Title: Fire and Kidneystones
Author: MissAnnThropic
E-Mail: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com
Summary: Bad tempers, arguments, and kidney stones.
Disclaimer: I own nasing! Really, I don't. All you see here (that you recognize, anyway) is the creation of someone else. I take no credit.



The basement office was deathly quiet. One listening at the door would never even know that there were actually two agents inside. It was that quiet.

It typically wasn't that quiet in there. It was almost a given that small sounds, voices of argument or bantering, and if nothing else the soft sucking and smacking as the male agent's strange oral fixation was being fed could be heard from the hallway at any given time.

Today however... nothing. Dead silence.

The reason for the silence was not without just cause. In fact, it was a silence following a particularly nasty and noisy argument almost three hours before.

FBI Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were known to have their mild, tame fights now and then. It wasn't unusual. Considering their extremely contrasting views and beliefs, it was probably a miracle they didn't fight more than they did anyway. A mutual and almost stupefying respect for the other kept the bickering down to a civil level. Well, it did to a large degree. It didn't eradicate all vehement disagreement... it certainly hadn't stopped this latest fight.

It was, thinking back on it now, actually a very ridiculously mundane thing to get so riled up about. It was just a means to vent all the little things that were nagging on them... it was a healthy let-out they seemed to do every three months or so. Besides, no one was ever always in a good mood; and Mulder and Scully being their own uniquely moody people they were... a little venting of hostility was simply bound to happen.

This time Scully had been the one to go off. Mulder had come into work almost half an hour late. She'd not only come in early, but she had begun the monotonous work on the mountains of paperwork that seemed to accumulate on Mulder's desk at the rate of Mexican aliens climbing the border fence.

When he'd finally come in, she was spitting angry. She had glared at him, not saying a word as he hung up his coat and moved around the office.

Most guys would not even notice her boiling hostility... being guys. Mulder was different, of course... he always was. He looked at her, trying to gauge what could have made her so obviously pissed off, then asked what was wrong.

Scully had gone off on him, "You can even ASK?"

Mulder frowned. He recognized the face immediately and knew it was clearly about that time for another venting session. He hated these, but he has his own bottled issues he was about ready to unload. None of this he knew consciously, of course... all he knew was her indignant tone at him when he'd done nothing was getting on his nerves moreso than typical.

He tried to keep his voice calm, remaining civil, "Well... yeah, I am asking... what's wrong?"

Scully stood, still no where near his height, "Damnit, Mulder, I'm sick and tired of you doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Leaving me here with the paperwork like your damn secretary! I don't work FOR you Mulder... I work WITH you."

Mulder frowned harder, "Look, I'm sorry I was late... I just wanted to check on a lead with Langley and..."

"See! Mulder, that is EXACTLY what I am talking about!"

Mulder stepped back, getting upset, "Why are you so pissed off? I was checking on something FOR work, the only reason I was late FOR work."

Scully fumed, "No... you chose to find something of more interest to do while you stuck ME with this crap!" Scully motioned toward the scattered paperwork on Mulder's desk where Scully had been working on them.

Mulder looked at them, had to secretly give it to her that he found any distraction capable to postpone it, then retorted, "Look... don't do it next time if I'm late."

Scully glowered, "Oh yeah, sure... put it off only so we can pull an all-nighter when you finally drag your ass in around noon?"

Mulder glared faintly, "No... if you want to be that way, leave it all for me. I don't care... I'LL pull an all-nighter; you can go home. Besides... it's not like you're that much of pleasant company late night anyway."

Scully nearly exploded, "YOU'RE talking to ME about being lousy company? Mulder! You are a paranoid, difficult, moody... YOU'RE insufferable!"

Mulder was hurt... hurt and therefore retaliated harsher than he meant to, "Then why the hell do you stay?"

Scully shot back, "It's my job, Mulder!" Then she fell silent; realizing that she had said the least of the reasons she stayed with Mulder and the X Files. No taking it back though... it was out there.

Mulder clamped his jaw shut, not saying a word. He just nodded sourly.

Scully had turned to the desk, gathered up half of the files, and stormed (without much force behind her tempest) to the back portion of the office where she set about to finish some of the files.

Mulder had sat down at his desk, not saying a single word and slowly pulling up to him some of the trouble-starting paperwork.

That had been three hours ago... not a single sound uttered between them since.

Scully was sitting silently in her back section of the office, feeling bad about what had happened but knowing from experience it was not quite time to call the truce yet. About a five-hour silent fume period followed battles this bad. Still too soon to apologize, though she already had it lined up in her mind. She just tried to keep in mind that he'd ditched her this morning... as always. She was supposed to be mad at him.

Mulder was sitting at his desk, quiet, trying to focus on his work in front of him. It was hard though... very hard. And this time, it wasn't hard because he just didn't want to do it.

It was tough to concentrate on it because he didn't feel well. It wasn't really sick... he wasn't sure what it was. His back had slowly, without provocation, started to ache.

It had been mild... he shifted in his chair a couple times and it was okay. But that was almost an hour and a half ago. It had not only gotten worse, but it was joined by another ache. A tight gripping discomfort in his lower abdomen. It was a mild pain he'd never felt before.

That he tried to ignore too. He really wanted to tell Scully about it, but he knew as well as she did their 'quiet-period' wasn't over yet. If he complained now she'd probably just call him whiny.

Nope, he could take it. It wasn't that bad.

THAT was half an hour ago. Both pains had gotten noticeably worse. It was getting hard to think past it.

Mulder grimaced faintly, trying to hide it, and shifted in his chair again slowly and at great pains. He held his breath, trying not to hiss through his teeth, then sighed tensely. It hadn't helped... it still hurt like hell.

Scully noticed Mulder shift in his seat from the corner of her eye for perhaps the one hundredth time. It was starting to annoy her. 'Just settle down, Mulder!' she wanted to scream. But it was quiet time... so she just ground her jaw and remained silent. He could be such a baby.

Mulder leaned back in his seat painfully, muscles tense and body twisted in ever-worsening pain. Mulder shifted again in his seat, fighting a groan as it got worse if nothing else. What the hell was up? Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He wasn't going to ask Scully, though... she'd just call him a baby looking for a way out of paperwork.

That knowledge didn't ease the increasing pain in his extreme lower back and the deep inners of his lower stomach. In fact... he might have to get out of the office pretty soon... he wasn't sure he could keep so quiet about it much longer. DAMN... it was REALLY starting to hurt!

Mulder grimaced again, pushing away from his desk and freezing, just trying to get a grip on the searing pain in his body.

Scully closed her eyes, still seeing Mulder's restless actions from the corner of her eye as she glued her eyes to the papers in front of her. She was about to get up and smack him! Still, she said nothing to him and she didn't look up... just let it pass, Scully.

Mulder winced... visibly winced. He couldn't really help that anymore... he couldn't remember the last thing that hurt so much. Even getting shot was starting to look preferable to THIS... whatever THIS was.

Mulder shuffled his rolling chair back further, suddenly gripped by such a fierce agony he thought it might force him to throw up.

Mulder breathed deeply, sucking down air and fighting to take some kind of control over his body again.

Mulder puffed out a breath, once again focused on the sheer pain... the threat and sensation of vomiting having either dissipated or been overshadowed.

Mulder's insides were killing him.

Dropping his head to his chest, he doubled over and rested his elbows on his knees, head lowered as he was racked with pain.

Scully had been getting more and more upset with Mulder's incessant shifting and moving about, she was moments away from getting up and leaving the room.

When she saw him hunker over in his chair, though, any thought of leaving him whatsoever shot right out of her head. Her eyes shot up. She knew Mulder, and that bending over was not one of his restlessly bored behaviors... that was an action of distress. Physical or mental, but distress none the less.

Scully looked up to find Mulder bent over in his chair, head dropped down into the dark recessed of his own shadows.

It was then that Scully studied him long enough to know that something was wrong. His breathing was hard and shallow. He wasn't casually bent over... he was hunkered down as if doubled over in pain.

Scully's heart beat harder... faster. She completely forgot her paperwork and that pesky five-hour silence rule.

Scully swallowed, finally asking in concern, "Mulder?"

Mulder didn't answer... didn't even move.

Scully's voice became more urgent as she moved her chair back, prepared to approach him if he continued to remain non responsive. "Mulder?"

Mulder took a deep, harrowed breath and began to sit up. He jerked to a pause halfway up, then continued to sit back slowly.

Scully's stomach flipped over when she saw his face.

He was very obviously in pain... his face was drawn and pale. He was grimacing and wincing continuously. And he was sweating... he looked awful.

Scully stood quickly, moving swiftly toward him, "MULDER? Mulder, what's wrong?"

Mulder, finding the pain of sitting upright more intense, leaned forward again, resting his lower arms on his thighs and almost tucked against his stomach.

Scully reached him, kneeling quickly by his side and touching his forehead. Despite the perspiration, his skin was cold.

Scully flinched at Mulder's close-up appearance. He looked terrible. Pasty, sweaty face, an expression like he was in immense pain and maybe about to be sick. Scully got increasingly concerned, "Mulder... what is it?"

Mulder finally glanced over at her... his eyes were glassed over in pain.

Scully blinked at this... Jesus! Why'd he let it get this bad without saying anything?!

Mulder grimaced then said in a thin, weak and strained voice, "It hurts..."

Scully moved closer to catch his thin voice, "What hurts?"

Mulder winced, his answer turning into a groan/grumble.

Scully stood quickly, pulling her keys from her jacket pocket, "Come on, Mulder... get up... I'm taking you to the doctor."

Mulder hesitated, obviously not sure how he was going to get up, but then he reached forward, anchored himself with the edge of his desk, then slowly rose.

Every movement seemed like absolute torture... Scully could see it on his face.

Scully moved next to him, guiding him and aiding him down the hall to the elevator... then as quickly as he could move to her car where she sped him to the nearest hospital.



****



Scully entered the curtain area where her partner was. She pushed aside the curtain, stepping behind it, then pulled it shut again behind her.

Mulder was reclined back on the hospital bed, the front end of the bed set up in a nearly upright sitting position as Mulder leaned back against it, the pillow provided stuffed behind his lower back. His jacket was on the end of the bed.

They'd come in the emergency entrance. The emergency staff had moved him immediately to a bed where they could set up a morphine drip to alleviate the clearly horrific pain he was in. He'd been moved for only ten minutes to take an X-ray, and since then (almost an hour ago) he'd been here.

He was still in his office clothes, his dress shirt sleeve rolled up to mid-bicep so the IV could be unimpeded as it slowly fed him the pain-killer.

Scully stepped toward him. Mulder, who had been lightly dozing, jerked awake (well, as much of a 'jerk' as he could manage being fuzzed up on pain-killers). He blinked a moment, then focused on Scully.

Half a second later his brain caught up with his senses and he cleared his throat, "Hey, Scully."

Scully smiled gently, "Hey... how you feeling?"

Mulder nodded, "Much better."

Scully nodded, "That's the morphine."

Mulder grumbled under his breath and nodded. From his much better complexion, his incoherent muttering had probably been a praise to morphine. Scully suspected that little drug was praised more than the saints were.

Mulder looked over at her again, finally asking, "Did they figure out what it was?"

Scully nodded, "Yeah... they did... Mulder, if you were in pain why didn't you tell me?"

Mulder sighed heavily, "I... don't know. I guess I thought you'd just get mad at me again," he sent her a weak boyish grin, but she knew it was only to temper her anger to his completely honest answer.

Scully sighed in mild exasperation, then stepped closer to her partner, "Mulder... please... if you're hurting tell me... we can sort out the fire and brimstone later, okay?"

Mulder nodded, "Sure thing, partner."

A silence followed, then Mulder jerked awake again to ask, "Oh... so... what did the doctor say?"

Scully smirked, a teasing smile playing on the corners of her mouth as she answered after a long pause, "You've got kidney stones, Mulder."

Mulder stared at her a moment, then registered what she said and scowled, "Ah... man... kidney stones?"

Scully patted his arm affectionately, "Yep... afraid so."

Mulder sighed, rolling his eyes and glancing over at the IV drip delivering the pain-numbing medicine to him. He asked in a bitter-sarcastic tone, "Think there's any chance I can rent one of these machines?"



END