TITLE: Meeting This Way AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$ FEEDBACK: arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au RATING: PG SPOILERS: none CLASSIFICATION: AU, UST SUMMARY: If Dana Scully had stayed in medicine... AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, I know. But I've always wanted to do one of these AU boy-meets-girl stories! Medical details were researched but I'm not an expert so don't nitpick too closely, kay? --> http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ Meeting This Way by aRcaDIaNFall$ JULY 1993 The light was in my eyes, flashing. Noises, voices, a disconcordant buzz swelling around me. Faces peering down at me, fingers prodding, pulling, the sharp stabbing of a needle, and the pain... It was gutwrenching, literally. Waves of it, searing up, so unimaginably terrible. One voice rose above the buzz, a woman's clear, commanding tones. Acronyms thrown across the table, orders barked sharply. FAST is positive. No diffuse peritonitis. He's hemodynamically unstable. Start uncrossmatched blood. Somebody notify the OR. How are his vitals? Hang two more liters. Don't just stand there, do it! Who's paying attention? I groaned, feeling the fog of Demerol setting in. My eyelids fluttered closed, blocking out the bright light. "Mr Mulder, can you hear me?" I forced my eyes open, already feeling groggy as I looked into a set of blue eyes. Beautiful blue, so beautiful... "Mr Mulder, you've sustained an intra-abdominal injury. We're taking you up to the OR. Do you understand me?" I groaned again, closest as I could come to constructing an answer. My heavy eyelids dropped closed again and, drained of energy, I felt myself succumbing to the gentle blackness. But at the thought of those clear blue eyes I struggled to stay conscious. "Mulder," I mumbled, words slurred. "Call me Mulder." MARCH 1994 I'd been waiting almost two hours and was about ready to grab needle and thread and stitch myself up when a nurse finally called my name. Pulling my stiff body from the moulded waiting room chairs, I was led along the corridor to a suture room and directed inside. Cautiously flexing the fingers of my injured hand, I didn't even notice the doctor let herself into the room. "Mr Mulder, I'm Doctor Scully." She snapped on the latex gloves. "Sit down and we'll take a look at your hand." I obeyed. I'd seen her moving around the ER as I'd waited, dealing with everything from minor cases to traumas that came through the doors, chastising idle nurses at the front desk. Fast-moving, barking orders with a demanding authority; it was overall an intimidating prospect to be left alone with her. But, then again, she was also an attractive woman, and this was a field I had considerable experience in. A short, slim redhead, her hair drawn back in a clip, a stethescope slung around her neck, badge dangling from the pocket of her white coat. Dr Dana Scully. Under the coat a deep blue shirt, black slacks and black sneakers. A glint of gold around her neck, a matching watch on her left wrist as she examined the deep cut. "Wiggle your fingers for me. Again." A gentle, knowing touch. "Okay, I can't see any tendon damage. Any pain? Okay, that's good. I'm going to give you lidocaine to anesthetize the laceration now and then stitch you up. Do you know if you've ever had any adverse reactions to anesthetic?" I shook my head. Something in her voice stirred my recollection and I looked more closely at her. Aside from that brief first introduction, though, she hadn't made eye contact. Not so much a lack of social skills, I thought, as just a brisk professionalism. It was a busy night in the ER, and the quicker I was treated and sent on my way home, the quicker she got to the next patient. She collected supplies and pulled up a stool, taking my hand again and laying it flat, reaching for the anesthetic. Machoism prevented me from anything more than wincing as she anesthetized and cleaned the cut, talking me through the process in something somewhere between medical and layman's terms. Her face downturned as she worked and the red hair not giving me any clues, I searched my memory for a match on voice alone. Not recently but not too long ago, either. Yelling orders? Or was I confusing that with earlier today? No, I remembered... It clicked. The beginning of this year, at DC General. "You saved my life." She looked up, and those blue eyes, though immediately familiar to me, registered only bemusement. "It's only a cut." "Not this. Last year. I was... the 'intra-abdominal injury', I think you called it. DC General. July. You kept calling me Mr Mulder." Still bemused, quizzical. "What should I have been calling you?" "Mulder. Just Mulder." At that, finally, a glimmer of recognition. "Right. I think I do remember, now." She smiled, amused now. "You're back in one piece, I see." "Thanks to you." Another quick smile, lips curled up tolerantly. She started to suture and I looked away at first, stomach turning. Not wanting to give up on the conversation, though, I turned back, focusing my gaze on her again down-turned face. She was stifling a yawn with her sleeve. Perfect introduction, I thought. "You look tired. Long day?" "End of a double shift." "When do you finish?" "Two." And that was the end of that conversation. I sat in the silence for a few moments, watching her, trying to think of something to say. She yawned again. "Don't fall asleep on me, hey?" I grinned, my most charming, boyish grin. "Maybe we should talk to keep you awake." She glanced up at me, smiling. "The nurses warned me about you." "What about me?" "That you were going to hit on me." "What have I possibly done so far that could be construed as hitting on you?" She only smiled again, returning her attention to the suturing. I stole a cautious glance. Neat, even stitches. "Nice job. Can't believe they've got such a talented woman hidden away doing stitches." She ignored that. "How did you get hurt?" "Cut myself on some metal chasing a suspect through a scrapyard." "Did you catch him?" "Her. Yeah. She's being processed as we speak." "What about the last time, at DC General? Was that -?" "In the line of duty? Yeah." She glanced at me, curious. "Do you enjoy being an FBI agent?" "Yeah, I guess..." I re-evaluated. "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like the whole world is against me, not a single person in my side." "Must be hard. You don't have a work partner?" "Currently? Nope. They've tried me with a couple of agents but nothing's stuck. I think I scared them off. Or, at least, my reputation did." "Your reputation?" Amused interest. "Resident nutball. 'Spooky' Mulder." "I see. What earned you that?" I ignored the question. "I was watching you in action, before. You ever thought of a career change? You could kick the butts of most agents I've been partnered with." Another smile. "The FBI? My dad would have a heart attack." "Can't always do just what the parents want." She shook her head. "No, medicine was my choice." "You like being a doctor?" "Yeah. I do. I majored in forensic pathology but... I don't know. I needed a change, a challenge. They had a temporary placement in the ER at DC so I took the chance. They offered me a permanent position here and I took it. Overworked, underpaid..." I grinned. "Sounds like my job." "Except that we're only armed with stethescopes." She gestured to the Smith and Wesson at my side. It fell silent again. Steering myself, I glanced again at my hand. She was almost done. Quick, competent worker. "So, Doctor Dana Scully," I pushed ahead, "You're not married." "That's a pretty big assumption to make. And isn't there some more traditional pickup line you charmers hand out?" I grinned again. "I'm not your usual charmer. So..." I hazarded, stealing another glance at her ringless hand, "you are married?" "No. I'm not." I noted the delicate gold watch as she reached for the antibiotic ointment. It looked new. "In a relationship?" She looked up at me, eyebrow raised as her eyes met mine. "I don't think that's any of your business," she answered coolly. She was enjoying this parry, I thought. This woman was something different. "Ahhhh.." I'd heard that one before. "You are, but you're looking to dump the guy. Problem is, he keeps lavishing gifts upon you." I indicated the watch. Poise unshaken, she seemed only more amused. "Actually, this was a gift from my mother. As for the relationship, as I said..." She gave me an ambiguous smile, taped the gauze bandage closed and peeled off her gloves. "You're done now, Mr Mulder." "Just Mulder," I corrected her. She scribbled on the chart, then rose. "You can change the bandages every morning after forty-eight hours and come back to get the stitches out in a week." Brief smile. "It's been interesting meeting you again, Mulder. Don't come back." JANUARY 1996 One thing I was certain of, it was that I would be sore as hell tomorrow morning. Unlike my last half-dozen visits to the ER, I didn't have the opportunity to scour the staff whiteboard as soon as I arrived. My fate seemed decided when an aging physician took charge, ordering a CT and checking for broken bones or other injuries. I protested that I was fine, hadn't lost consciousness at all, but only after the usual set of tests clearing me of spinal damage was the neck collar removed and I was allowed to sit up. Just as I'd resigned myself to another disappointment, in came Doctor Scully. "Joanie Martin's results are back, Roger." She handed him an envelope. "I'll take over here." I grinned at her, a little sheepishly. She seemed amused to see me again, that cool smile quirking her lips. "You're back, Mulder." I was pleased that she remembered me. It had been almost two years, and she must have seen thousands of patients. She flicked quickly through the charts as the nurse gave her the rundown. She nodded, dismissing the nurse. "Looks like you've been seeing other doctors." I grinned. "They were all old and ugly." No surprise, she didn't respond. The comment had been a little juvenile. She put the chart down and started quizzing me on the pain, hands roaming over my body in search of injuries, prodding gently. "X-rays will confirm it, but I think you broke a rib. You've got some grazing along your side here, too. What happened this time?" "Collision with a moving car," I answered briefly, more interested in gazing at her than hearing about the injuries of this latest round. She'd lost a little weight, I thought. Looked older - not old, but older, more mature. Still fit. Pity she was wearing the lab coat, it hid her figure. Funny, I usually fell for leggy brunettes or blondes. I shifted uncomfortably as she started to clean the grazes. I was sure somebody else could be doing that job, but if she didn't mind... "So, fill me in." "On what?" "What happened since we left off last time. You dumped the boyfriend, and then-?" She gave me a look of amused disdain. "This really is none of your business." "So, humour me. Don't people always say it's easier to confide in a stranger?" "Hmmph." I smiled, knowing I was winning her over. "So, are you in a relationship now?" "Maybe." "Is it serious?" "Maybe." "How serious?" "He's going to propose." "And that's a bad thing?" She glanced up at me, summing me up, before she admitted, "I don't think I'll say yes." "Sounds like somebody's scared of commitment," I taunted playfully. The smile returned, amused tolerance. "I don't see a ring on your finger." "Nah." Not any more, at least. "Of course, that could just be that I haven't found the right woman." "Sounds like somebody's scared of commitment," she mimicked back at me dryly. I grinned. A nurse returned with x-rays. I watched as Doctor Scully drew them from the manilla envelope and held them up to the light. "Broken rib." She pointed to the x-ray. The next five minutes was purely technical and I listened dutifully to the instructions. Take Tylenol for the pain. Deep breathing exercises. Some elastic contraption that was supposed to ease the pain. Discomfort was expected to decrease over the next two weeks. No strenuous activity for eight weeks. "And come back in forty-eight hours for a follow-up," she finished, closing the chart. "Are you going to be here?" "Wednesday's my day off. Sorry." "What about Thursday?" "I'm presenting a paper on emergency room ethics and administration." "Sounds thrilling," I said dryly. She was unruffled. "Goodbye, Mr Mulder." "Mulder," I corrected. A smile. "Sorry. Mulder." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Why does that matter so much?" "Mr Mulder is my dad's name." "But why Mulder?" "You try being taken seriously with a name like Fox." An acknowledging smile. She nodded. "Mulder it is." She reached for the door, pushing it open, then pausing. "Take care of yourself, Mulder." I nodded. "Good luck with the presentation." For a second I thought she looked genuinely pleased at the thought, the tough barriers lowered. "Thanks," she said gently, and she pushed through the doorway and was gone. MARCH 1996 Floating in that land between sleep and wakefulness, I wasn't so much alarmed by the cacophany of hospital noises as I was intrigued by the faint scent that mingled with the usual mix of disinfectant, death and flowers. Struggling to open my eyes, the first of my injuries was apparent. My right eye was swollen shut and my nose, too, seemed to be twice the usual size, and painfully tender to the touch. But that didn't stop me from turning my head on the pillow and focusing on the figure on the chair by my bed. Well, well, well... "Doctor Scully." She smiled. "Agent Mulder. We have to stop meeting this way." "What are you doing here?" "I heard they brought you in. Thought I'd come see how you were. You took a beating. I thought I told you to take care of yourself." Playful berating edged with gentle concern. Trying to move, I groaned. My right shoulder felt stiff and sore, my chest hurt. My head spun for a second with the pain. "Hey, take it easy." She grabbed an extra pillow and helped me upright, pouring a tumbler of water and wrapping my hand around it, holding it steady as I took a sip. "How long was I out for?" "Couple of hours." "And what's the diagnosis, Doctor Scully?" "Nose fracture, periorbital ecchymoisis, shoulder dislocation and a minor blow to the head. Must've been one nasty fight." "Another day at the office." She reached to tug the blanket straight and I caught her hand, examining the fingers. "No ring. He hasn't proposed yet, or-?" She heaved a breath. "We made a mutual decision to go our separate ways." "Before or after the proposal?" "Before." "And by 'before' you mean, what, an hour before you were due at your favourite restaurant where he'd ordered a romantic candlelit dinner, violinist and a dozen red roses?" "No. He was starting to plan for six months down the track and I told him not to make assumptions, which got him angry and - Why am I telling you all this, anyway?" "Did I mention I was a psychologist?" "No, actually, you didn't." "I'm a psychologist." A smile. She wasn't the sort of woman who smiled too easily, I thought. Maybe that was why I was trying to hard to impress and amuse her. I wanted her to like me. It was that childishly simple. "You're telling me all this," I dictated, "because you value my opinion." "I hardly know you." "You know me better than most." She turned the conversation around deftly. "Speaking of you, the nurses said you haven't had any visitors." I shrugged, then winced at the pain that spiralled through me. Deep, slow breath. "I guess I don't have many friends left." "Don't you get lonely?" Another shrug, this time within the limitations of my mobility. "Sometimes it's lonelier in a relationship." She went quiet, and I read her unguarded face. "I guess." A pause, still deep in thought. "I think I did the right thing. But I don't know. Maybe I'm being too picky." "Well, I'm not the expert, but if you weren't in love with him.." "I guess," she said again. She heaved a sigh, then shook herself a little, as if realising for the first time what she was admitting. "I should go. I'm supposed to be down in the ER." "When do I get out of here?" "You were unconscious so they'll want to hold you tonight for observation." "What about you?" "What about me?" "When do you get out of here?" "I just started my shift, so I'm here til six tomorrow morning." "Spring me and we'll do breakfast. My shout." I gave her my best boyish grin. Another smile. "There's rules against that, you know." "You're not my doc this time. C'mon, breakfast on me." "I'll be going home to crash. Besides, the last thing you're going to want to be doing all beat up is eating in public." I wasn't giving up that easily. She wanted to be won over. I could see it in the twinkle in her eyes. She liked a challenge, and I was a challenge. I pouted, knowing that with all my bruises I must be a pitiful sight. "That sounds like a brush-off." "It's not." She grabbed a notepad and pen and scribbled on it, then handed me the page. "That's my home number." "You know, I could be a psychopath." "I'll take my chances." She stood, taking my hand and giving it a quick squeeze. Oh yeah. She liked me. "I've got to get back to work. Got lives to save." "I *will* call you," I warned. Smile. "See you soon, Mulder." "Goodbye, Doctor Dana Scully." She paused, a sort of gently-malicious playfulness in her smile. "Call me Scully." fin. ===== : VISIT aRcaDIaNFall$' X-FILES FANFIC : http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ http://my.yahoo.com.au - My Yahoo! - It's My Yahoo! 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