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By: dee_ayy@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are the property of 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and the rest. If you're gonna sue someone, sue someone else. This is probably my first and last X-Files fan fic. I'm not worth the trouble. Yadda Yadda Yadda.
Rating: PG-13 for language. MuldertTorture rating? I dunno. You decide. Pretty darn mild. Nothing life threatening.
Feedback?: Sure, why not. I can take it. dee_ayy@yahoo.com
Summary: Scully and Mulder make a late-night trip to the ER thanks to one of Mulder's recurring injuries.
Author's note (or how you MTA writers made me do this) follows the story.
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PAIN IN THE NIGHT
She must have been sleeping lightly when the phone rang. She was instantly wide awake. She glanced at the clock. 3:42am. She knew who it was.
"Scully?" She could hear the stress in his voice.
"What's wrong Mulder?"
"I can't move my arm! It's out again."
"Geezus, Mulder, what were you doing? It's 4am! Were you running in the middle of the night again?"
"No! I was _asleep_ Scully. I swear. Can you come get me?"
"You want me to call an ambulance? They'll get there faster than I can. You have to be dying from the pain. "
"No, Scully, I can wait for you. But Scully?"
"Yeah?"
"Hurry up, will ya?"
"I'm on my way."
****
He heard the click that signified that she had hung up, and glanced to his left, toward the phone, and considered hanging the receiver in its cradle. He remembered what it felt like when he was getting it _off_, and decided to screw it. He dropped the receiver behind him onto the bed.
<Shit. Now what. Wait. >
A spasm hit his shoulder, and took his breath away. This really sucked. He knew what the problem was, and he was pissed off. He'd dislocated his shoulder. Again. How? And how many times was this? There was that time in Alaska. There was the time--no, two times--playing basketball. There was the time he was hit by that van while crossing Pennsylvania Avenue. . . . Jesus Christ, he didn't know how many times. But every time he'd been _doing_ something. Usually a fall, or a fight--it was always a cause/effect injury. And once you dislocate it once, it is apt to happen again. Every doctor who ever put it back for him told him that. But what the hell was THIS nonsense?
Another Spasm. <Shit.>
He found himself thinking about that Mel Gibson movie--one of the Lethal Weapons--where Mel could dislocate his shoulder at will, and put it back, too. <What a load of bullshit! Anyone who has done this would NEVER do it voluntarily! And how do you put it back by yourself?>
Yet another spasm. They're coming more often now. <Shit. Scully, where ARE you? You don't hurry, you're gonna see a grown man crying when you get here.>
He should get up. He should put a shirt on. <Oh, yeah, _there's_ an idea.> Thank God he was wearing sweatpants, at least. This was embarrassing enough without Scully showing up and finding him in his underwear. He should get up.
He made a move off the center of the bed, supporting his left arm with his right hand under the elbow. Scooting off will not be easy without the benefit of either hand for leverage. The pain shot through his body and he changed his mind. <I'll sit right here till she gets here.>
****
Scully fumbled with the key in the lock. As she opened the door she called his name. The apartment was completely dark.
"Mulder?"
"In the bedroom, Scully."
<The _bedroom_?> Sure enough, he wasn't on the sofa, as usual. She flipped on the light inside the door, and made her way to the bedroom.
"I'm turning on the light, okay?"
"That's a grand idea, Scully."
She flipped on the light, and there he was, sitting in the middle of his bed. His right leg was tucked under his left, which was out straight in front of him. His left arm was tight to his bare chest. He was practically gripping his right shoulder with his left hand. His left elbow was sitting in his right hand, which was resting on his leg. He was squinting from the light, and the pain on his face was evident. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, but still he looked at her like a kid who got caught doing something he shouldn't. She couldn't help but smile. Just a little.
"God, Mulder, what happened?"
"I have no idea, Scully. It woke me up. I woke up and my shoulder was out. It hurts like hell. Can you help me up?"
"Of course. Swing your legs out straight." She took up position on Mulder's right, and helped him untuck his right leg. He had to stop for a second in mid-movement. His sharp intake of breath told Scully what was up.
"Is it bad?"
"Uhh, yes it is. Thanks for asking. The spasms are getting worse."
"It's your muscles trying to put it back in place. You know that."
"I know. I just wish it would work for once!"
"Some people are lucky that way. You, Mulder, are not. Where's the sling you had from last time? If your arm is supported more fully, it might not be as bad."
"I dunno, Scully. I think I tossed it, actually."
"That was smart. Mulder."
"Scully, just help me up!"
"It's like pulling a tooth, Mulder, Do it fast, in one motion. It will be better that way. Trust me."
"Fast is better? First time I've heard a woman say that." He winked. She rolled her eyes.
By now his legs were straight, toward the end of the bed.
"Two choices, Mulder. Do you want me to support your arm, or should I pull your feet?"
"Hold my arm. Then I can use my other hand to get off." Another spasm of pain gripped his shoulder. "Shit! Why did I sleep in bed? Bet this wouldn't have happened on the sofa. At the very least I wouldn't be trapped here in the middle of the bed like a beached whale."
"Shut up, Mulder, and just get off the damn bed." By now she was kneeling on the bed, on his left, supporting the upper part of his left arm, at the elbow. Mulder took his right hand away from it's position of support, and in one excruciating movement he scooted to the end of the bed until his feet were on the floor at last. He had to stop and catch his breath.
"Mulder, your heart is racing!"
"Scully, it hurts. Just give me a second, then we'll move to phase two: standing."
"Stay there until we're ready to go out the door. Let me find something to make a sling. It will help. Do you have any dish towels?"
Mulder's look told her the answer to that one. "I have towels, Scully. In the bathroom."
"Nope, too thick. Ummm. . . . I know!" She went to his closet and opened the door. She emerged with four neckties.
"Not that blue one, Scully, that's my favorite!"
"Mulder, who cares? Let me do this!" Gently she put one of them under the elbow of his injured arm, and brought the ends up around his neck, lacing one end between his arm and his chest, and tied it. The slight movement she caused in his arm made Mulder gasp. Scully looked at her partner apologetically.
"Sorry."
"It's all right. I'm fine."
"Yeah, you look fine." She tied another around his neck to support his wrist. She took a third and tied it around his chest, over the other two, effectively binding his injured arm to his body. She only used three. She left his favorite tie on the bed.
"There, that should help. Where are your shoes? Do you have anything that will slip on?"
"There's probably something in the back of my closet. Some loafers. What a fashion statement."
"Mulder, its..." She looked at her watch. It was 4:30am. Not even an hour had passed. It seemed like forever. "...4:30am! I doubt they'll care WHAT you look like at the ER. Where's your ID, your wallet? You'll need your insurance information." She found the loafers and slipped them on.
"I hope they're on the coffee table. I'm not in the mood to conduct a search."
She grabbed a button-down shirt--he'd need it after-- and a pillow off the bed. Then she grabbed his leather jacket and put it over his bare shoulders. She ran into the living room, and returned, triumphantly putting his wallet and Federal ID in the pocket of her jacket.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." He stood up slowly. Once the inevitable spasm of pain passed, and he was sure of his feet beneath him, he moved toward the door.
He got out the front door of the building with relatively little pain. still cradling his useless, injured arm in his other, despite the colorful, ridiculous, but efficient sling. Habit. But then he was faced with the steps down to the street, and he stopped.
"This is gonna hurt."
"Hold the handrail. I'll support your arm for you." Support him is more like it, but they made it to Scully's car. The car. He had to get in the car.
"This isn't getting any easier, Scully."
"Stop whining, Mulder. We've done this before. Front or back?"
"But it hurts more this time, Scully. Front." Gingerly, he made his way into the front seat of the car. This time the pain almost made him cry out. But he gritted his teeth, and just breathed in sharply, and out slowly instead. Experience had taught him this little trick.
"Scream if you want to, Mulder."
"Don't want to wake the neighbors. And besides, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction. You're enjoying this, I think."
"Mulder, you have to admit this is kind of bizarre! How does someone do this in their sleep?" She got in behind the wheel, and slipped the bed pillow she'd brought onto his lap, further supporting his arm.
"Better?"
"Yeah. You're brilliant. Drive. Please."
She pulled away from the curb. "You say it hurts more this time, Mulder? Why?" Then it occurred to her. "Mulder, when exactly did this happen? What time?"
"I don't know, Scully. Before I called you."
"No kidding! How long before? How long did you sit there and contemplate your predicament before you had to finally admit you needed help?"
"I don't know Scully. I don't. When I woke up I didn't know what the hell was going on at first. It was before. I wasn't watching the clock."
"You know, Mulder, that the longer it's out of the socket, the harder it is to get back in."
"Great. Thanks for sharing."
"Are you finally going to do something about this? I mean, really, now it's popping out in your sleep. This is ridiculous."
"Let's just get this taken care of, and then we'll deal with that."
****
"But sir, really, you need to get on the gurney. We need to get your vitals, and The doctor will want to examine you there."
"No. Listen. This is nothing new. It happens all the time. The doctor will just send me to x-ray after one look. But getting on and off that bed will make me pass out, it will hurt so much. I'm gonna stay right here until he gets here. I don't know why you need my vitals for a dislocated shoulder, but you can take them right here." Mulder was standing, leaning against the wall in his makeshift sling.
Scully came in after leaving Mulder's insurance information at the admit desk, and heard the last part. "No, Mulder, they can't. A person's vitals while standing are different than they are while reclining."
"Scully, I am _not_ climbing up there. Up and down is the worst. It's a waste of time. A painful waste of time."
"All right. Then sit here in this chair. We'll put a pillow under your arm again." She looked beseechingly at the nurse, who acquiesced. Mulder sat down, and the nurse took his vitals, kneeling beside him.
"Do you have a history of high blood pressure, Mr. Mulder?"
"No. Why? How high is it?" He looked at Scully, eyebrow raised.
"It's elevated, that's all. Probably just from the pain and stress. We'll take it again in a bit, and I'm sure it will be normal again." Scully nodded her agreement.
The nurse continued with her history. "Are you on any medications?"
"No."
"Are you allergic to any medications?"
"Not so far."
"Have you ever had Valium, Demerol?"
"Ohhhh, yeah. I have."
"No problems with them?"
"Nope."
"Has this happened before?"
Mulder snorted. "Yup. I told you that. I'm not sure how many times. I think I've lost count." Scully smiled at that.
"What were you doing when it happened this time?"
"Damn good question! I was asleep." The nurse's eyes shot up from her chart.
"Asleep?" The corners of her mouth fought to keep from turning up in an incredulous smile.
"Yeah, asleep. I have no idea how it happened. Next question?" He could hear Scully stifling a chuckle. "Not funny, Scully. You wouldn't be laughing if you were sitting here with the end of your humerus nestled in your armpit."
"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm tired. But admit it! It's absurd! I can't understand how you manage to do these things to yourself!"
"It's a rare gift."
Mulder watched the nurse leave with his history, and he tried to lean his head back. But there was nothing to lean it on.
"If you'd have gotten on the gurney, Mulder, you'd be able to put your head back."
"Enough, Scully. You have no idea what this feels like." She could see that the spasms were coming every minute or so by his grimaces.
"I'm sorry, Mulder. You doing okay?"
"Just swell, Doctor. Speaking of which, where is he/she/it?"
"Hey, this is far from life-threatening. Just be glad you didn't have to sit in the waiting room. That's one advantage of doing this in the wee hours of the morning, I suppose."
"What time is it, anyway?"
"It's almost five-thirty."
"Great."
****
The doctor entered, reading Mulder's chart. "So, dislocated your shoulder in your sleep, eh Mr.... Agent Mulder? Can I call you Fox?"
"No, you can't. No one calls me Fox. But you can call me Mulder. And yes, that's it, Doc. In my sleep. That's my story. Go ahead and laugh. Everyone else has."
"Oh, no. I've seen this before. It's uncommon, but not unheard of. You have a history of dislocations. Once it happens once, you are prone to have it happen again. And any violent motion can pop it out, including swinging it forward like this . . ." he demonstrated by putting his arm up straight over his head, and swinging it down quickly. ". . . which is probably what you did in your sleep. That must have been one helluva dream! What demons were you fighting?"
Mulder looked at Scully with the faintest bit of a smile playing on his lips. "I have no idea. I don't remember. But I have so many to choose from." Scully smiled at her partner.
"Let's get you to x-ray, and then get you back in here and get an IV started." Mulder groaned at the doctor's final words. "Ohhh, needle phobic, are you? Well then, just don't watch. We've got to get some valium in you, or your muscles will never let us reduce the dislocation. And you know you'll be wanting that painkiller. You've done this before!"
"I know, I know. I don't have to like it, though. This really sucks."
Scully giggled. She couldn't help herself.
****
The wheelchair returned, bringing her partner back from x-ray, and Scully looked up from the magazine she'd pilfered from the waiting room. "How'd it go?"
"It hurt like hell. As usual. Why they can't just leave it alone, I'll never know. Take the picture, but DON'T TOUCH ME!" He handed Scully the neck ties. "Here, I think these have fulfilled their usefulness for the night."
Scully pocketed the ties. "So you managed to alienate the x-ray department, huh? You truly have a gift. Come on, now you DO have to get up on that gurney."
"Oh, joy."
"Come on. One movement. Just do it."
"This ain't no Nike commercial, Scully." But he did it, and was thankful for the headrest. Especially when the IV nurse showed up to stick his patient. Scully piled pillows under Mulder's left arm, so he could relinquish his right for the IV. One stick, in the back of the hand, with Mulder gritting his teeth and looking intently at the ceiling tiles the whole time, and a saline drip was in place.
****
Mulder was passing the time by literally watching time pass--he was staring intently at the clock on the wall opposite him, concentrating on it rather than the spasms of pain in his shoulder. The ER admitting nurse had come back for one more BP reading, and it was already close to normal. She had left, satisfied, and he and Scully were alone again. It was now well after 6am, and the ER was really coming to life. Scully was sitting on the chair across the small room, watching her partner and noting each spasm by his sharp intake of breath. She tiredly rubbed her eyes.
"Scully, I'll be fine now. You can go home."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder. As if I'd leave! Besides, you'll need someone to drive you home."
"There are such things as cabs, Scully. You're tired. Go home!"
"I repeat: Don't be ridiculous."
"Where is that doctor?" As if on cue, he entered.
"Well, it's a simple dislocation, by the looks of the pictures, Mr. Mulder. Should have it reduced in no time. We're going to add some valium and Demerol to that IV of yours; we'll make sure you're feeling no pain, literally and figuratively, and get to work. Okay?"
"I can hardly wait. And feel free to drop the 'Mr.' Considering what you are about to do to me, you're entitled." The nurse emptied her two syringes into the IV port, and again the FBI agents were left alone. Only this time, one of them was getting drowsier by the minute.
"Feeling better, Mulder?"
"Oh, yeah, this is great stuff."
"Well, don't go to sleep! You'll probably want to participate!"
When the doctor returned, he had a large man with him, and they were unwrapping two fresh bed sheets.
"How have your dislocations been reduced in the past, Mulder?"
"You name it. Had one doctor just yank at it until it went back. That was an adventure. I know what you're up to with those sheets, though. "
"We're just going to wrap these around you. My large friend here will provide the resistance, and I'll do the pulling. You, however, have to do absolutely nothing. Understand? Don't try to help. Just concentrate on relaxing all of the muscles in your shoulder. Can you do that?"
"I promise you, it won't be a problem. I'm flying here."
"Good. Just the way we like 'em!"
Mulder sat up on the gurney, and one sheet was wrapped around the middle of his chest. The human tree of an orderly stood behind Mulder, holding the ends of that sheet. The doctor lifted the injured arm away from Mulder's body, wrapped the other sheet in the crook of the elbow, and positioned it at a right angle. He looked at Scully.
"Can you lend a hand?"
"Sure thing. What do you want me to do?"
"Hold his hand." At this Mulder smiled mischievously. "Keep his elbow bent, so he doesn't have to do it. And you, Mulder, just relax. Let us do the work."
"You got it."
Scully took her place on the opposite side of the gurney from the doctor, and took Mulder's hand like they were shaking them. He held it tightly, and locked eyes with his partner. The orderly just stood there, and the doctor pulled. Hard. First try, and nothing happened. Mulder's face screwed up into a terrible grimace, but he didn't make a sound.
"Did that hurt, Mulder?" Scully looked concerned.
"No, not really. Not much. It's okay." His tone of voice belied his words.
"It shouldn't hurt at all, Mulder." Scully looked pointedly at the doctor.
"I can give you another shot if you are in a lot of pain, Mulder, or we can give it another go, and see if it pops. It's up to you. You're the only one who knows how much discomfort you are in."
"Try it again. Really, it's not that bad. I can take it."
Maybe he could have, but his humerus was not budging--even with 300 pounds of resistance standing like a tree behind Mulder. The doctor was pulling as hard as he dare. Mulder was cutting off the circulation in Scully's hand, and finally he couldn't take it any longer.
"No. No. Stop, stop, STOP! It's not working. I know it's not working." The doctor and Scully let go, and Mulder's arm flopped back to his lap. He was panting from the pain.
"Hmmm, seems we have a tough one. I think what we'll do is give you more valium. Relax those muscles to the point of no resistance. And more Demerol, too. It won't hurt. Someone will be right back." And with that the doctor left again.
Mulder flopped back against the raised head of the gurney, and lifted his knees up, resting his injured arm on his leg. The intense spasms had stopped with the injection of valium. He contemplated his IV.
"Well, this is a new one, Scully."
"I told you, the longer it's out. . . . How long did you sit there in pain before you called me?"
"I don't know. An hour? I really _wasn't_ looking at the clock. Maybe it just felt like an hour."
"Mulder!"
The nurse entered with two more syringes, emptied their contents into the IV, flashed a smile at Mulder, and left.
"What happens if this doesn't work, Scully? Then what?"
"I really don't know, Mulder. He might try the manual reduction, like that doctor in Syracuse did that time--the yanking method, as you so eloquently described it. But I don't know if that is in any way different or more effective than this method. Somehow I doubt it makes a difference."
"What if that doesn't work either?"
"Well, if they can't accomplish a closed reduction here in the ER, they'll have to do what is called an open reduction."
"You mean. . . . "
"Surgery, Mulder. You won't have to worry about fixing that shoulder in the future. They'll be doing it right now."
"Oh, fabulous."
"I told you! Remember this the next time you decide to waste time!"
By now Mulder was extremely drowsy. When the doctor and orderly returned, Scully practically had to wake her partner. "Mulder? Come on. Let's get this done and get out of here, okay?
The sheets were put back, and everyone took their place, the doctor taking the lead. "Here we go again!"
He pulled, long, hard, and steady. Mulder barely flinched, so the doctor kept pulling, and kept pulling. After what seemed like an eternity, all four people felt the sliding movement of the humerus, and the ball of the joint popped back into its socket. The doctor released the sheet immediately, lest he cause more damage from the pulling, and actually staggered backward, he'd been pulling so hard. Mulder's posture improved instantly.
Mulder smiled. "Almost landed you on your ass."
"No one has accomplished that yet! Let's get a post-reduction x-ray, and get you out of here. You up to walking?" The doctor disconnected the saline bag from the IV, but left the apparatus imbedded in Mulder's hand.
"Sure thing. I'm just tired."
Wrong. Mulder stood up, and immediately started to sway on his feet. The doctor stopped his movement, and helped him back on the gurney. Mulder didn't protest.
"Uh huh, Mulder. You're riding. No complaints." The doctor motioned to the orderly, and he wheeled the gurney away.
****
Upon Mulder's his return, the doctor carefully tested his range of motion, lifting his arm to shoulder height, and having the agent carefully move it forward and backward, up and down. "No pain?"
"None."
"Good. Well, everything seems to be in working order. Let's get you out of here."
Scully approached with Mulder's shirt, and gingerly pulled the left sleeve up his injured arm. The right arm posed a problem.
"Doctor, Can I take his IV out now?"
"Oh, sure, He doesn't need that any more." He went to Mulder's side and pulled the needle out of his hand, bandaging the now-bleeding spot with a piece of gauze. He looked intently at Mulder's face. "How are you feeling, Mulder? A little foggy?"
"That's an understatement."
"Well, you've got a lot of drugs coursing through your veins. Let's get a sling on you now." And he left.
Scully held the right arm of the shirt out, and Mulder weaved his arm into it. She then set to buttoning it for him.
"You know, I can do that myself."
"You can, but you shouldn't. You're not supposed to move that arm even an inch. We both know that. I'll do this."
"You're a pain, Scully."
"Yup."
They both looked up to see the doctor return, but he wasn't carrying a sling. It was an immobilizer. It would plaster his arm to his chest, and Mulder didn't like it one bit.
"Wait a minute. I've never had that thing before. Where's the regular old sling?"
"Mulder, this was a tough one. You probably did a fair amount of damage in there. Strained muscles for sure, pulled ligaments and tendons. God knows what. I want you in this thing for three weeks."
"Come on, Doc, I won't be able to do anything with that thing on. It feels fine!"
"Of course you won't be able to do anything. That is precisely the point. You can move enough to get in and out of it yourself--it's all Velcro. You don't have to be totally helpless. You can shower, as long as you keep your arm immobilized against your body. Surely you know the routine. And it may feel fine, but it isn't. You know that, too. Have you considered having this problem repaired permanently? You are far too young to be dealing with this regularly, and it obviously isn't self-reducing. You don't have to live like this. Who is your orthopedist?"
Mulder looked a Scully. "She is?"
Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder, get serious. He doesn't have one. He just has it reduced at the ER in whatever town he happens to be in at the time. It's been done here twice before, I think, hasn't it?"
"I think that's right, but your chart was so big, Mulder, I might have missed one or two! Seriously, though, this time it came out of the socket with hardly any trauma at all. That does NOT bode well for the future. I'll put the names of some good orthopedic surgeons on your discharge instructions. Think about it. Get it fixed. And wear this." He held up the immobilizer. "For three weeks!"
He attached the contraption to Mulder's body. It was a wrap that went all the way around his torso, with two loops on the front, one which attached around his upper arm, one around his forearm.
"I have to sleep in it too, I suppose?"
"Absolutely. Especially considering the circumstances that got you in here this morning!"
"Great."
"Okay, as soon as the nurse comes in with your discharge instructions, get out of here. I'll leave a prescription for pain pills, but I doubt you'll need them. The miracle of dislocations is that the pain just disappears, right?" Mulder nodded. "Fill it if you want to, though. You are really doped up right now, so you have to go home and go to sleep. If you didn't have someone with you, I'd make you sleep it off right here." The doctor turned to Scully, who was giving her partner her best 'Aren't you glad I stayed?' look. "You can stay with him? I want someone to keep an eye on him to make sure his respiration doesn't get too shallow while he sleeps. If it looks like he's barely breathing, wake him up immediately. If you can't wake him up, call 911 immediately. Can you do that?"
"She can do more than that. She's a doctor, Doc."
"You are? Sorry, I had no idea. They just told me you were his partner."
"Well, I am that! But I'm also an MD. I'm a pathologist, actually. And yes, I can stay with him. I have no intention of leaving him alone."
****
After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse entered with the papers Mulder needed to be sprung, and he was wheeled to Scully's car. He still wasn't very steady on his feet.
In the car, Scully sat at the wheel, contemplating.
"If you don't mind, Scully, take me to my apartment, not yours. I know that's what you are deciding. I want to sleep in my own place. Besides, it's morning rush hour, and my place is closer."
"Okay, Mulder."
****
The look on Mulder's face when he entered his apartment was one of pure relief. As far as his long litany of injuries was concerned, this was relatively minor. But it had hurt like hell. And it was a helluva way to wake up in the morning.
"Go lie down, Mulder, before you fall down." He headed for the sofa. "Nope, no way. Get to bed." She steered him toward the bedroom, and he sat down, flipping off his loafers.
"Ahh, the scene of the crime." Mulder laid back, felt something under him, and pulled out the telephone receiver he had abandoned hours before.
"I hope no one was trying to call!" He contorted his body so he could hang it up with his only available hand, and leaned back on the pillows gratefully.
"I'm going to go call Skinner and tell him we won't be in today."
"He's gonna love this." Mulder was laying with his one good arm over his eyes, blocking the sunlight that was streaming in the window. Scully walked over and pulled the blinds closed.
"Go to sleep Mulder. I'll look in on you in a bit."
"Scully, you need sleep as badly as I do, but you're going to watch me? That's crazy. I've never had a problem with these drugs. Go home. I'm fine."
"I know you are, Mulder, but I have my orders. I'll nap, and I'll look in from time to time. I'm the one who is fine. You, however, have to let that stuff get out of your system."
"Yes, Doctor Mom. Good night Scully." She was on her way out the door already. "Scully?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. Again."
She smiled wearily. "Any time, Mulder. It's no problem. But you are
going to get this shoulder fixed. Mark my words. This is too exhausting.
Now go to sleep."
<THE END....unless I decide he decides to get it fixed!>
And I did!!
Want to know what happens next?
Go straight to Shouldering Responsibility.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
So, who am I and what am I doing submitting this thing? Well, this is my first foray into fan fiction of any kind. I'd known of fan fic on the net for years, of course, but never read any until recently. And I only did that because of Mulder Torture Anonymous. After Mulder had his finger broken in a recent X-Files episode, a friend and I were commenting that Mulder was ALWAYS getting injured (and that a sick part of us liked it when he did!). We started compiling a list (three concussions, two smoke inhalations, one retrovirus and a partridge in a pear tree), and I went searching the net for a comprehensive one. I found it, and I also found MTA. I started poking around the site, and in no time I was hooked on reading the fan fic. I noticed that a lot of writers wrote about things they had firsthand experience with (there are obviously EMTs and surgical nurses writing fan fic!). I also noticed that a lot of writers seemed fond of giving Mulder a dislocated shoulder, an injury I knew all about. So before I knew it, and virtually against my will, I was fashioning this story in my head. Powerless to fight the urge, I wrote it down. Once finished, it seemed like a shame to just let it linger on my hard drive, so here it is.
By the way--everything you just read is true, and happened to me. Sleeping
dislocations sound far-fetched, but I promise you, it happens.
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