Title: Perceptions
Author: Mady Bay - mbay@binghamton.edu
Date: May 1, 1998
Rating: PG
Category: Angst
Disclaimers: Fox, 1013 and Chris Carter own them all. I get no monetary rewards from this ?.
Summary: Mulder and Scully have a difference of opinion, of sorts.

Author's note: This is my first time with this type of story. I've strayed from my Bad stories/titles. Somehow a Bad title would just be too cheesy for this one. PLEASE let me know what you think of this little diversion!

Perceptions, part one - Mulder

They got me. I don't know who. I don't know how. But here I am. I woke up a little while ago lying on a cold tile floor. I can't move. I feel dizzy. I don't know if I've been drugged or tied up, or both. I think I'm going to puke.

God, it's hot in here. The tile floor is cool on my face, but it's still hot in here. They must have taken me down south somewhere. It's still cold in DC. Scully? Do you know where I am? Are you looking for me?

"Scully?"

I think I've been here for a few days, judging by the light and dark periods I think I can remember. It's been kind of fuzzy. I haven't seen anybody. Why won't they show themselves? I'm so thirsty.

"Scully? Where are you?"

It hurts to move. They must have beaten me when they took me. I hope I put up a hell of a fight. It feels like I did. I wish I could remember. Oh God! I hope they don't have Scully too!

"Scully!"

Maybe that's why she hasn't come for me. Why she hasn't saved me.

"Scully!"

It's still hot. I'm still thirsty. I'm still puking. They still haven't shown themselves to me.

"What do you want from me! Scully! Don't you touch her!"

I'm losing it. I don't know if I can take this anymore. I dreamed about her today. She was going to come save me.

"But you bastards took her too! Didn't you?!"

"Mulder!"

Oh God, Scully!

"Leave her alone!"

"Mulder!"

"Don't you touch her!"

I fight them with all my strength. I'm hitting them. I'm kicking them. I'm biting them.

"Run Scully! Run!"

I can see them now.

"Scully!"

They're tying me down. They're drugging me. I can feel the needle stabbing my arm.

"What do you fucking want?!"

"Mulder!"

It's not hot anymore. I'm not on the cool tile floor anymore. I'm not puking anymore. I'm still thirsty. Three out of four isn't bad. I still can't remember what happened to me. Scully?

"Scully?"

"I'm here, Mulder."

I open my eyes. You're here. You're safe. You saved me.

Perceptions, part two, Scully

You were supposed to pick me up this morning. I told you yesterday afternoon that my car died. You said `no problem.' You're an hour late.

"Mulder."

You're not answering your phones. Did you forget about me? I took the bus to work. Spent time thinking of nasty names to call you. Couldn't decide. You weren't at the office. You ditched me again, didn't you?

"Mulder."

I went to your apartment. Thought I'd find some clue so I could chase after you. So I could save your ass. Again. Your car is still out front. I go in. I knock on the door.

"Mulder?"

I key in and call your name again.

"Mulder?"

I hear you calling my name from the bathroom.

"Scully?"

The door is locked. You're yelling at someone.

"Didn't you!?"

You sound sick. I call 911. You sound like you're fighting off someone. The paramedics arrive and we get the door off its hinges. I see you lying on tile floor, in a pool of bloody vomit.

"Mulder?!"

You start yelling again.

"Leave her alone!"

You're trying to protect me, even in feverish delirium.

"Mulder?"

"Don't you touch her!"

You're burning up. Oh, God. You're seizing. We tried to keep you from hurting yourself. You bit one of the paramedics.

"Run Scully! Run!"

They have to struggle with you to get you on the stretcher. Why are you fighting this Mulder?

"Scully!"

They have to strap you down so you don't hurt yourself or one of them again. They can finally start an IV now. You look dehydrated and your blood pressure is low.

"What do you fucking want?! "

"Mulder?"

Sometime after our conversation yesterday your appendix burst. Why didn't you tell me? You had to have been hurting when I called you. You collapsed on your bathroom floor. You almost died from the internal bleeding and the infection. Your fever spiked so high that you had seizures. I don't know how many. Two that I saw. So here I sit on a cool plastic chair next to your bed. I'm sorry about the nasty names I wanted to call you.

"Scully?"

"I'm here, Mulder."

You didn't forget about me. You didn't ditch me.

So, what do you think (I ask sheepishly)? Please send comments to Mady, mbay@binghamton.edu
Thanks!