Title: Dictionary Author: Waddles 52 Summary: Mulder was on crutches at the end of Fallen Angel. Just a little look at how he coped with the injury in the first few days. Spoilers: Post-ep for Fallen Angel Rating: PG Category: MT Disclaimer: Just for Fun. Not for Profit. No copyright infringement intended. Archives: After_The_Fact, others okay, just let me know where so I can visit. Feedback: Why, of course. Waddles52@wmconnect.com Dedication: For Sally B., one of my all-time favorite authors. This foot injury is for you! Finally, they were released by the military just in time to make their flight back to DC. The meeting with the OPR could not be avoided and they would have just enough time to shower and change clothes before heading to the office. Mulder had been limping ever since he came out of the warehouse and if Scully's tired eyes weren't deceiving her, it seemed to be getting worse. "Mulder, what's wrong? Where does it hurt, exactly?" "Scully, my entire body is a mass of pain. Between our friendly military goons and my wild flight when Max was taken, I have bruises on my bruises. My right foot hurts like blazes though. I guess I twisted it when I landed. I'll be okay. After the meeting with the OPR, I'm sure I'll have a few days to rest and let it heal," Mulder answered sarcastically. "I'm sure you will. Mulder, you've got to stop these impulsive forays in search of the truth. You're only hurting your cause. For every step forward you manage to get knocked back two more." "Scully, I've been lectured to death. Let's just get to the airport and get this over with," he sighed and started limping toward their car. "All right, Mulder, but you really need to have your injuries checked out," she insisted. "I'll check them out when I take my shower." Scully decided to let the subject drop as they got into their rental car for the trip to the airport. Mulder managed to sleep most of the way home. Scully had to rouse him when she pulled in front of his apartment. "Do you want me to pick you up later?" Scully asked as Mulder gingerly moved from his seat. "No. Don't worry. I'll be there on time. I'll see you later," he promised as he shut the car door and slowly made his way up the steps. He held on to the rail and took one step at a time. Scully watched him until he was inside, then pushed the gas pedal to the floor to get back to her apartment for a quick shower before the meeting. Mulder closed his door and began pulling off his clothes, letting them drop to the floor as he made his way through his apartment. When he removed the boot from his right foot he was greeted with varying shades of black and blue. He could feel the swelling begin as soon as the boot was off. He ignored the pain and continued to strip until he was in front of the bathroom. After a quick shower and shave he began to get dressed. His foot was screaming for attention and he finally quit ignoring it when he realized the swelling had become so great that he couldn't get a shoe on. "This will make quite an impression with the vultures on the committee," he thought as he limped to the closet and began to search for the crutches he knew were stashed there after spraining his ankle in a pick-up basketball game. Of course, they were in the back. By the time he dug the crutches out and finished dressing, he knew he would have to make a trip to the ER when the meeting adjourned. Mulder made his way to the medicine cabinet and found some ibuprofen. He swallowed three and hoped for some relief. Surprise, then sympathy registered on Scully's face as she left the conference room. Mulder rose from his seat to greet her. "Do you hear that sound, Scully?" he asked as he grabbed his crutches from where they had been resting against the wall. Hammer and nails. They're building a gallows in the town square. Don't worry." Scully handed him a large envelope with the information he had gathered. "It was only a matter of time. I'm surprised I lasted this long." "Good luck." Mulder began hobbling toward the conference room. He gave her a crooked grin and stated, "I'll break a leg." Mulder continued to make his way to the conference room as Scully sat down to wait for her partner. At least he was still her partner at that very moment, but she wasn't sure how much longer that would continue. Scully feared the worst when she heard the angry voices all the way in the hallway. After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and Mulder limped into the hallway, his face drawn and pale. Scully stood up and began to walk along with him. "They'll let me know what they've decided by five this evening," he sighed. "Could we sit for a few minutes, Scully?" "Of course." She watched as he carefully sat down, then she took the seat beside him. "Mulder, you don't look so good." "I don't feel very well," he admitted. "My foot was so swollen by the time I finished my shower that I couldn't get my shoe on. I had to call a cab to get me here and I think I'll call another one to take me home to wait for their decision." "Mulder, since I'm waiting too, why don't you let me take you home? A stop by the emergency room on the way is included," she emphasized. "I thought you'd never ask," he groaned. "That bad, huh?" "Way past bad, into excruciating," he winced as he tried to move his foot. "Let me get my purse from the office and I'll meet you by the elevator." "Sounds like a plan. I may be able to make it there by the time you're ready." "If not, I'll wait for you," Scully extended her hand and Mulder took it, glad for the help. By the time Mulder had positioned himself in the passenger seat of Scully's car, he was beginning to feel decidedly green. The pain had become so intense that he was beginning to feel quite nauseated. The ibuprofen he had taken on an empty stomach was starting to add to the problem. He rolled his window down a bit and hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself. Scully took notice of the situation right away. "Mulder, I've been collecting butter tubs and ice cream buckets for my godson's school project. Mom just gave me a bunch the other day and I haven't delivered them yet. They're on the floor behind you so feel free to use one if your stomach feels any worse." "Thanks," he mumbled as his long arm reached behind his seat and snagged an ice cream bucket, hoping it wouldn't be needed. A few blocks from the hospital Mulder began to think that he might just make it when Scully had to maneuver around a road crew repairing potholes. The smell of the hot asphalt was all it took to send his stomach into convulsions as it emptied itself of anything he had put into it for the past year, or so it seemed. "Sorry, Scully," he tried to apologize between heaves. "That's okay, Mulder, I'm a doctor, remember? I got over my aversion to stomach contents my first few days in gross anatomy. I saw quite a bit of it emerge from my fellow students, and I'm sorry to say, some of my own." "Really, Scully?" Mulder hiccupped as his stomach began to settle. "Yes, really, Mulder. After the first few days I became immune to the sights and smells. I don't have a problem with it now," she answered as she pulled into the circular drive in front of the ER. Scully got out of the car and opened Mulder's door. "Wait here while I get a wheelchair," she directed as she took the bucket from his hands and handed him a tissue. She soon had him checked in and waiting in a cubicle. The ER wasn't busy at all on a weekday afternoon. The nurse had removed Mulder's sock and had gone to get an ice pack. Scully was conducting her own exam. "What do you think, Doc?" Mulder asked, his voice still sounding rather weak. "I think you've done quite a number on your foot. I'd be willing to bet that there's a fracture hiding in there somewhere." "Can this day get any better?" Mulder groaned. "I also wouldn't be surprised if you didn't end up with an IV for a while. Your BP was a little low. I think the intense pain is making you a little shocky." "No IV! Hate 'em!" Mulder protested. "The good thing about an IV is that they can give you medication without sticking you over and over. I'm guessing you'll probably get a hefty dose of Demerol and Phenergan, or maybe morphine." "There is nothing good about a needle, Scully," Mulder complained, rubbing his stomach. "Unless they're taking it out or putting it in someone else." He let out his breath slowly, then motioned for one of the emesis bowls sitting on the counter. Scully sprang into action just in time to prevent a catastrophe as Mulder's stomach began to empty itself of the previous year's contents. The doctor came in followed by the nurse who was holding an icepack. "Well, Mr. Mulder, I won't ask how you feel. I think that's pretty obvious." He glanced at Mulder's foot. "I'll bet that hurts. I'm going to order an IV with some meds for your nausea and pain, then I'll be back to examine you when you're feeling a little better." The nurse placed the ice pack on Mulder's foot then followed the doctor out the door. Scully emptied the emesis bowl and rinsed it out, then helped Mulder clean up. "I imagine you'll have to change into a hospital gown." "You've been right about everything so far. Why not?" he moaned. "That's pretty much standard procedure with an IV," she sympathized. "Anything to cause more pain." "If that's what you're worried about, they could cut your clothes off," she suggested. "I'll suffer through it," he growled as the nurse came back with the IV set-up and a gown. "Mr. Mulder . . ." "I know, I know. Put on the gown." "You got it. I'll be right back as soon as I get your meds." Scully shook the gown out. Would you like some help, or can you manage on your own?" A few minutes later Mulder was wearing the gown over his pants and Scully was very carefully pulling his right leg over his injured foot. Mulder groaned and hissed a few times but eventually his pants were removed. He lay shivering on the gurney as Scully looked for a sheet to put over him. As if on cue, the nurse entered with the meds and a blanket right out of the warmer, which she spread over Mulder's shivering form. "I'll dance at your wedding," Mulder offered in thanks. "I'm getting married in a month and from the looks of that foot, I don't think you'll make it," the nurse countered. "Uh . . ." "I'm teasing, Mr. Mulder," she laughed as she put the tourniquet around his left forearm. She searched for and found a suitable vein in his hand, then warned, "You'll feel a bee sting." She deftly injected the numbing medication then readied the IV catheter. "Ready?" "Why do I have to get stuck twice?" he whined. "You won't feel this one. I promise." True to her word, the needle slid right in with only a feeling of pressure. In a few short seconds she had everything taped down and hooked up. Soon the saline solution was flowing in, making him shiver once again. "I know. It's cold at first, but in a few seconds you should adjust. I'm going to add the meds the doctor ordered and you should start feeling a lot better." "What are you giving him?" Scully inquired. "Demerol and phenergan," the nurse answered, emptying the first hypodermic into the port. "Here comes the Demerol. You might get a little rush out of it," she warned. "Bring it on," Mulder said tiredly. The nurse finished up and left to find the doctor. "So, what's next?" Mulder asked. "What do you mean?" "You've predicted everything so far, so what's next?" "Oh, I think the doctor will come in and do a hands on examination, then order x-rays." "That's gonna hurt," he slurred. "I would imagine so. Be thankful your meds are already on board." The doctor came in and asked the usual questions and poked and prodded Mulder's foot. The standard x-rays were ordered and soon Mulder was dozing on the x-ray table. After he was awakened for some rather painful maneuvering to get his foot in the right position, Mulder was sent back to his cubicle to wait for the doctor to deliver the results. Within five minutes the doctor was back, holding the film. "Mr. Mulder, I see at least two hairline fractures in your foot. There may be more but the swelling is so intense it's difficult to tell. I'm going to put you in a light cast until you can get to a specialist. You'll need to use crutches until you're seen by the orthopedic doctor. It's not a walking cast," he emphasized. "Yeah, okay," Mulder agreed, then dozed off again. The doctor laughed and turned to Scully. "You can fill him in when he sobers up." Shortly before 5 o'clock, Scully helped Mulder into his apartment. He headed for the couch while Scully surveyed the trail of clothes that started at the door and continued through the apartment. She came to her senses and told Mulder that he needed to be in bed. "Scully, this is my bed." "Okaaay," she answered, drawing out the word, a look of disbelief on her face. "Do you have any extra pillows?" "Hall closet," he directed. Scully turned to get them as her cell phone rang. Mulder heard several yes sirs and no sirs and then he heard his partner explaining his condition. He raised up on his elbows and heard her close the conversation with, "I'll tell him, sir." "That was the OPR board. They've been trying to reach you all afternoon." "Yeah, I left my cell in the charger. Didn't think I'd need it. How long do I have to clean out my desk?" he asked, the sarcasm quite evident in his voice. "You don't have to. You're expected back at the office as soon as your doctor releases you," Scully smiled. "I must be more out of it than I thought. Did I hear you say that I still have a job?" "That's right, Mulder. No repercussions. Carry on as before," she called to him as she rummaged around in his closet. She finally located the pillows and put them under Mulder's right leg. "You need to keep your foot elevated. Do you have plenty of food and drink?" "I don't remember what I have, to tell the truth," he sighed as he tried to get comfortable. "I'll take a look," Scully offered and went into the kitchen. He could hear her opening and closing cabinets and drawers. After a few minutes Scully returned, a look of disgust on her face. "Mulder, your refrigerator should be declared a toxic waste dump!" "You don't like my science projects?" he quipped. "I think some of those growths may be older than I am. Other than the green and gray stuff, I found a box of crackers, a can of tuna and an opened carton of orange juice that expired two weeks ago," she fumed. "I'm doing better than I thought." He tried to laugh but it ended in a groan as he accidentally wiggled the toes on his sore foot. "Mulder, would you like for me to go to the pharmacy and get your prescription for painkillers filled? I could stop and pick up a few things from the grocery on my way back." "Scully, I've put you out enough these past few days. If you could just drop off the prescription at the pharmacy, they'll deliver it. I can call the corner market for supplies. They deliver too." "I don't mind, Mulder." "Thanks, Scully, but I think I can manage." "Well, if you're sure." "Scully, I'm sure." He pulled the prescription from his shirt pocket and held it out for her. "I'm just going to lie here and watch a little TV." "All right, Mulder. I'll drop this off." She looked around until she found his phone. She put it on the coffee table, within easy reach. "You be sure to call in that food order. I'll stop by before I go to the office in the morning." "Scully, that's not necessary." "Mulder, I don't want to hear it. Expect me by 7:30. Got it?" "Got it." "Now, just let me put your crutches along side the couch and I'm out of here." "Thanks for putting up with me today. I appreciate it." "Not a problem, Mulder. Call me if you need me and get some food in here." He nodded and she left, the door closing with a sharp click. Mulder laid back and started thinking of what groceries he should order from the corner mart when a thought occurred to him. Once the groceries were delivered, how would he put them away? No way would it work on crutches. He could hop but he still had enough Demerol in his system that he would probably fall. Screw it! He would just order a pizza and a two liter. Scully would be pissed but he would just have to give into her and let her get the damned groceries tomorrow. Thinking seemed to make his foot hurt even more. Where was that pharmacy delivery? In answer to his thought, there was a knock on the door. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled to the door. He was so happy to see the delivery boy that he was tempted to hug him, but gave him a ten dollar tip instead. He took his treasured bag from the pharmacy into the kitchen and searched for a clean glass. He found one and filled it with tap water. Without even reading the directions he popped two tablets in his mouth and washed them down with a full glass of water. The medications he'd received at the hospital had really made his mouth dry, so he filled the glass again and drank that too. He filled it one last time and set it in the refrigerator to get cold. Mulder made his way back to the couch and propped his foot up. He grabbed the remote and started surfing the channels. Soon the welcomed pain medication took effect and the remote dropped from his hand as he began to snore. Shortly after 2AM his bladder reminded him of all the water he had guzzled earlier. The pain pills had worn off and he really didn't feel like moving but his bladder was insistent. "Crap!" he exclaimed and began the process of moving from the couch. "These crutches are a damned nuisance!" They hurt his hands and arm pits too. He hoped the doctor put him in a walking cast. He hobbled to the bathroom and took care of business, propping the crutches beside the toilet. They promptly slid to the floor and he had to balance precariously on his left foot to retrieve them, almost giving himself a swirly in the process. After washing his hands he decided it was time for another dose of pain medication. He inched his way to the kitchen, looking forward to the water he had chilled earlier. Feeling better after downing two more pills and the frosty glass of water, he began his journey back to the couch. The trail of clothes he'd left earlier was still lying there waiting to be put in the laundry hamper. Mulder had avoided them earlier but on this trip through they were waiting in ambush. His right crutch got tangled in his jacket and before he could say son of a bitch, he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling. "I've fallen and I can't get up," he giggled as the pain medication coursed through his system. Scully would be there in a few hours and it seemed as good a place as any to take a nap. He closed his eyes and was soon dreaming of Scully delivering his groceries in a red teddy and black stiletto heels. When Mulder next opened his eyes, he was staring at a pair of shapely ankles encased in a pair of reasonable pumps. The stiletto heels of his dream disappeared quickly as his vision moved upward to take in his partner with a very concerned look on her face. "Mulder, what happened? Are you all right?" Scully asked, kneeling down beside him. "Guess I fell," he explained sheepishly. "Too tired to get up." "Here, let me help you sit up," Scully offered as he struggled to his elbows. Mulder held on for dear life as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "I guess I'm feeling a little weak," he explained as he sank back into her arms. "Okay, just rest for a minute. We'll take this one step at a time. Did you get any orange juice with your delivery?" "I didn't call," he moaned, knowing he was soon going to be the recipient of a lecture of major proportions. "Mulder!" she exclaimed. "No wonder you're weak. You haven't eaten in over 24 hours. Let's get you back to the couch and I'll see about getting you something to eat." Slowly but surely Scully got Mulder up and over to the couch. "I saw a convenience store up the street. I'm going to get you some orange juice to get your sugar level back up. I'll see if they have some muffins or something then I'll be right back. Be thinking of what you want from the grocery store while I'm gone, then we'll get you some food in here." "Scully, you'll be late for work," he protested. "No, I won't. I'm not going. I'm helping a sick friend," she smiled. "I'll be right back." Scully made her way out to her car. She was glad that Mulder had forgotten to lock his door, otherwise he could have been lying there for quite a while. She hated to miss work but he obviously needed some assistance. His apartment was a mess. She'd probably need to do laundry and she needed to get Mulder to clean himself up. She made a mental list of the things she thought needed to be done. It was going to be a busy day. She glanced in the back seat. Good, her workout clothes were still there. This looked like a job that might require a t-shirt and sweats. An hour later Mulder was fed and the clothes picked up from the floor. Just as she suspected, his laundry hamper was overflowing. Scully had just called in an order to the corner mart and the next thing on her list of things to do was to get Mulder to clean himself up. "Mulder, why don't you get yourself cleaned up so I can take your dirty clothes to the laundromat?" "Scully, you don't have to do my laundry." "It looks to me like you could stand to wash a few things. Your laundry hamper is running over." "That's its normal state," he quipped. "I still have a few pieces of clean clothing around here." "Where do you keep your towels and washcloths?" she questioned. "Under the sink in the bathroom." Scully left and he could hear her rummaging around under the sink. "Mulder, you have one clean towel, which you are about to use." "I could always buy some more," he offered. "And I could also do your laundry," she said firmly. "All right, all right. There's a laundry room downstairs. You don't have to go out," he gave in. "Good. Now, tell me if you have any sweats that are clean." "I think so. I'll get them, but how am I supposed to shower in this cast?" "You don't. You sit on the toilet and fill the sink up with warm, soapy water and wash yourself that way. No shower until you're steady on your feet, and then you'll have to cover that cast in plastic." "Okay, I guess," he sighed. "Good. If you can manage it, get some clean clothes and take them into the bathroom with you. Throw out the dirty ones and I'll start to sort your things." Mulder got up and made his way to his seldom-used bedroom. Although it was difficult to move around the clutter, he soon had his clothes and was in the bathroom preparing to wash hisself. He sat on the toilet and began undressing. He really appreciated Scully's help, but things were starting to get intimate. She was going to be sorting through his dirty underwear! "Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound," he thought as he threw his dirty clothes out the door. By mid-afternoon Mulder felt like he was the king of the world. He actually had food and drink and Scully had ordered some things that could be handled easily while on crutches. She had also prepared snacks and meals with that in mind. His laundry was finished and folded and Scully had even offered to drop off his dry cleaning. The bathroom had been cleaned and mopped and Scully was working on the kitchen. Mulder was intently examining the varying shades of blue and purple on his toes when Scully came in and dropped down into his desk chair. "I think the kitchen and bathroom would pass a white glove test," she declared, pushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Scully, you know how much I appreciate this, but you know you didn't have to do it." "I know that, Mulder," she replied. "I'd like to pay you back somehow. How about I take you out for a nice dinner whenever I get off these crutches?" "Mulder, you really don't have to do anything, but if you insist . . ." "Anything, Scully," he promised "How about letting me choose the radio station for the next month?" "Aaargh!" Mulder thought as he smiled sweetly at her. "A month of news-talk radio or classical music," he groaned inwardly as he shook his head in agreement. "That was too easy," Scully thought as she got to her feet. "Mulder, I think you're all set now. Your pain medication is on the coffee table along with the phone and the remote. Is your cell phone handy?" "In my pocket," Mulder answered, unzipping the back pocket on his sweats and pulling out the phone. "Good. Keep it with you in case you find yourself on the floor again. You have a cooler full of ice and drinks on the floor beside the couch. Your dinner is in the fridge and I put some snacks on the counter. I laid out some clean clothes and a towel and washcloth in the bathroom. You shouldn't have to carry too much after I leave. I'll bring breakfast on my way to work and I'll be back in plenty of time to take you to your 2:30 doctor appointment. Let's see. Did I forget anything?" "Scully, are you sure a month of radio choice is enough?" he asked as he realized all that she had done. "Probably not. I'll let you take me to dinner too," she grinned. "Anything, Scully." "Mulder, that's enough!" she exclaimed. "That's what friends are for." Mulder realized it had been a long time since he had a real friend. He had quite a few acquaintances, but very few that would count as a friend. "Thanks friend," he said solemnly, then broke into a grin as he saw the wide smile on Scully's face. "I'll be waiting for you in the morning." Scully paused and tried to think of the last time a friend was that eager to see her again. It had been too long. "Great. I'll be here by 7:30. Oh, and Mulder, you know my number. Call me if you need me." Scully made her way to the door as Mulder agreed to call her. As she left, Mulder felt the emptiness in the room. He lay back on the couch and thought about the last 24 hours. The pain in his foot was excruiciating at times, but it was worth it. He had just added a new word to his personal dictionary-friend-and it had Dana Scully's picture next to it. "Nice," he thought as he closed his eyes, feeling safe and content for the first time in a long time. "Very nice," he smiled, and thought of his new dictionary page. END Note: In the original I referred to an episode that hadn't been aired yet. It was a major error and I was surprised that no one caught it. It hit me in the face when I watched "Fallen Angel" again last week, and I couldn't rest until I corrected it. Please accept my apology for making this mistake, even after checking the order of the Season One eps. I think it's time for a new pair of glasses.