytime television never held much appeal," I say with a shrug. Maybe I'll just curl up with the three foot pile of Washington Posts that Scully saved for me while I was gone. "Oh, I think you'll find something," Maggie replies with a wink. She has this whole 'cat who ate the canary, and the birdcage' thing going and I decide I'm about to get some sort of 'coming home' surprise. As we make it down the few steps to the family room, I know my eyes must pop out of their sockets. It's a plasma television! It's got to be 50 inches! I've seen them advertised, hell, I was planning on getting one, in about 25 years when they finally come down in price, but here it is, in my family room! And sitting right in front of it, oh, my whole throat closes up. My couch. My banged up, more than in need of a good cleaning, leather sofa. Even the Navajo blanket that my mother brought me from a trip to visit some cousin out west is lying across the back. I think I'm going to cry! "And," Maggie is speaking and runs over to the end table to pick up something that looks like a palm- sized computer, "look at this!" A few clicks and the screen springs to life, Manchester United playing Arsenal. "Dish?" I whisper. She nods enthusiastically. "It was delivered the other day. I was shocked you didn't wake up with all the racket they made, getting the satellite installed on the corner of the roof. Dana made sure you have the total sports package. One hundred forty channels, all sports, all the time," she adds and reaches over to a book just a little thinner than my old College Oxford Dictionary. "Here's the programming guide. Why don't you relax and find something good to watch." "I think I'm overwhelmed," I say tightly. I really am. I didn't expect this, not at all. "I'm sorry I spoiled the surprise for Dana, but I know she wouldn't want you to have to suffer through Jerry Springer and Oprah when you could be cheering on a good game. Enjoy yourself, sweetheart." She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and leaves me with my new toy. I settle on the United-Arsenal game. Soccer. I played a little, I like the speed of the game, it's something I can lose myself in. I remember going to a couple of games back in school and I always loved it. Manchester is ahead at the half and I lie back on my sofa, feeling like I'm truly home. Home, with my wife . . . It starts as a prick at the back of my mind. I feel this ache at the mere thought of Scully. She's not here. But she's just at work. She's not that far away but right now it feels like . . . like I might never see her again. I want to see her. I have to see her! The sensation progresses to a low buzz that strains across my forehead, pulling along a tension headache. I try to concentrate on the game. Scully will be home soon. The scoreboard in the corner shows the time. 11:15. Maggie said Scully was working half days. She'll leave the Bureau at 12, it takes about fifteen minutes to get across the 14th Street bridge. Oh, wait, add 10 minutes because of noontime traffic. OK, she'll be home in about an hour and a half. The headache has traveled down, and now there's a band squeezing my heart. I'm having trouble getting a deep breath. Where is Scully? A small corner of my mind is rattling off the symptoms of a classic panic attack, sounding way too much like my second year psych tutor at Oxford, but the rest of my brain is ignoring the voice because I am in serious trouble. Sweat is stinging the back of my neck as I squint against the pain to see the clock on the screen. 11:35. Shit. At least an hour until she comes home. Calm it down, Mulder. She'll be home in just 70 minutes. She's coming home. You're fine. You're safe, you're in your own home, for god's sake! Maggie is just upstairs. The vice around my heart is now more painful than I can ever remember. I can't take a breath for the pain in my chest. The pain is crushing and I can feel it all the way down my arms. Right arm, isn't that it? No, left arm. Who the fuck cares, both my arms are conduits for lightning bolts of pain. Heart attack! Oh fuck, I'm having a heart attack! What the hell is going on? I was fine, the doctor said I was just weak. I can't be having a heart attack! Scully!! Help me, Scully! Help me! I hear the phone ringing somewhere in the back of my head, but I'm too busy trying to get air into my lungs to respond. I hear Maggie's voice at the top of the steps, I hear her running down the stairs and then she's at my side. She comes into view and her eyes are wide, she's yelling something into the phone. She's shaking her head and looks frantic and all the time I'm just trying to breathe, trying to get my heart to settle on one steady beat rather than this drumroll it's taken up. She pushes the phone against my ear and after a while the ringing subsides and I hear her. My wife. My life. My Scully. "Mulder, listen to me. I'm on my way. I just pulled out onto Penn Avenue, looks like I should make it ahead of the traffic. Mom is getting your cell phone and calling for an ambulance. I'll probably beat them, I'm hitting the right lights!" And suddenly, air seeps into my lungs. "Scully," I breathe out. Keep talking, I want to tell her. Recite the Constitution, anything so that I can keep hearing your voice. The longer she keeps talking, the better I feel. "Scully, be careful," I tell her, but my voice doesn't sound very loud to my ears. She laughs, but it's the laugh she gives me when I say something incredibly stupid. Then I hear a hitch in her voice, a hiccup, like she's about to start crying. "Mulder, I had this . . . I got this image of you in trouble. I can't explain it, I don't know where to start. I scared the shit out of Michels, she was just back from a meeting with Skinner about a 302 and I ran out of the room to get home to you. I'll have to call her when we're sure you're OK." "I'm OK," I assure her. My voice is sounding better. There is still a solid band around my heart, but it's no longer quite as tight. I have a killer headache, but I think I can expect that to stick around a while. "I just got over the bridge. I'll be there in five, Mulder. Don't go anywhere," she directs me. Like I could. Like I ever would go anywhere without telling her or better yet, taking her with me. "I'm here, Scully." I hear the front door open with a bang and frantic footfalls all the way through the house and down the stairs. First Scully, then the sound of a male voice and Maggie hurries up the steps to direct the paramedics. I grab onto Scully like she's the last life preserver on the Titanic and she hugs me back just as fiercely before she pulls away and takes my wrist, checking my pulse. "Mulder, it's all right," she's telling me, but she's looking worried and bites her lip as she watches the paramedics invade our family room. "What seems to be the problem?" the shorter of the group of three asks to no one in particular. "He's complaining of chest pains," Scully answers. "He's tachy, respirations are shallow." Did I tell her I had pain in my chest? I don't remember telling Maggie that and I know I didn't mention it on the phone to Scully. I didn't want her to wreck the car trying to get to me. "All right, Mr. Mulder, if you'll just lie back a minute, we'll take a few readings and call the hospital to see what they say." The short guy, now that he's closer, has a nametag that reads David. "I'm feeling better now," I tell him, but he shushes me as he listens to my heart. He steps away a few feet and talks into his walkie-talkie. "Great set up!" comments one of the other two EMTs. "Dish network?" The third guy, at David's nod, places an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. "Sports package," I try to say around the plastic obstruction. "Cool! Love the set, too. I want one of those so bad I can taste it." "Looks like we're going to take you for a little ride, Mr. Mulder. Doc wants to take a look at you," David says as he clicks off his mike. "I'm feeling much better," I tell him. "I'm glad to hear that, but we still need to figure out what happened," David says firmly and with one look, the other two fellows have me off the couch and on the gurney. A flick of the wrist and I'm covered with at blanket, another five seconds and I'm belted in place. "Scully," I call around the mask. "I'm right here, Mulder. I'm right here." "We're going to Alexandria General, ma'am. If you two would like to follow in your car," one of David's buddies tells Scully. "I'd feel better if I could ride with you," Scully objects. "I'm a medical doctor." The guy looks over and David shakes his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Unless you have privileges over at AGMC, it's a no go. Our insurance would never allow it." "But . . ." Scully looks like she's going to climb aboard the gurney rather than let me leave her and I'm all for it, but Maggie intervenes. "Dana, I'll drive you over. We'll follow the ambulance, sweetheart. We'll be right behind him all the way." I've never realized how close we are to the local hospital. That should come in handy when I'm frantically trying to find the place with a wife in labor next to me, but today, I'm just along for the ride. We're barely a block down the street and my heart starts up again. Oh god, I can hear the monitors they just placed on my skin making fast beeping sounds, which are pretty minor compared to the crushing sensation in my chest. "Scully!" I barely make out through gritted teeth. I've never had anything hurt this bad! I can't stand it! I look around the small cabin of the ambulance and everything seems to gray out on me. "Scully," I call out one more time and then the gray turns to black. I feel like I'm a limp rag, just tossed in the corner of the room. In fact, I'm resting on another nice hospital bed. I can hear the heart monitor, it sounds normal now. Much better than the squealing sound it was making as I blacked out. And best of all, this bed comes equipped with my own private hand warmer. I open my eyes to see her, her head resting on the edge of the mattress, hair sprayed out around her face, sound asleep. When I turn my head slightly, I can see out the window. The streetlights are on and the rest of the sky is a deep shade of night. "Hey," I hear and look back at my hand warmer. She's sitting up, running a hand through her sleep tossed hair. She looks positively glorious. And sexy as all hell. "Hey," I croak back. Apparently, sometime in my slumbers, someone came in and rearranged my vocal chords. "You gave me a horrible scare, mister. I should turn you over my knee!" she says playfully, but I can see the truth in her words "Promise?" I shoot back, but give her tiny hand a squeeze in mine. "What did I miss?" "They were pretty sure it was an heart attack in the ambulance. But when they got you in here and I fought my way into the trauma room, you settled down. The doctor ran a bunch of tests while you were out. Basically, you're healthy as a horse, well, a weak horse that needs a lot of rest," she amends. "I missed you," I tell her simply. I figured it out just as I woke up. Seeing Scully there, my heart just swelled. The exact opposite of how it felt when I was apart from her. I had a panic attack, two of them actually. Just because I was apart from my wife. "I missed you, too," Scully says, not understanding. "No, what I mean is, I missed you so badly that it caused a physical reaction," I tell her slowly, rubbing the back of her hand. My Scully, so typical. One eyebrow shoots almost to her hairline. But then, just before we get to the part where she tells me how full of shit I am, a small cloud passes over her face. She looks down to the blankets. "I could feel it," she says in a whisper. "Feel what?" She's lost me. "I could feel the pain in your chest. I knew you couldn't breathe. I could still breathe, my chest didn't hurt, but I could feel what you were feeling, like at a distance. Oh, Mulder, I was so scared. I knew you were in terrible trouble and I couldn't get there fast enough. I knew you needed me. It was a physical ache, like a ghost pain . . ." "Not this time," I joke lamely and she blesses me with a smile. I have to break the mood a little but her words are so accurate. That was exactly what I felt like and I realize now that she really could feel it, too. Our connection is getting stronger. Or maybe we're just figuring it out. It doesn't matter right now. We just hold hands, thinking for a few minutes. "So what do we do now?" I finally ask. "You have to go back to work. If you take off all your time now, you won't have much time for the baby," I say sadly. "Maybe I just tried to go back too early. You've only been out of the hospital a few days, Mulder. Maybe we can try it for half a day next week. Until then, I'll call Skinner and ask if I can get approval to work at home. You won't object to Michels coming over and doing some paperwork, will you?" Actually, the idea has some appeal to it. I can find out what's going on at the office, since I know Scully won't tell me herself for fear I'll try to stick my nose in it. "Sounds like a great idea." I pull on her hand and fold her in my arms. "I'm sorry I scared you," I tell her, kissing her hair. "When do we get to blow this pop stand and go home?" She laughs against my shoulder and when she pulls back, I feel the wetness she left behind. She wipes at her tears behind a curtain of hair, as if I won't notice. "Tomorrow morning. The doctor wants to keep you here for observation. But I will be staying with you," she says stubbornly. I want to be able to tell her to go home and get some rest, but I know better. Both of us will rest better if she stays right here in this room. I press the call button for the nurse, who comes to the door in no time flat. "Yes, Mr. Mulder?" "Do you think you could find a better chair for my wife? She's staying the night and I'd appreciate it if she had a recliner or something." The nurse smiles and points to the bed next to mine. "We're running pretty light tonight, Mr. Mulder. Mrs. Mulder is welcome to sleep in the other bed there. Now, I'll get your vitals and you two can get some sleep." After the usual poking and prodding, the nurse leaves. Scully leans over and kisses me long and hard. I start to return the kiss, but she pushes away. "Not tonight, G-man. And no x-rated dreams, either! We need to rest tonight!" "Ah, Scully," I whine, but I know she's right. We both need some time to figure all this out. And as long as we're in close proximity, sleep doesn't sound so scary. the end.