Title: Tied

Author: Jori 

Rating: PG (I know, you can click off of it now. There is no smut)

Category: S, slight H

Archive: yes

Keywords: Post-episode, M&S friendship

Spoilers: Tithonus, slight FTF

E-mail: damienma@bellsouth.net

Disclaimers: Not mine. They belong to 1013, CC and Fox.

Summary: Mulder helps Scully with the little things as she prepares to

leave the hospital.

Author's note: I'm leaving any of my long-winded thought about death or

dying out of this one, because I was working on those for my WIP before

this last episode ever aired. Plus, so many before me have done such a

wonderful job with that and I can't even compete. I just thought I'd

show what real partnership means.



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I enter Scully's hospital room to find her quietly crying on the edge of

her bed. Her color looks the best it has in days, and she is wearing

'street' clothes for the first time since they brought her in to the

hospital, all battered and bleeding. What's it been? Almost two weeks

and we are all finally going home.



"What's the matter?" I ask, kneeling down in front of her. I'm not used

to her crying like this. Scully has always been so strong, and I thought

finally getting out of here would make her happy. I'm sure she wants to

get home and away from these people constantly doting on her.



"My mom packed what she thought would be comfortable for me to wear on

the flight home. She packed sweats and tennis shoes," she says.



"What is wrong with that, Scully? Why are you crying?" I ask again, as I

put my hands over hers. I don't think I have ever held her hands as much

as I have in the last two weeks. Not even when she had cancer.



"It is so stupid," she says, clearly mad at herself about something.



"What's stupid? You look fine. No one expected you to walk out of here

wearing a suit and heels, and flashing your badge," I say.



I'm simply glad she is walking out of here. I don't care what she looks

like. I think she looks fabulous in old sweat pants and a University of

Maryland sweatshirt, but clearly something is bothering her.



"I can't tie my own shoes, Mulder."



That is all she says. Her eyes meet mine and I understand what she is

talking about. Special Agent Dana Scully has to depend on somebody to do

a task so basic she's been doing it herself since kindergarten. The

nurses have done most everything for her for the last weeks, but she's

on her own now, and has already hit a brick wall.



"I'll tie them," I say quickly. Hell, I'll carry her back to DC so she

won't even have to wear shoes.



"I can't even get them on my feet, Mulder. I can't even pull on a pair

of socks. Did you realize that you need abdominal muscles to pull on a

pair of socks?" she asks.



"I'll do what ever you need me to do," I tell her, as I grab her shoes

off the edge of the bed.



She received some rehabilitative therapy in the last week, as they tried

to get her up and moving. It hasn't been fun for her, and I've been here

every step of the way. Except for the day I had to go back to DC for a

hearing concerning Agent Peyton Ritter. Her big news when I got back was

they were finally hearing bowel sounds and soon she'd be able to eat

something real. Who ever thought we would be discussing her bowel

sounds?



I'm now down on one knee, like some lovesick puppy (am I?) proposing to

her, and I gingerly place her right foot up on my thigh. Yeah, the thigh

that has scars on it to match her new abdominal scars. I take a sock

and, as if I'm dressing a baby, I carefully pull it over her foot and up

over her ankle, making sure the elastic around the hem of her sweat

pants is pulled down over it so she doesn't get cold when we go outside.



I then repeat with her other foot, switching the knee I'm bending upon.



"You're good at this," she says, as she puts her hands on my shoulders

to keep her balance on the edge of the bed.



I look up at her and smile, "I had practice."



Scully smiles back. Her smiles have been so few in the last two weeks.

If I have to put her shoes on everyday for the rest of her life, I will

if she gives me that smile.



"Now for the shoes," I say, as I loosen the laces to make them easier to

slide on her feet.



"Ouch," she says, wincing as I push the first one all the way on.



"What did I do?" I ask, as I stop moving, not wanting to hurt her more.



"You didn't do anything, Mulder. All the fluids I've been given have

caused my feet to swell up. That, and I haven't been able to get up and

around as much as I'm used to, so my shoes are a little tight, " she

says, and I realize her recovery isn't going to end with us walking out

of this hospital.



"Do you want me to make it so you don't even have to tie them?" I ask,

remembering how kids a few years back just knotted up the ends and

seemed to go perpetually with untied shoes.



"No. You can tie them. It will be okay," she says.



"Look on the bright side. You don't have to untie them to take them off.

You can just kind of kick them off," I say, as I slide the second shoe

on her other foot.



"But who's going to take my socks off, though?" she asks, and I just

look up in time to see a little flirting smile cross her face.



"Are you almost ready to go, Dana? The orderly was wondering if he

should bring the wheelchair around?" Mrs. Scully asks from the doorway.



"Yes, mom. We will be ready in a minute," Scully says to her mother as I

finish up tying her other shoe.



"We? Oh, there you are, Fox. I didn't see you over there," she says, "I

see you are doing my old job. Of course when I did that job, the shoes

were much smaller. I'll be back in a second. Let me tell them you are

ready."



"Can you get up?" I ask.



"Do I have a choice?" she asks back.



I laugh. "No, I guess if you want to get home, you've got to get out of

that bed."



Her mother comes back in the room, and just like every other time Scully

has gotten out of bed over the last week or so, we both stand on either

side of her like a couple of spotters under the parallel bars.



"Use your legs, Dana," her mother reminds her once again.



"It is getting better," she says once she is vertical, "Better but not

perfect. God, did they remove all my abs, or just the ones especially

needed for standing up?"



"And tying shoes," I add, "They took those out, too."



"Honey, I know how bad it is. When I had Charlie by cesarean section, I

thought I'd never be able to stand up again," Mrs. Scully says.



"At least you got to take home a baby. All I get is my spleen in a jar,"

she says sarcastically.



"Did you remember to pack that, Scully? I want to keep it on my desk at

work, and the next time Kersh even suggests assigning you to a new,

fresh-faced partner, I'm going to march into his office and put it in

front of him as a reminder of what happens when he screws around with a

good thing."



"Subtlety has never been your strong point, Mulder," Scully says as she

turns to look at her mother.



"Where is the orderly?" Mrs. Scully says, looking at her watch. We have

a flight in two hours, and have to make it through late afternoon

traffic and drop off the rental car, "I'll go see what the hold up is."



"Is she staying at your place tonight?" I ask, hoping the answer is no

so I can.



"Just for tonight. I need to start doing things on my own tomorrow. I

don't want to be helpless," she says, in typical Scully fashion.



"Scully?" I ask her.



"Yes, Mulder?"



"No matter what happens to us at work, or who they assign us to, I will

always be here to tie your shoes," I say, hoping she understands that it

means more than just that one simple small act.



"Thank you, Mulder," she says, letting another smile grace her beautiful

face.



The end



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Author's end notes: The only abdominal surgery I've ever endured was a

c-section, so I'm sure no matter how well ImmortalScully is recovering,

there must be some pain there. And, yes, it is a bitch to tie your own

shoes afterwards. It is always good to have a wonderful partner to do it

for you!