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Title: Speechless in Scully's Care

Author: Pattie

Rated: PG-13.

Timeframe: Around Season 5.

Category: MA, SA, MT.

Feedback: Cooed over! Rare things are worth it.
patfiler2016@outlook.com

Archive: Already at Gossamer, hopefully the revised
version. Ask nicely and you may have it.


Mulder hadn't showed up at the office. It was
Tuesday, and he and Scully had a meeting with A.D.
Skinner to discuss the last case-a psychic's
kidnapping by an unsatisfied client.

Scully glanced at the clock on the office wall.
10:18 a.m. Mulder was usually first in and last out.
This was very unlike him. "Where are you?" she
wondered aloud. She picked up the office phone and
dialed his apartment. The phone rang eleven times
before she replaced the receiver.

Skinner's secretary reported he hadn't called in
sick. Instinctively, Dr. Dana Katherine Scully felt
her stomach churn in fear. Why? She signed out and
went to Mulder's apartment building.

He didn't answer the knock or her calling out his
name, so Scully used her key. She was frightened
by the sight of the ever energetic Mulder slumped
in his bathtub, tears draining from his eyes.
Tears? Mulder? What on earth could have affected
him so utterly that there was a sense of desperation
surrounding this man?

"Mulder! Mulder? What's wrong?" She knelt beside
the bathtub and peered straight into his eyes, so
sad and helpless. Helpless? "Can you speak, Mulder?"

The man raised his right hand and passed it
horizontally in the air, then made a zero with his
fingers pinched together. "Nahhh... nahh... ?" So, he
had no command of speech, he was grasping for basic,
short sounds. This was, to Scully, frightening.

"Okay. Take it easy." She felt his pulse and checked
his respirations, then checked for pupil reaction.
"I'm going to get you out of the tub and we're going
to the hospital, okay?"

His eyes said yes. They also said he was afraid. They
even said he disliked hospitals. These things she knew
because she had become so keenly attuned to his
non-verbal language, as he had to hers.

Her eyes stung with hot, salty tears as she dialed
9-1-1. If what she suspected was correct, timing was
of the utmost importance. To hell with meetings, cases,
the office and nameless bumps in the night. This was
her priority now. "Please, God, don't let it be as
severe as it could be..." she softly prayed.

Mulder noticed the tears and cried a bit more. "No...
no... " he whispered hoarsely. And that was the last
that came out of his mouth as she dressed him and waited
for the paramedics.

Skinner had been waiting in the ER hallway as Scully and
the other doctors carefully examined Mulder."How is he?"
He asked softly. "He is okay, isn't he?"

Scully removed her rubber gloves. There was a sadness in
her eyes that betrayed her feelings. "Mulder has
sustained a right-sided CVA. A stroke. The scans say
it was a mild one. But he has lost most of his speech,
likely some memory, although we do not know just yet to
what extent, and his left side is partially paralyzed.
And, he... we... we need a few weeks off, Sir. I want
to help him with his recovery."


"That's quite an undertaking for you, Agent Scully.
And we could use you at the Bureau. Frankly, I don't
know if I can spare you. I was going to assign both of
you to a case outside of... "

"Sir, please, as a friend..."

Skinner could not deny his fondness for his friends, and
the look on Scully's face. "Done. And Agent Scully?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Bring him back... like he was."

"Thank you, Sir." She felt herself begin to cry. "I will
do my best." She feigned a weak smile. "You can see him
tonight."

"I will. I will," he assured the petite red head. "I'm...
needed at the office."

Mulder was in the hospital for three weeks and Scully was
by his side every day, reading his mail, updating him on
the news and current affairs, stimulating him in almost any
way she could to keep him from going stir crazy. She even went
to his physiotherapy sessions to learn how to help him regain
the skills he had lost: short-term memory, use of his right
arm, even speech. She practiced with him through each
exercise and smiled when, one sunny morning, he turned and
said, "Scul.... Scu... "

"Good! Good!" She exclaimed. "Yes, Scu--lly." Her smile was
broad and she wanted to dance for joy.

"Scully." Mulder smiled slightly, ever so slightly. He saw
the clock and tried to say something more. "Lu-- luntch...
sss... s-soon... B...b-b-barff-ee..."

"Mulder! You are amazing!" She cupped her hands over his
face and kissed him hard on the forehead. "You should be
out soon. And no home care for you. I will be there for
you."

"No-no---"

"Yes, Mulder. I should have seen this stroke coming when
your last cholesterol test read high. I should have never
let you keep eating all those-those things that made it so
easy for me to almost lose you. And I should have gone
jogging with you that night you asked, that night before
the stroke."

"Not-- not f-f-fault."

"No, not my fault. But maybe as your doctor I could have
seen it coming." She held his hand. "Okay. Barfy lunch,
then you go to CAT scan and hematology. You're getting
there, partner."

Mulder glanced down at Scully's legs.

"What, Mulder? What?"

"C-c-can't whistle. Nice l-l-legs... "

"Thanks. But I'm warning you, Mulder, if you weren't so
sick, I'd have to slap you for that."

This alone made his day. It made him smile. She was
there for him all through this damnably frustrating
predicament, and she would be there for the days ahead.

Discharge day finally came. The hoaky cards Frohike,
Langley and Byers had sent, the flowers, the books and
plants were all ready to leave, as was the impatient
patient Mulder. He was still trying to move his weak arm
and grimacing at the fact that his left leg was not quite
in command yet. The biggest insult was the diet the doctors
had given him, and cutting down on even the basic things
like pizza and sunflower seeds was an insult! "Nuts! No
nuts! No...b-b-butter on p-p-pop---corn. Sucks!" These
were his comments as Scully was packing the rest of his
belongings.

"Well, Mulder, you are paying the price for all the fast
foods. But, you CAN have them in moderation... with me.
Let's get you out of here before you corrupt the other
patients with your comments. Doctor Scully will be on call
for you twenty-four hours a day."

Mulder smiled. "You d-do care. G-g-good friend. Home,
Scull-ly. Please."

Scully was more than happy to wheel him to the lobby,
where the Lone Gunmen were waiting to load him into their
van. The boxes of things were loaded, and off they were to
his apartment.

Scully had already moved some of her belongings there, so
there was no need to stop off in Georgetown.

The next few weeks were challenging for both Mulder and
Scully. Mulder had always been so active, athletic and on
the go. Sleep? Not much more than four hours was his usual
routine, but Scully insisted he use a sleeping tablet to
help the healing processes the sleep would bring. There was
no more watching late night creature features, either. The
T.V. was off by 11:00 p.m. and so was Scully. She had brought
an inflatable mattress to sleep near the couch where Mulder
was. What bothered the patient slightly was the missed
chance to watch his favorite... the movies Scully was not fond
of.

The physiotherapy exercises, the check-ups at the hospital,
the cholesterol readings, the new anti-coagulant he had to take-
all these things were a pain in the neck. Yet, he knew there was
a light at the end of the tunnel. And it came one Tuesday
morning.

Mulder had been used to Scully's help dressing and caring for
himself. This day was the day Mulder took a huge leap of
faith.

Scully was still asleep, and he hobbled to the bathroom for
his morning routine. "Yes!" he shouted, as he found his left
arm much stronger, more able to move. "Yes!" Again, he found
that he was beginning to speak much more clearly. His enthusiasm
woke Scully as he shaved and shouted "Yes!"

"Mulder, I told you... "

"It's... it's okay, Scully. I'm getting so much better, it's
time for jogging and basketball again."

"Now, wait, Mulder. Until your specialist says... "

"You're the only specialist I trust, Scully. Tell me, Exercise
is good for me, and the cholesterol is down... "

"Well, yes... "

"And you said yourself, the blood viscosity has normalized... "

"Yes, Mulder. You've improved amazingly these past few weeks... "

Mulder took her face in his hands and leaned into her to gaze
at her teary eyes. "Then dismiss me as your patient and let's
get back to work, okay?" He found her strangely silent.
"What's wrong?"

"Nothing... " She bit her lip, and that was a sign that she
was holding something back. Mulder knew that.

"What is it?" he smiled. "Wanna play house for a while
longer?"

"I never did," she said cautiously. "It's just... that night
you asked me to go jogging and I didn't go with you."

"You can't blame yourself for that, Scully. I had the stroke
here. Right here in my home."

"And I knew your bloodwork had read dangerous levels of
cholesterol." She was on the brink of sobbing. "I guess I felt
responsible for not being there, for not telling you to ease
up... "

He pressed his cheek to hers and his arms enveloped her. "I
doubt you could have stopped me from falling... The bigger
they are, the harder they fall, you know?"

"I guess you are ready for work, then." She happily wiped a
tear from her face. "I'll let you get showered and dressed,
then. I can pack... "

"Maybe a few more days of home cooking wouldn't be so bad,
after all. Think you could stand me for one more week or so?
Just to make sure I adhere to the doctor's orders, of
course."

"Yeah," she said happily, as she closed the bathroom door.
"Better than the past five years in that dark office."



Author's Note: Dedicated to Shri1.