NEW - Reign of Tears pt 2 by Michelle Kiefer (guilty pleasure fic)
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looked skeptical as he helped Mulder to his feet. "Come on,
Mulder, let's get you warmed up."
Mulder was unsteady on his feet as they walked him to the
bathroom. Scully drew back the shower curtain, turning on the
water. When it felt warm, they stripped Mulder's clothes off.
In the bright light of the bathroom, Scully noted every bruise
and cut on Mulder. Skinner drew in a sharp breath as they drew
the sweatshirt off Mulder. Every rib stood out in sharp relief,
his collarbones and shoulder blades sharply defined. She hadn't
realized Mulder had lost that much weight. When they had Mulder
down to his alien print boxers, Skinner turned to her.
"Agent Scully, perhaps it would be best if I took it from here."
"I'm a doctor, Sir. Nothing I haven't seen already."
Her boss raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything as he
helped Mulder off with his shorts. Nothing she hadn't seen
before, but still the most beautiful bottom in the whole FBI.
But oogling Mulder's lovely butt was just plain wrong right now,
she warned herself. It would be unprofessional since he was
hurt and needed her help.
They got Mulder into the shower, but he seemed a little shaky
on his feet, so Skinner helped him sit down in the tub.
Carefully, Scully washed Mulder's hair, rinsing out the blood
and grit. There seemed to be an inch long cut in his scalp,
but it wasn't bleeding anymore.
Mulder shook, even under the hot water. Skinner helped him wash
himself, getting the river water and debris off. When Mulder had
stopped seemed to have warmed up a bit, they helped him out of
the shower and dried his skin.
Finally, with a towel slung low on his hips, they brought him
back to bed. Since the bedspread was still damp from earlier
when a wet Mulder had lain on it. Scully swept the bedspread
away and turned down the bed. Mulder's eyes were at half mast,
his hands clutching at the sheets.
"He may have swallowed some of the river water, sir. I need to
give him some antibiotics to ward off pneumonia."
Skinner nodded as she drew the blankets tight under Mulder's chin
and went through the connecting door into her room. She returned
in a minute with her doctor's bag.
"That's a pretty big bag, Agent Scully," Skinner said, his eyes
widening at the sight.
"Well, sir, I find it best to be on the safe side. Mulder gets
hurt or sick a lot--actually every single time we go on one of
these profiling cases. I have bandages, painkillers, antibiotics,
sleeping pills, tranquillizers, anti-depressants and a snake bite
kit. Oh and a portable defibrillator. Needed that a couple of
times."
Mulder's eyes opened wide at the sight of the doctor bag. He
became agitated when she drew out a large hypodermic needle and
a vial of medication. "NOOOOOO!!! No shots!!! Please, Scully,
you know I hate shots."
"I'm sorry, Mulder," she said gently as she sat next to him on the
bed. "I know you don't like them, but sometimes, we need things
that we don't like."
"But it's gonna hurt, Scully. And it's so big," Mulder moaned,
his eyes huge as he watched her draw up the medication into the
syringe. He'd begun to cry and tears were trailing down his cheeks.
"Turn over a bit, Mulder. This needs to be given in a large
muscle."
Mulder pouted and gave her his best cockerspaniel puppy sad-eyed
look, but Scully shook her head and helped him roll onto his
side. "I'll try to be quick."
Scully pulled the covers down below Mulder's hips, pulling the
towel down to expose his perfectly rounded bottom. She tried not
to drool as she rubbed his smooth skin with an alcohol wipe.
"OOOOWWWWW! Scully! Stop!" Mulder cried as she injected the
medicine into him. Finally, she drew the needle out and covered
the site with a cotton pad. His body shook with sobs, and her
heart broke. "No more, please no more..."
"There, all done," she cooed. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Mulder.
No more, I promise." She drew him into her arms, rocking gently
as she murmured to him. Finally, he began to calm down.
Scully drew the covers back up over him, glancing at Skinner who
was looking at his agent with concern. "Is he going to be okay?"
"I think so. He hates being sick. I'm afraid that he isn't a
very good patient, which is too bad, because he certainly gets
plenty of practice."
Mulder sobbed silently for a few minutes more, before falling
into an exhausted slumber. Scully bit her lip as she looked
at his tear-stained face. "I'm going to stay with him, sir.
Why don't you take my room. Let me just get a few things."
Scully went into her room, throwing a few things into her
toiletries case and grabbing some pajamas and clothes. She
looked around the room, hoping she hadn't left any lingerie
around. The idea of her boss finding a pair of her panties
on the floor would be too embarrassing.
"I don't know, Agent Scully. Maybe I should stay here with
Mulder. It just doesn't seem right and proper."
"I assure you, sir, nothing untoward will happen."
Skinner shrugged and exited into Scully's room. She sighed
deeply and went into the bathroom to change into her pajamas.
When she returned to the bedroom, she saw that Mulder had
tossed off some of the covers.
Her partner's skin felt slightly warm, and he seemed restless.
Pursing her lips, she wondered if she should have insisted on
bringing Mulder to the hospital. No, she thought, he really
hated hospitals, and he'd probably rest better here.
She began to remove the papers from the other bed, carefully
stacking them on the dresser. Scully knew that Mulder would
need his notes to reconstruct his information. She hoped the
knock on the head hadn't permanently damaged his memories of
the case.
As she placed a bunch of sheets on the dresser, one phrase
fell into the circle of lamplight. *someone on the
taskforce?* Scully began to leaf through the notes, hoping
she wouldn't mess them up too much.
The gist of Mulder's chicken scratches seemed to be that the
UNSUB was involved in police work, or had a relative in the
business. *Inferiority complex* and *juvenile attitude*
jumped out at her. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a lot
of inferior juvenile types on the task force.
With a powerful yawn, she climbed into bed and turned out the
light. She was asleep in minutes, tired after not sleeping
the night before.
"No! No! I'm sorry, Dad. Please don't hit me!"
Scully tossed the covers aside and leapt out of bed. Mulder
was trembling and thrashing around in the bed. The covers
were off and the towel had come loose from his waist. Scully
averted her eyes from his private parts, but not before
noticing how well-hung her partner was. If only there wasn't
that awful rule about partners not sleeping together. There
was a rule, right?
"I didn't mean to lose her, Dad...no...no...please, no..."
Mulder was moaning and pushing her hands away as she tried
to check his fever. Her partner was burning up, his skin
almost too hot to touch. His eyes were bright and glassy
as they darted around the room in panic.
Skinner ran into the room through the connecting door, barefoot
and shirtless, his massive chest tapering into the waistband of
his unbuttoned dress slacks. Scully tried to remember if there
was a rule agsinst sleeping with your boss. Yes, she was
pretty sure that was forbidden, too.
"What's the matter, Agent Scully?" he asked.
"He's burning up with fever, sir. Can you hold him down while
I take his temperature?"
Scully dug into her doctor bag and pulled out her aural
thermometer. Mulder was struggling, but Skinner held him
down as easily as a rag doll. She fit the thermometer in
Mulder's ear, waiting for the beep to sound.
"Help me, Scully!" he cried. "He's hurting me! Don't hit me,
Daddy. Please, Daddy, no."
"Oh my goodness, sir. His fever is 104. He could go into
febrile convulsions. We have to cool him down right away.
I'm going to run a tub of water."
Mulder continued to fight, trying to escape Skinner's iron
grip. Scully ran to the bathroom and began to fill the tub.
She checked the temperature of the water, making sure it
was tepid. As she returned, she saw that Mulder was no
longer fighting. He was curled up with his hands over his
face, as if he was warding off blows.
"Let's get him into the tub."
"What do you think happened to him, Scully?" Skinner asked
as he picked up a limp Mulder. "I mean, when he was a kid."
"I don't know, sir. He hardly ever talks about his childhood,
but I think it was pretty rough. Before they died, his parents
would never come to see him when Mulder would get sick or
hurt on a case. He'd be stoic about it--you know how he can
get, but I could tell how much it hurt him."
Skinner carried a naked Mulder into the bathroom, the towel
lost somewhere in the bed. As he lowered Mulder into the
water, Mulder began to fight again, splashing their boss.
There were beads of water all over Skinner's broad, strong
chest, clinging to the thick dark hair.
Scully knelt at the tub, swishing cool water over Mulder's
shoulders. His chest wasn't as broad and strong, and didn't
have as much hair, but it was a pretty neat chest just the
same. Scully reminded herself about those damn FBI rules as
she watched rivulets of water meander down her partner's
well-muscled chest. Try as she might, her eyes kept straying
down to the dark thatch of hair and the wonders only
partially hidden there.
Eventually, Mulder's skin started to cool a bit and he began
to shiver. "So cold, Scully. Please let me get warm again."
"I know you're cold, Mulder. You have a fever and we need to
cool you down."
"You always take good care of me," he said, his teeth
chattering between each word. Hazel eyes met blue and Scully
just about melted. She ruffled his soft, chestnut brown hair,
tousling it more than usual until it stood up in tufts.
"I need to give you something to keep your temperature down,
Mulder. It shot up so quickly, I'm afraid you might go into
febrile convulsions."
"You know how much I hate medicine, Scully."
"I know, Mulder. I know." Scully turned to their boss.
"Sir, we can take him out of the water now, and put him back
to bed."
Skinner sighed and helped Mulder out of the tub. Mulder's
thin legs shook so much, Scully was afraid they wouldn't
hold him up. Skinner and Scully held onto his arms as
they walked him back to bed. When Mulder was laying down
and covered, Scully broached the difficult subject of
antipyretic drugs and their administration.
"Mulder, I have to give you something for your fever."
"Not another shot, please, Scully. The other one hurt so bad.
Please, no."
"You know that you'll throw up if I give you any pills."
"No more shots, please. You promised," he cried.
"All right, Mulder. No shot. But you aren't going to like
the alternative very much," she said as she reached into
her bag. "I'm going to have to give you a suppository."
"Noooooo!! Please not that. Please, no." Mulder was
blushing furiously, tears rolling down his face.
"Mulder," she said, pulling him into her arms. "I know you
don't like the idea, but you need to get well." Mulder
shivered and sobbed in her arms, his tears wetting her
pajama top. Gently, Scully stroked her partner's back,
trying to calm him.
Scully looked over Mulder's head at Skinner. Her boss
had a look of gentle concern for his agent. He really
was a caring person, she thought. Now, if she could
just get him to hold Mulder down while she....
"Mulder, I need you to lie down on your side. This will
only take a second, and then you can rest."
Mulder sniffed and shuddered, giving her a pitiful look.
With a shaky sigh, he did as she asked, drawing his legs
up into a very convenient fetal position.
He whimpered as she did what she had to do. "There, all
done."
Mulder seemed to fall asleep immediately, and she covered
him with the sheet, carefully folding the blanket down.
"I don't want him to get too warm again," she said to
Skinner who was sleepily making his way back to Scully's
room.
Scully checked Mulder again, happily noting that he seemed
much cooler now. Gently, being careful not to wake him,
Scully leaned over and brushed a soft kiss to Mulder's full
lips. "If only it could be," she whispered.
Scully lay down, closing her eyes. She puzzled over her
beautiful partner, imagining what it would be like to make
love to him. It would probably be the most fulfilling,
perfect sex and she was sure that all of Mulder's childhood
trauma would be healed by it. Sleep was a long time in
coming.
She woke to the sound of papers shuffling, opening her eyes
to find Mulder sitting crosslegged on his bed surrounded by
his pile of notes. He smiled at her, extending his arms out
in a morning stretch. He was wearing sweatpants now, though
his beautiful chest was bare.
"Mulder, how do you feel?" she asked, sitting up.
"Much better. Uh...Scully...I didn't have any clothes on
when I woke up?" Mulder was blushing and looking very
embarrassed. What would happen if he remembered the
suppository?
"Well, you were awfully sick last night, Mulder. AD Skinner
and I had to clean you up, and then you had a high fever and
we had to cool you down."
"Okay," he said, softly. His eyes were downcast. "I don't
remember any of that. I'm still a little fuzzy on how I got
hurt."
"You went out running...two days ago now. Do you remember
what happened after you left the hotel?"
"That's a good question, Agent Mulder." AD Skinner stood in
the doorway, putting on his glasses. "Glad to see you're
feeling better. So, what do you remember?"
"I left the hotel and began to run. I was thinking about the case,
wondering how the Ripper seemed to know so much about
the case. I mean, his notes had become very specific."
"Maybe he was he following the case in the news." Skinner
suggested.
"He might have been, but there hadn't been any pictures of
Agent Scully in the press, or any descriptions of her, but
the Ripper knew she was small and redheaded. I was running
down by the river when it was all starting to come together.
The Ripper obviously had a connection to someone working
the case. Then I spotted some guys from the task force."
"Do you remember who?" Scully asked, her skin prickling
with excitement.
"I don't know..." Mulder looked puzzled. "They called me
over...I remember thinking how nice they seemed after all the
meanness. They were so friendly and joking around and
everything. I probably should have suspected them, because
they were never nice before. But, I trusted them. And then
when they got close to me, they started saying meann things
and hitting me..."
"Who, Mulder, who was it?" she asked.
"It's so fuzzy...one of them punched me in the stomach, and
called me a name...Wait! It's coming back to me....wus...
wussy...wussy boy... He called me "Wussy boy!" I remember
now. It was Kyle Hilton and Dave Packard."
"You're sure, Mulder?" Skinner asked, excitedly.
"Absolutely. I remember now because they called me that
when they saw me throw up in the men's room a few days ago."
Mulder stood up and began pacing the room, running impatient
hands through his hair.
"Do you think one of them is the Ripper?" Scully asked.
"No. But I think we need to check into their backgrounds and
see if either one has a relative named Fred."
"You think the Ripper is really named Fred?" Scully asked,
incredulous.
"Surprisingly, yes. Our UNSUB has a lot invested in his name.
It's very important to him. He would never alter or disguise
that."
Scully did background searches on the other agents while
Skinner helped Mulder get dressed. "Oh my God," she exclaimed.
"Kyle Hilton's has a cousin named Fred."
Scully jumped up and ran to get dressed, while Mulder and Skinner
worked at her laptop, researching Fred Hilton. It was all so simple.
How could they have missed it. Kyle must have been running
interference for his cousin, besides feeding him information on
the investigation. No wonder Hilton was so threatened by Mulder's
brilliance.
She raced back into the room, straightening her suit. Mulder was
already dressed in his usual dark suit and blue shirt. Skinner was
on the phone with Ben Kaplan.
"Kyle Hilton and Dave Packard assaulted Mulder. Yes. We think
Packard was just horsing around, but Hilton was hoping to
incapacitate Mulder. Fred Hilton lives in a rundown area of town,
on the edge of a woods. 515 Wilmot Street. We're going there now.
Yeah. Send reinforcements but have them keep back."
Scully, Skinner and Mulder raced to Fred Hilton's house, hoping
the Ripper hadn't fled. The building was shabby and dilapidated,
with torn window shades and missing bricks. It was on the edge
of a wildly overgrown wooded area.
"Federal agents!" Mulder shouted, as he pounded on the front door.
"Open up!"
No sound came from within the building. Skinner broke through the
door with one massive shoulder. The door opened wide, banging against
the wall. The threesome entered cautiously, searching the rooms in
proper FBI formation, finding each empty. Scully was just marveling
over the fact that her partner was following procedure, when Mulder
seemed to freeze as he looked out the back door. He spotted something
through the back door and ran out.
Scully turned to Skinner, "He's done it again, sir. Run off without
proper backup. He's always going off like that. One day soon, he's
going to get himself killed."
"Loose cannon," Skinner grumbled as they approached the back door.
But Mulder was nowhere to be seen. Scully scanned the woods for
some sign of movement. A flash of movement in the woods caught her
eye.
"Over there, sir," she said.
Scully and Skinner began to move along the perifery of the yard,
quietly moving in on the activity in the woods. "Oh, my God!"
she exclaimed. Her heart seemed to stop beatiing as she realized
what had happened.
In the distance, she could see Mulder on the ground, the Ripper
standing over him with a large knife.
"You couldn't leave me alone with my soiled doves, could you, Mulder.
No, Spooky Mulder couldn't mind his own business. My cousin tried to
take care of you, but you kept coming back. Now, I'm going to finish
you for good."
To Be Continued.....
Authors Notes:
The title of this story, Reign of Tears, was chosen for the sole reason
that the acronym would be ROT. This is my guilty pleasure. Please
accept this in the affectionate vein it was intended. I love this
stuff--read all I can find. But there are some cliches that keep
cropping up, and I tried to hit on a few. In the tradition of the
great stalled WIPs, this story will never be finished.
I blame several people--Sybil for setting the challenge out there and
Kel, who egged me on. Kel is solely responsible for Mulder's unfortunate
experience with antipyretics and their alternate administration. She
made me do that to him. I didn't want to.