TITLE: S. W. & 7 D’s (aka 7 Steps to Apple Pancakes).

AUTHOR: Triton

Email: triton-x@yahoo.com

or visit my little library at: http://www.oocities.org/triton-x/Fanfic

DATE: 22nd January, 2000

SUMMARY: Scully deals with an important aspect of her character, with a little help from a group of height-challenged, trouble making muses.

DISCLAIMER: X-Files, Mulder, Scully and all related characters belong to that amazing person called Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. I mean no infringement. I am just borrowing the characters briefly to have a play, to see what I can do with them while CC isn’t watching. He can have them back anytime he likes (although I reckon he doesn’t really want them back!! I want to believe that CC is out there reading every single fanfic that is posted, and enjoying the antics of his Mulder and Scully).

CATEGORY: ST and MSR themes.

RATING: R

SPOILERS: None whatsoever. I think.

ARCHIVE: Sure, Fine, Whatever!

NOTE: This ‘getting into the mood’ business is playing havoc with my private life. Three times today I have been told to ‘cheer-up’ - grrrrrrrrrrrr......... To visualise my Grumpy Dwarf, please note - he was nothing like the Disney fellow - he morphed into a stomping, grumbling image of Sidney from ‘T.F.W.I.D!"

This is Part Four of an expected Seven Part fanfic. Scully POV.

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Oh God!! Who invited ten million woodpeckers to party hard and play disco tunes inside her skull?

Scully groaned and pushed her head under the pillow. Unfortunately, the echoed thumping behind her ears now had no means of escape and provoked the smothered roar to focus and reverberate around her cranium.

"Argghhhh!" she grumbled, withdrawing her head from under its shroud. She rolled over onto her back, pressing her fingers against her temples.

The room had taken on a slight chill and since the thin sheet that once covered her was now twisted and disheveled, she could feel the goosebumps launching all the minute strands of hair over the exposed parts of her body.

Slowly she raised herself into a sitting position, waiting until the room stopped fragmenting before she attempted the next huge exertion. Sliding carefully down the side of the bed, she stood, faltering slightly. The walk towards the bathroom, in the dark, was unhurried. Moving at a faster pace jarred the brain matter, sloshing it against the hard cerebral bone. She paused briefly at the doorway, blindly reaching up to a hook on the back of the door to grab at a robe. Pulling it around her, she fumbled her way into the bathroom, heading instinctively towards her toiletries bag under the sink.

Pulling out a bottle of Advil, she popped two in her mouth. The tap yielded refreshingly cool water, which she cupped into her hands, firstly splashing some onto her face before tipping some to her lips to wash down the tablets.

This is when she also noticed that she had a cramp in her neck. Scully almost cried out in defeat. Looking at her dim reflection in the mirror, she considered her alternatives and the unexpected rationalisation that it would hurt her head more to pound it senselessly against the mirror forced her to wearily head back towards the bed, to safely take out her frustration on her pillow.

Halfway to her goal, she was distracted by a flickering blue light emanating from the living area of her apartment. Changing direction, she padded out into the next room, drawn towards the television set and the curled up body laying half asleep on the couch.

She stood looking down at Mulder, taking in the glasses perched upon his nose, the open folder containing the latest case notes, the empty coffee mug and the neat pile of sunflower seed casings on the coffee table.

This irritated her slightly and she grunted, making him aware of her presence. He turned to her and smiled, rearranging himself into a sitting position.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder’s voice was low and husky as he spoke, "how are you feeling now? Any sign of stiffness in the muscles?"

"Not really, just a bit of a headache and a neck cramp," she responded, a frown wrinkling her brow.

"Well, sit down and I’ll....." he began.

"No, Mulder, I’m fine. I get headaches all the time, no big deal," and she glared at him, daring him to contradict her.

Mulder narrowed his eyes, and studied her face. Leaning back to reach for the table lamp, he illuminated the area with light, then returned his gaze to scrutinise her.

"You’re so pale, Scully, and there is a puffiness around your eyes."

"You couldn’t think of anything nice to say?" she grumbled back.

"My, my! You are grumpy when you wake up!" he chided, which was not something Scully was in the mood to hear.

Mulder was really starting to piss her off, and his look of amusement wasn’t helping the matter. She glared at him and clenching her hands into fists, placed them onto her hips.

"Go home, Mulder. I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here, I am fully capable of looking after myself. Your incessant fussing over me makes me feel like some weak helpless victim! I only got hit by a bag of apples for crying out loud, nothing major, I don’t need you to watch over me like a sick child!" Scully stomped across the carpet until she was standing directly in front of him.

Silence. Then a terse "Scully...."

"Haven’t you got somewhere else you should be?"

Silence.

"Mulder, why are you still here?" she growled, losing patience again, tapping a foot in annoyance.

Silence.

Then a heavy sigh from Mulder. "Scully, how do you do this?"

"Do what, Mulder?"

Mulder stared intently into her eyes. "How can you, time after time, remain detached from the situation. You treat my wounds, you save my butt over and over, you look out for me, and indulge me my post-traumatic rambling’s. I have tried very hard tonight to repay the favour in kind and I had it fully under control until you came storming out here, verbally attacking me, berating me, accusing me of trying to weaken you, and all I want..."

"...are you listening to me, Mulder? You aren’t taking me seriously!"

"I’m trying to, Scully, but I can’t!"

"You can’t? Why? Because you don’t believe I am as strong as you, or is it because I don’t agree with you every time, because...?" The throbbing in Scully’s head had returned in earnest now.

"No, Scully, that is not what I am saying. I ALWAYS take you seriously. I respect you above all others, I respect your opinions, your views, your ideas and your professionalism. That is not the issue at hand. I am trying to tell you that I am having trouble taking this whole discussion seriously at this moment..."

"Oh?" Scully raised her voice in anger, "and why is that, Mulder? What could possibly ..."

"Scully! Please! It is your stance that is distracting me. Since you began this tirade, you have been standing directly in front of me, arms planted firmly on your hips...standing there stark naked in front of me."

There was a short uncomfortable pause while Scully glanced down, taking note of her lack of attire, drawing the robe closed.

"I am not naked, I am wearing a robe!" she countered with indignation.

"Not from where I am sitting, Scully. That scrap of fabric has no right to be referred to as a robe. It has hung unfettered from you the minute you started ranting at me - and I tried my best to look you directly in the eye and ignore the sight of your bare skin - but you kept moving..."

She drew herself up, feeling a pure white rage envelope her and readied herself to storm at him to protect her honour. As she threw her head up to glare at him, a mass of sparkles exploded in front of her eyes, a freezing cold wave washed over her head, the room tilted and Scully passed out cold.

END.