Title: In Amor, Vis Vires; WIP, 1 of 8



Author: Andrea



Rating: PG-13, but eventually NC-17



Category: MSR, S, MT, Scully POV



Disclaimer: Whatever, sue me.



Notes: Thanks to Sybil, Aly, Jewel and Lari for beta reading.

A special thanks to Lari for her medical expertise, as well.

Thanks to Kell for moral support. I'd also like

to thank Denise for her input.



Archiving: I'd be honoured, but I'd also like 

to know.



Spoilers: Through season six



Feedback: Yes, please! ardywyn@hotmail.com



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I was beginning to think I hadn't done the right thing

after all. At the time it had seemed like I had no other

choice. What had possessed me to take a man who was barely 

twelve hours out of major surgery and fly him across the 

ocean? If he hadn't been hooked up to so many monitors, I would

have tried to get him out of there sooner. I'd panicked when 

I'd seen those men hanging around, trying to be inconspicuous. 

I'd seen too many of their kind to be fooled. Since I'd had 

plenty of time to reflect, I couldn't help wondering if 

Mulder's paranoia had started to rub off on me. 



Laying my hand lightly on his chest, I felt Mulder breathing

slowly, but regularly. We'd been here for two days and he

still hadn't regained consciousness. The sedatives I'd

given him for the flight had long since worn off. I'd

given him some painkillers, but nothing that would keep

him out for this long.



It was a moot point, but I couldn't help wondering if Canada 

might have been a better choice. The flight wouldn't have 

been as hard on him, but I wanted much more distance between 

him and the men who had injured him. 

 

I'd thought Mulder was strong enough in mind and body to deal 

with this. I hoped to God I was right. The travel must have 

been harder on him than I'd expected. They didn't teach this 

kind of thing in medical school.  In fact, I could be in 

danger of losing my license if the right people found out 

what I'd done.



The beeping of the alarm on my watch reminded me it was time 

to give Mulder another shot of Rocephin. Since he'd

suffered an abdominal wound, a heavy course of antibiotics 

was a necessary precaution, even though the surgeon had 

assured me the bullet had not perforated Mulder's intestines.



As I injected the drugs using the port in the IV line, I

noticed for the first time, Mulder's eyes were moving

beneath his lids. That was a good sign; his brain was

starting the process of resurfacing.



"I'm here, Mulder. Everything is all right. You are safe. I'm

taking care of you." I hoped on some level he could

hear me.



The gunmen had come up with the plan to spirit Mulder out 

the hospital. The scheme had been almost identical to how 

they'd taken it upon themselves to discharge him after I'd been

stung by that bee, and it had worked like a charm. By the time 

those goons had realized what was happening, Mulder was in a 

van with Frohike and Langly on their way to Richmond.



Sitting here watching Mulder as his chest steadily rose and

fell, I wondered again if I'd made the right decision. Why was

it every time I had to save his life it seemed I had to risk 

his life? How many times had he saved my life? More

times than I care to admit. I prayed with all of my heart the

risk would be worth it. I don't know what I would do if I 

lost Mulder now. It was only now I was beginning to realize

what he meant to me. We had more than a partnership -- more

than a friendship, but I hadn't been able to admit to myself

how much more. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to confess my 

feelings to him since I can hardly accept them myself. 

 

At least Mulder's kidneys didn't appear to be suffering any 

adverse effects and there was no blood in his urine. I had 

enough IVs to last another 48 hours. If he didn't regain 

consciousness soon, I was going to run out. I had more than 

enough antibiotics and sterile dressings, but if the IV fluids

ran out, they wouldn't do much good. Without fluid, in this 

condition, Mulder might last 2 days -- 3 at the outside.

 

The serene look on his face belied the truth. His condition had 

barely changed since we got here. I tried to console myself with

the knowledge that his brain was attempting to help him heal. 

But knowing all I could do was wait was almost driving me 

insane.



Before making the switch, I had appropriated all of the

medical supplies I would need. That was something else I

could possibly be charged for when we got back home. I'd

packed it all in my luggage, along with some freezer packs

to keep it cool.



Looking at my watch, I discovered it was time to check

Mulder's vitals. Even with all of the antibiotics he was on,

there was still a chance he could spike a fever. I was

glad I'd remembered to ask Frohike to grab my medical

bag when he'd gone to get my luggage.



"I'm just going to take your temperature," I told him as I

inserted the thermometer into his ear. I always told him

what I was doing, whether I was taking his blood pressure,

listening to his heart, changing his dressing, or giving him a

sponge bath. I hoped the input would help him to regain

consciousness. The most physically challenging thing I

had to do was to move him from side to side. I was using

rolled up towels under his hips and shoulders and a pillow

between his knees to prevent him from getting pressure

sores. In addition to that, I was bathing and massaging him

regularly. I hoped I'd be able to have him up and

around soon enough that it wouldn't be an issue.



I recorded Mulder's temperature in my notebook, and then

took his blood pressure. It was low, but that was to be

expected. Sitting down in the chair beside the bed again, I

picked up his hand and looked at his fingernails. They had

good color. It might have been crude, but without a pulse

oximeter, it was the only way I had to judge his oxygen

saturation level.



I couldn't help thinking about how I'd stood there just

listening and nodding as the Gunmen explained their plan. I

was so desperate I didn't care as they whispered about

hacking IDs and special transportation for terminal patients.

I couldn't bring myself to ask how the Gunmen knew 

the airlines had the capability to handle such cases.



When I'd met up with Langly and Frohike in Richmond,

they'd handed me all of the paperwork, including two

passports and a stack of English pounds of varying

denominations. It had astounded me that they'd been able

to pull all of this together in such a short amount of time.



The passports they'd given me were Canadian, because

apparently they were very easy to forge, and would get us

into England with relatively little fuss. The papers said 

Mulder had terminal cancer and he was going home to

England to die. Recalling that detail sent chills up and down

my spine.



When I'd looked at my passport I was surprised to see 

the Gunmen had given Mulder and me the same last name.

They'd claimed it was only because it would make

everything much simpler. So Mulder was Jim Watts and I was

his wife Natalie.



The movement of Mulder's hand stirred me out of my

reverie. While I'd been thinking I must have been caressing

his hand, and he was responding by squeezing my hand

very slightly. I found myself letting out a long slow breath. I

was relieved to see another sign indicating that Mulder was 

starting to become aware.



"I'm here, Mulder. You are safe with me. I won't let anyone

hurt you," I caressed his hand while I spoke to him. I

couldn't see any sign he had heard me, but he didn't

relax his grip on my hand either. "Please don't leave me now,

Mulder. We have come so far -- I have come so far. I -- I love 

you, Mulder." My heart leapt when I felt his grip tighten at 

my words.



This small sign from him helped me relax. I closed my eyes 

and my mind drifted back to when the customs officer had opened

my suitcase. I'd been sure he would realize the passports were 

forgeries and turn us over the British police. I'd shown him my 

ID when he asked for it. Luckily for me, the Gunmen had made 

Natalie Watts a doctor.



"Have you brought enough to last?" he'd asked when he

handed me back my passport. He was still looking at all of

the paperwork.



"I hope so," I'd answered honestly.



"It'll be almost impossible for you to get more, you

understand don't you?" he'd asked.



I'd only been able to nod my head.



"Part of the agreement he signed is that his death

cannot be a burden to our healthcare system."



"I understand." 



"And since your medical license isn't valid here, you'd have

to go through a private doctor, at your own expense and

you'd have to go through a horrendous amount of

paperwork. So all in all, it's best to bring what you need."



"I think I have." 



"He certainly looks like he isn't going to last much longer,"

he'd nodded towards the stretcher Mulder was lying on.

"I hope he didn't travel all of this way, not to even wake

up and realize he's home in England."



"So do I," I'd tried to say, but the words caught in my throat.



"I'm sorry, miss," he'd looked at the papers again. "I didn't

realize he was your husband." He'd looked genuinely

sorry as he handed me all of the paper work.



"That's all right." I'd tried to put him at ease, having to 

blink my tears.



"I'm sure it will all work out in the end." His tone had been

gentle as he'd smiled softly at me.



"I hope so." 



The crackling of the fire brought me back to the present.

Before I gave Mulder another sponge bath and a clean

dressing, I'd have to build up the fire.



Setting Mulder's hand back down gently, I got up to see to

the fire. I hadn't expected March in England to be quite this

cold. While I waited for the room to warm up a bit, I sat

down by the bed again.



All of the events that had brought me to this point in time

had been playing back in my head again and again, as I'd tried 

to convince myself I'd done the right thing and Mulder would

wake shortly.



The last part of the journey had been the least taxing. The

Gunmen had also arranged for a prepaid ambulance to

meet us at the airport and take us to the cottage. I'd sat

with Mulder in the back for the two-hour ride. The dreary March 

weather left the countryside looking stark. All of the grasses

were brown and the trees looked skeletal without their leaves. 

Even the whitewash on the Tudor-style cottage appeared dull

under the flat grey skies. Once they had him inside, the 

attendants made sure Mulder was settled into bed before they 

prepared to leave.



"Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Watts?" the taller of

the two had asked before they left.



"Actually, I was wondering how I was going to be able to get

any supplies in. I don't feel comfortable leaving M -- my

husband alone right now," I'd hoped they might be able to

help somehow.



"That shouldn't be a problem. We can stop at the shop in the

in the village on our way through and ask them to give you a

ring," the shorter attendant had replied.



So we'd hunted down the phone and they took down the

number. Within half an hour the shopkeeper called me and

two hours after that everything I'd ordered was stowed

in the kitchen and bathroom with the help of the

shopkeeper's wife.



It didn't seem unusual or questionable to anyone I'd

dealt with, that I'd brought my husband here to die. Either it

was a more common occurrence than I thought, or they felt

so sorry for me, they didn't ask. 



That had been two days ago. Since the room still wasn't quite 

warm enough, I took the opportunity to survey my surroundings. 

I'd barely had a chance to look around since we arrived. The 

floors seemed to be made of a dark hardwood; walnut I assumed. 

Embedded in the white plaster walls and ceilings were beams

made of the same dark 

wood. Even the wainscoting that adorned all of the walls was

that same rich color. The warm glow from the fire increased

the cozy atmosphere in our sanctuary.



As soon as I was satisfied with the temperature I went to the 

kitchen to get the soap and water. When I got back I put on a 

clean pair of nitrile gloves -- latex had been bothering my 

skin recently. I started by removing Mulder's old dressing and

then I carefully washing around his incision, always moving 

away from it. The incision was dry, another good sign.



I'd been afraid all of this travelling would result in

some post-surgical bleeding, but so far so good. Reaching

Mulder's groin, I stopped to inspect his catheter. Holding

his penis gently, I looked for signs of redness and irritation.

The last thing I needed was for Mulder to develop a secondary

infection from being catheterized.



I'd just carefully released his penis when he stirred slightly.

Worrying that I might have hurt him, I stopped and watched

his face. He slowly dragged his eyelids opened. I could see

the confusion on his face as he took in his surroundings. 

Not wanting him to be totally disoriented, I began to speak

to him as I drew the sheet back over his body.



"I was just giving you a bath, Mulder," I told him softly.

"Everything is okay -- you are recovering nicely and you

are safe here."



"Scully?" His voice was raspy from lack of use.



"Yes, it's me, Mulder." I walked around to the head of the bed.

His eyes followed me as I went. 



"You look like hell, Scully," he informed me bluntly.



His expression turned apologetic as I placed the thermometer

into his ear. "Don't worry about it, Mulder," I assured

him. "And you don't look so hot yourself."



My sleep-starved eyes started to burn with tears when I saw

a smile forming on his lips. He *really* was beginning to feel

more like himself. 



"Where are we?" 



I found the gravelly quality of his voice a little disquieting. 

It added to how weak and small he seemed to me. I tried to 

concentrate on how much better he was doing.



"I had to take you somewhere safe, so we're in England." I 

smiled at the look of shock on his weary face. "You just rest. 

I'll explain everything when you're stronger."



"Kay." His eyelids began to droop.



As I was brushing his hair off his forehead, his eyes slipped

shut and his breathing became slow and regular once more.



After recording Mulder's latest vitals in my notebook, I took

a long shaky breath. I was so incredibly relieved he had

finally regained consciousness that I was practically floating

on air. He was probably right about how I looked. I needed

to have something to eat, and I *really* needed a bath.



It still wouldn't be a good idea for me to leave him alone for

too long though, he'd probably be waking often now -- at

least I hoped he would. So after I cleared up from his bath, I 

took mine -- quickly.



It wasn't until I was done that I realized the only clean

clothes I had were the ones Frohike had packed for me

in my overnight bag. The thought of Melvin Frohike

rummaging around in my underwear drawer made me

decidedly uncomfortable. I don't know why though, because

aside from the occasional comment, Frohike had always

been extremely polite to me. There had been a couple of

times I'd caught him staring at me, but then he would

look away quickly. Although I didn't return his interest, I 

did find the attention kind of flattering. I still hoped he'd

been in such a hurry when he was packing, he didn't have a

chance to investigate my underthings too thoroughly.



When I unpacked my overnight bag, I was pleasantly

surprised at what he'd managed to pack. There were

several pairs of underwear and socks, several bras, three

pairs of jeans, a couple of sweat shirts, some t-shirts and a

pair of pajamas. I don't think I would ever have been

able to pack all of those clothes back into that bag with a

crow bar; I don't know how he did it. When we got back to

the States I'd have to ask for lessons.



After I pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a sweat shirt, I

grabbed a banana and took it with me to the bedroom.

Standing in the doorway, I ate while I watched him sleep. 

At least now I was more confident he was on the road to 

recovery. When I finished eating I went back to the kitchen

to grab a glass of water. I could feel the exhaustion creeping 

up my legs. It was a sensation that warned me it wouldn't be 

much longer before I'd be unable to keep my eyes open.



Now that I was no longer worried to death about Mulder, it 

seemed my body was demanding sleep. But there were some things

I needed to take care of first. It was time to get Mulder

off morphine and onto Demerol. His IV bag was almost empty

too. This time I needed to hang a bag of Normal Saline. I was

hanging one with every second liter of D5W, just to make sure 

he was getting at least some of nutrients he needed. 

I hoped he would be getting his nourishment by mouth soon.



After hanging his new IV solutions, I checked his temp. His 

next dose of antibiotics wasn't due for another three hours. I'd

already set the alarm on my watch in case I drifted off.



The final thing I had to do was empty Mulder's catheter

bag. Especially since I'd hung two IV bags; I didn't want

there to be a chance of any backwashing. That was one

more thing that might lead to a secondary infection.



After I had finished everything I needed to, I went over it

again, just to make sure I'd done it all. Then I collapsed

into the armchair I'd dragged to Mulder's bedside from

the sitting room. I looked at him again. After I'd given him

his bath I'd left him on his back. I hoped now that he'd

regained consciousness, pressure sores would no longer be

an issue. His color was improving - he no longer appeared

ashen.



"You have no idea how relieved I am, Mulder." Even in the

quiet room my voice seemed small and far away. "I wouldn't

know what to do if I'd lost you. You mean more to me than

I'd ever believed possible." He stirred slightly and

seemed to smile in his sleep at my words.



I desperately wanted to stay awake and keep watch over

him, but I could feel my body shutting down. Then I thought

maybe if I laid my head on his chest, I'd be able to hear

his heart beat and reassure myself he was okay. With

my last iota of energy I pulled the chair closer to the bed.

As I slowly lowered my head to his chest, I told myself 

it would just be for a couple of minutes--I just needed to

rest my eyes.



The sound of my watch alarm woke me. I had only meant to rest my

eyes--Mulder's heartbeat must have lulled me to sleep. I was very

relieved I could still hear its steady rhythm. When I lifted

my head the moisture under my cheek made me realize I must

have been sleeping like a log. I reached for a tissue to wipe off

Mulder's chest.



"Why are you always drooling on me?" A scratchy voice asked.



"You're awake," I grinned. "How do you feel?"



"Like crap." he informed me.



"You should start to feel better soon," I tried to keep my voice

soothing. Mulder did not need to know how worried I'd been. 

"Right now I need to give you another shot of antibiotics." 



"How come I'm not in the hospital?" He furrowed his brow as I 

injected the drugs into his IV port.



"It's a long story, Mulder. Why don't we start with what you

remember?" 



"Well, I remember getting the phone call. The one that gave me 

the address for that building."



I nodded as he spoke.



"I remember going to your apartment and convincing you to come 

with me," he paused for a moment. "Are you going to say I told 

you so?" He looked at me remorsefully.



"No, Mulder, I'm not," I assured him. I might haul it out in

the future if I needed to, but I didn't tell him that.



"Then we staked out the building for a couple of hours and then

I got impatient and I talked you into checking out the back of 

the building," he continued. "We were just rounding the corner at

the back when I heard the shot. I felt the round hit me at 

exactly the same time. I never saw the shooter."



"I didn't get a good look at him either," I admitted. "I may have

hit him--I got a few rounds off. But I was too busy with you to

see. Do you remember anything after that?"



"I remember you telling me help was on the way and  

everything was going to be okay. But then everything went 

black."



"You've been unconscious for a couple of days." 



"That explains why I'm so thirsty," he laughed hoarsely. "And 

where is *here* anyway?"



"I'll let you have a drink if I can sit you up a bit," I 

promised, "And then I'll explain where we are."



"I can sit up myself," he stuck out his chin defiantly. I 

watched in silence as he moved his hands to down to his 

sides. There was no point arguing with him, so I let him 

find out for himself. After he winced in pain, I waited until 

he opened his eyes again.



"Can I try now?" I tried not to sound smug.



"Okay." He seemed to visibly droop.



After slipping off my shoes I climbed onto the bed and straddled 

his chest. Even as rough as he was feeling, Mulder smirked at me

as I bent to slide my hands under his armpits.



"If you were wearing a low-cut shirt, this would have been much

more fun, Scully," he chuckled.



I let it go -- I was happy he was getting better. I easily 

managed to lift Mulder up enough to rearrange the pillows so  

he was in a half-sitting position. 



"Okay?" 



"Yup," he nodded.



Once I'd retrieved a glass of water for him, I helped him take a 

few sips. Then I began to explain what had happened and how we 

got here. I had to keep it brief; Mulder was starting to drift

off to sleep again.



While he slept, I had some soup. I hadn't eaten much recently,

so I thought it would be prudent not to shock my system. Then

I was able to putter around the cottage, tidying up and washing

the dishes. Mulder wasn't recovered by any means, but he was

definitely out of the woods and I was feeling like a new woman.



Mulder only dozed for a couple of hours. When he woke up he was

thirsty again. Since he was taking fluid by mouth now, I decided 

I would be able to take him off of the IVs shortly. But first I 

had to break the news about the catheter.





end of part 1

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