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By dee_ayy
May 21, 1999
Disclaimer: I would never deign to claim them as my own. Mulder and Scully belong to 1013 Productions and Fox. No harm, no foul, no profit.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Spoilers: Oh yeah. For the sixth season episode "Field Trip."
Archive: Why certainly! Just let me know, please.
Feedback: Is why I do this! dee_ayy@yahoo.com. Come on, click the link!
Thanks: As always, to Keryn, for ideas, encouragement, information, and midnight instant messages. And to the rest of my truly international encouragement crew, who all know who they are.
Disclaimer 2: No, I'm not a doctor. I'm not a nurse. I'm not a medical professional of any kind. I don't even play one on TV. I'm just slightly twisted, and living proof that you can research anything on the Internet.
Summary: What happened after the doors to that "truck" closed at the end of "Field Trip?"
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Post-Trip
By dee_ayy
He felt her hand slip into his, but he wasn't sure. Was this real, or just another hallucination? He couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure. But hey, maybe the fact that he's thinking it's a hallucination means it isn't? Stop. Think. How'd you get here? He remembered now. Skinner--he'd heard Skinner's voice; and hands--so many hands pulling him up out of the earth. It had been real. And Scully--they'd found her, too, and she was right here beside him. He turned to look at her, to make sure she was okay. He opened his eyes, and just as they started to focus, and he caught a brief glimpse of her face turned toward his, the pain hit them. A searing, burning sensation in his eyes. That stuff was in his eyes, and it was burning them. He let go of Scully and went to wipe it away, but the pain wouldn't go away. Surely there was someone who could help him?
"My eyes." Did he make a noise, did the words come out, or did he just imagine it? He didn't know, but no one came.
Quietly, as if from far far away, he heard her voice. "Keep them closed, Mulder. Don't open your eyes."
Too late. He was suddenly aware that his eyes were not the only things that burned. His face, his hands, it felt like his whole body was on fire. What had happened? He couldn't remember, but he could sense a cloud settling over his mind, and he let it; he let himself drift away, away from the bumping of the speeding truck he was in, away from the pain that was everywhere.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
"Okay people, they'll be here in a matter of minutes. I want this done right, do you understand? I don't know how much decontamination was done on scene, but I do know that they were both coated in a viscous acidic solution, hydrochloric acid, mainly. We have two victims, so we'll split into two groups, I'll take patient one, Fox Mulder, a 37-year-old male. Major Bellinger, you head up the team for patient two, Dana Scully, a 35-year-old female. Captain LaRue, you stick with me, and Corporal Davis too. Captain Hazelton, you and Corporal Penn stick with the Major." Colonel Daniel McDermott, MD turned his attention to the rest of the assembled troops in the Army hospital emergency area. "The six of us will take care of the wash down in the decontamination area. I want to expose as few people as possible to this stuff. Once we're confident they're clean, we'll bring them in here. I want you people ready to assess for chemical burns of the skin, mucous membranes, esophagus--you know the drill. Be ready, I don't know how bad they are. I got practically nil from the scene."
Captain Christine LaRue, RN had actually taken the call. "Sir?" He nodded to her. "What about the poisoning?"
"My understanding is that it is not life-threatening, but you're right Christine." He turned to the rest. "Apparently both victims breathed in mushroom spores that are causing some sort of hallucinogenic *and* narcotic effect. I don't think we can count on our patients to be able to participate in their treatment in any way." McDermott looked at the five he had chosen for decontamination duty. "Come on. I want us in HazMat suits. We don't know what we're dealing with here."
When the ambulance pulled in, the six were dressed in their protective gear. McDermott reached the doors of the Forestry Service vehicle first, and threw them open, allowing the late afternoon sun to stream in and illuminate the two victims.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The light. He was being blinded by the light again. Them? Were They back? To take him, this time for real? He was lying motionless, and yet he was moving. It was like he was floating. Yes, he was floating. It was so bright he could barely see a thing, but he saw shapes over him, peering down. Monochromatic shapes hovering over his body as it floated along. It took a moment, but they came in to focus. Grays.
It was true. They had him. He should be frightened, but he wasn't. It was awesome. They had him, and They were taking him somewhere. Wait till Scully hears about this.
A room. A big empty room. White. Everything was white. And the lights were so bright they hurt his eyes. He couldn't keep them open, but he wanted to, so badly. But They were making it impossible, so he relented and closed them. But he didn't want to miss this.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
"I don't fucking believe this! They didn't do diddly in the field. These poor folks spent the 15-minute ride here with this shit burning their skin! Weren't there any medical personnel up there? Who found them, anyway? They'd have been better off if it had been the Boy Scouts--at least they know basic first aid!" McDermott wasn't ranting to anyone in particular, he was just furious. They send these two FBI Agents to them with almost no information, they didn't send anyone from the scene who knows anything about what happened, and they didn't even wipe them down a little before sending them off, let alone start an IV. Fucking amateurs. They were flying blind, and it was totally unnecessary. "Careful, Davis. You don't want to get that shit on his skin when you get his jeans off."
The two men worked efficiently to cut away Mulder's clothing without letting the stuff that covered the articles touch his skin "Looks like it didn't soak through the clothing. That's good. Looks like it's just shoulders-up and hands. But he's gonna be in a world of hurt if he swallowed or aspirated any of this." Christine had been taking his vital signs. "He's doing okay, Dan." She realized the improper informality in front of an enlisted man. "Uhhh, Colonel. Pulse is 88 and strong, respirations are a little fast at 30, but also strong, blood pressure is 102 over 74. Affected skin is very warm to the touch, though"
The doctor looked at her. "Good. Get the shower, let's rinse this shit off his skin." Capt. LaRue pulled over the shower nozzle from the wall, adjusted the temperature and the stream, and handed it to the doctor. "Wait, let's get a pH before I dilute it, and Davis, put some in a sample jar." Christine touched a piece of litmus paper to the stuff on Mulder's skin, then compared it to the scale she had. "Looks like a pH of about 4. That has to hurt."
McDermott nodded and turned to the Corporal. "Davis, I want you wiping away the, the, what is this shit? The... *goo* as it comes off his face. I don't want the back of his head sitting in a puddle of it. These are hardly ideal conditions, but we'll make do. Christine, I don't see any reason not to start an IV on him here. He's got to be dehydrating." He turned on the shower head in his hand. "Well, here goes." He pointed the stream at Mulder's motionless face, and started forcing the acidic solution off his body.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
WHAT was that? His body was being pelted by a liquid. At high power. What were They doing to him? This wasn't in any of the alien abduction scenarios he had read, studied, memorized. This wasn't right, not at all. It had to stop. He tried to sit up. He couldn't. He was tied down. But his arm, his left arm was away from his body. He could move that. He'd show Them that he knew this wasn't right. He snatched his arm away and flailed it around until he found whatever it was that was drenching him, and with a powerful flick of his forearm, he was able to redirect the stream away from his face. So there.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
"Whoa! He's fighting!" Christine had barely gotten the words out before Mulder's arm had left her grasp and made contact with the shower nozzle, sending it crashing to the floor, the stream pointing upward, creating a bizarre fountain from the floor.
Their patient's arm was still flailing around wildly, and his head was shaking from left to right and back again, but he made no sounds. He just fought.
"Had you stuck him yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Okay, well I guess we'd better just restrain him for the time being and get on with it. I don't want to give him anything, not without knowing what's already in his system."
Davis had grabbed Mulder's arm, and was holding it still, though it was obvious the man was still fighting. "Sir, while I have this, do you want to wash it down?" McDermott could see a wry smile in the face of his medical corpsman as he struggled to keep control of the arm.
"May as well. Christina, tell him what's happening. Maybe you'll get through." The doctor picked up the shower and turned his attention to Mulder's hands.
Christina leaned in close to her patient's ear. "Mr. Mulder, listen to me. You are at Womack Army Medical Center--the hospital at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. You've been burned, do you understand? We need to wash your skin to stop the burning, so don't fight us. Just relax, and you'll be fine. You'll be fine."
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Was that Scully? Was Scully abducted too? And what was it with the water jets? That wasn't right. It was on his hands now. Nothing he'd read said anything about this. And a woman's voice? Not Scully, right? That didn't seem right, either. What was she saying? Concentrate Mulder, what is she saying. This can't be right.
Wait.
It is right. It's right because it's real. Burns. She'd said burned; he'd been burned. This was real, this wasn't an abduction. This wasn't a hallucination. This was real. And it hurt.
"My eyes." He still didn't know if he was imagining that the words had left his lips. All he could do was hope they had.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Dan looked up from his what he was doing. "Did he say something?"
Christina looked at him. "He said eyes. You think he has it in his eyes?"
"I was under the impression that they had been unconscious the whole time, so I wasn't too worried about the eyes. But maybe he does--let's take a look." Dan adjusted the shower stream to its lightest setting. "One at a time, Christina, hold them open and I'll irrigate them. Tell him what we're doing. Davis, check the pH of the affected skin--see how we're doing with getting it clean. Oh, and clean under his nails." Davis nodded as he returned Mulder's arms to his sides, and immobilized them with the strap across his bare chest.
McDermott looked at the shower head in his hand. "This isn't going to work very well, but what can you do? We'll start with the right eye, Christine, so turn his head to the right."
LaRue turned her patient's head and pried his eye open. "Dan? He's wearing contact lenses."
"See if you can pop it out, Christine, but don't compress his eye-we don't want to spread any stuff that's in there around." Christine used her little finger, and managed to get the lens to adhere to it and come right out. She held it up to show the doctor.
"It didn't burn into the cornea. Great. Those may be his saving grace. Let's flush this one for just a minute and get the other lens out, then wash them properly." Christine dropped the lens in a dish and held Mulder's eye open for the stream of water.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Oh, God, not his eyes! Don't test his eyes! Poking, and then more liquid, and it hurt. It hurt so much. He tried as much as he could to close his eye to the assault, but he couldn't. His eye was being held open, yet he couldn't see anything, just black then white, and the liquid kept washing over it. What were They doing to him? The liquid stopped, and then the blinding light again.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Dr. McDermott flicked off his penlight. "Well, they react. They're slightly dilated already, and sluggish, but I suspect that's from the drug interactions. I don't see any obvious ulcerations, though." He turned to Davis "Call in to the ER, have someone get Major Ianelli in here, I want them both to get checked by a proper ophthalmologist." The corporal nodded and went over to the phone on the wall.
The doctor and nurse turned their attention the Mulder's left eye. Christine popped his lens out, again with no problem. As the doctor irrigated the eye, she spoke directly into his ear.
"Mr. Mulder, you told us your eyes hurt, so we are washing them. We need to make sure there isn't any acid in them. It won't take long, and when we're done they will feel a lot better."
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Why do only half the words get through? What is going on here? What did she say? Acid?
Acid. The cave. He remembered now. They'd been covered in acid; they'd been drugged. Where was Scully? But the cloud was settling over his brain again, and he was powerless to fight it off, no matter how much he tried. It wasn't a relief this time. He needed to know what was happening. But he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, and with each passing second it became harder to think, until finally the blackness enveloped him again.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
McDermott looked up to see his colleague moving the woman into the ER. "How's she doing?"
"Remarkably well. She's got some nasty-looking dermal burns, but check of everything else looks good so far. Yours?"
"His mouth is a mess, I'm sure he's got esophageal burns. And he actually woke up and complained about his eyes, so we're worried about them. Lungs seem clear so far though, airway is in good shape, vitals are holding. That's something. We'll be in in a second. I want to flush his eyes and ears one more time."
They finished washing him, and moved Mulder onto a clean gurney for transfer to the emergency department. Dr. McDermott handed him off to the people inside, but didn't go in himself--they needed to change. "I want a chest x-ray; draw blood--I want the works, and urine for a complete tox screen; get him on a monitor; start an IV of normal saline; and prep for an endoscopy. We'll be right in."
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
McDermott and LaRue came in from the decontamination room and were met by a large bald man with glasses.
"How are they?"
"I'm sorry. You are?"
Skinner flashed his badge. "Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Those are my agents in there. How are they?"
McDermott looked in the ER briefly. You could barely see the two people being treated. "I haven't seen the woman, another doctor is taking care of her, but I understand she's okay. They both have chemical burns localized to the exposed skin--face, neck, hands. The burns don't look to be too serious right now-I suspect they will blister like a very bad sunburn, but they shouldn't be disfiguring, despite the fact that they were not decontaminated in the field." The doctor could not resist the dig. "The man, Mulder, might have burns to his eyes. He has burns inside his mouth, which leads us to think he may have ingested some of the stuff, so we need to check for burns in his throat, stomach, bronchial passages and lungs. We don't know anything about the hallucinogenic/narcotic drugging. We've contacted someone from Bragg Wilderness Medicine to see if they have encountered anything like this before in their travels." He paused and cocked an eyebrow at the FBI agent. "Mushroom spores?" Skinner nodded. "Right now both of their vitals are stable, and as long as they are we plan to just let the toxins run their course without any intervention. Frankly, I wouldn't know how to intervene. For a hallucinogen overdose, we normally sedate--but they appear to already be sedated. And they show no symptoms of an overdose." Someone came to the doorway and peeked out to the doctor, with an urgent look on her face. "Excuse me."
He walked away from Skinner and through the ER doors. "What?"
"Patient one. His respirations are down to 8."
"What? They were fast in decon."
"I know, sir, we don't know what's happening. We have him on O-2."
McDermott had reached Mulder's side. He put his stethoscope in his ears and listened to the agent's lungs. "They sound clear. Did you get the chest x-ray?" Someone nodded. "Go get it for me. Now." The orderly left, and McDermott kept talking, to no one in particular. "Airway is good, lungs sound clear, Breathing isn't labored, just slow. What's his pulse ox?"
"91."
The doctor turned to find his favorite nurse. "Christine. Put 2 of Narcan in the IV. Maybe this is being caused by the narcotic effect of the mushroom poisoning. Let's hope so. I don't want to have to intubate." The nurse prepared the shot but before she put it in the IV, McDermott spoke again. "Let's restrain him first. If we reverse the narcotic sedation, all we may have left is the hallucinogen." Mulder was tied down, and the nurse injected the drug. The x-ray arrived and the doctor looked at it. "Nope, it looks good. Has to be over-sedation. But this late in? What is this shit? Watch him. I'll be right back." He left the room.
"Agent Skinner?" Skinner looked up at the doctor addressing him, and immediately stood.
"Yes?"
"This stuff they inhaled. It had hallucinogenic *and* narcotic effects? From a mushroom? Do you know anything about this?"
"Only the basics, what I was told. The local coroner actually figured it out. Apparently when the mushrooms were stepped on, spores were released--looked like dust to me--that when inhaled caused hallucination and sedation."
"Do you know if it was simultaneous, or do victims experience one effect, then the other?"
"I don't know. While searching we wore masks, and no one was affected. Why?"
"It's Agent Mulder. His breathing has slowed, and it doesn't look like the burns are causing it, so I'm guessing it's from this natural toxin. We're treating it as such. I'll let you know, but I should get back in there. Did anyone bring in a sample of a mushroom?"
Skinner looked stricken. "No, I didn't even think of that. Of course. I'll call up there and have one brought down immediately. Is he all right?"
"He should be." McDermott turned and went back through the doors.
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So many times Mulder had wondered why They had never taken him. It was his life's obsession, after all, and he'd gotten so close so many times, but still he'd never been chosen. Until now. And now he knew it wasn't something to wish for. He'd been poked and prodded in every conceivable way, it seemed. The Grays moved around him quickly, but silently. All he could hear were occasional beeps and hisses, but he could not determine where the sounds came from. He was paralyzed, but still he could feel their ministrations. He knew there was something over his face right now. What was it? He didn't know, but it didn't hurt. And he was naked; he knew that, but modesty apparently had no place here. And oddly enough, Mulder himself was not embarrassed by his nudity. It just didn't seem like something to be concerned about. In fact, he seemed incapable of getting upset about anything. He just lay there and took it.
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"How's he looking?" McDermott had returned to his patient.
"I think it's working. Resps are up to 14, pulse ox 94 and climbing. He's breathing much better."
"Has he become combative at all?"
"No, not at all." Christine looked relieved.
The nurse assigned to Scully stuck her head around the corner. "Colonel? Major Bellinger wants to know if your patient experienced a sudden and inexplicable drop in respirations?"
"Yes, just now. Tell him to try a low dose of Narcan. Seems to be working here. I think it's from the mushroom spores."
"Yes, sir." And she left.
McDermott returned his attention to Mulder. "What was his temp?"
"One-oh-one six rectally about 10 minutes ago."
"Not too bad. Probably from the burns. Check it hourly, though, and let me know if it spikes." The doctor opened Mulder's mouth and peered inside with a light. "He's got mucosal burning in here. We really need to check his esophagus. I'm betting he's got burns all the way down. Probably should check the lungs, too, just in case, though I don't hear anything."
Capt. LaRue brought over the endoscope. "What do you want to use for anesthetic and sedation?"
McDermott thought for a moment. "I don't want to put anything in his throat until I see how bad it is in there. I think we should give it a try without anything."
The nurse looked at him incredulously. "Are you sure?"
"Well, he may be so out of it he doesn't feel a thing. And he's restrained. I don't want to do more harm than good. He's not acting like he's in pain right now, and he sure as hell should be, right?"
Christine looked dubious. "I suppose. But don't we have to assume he's no longer sedated by the spores?"
"Well, yes, but let's hope for the best. Let's get him on his side." They rolled Mulder onto his left side and the doctor removed the oxygen mask, replacing it with a plastic donut in the agent's mouth to keep it open. Christine grabbed another corpsman and positioned him on the other side of the gurney from her and Corporal Davis in case Mulder needed to be held down.
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The dulled sensations he'd been experiencing were gone now. Instead he was incredibly aware of everything. He could feel every pore on his skin, hear every breath he took, and every movement his body was put through was agonizing. He was about to cry out, and as he went to open his mouth the aliens opened it for him, and stuck something in there. He couldn't close his mouth, and it was excruciating. Is this where they drill his teeth? Panic gripped him, and he knew he had to do something. It hurt too much. Sit up, Mulder. Get up. Get out of here. Get this thing out of your mouth.
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"Try not to further contaminate his burns! Be careful!" The doctor, nurse, and now three corpsmen were engaged in trying to restrain and calm their patient. Mulder was twisting his entire body, and moaning loudly, and trying his best to spit the plastic guard out of his mouth. The doctor hadn't even gotten near him with the endoscope.
"It has to hurt, Colonel, don't you think? Even just the guard on the ulcerations in his mouth?"
"Well, it was worth a try. Okay, 10mg of Valium, IV. That should calm him down, but I want someone watching his EKG and resps like a hawk in case it interacts with the hallucinogen." He popped the plastic guard out of his patient's mouth, and sprayed a topical anesthetic down his throat. "Let's give him ten to calm down and try again." McDermott pulled out his penlight and checked Mulder's eyes again. "Reactions are better, and I don't see any corneal opacification. That's good. Ophthalmology was called in, right?" He saw someone nod, and was satisfied.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
*All* of his senses were heightened, it seemed, even taste. Whatever it was They just sprayed in his throat was vile and bitter and made him want to be sick. And it was cold, and made him numb. His whole throat was numb now, which was okay, since the pain went away. But oh, God, now the light again. Now the light in his eyes was actually painful. One eye, then the other. Make it stop. Stop. Please, go away. Leave him alone. They'd done enough. They had to have done enough. There was nothing left for them to probe.
But as suddenly as his senses became incredibly keen, they started to dull again. It was as if layers and layers of gauze were falling over them all. Everything was becoming fuzzy. Fine by him. He was tired. Best to just let Them do whatever They want. Just get it over with and leave him alone. Fuck it. He was suddenly too drained to care, and he was incapable of doing anything about it. Part of him wished he couldn't feel anything at all. But They wouldn't give him that relief, he knew. He felt them open his mouth again, but this time he was powerless to stop them.
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"Okay, let's try this again. Be ready to hold him down." The doctor slowly started to insert the scope in Mulder's mouth and into his throat, pausing to allow his patient's gag reflex to stop.
"How's it look?" The nurse was prepared to hold Mulder down, but he wasn't fighting. The Valium must be working.
"Transmucosal lesions at first, but they look superficial further down. He must not have ingested enough to burn all the way down. He's lucky. Let's get a pH, though." He took the sample, which Captain LaRue tested.
"It's 5.9."
"Okay, not too bad. Let's irrigate on the way out. The water will dilute anything in his stomach, too. But not too much water. We definitely don't want to cause him to vomit." He took the proffered water, and slowly fed it into the scope's catheter as he pulled it out. "Okay, one down, one to go. Where's the bronchoscope?"
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Whatever it was that They had put in his throat was unbearable, he knew, but he was utterly unable to do anything about it. He wanted to keep gagging; he needed to, but was even unable to do that. They'd even managed to quell his reflexes? How did they do that? He could feel coldness go down his throat, and into his stomach. He felt it all, and could do nothing about it, except hope They finished soon.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Dr. McDermott pulled the smaller tube from Mulder's throat, and pulled off his examination gloves.
"As I thought, his bronchial passages are clear. How he managed to ingest this stuff without aspirating any at all is beyond me. Lucky guy. I think we're done here, though. Let's get him upstairs. I want the burns treated with silver sulfadiazine. Cover his hands with burn dressings, but not his face, and watch him. Restrain his hands. If he moves them too much he can contaminate them or his face easily, and he is still under the influence of an unknown hallucinogen. Get someone from the burn ward to check him out tomorrow, but I really think they'll heal up fine on their own. They're second degree at worst, and not too many patches are that bad. I also want ophthalmology and gastroenterology to check him tomorrow. Keep him on the heart monitor, and monitor his temp and pulse ox closely--on the hour tonight. Any of these burns can lead to infection. Right now we've just got to let the effects of the spores wear off, and then deal with the rest. Did anyone from Wilderness Medicine ever call?" the doctor had been writing his instructions down as he was speaking them.
Another nurse in the room answered. "I think Major Bellinger took the call."
McDermott nodded, and left his patient to find the doctor who was taking care of Scully. "Hey, Mark, did you talk to Wilderness Med? What'd they say?"
The major laughed. "What'd they say? They said 'Are you kidding?' I think one of them is racing out to that hill right now. Treat the symptoms, let it run its course. That's what they said, and that's what we're doing. But they'd never heard of a fungus that was a hallucinogen *and* a narcotic. Big surprise."
"No kidding. How is she?"
"The Narcan worked for her, too. She's fairly out of it, but she looks to be okay. I couldn't find any evidence that she ingested or aspirated any of this stuff, and her eyes look clear, too. So it's just the poisoning from the spores and the dermal burns. Yours?"
"Oh, he swallowed it, all right. Burns go about halfway down the esophagus, so I think it's minimal. It'll be uncomfortable for him when he wakes up, though. And I told you he actually complained about his eyes, so we irrigated them, and they look clear to me now. I put in a request for Major Ianelli to check them in the morning, though. I put him down for yours, too, while I was at it. Can't hurt.
"Yeah, thanks. She's on her way up. The guy, too?"
"Yeah. They're dressing the burns, then they'll send him upstairs. I guess I'll see you up there. I'm going to go talk to their boss. He's outside. You want me to fill him in on yours, too?"
"You mind?"
"Nah. But you'll owe me." He smiled at his colleague and left.
The doctor didn't even have to address the man in the waiting room. Skinner had been watching the door like a hawk, and was up the minute McDermott hit the doors, covering most of the distance between them in two steps. "The sample of the mushroom should be here in a few minutes. How are they?"
"They're doing quite well. The woman,"
"Agent Scully."
"Right. Agent Scully. My colleague Major Bellinger just told me that she's in good shape. With this acidic stuff all over them like it was, our greatest concern was that they may have breathed in or swallowed some of it. She apparently did neither. All of her passages are clear. Another concern is their eyes, and although she's unconscious from the mushroom spores so we can't test for sure, her eyes show no evidence of having been burned. She has some nasty-looking chemical burns to her head and neck and upper chest, as well as to her hands. But they are not serious, and we expect them to heal quite nicely."
"And Agent Mulder?"
"Not as lucky as his partner, but still very lucky in the grand scheme. He did ingest some of the material, and as a result has some burning in his mouth and down his esophagus. At the top of his throat they are what we call transmucosal, which basically means second degree. Further down they become superficial. The pH of his stomach contents was normal, though, so it seems he did not swallow enough to cause burning all the way into his stomach. In that respect he was lucky. And he was *extremely* lucky in that he did not breathe in any of it. Throughout all this his lungs and breathing passages have remained in great shape."
"And what do you do for the esophageal burns, doctor?"
"Basically, let nature take its course. They should heal on their own. I don't believe they are serious enough to make stricture of his esophagus--where it would become permanently narrowed--a concern, but I'll have a gastroenterologist check the tape of the endoscopy we performed to be sure. Recovery will be painful for him, but we can help with that."
"You were concerned about his breathing."
"Right. We treated that by using a drug to reverse the narcotic effect of the mushroom spores, and it seems to have worked. His respirations returned to normal right away. He's breathing fine now."
"And *his* eyes?"
"I think I mentioned that he actually said something about his eyes, so we treated him as if his eyes were burned. But his contact lenses don't even appear to have been severely damaged, so I am inclined to think any damage is minor. We can't know for sure until he wakes up and we can have an ophthalmologist check him out properly."
"And when will they wake up?"
McDermott chuckled. "Your guess is as good as mine. We don't know what we're dealing with here, remember. As long as their vital signs remain stable, we'll just wait it out. The effects will no doubt abate now that the exposure has ended. We did have to resedate Agent Mulder in order to look down his throat, so he'll probably be out longer than his partner. But who knows. They will be moved upstairs to a ward within moments. I'll have someone tell you where they are once they are moved."
Skinner offered his hand, which the doctor shook. "Thank you, Colonel. I appreciate everything you have done."
"No problem. That's why we're here, after all. But when that mushroom gets here, have someone at the desk page me, okay? I am more than curious about them."
Skinner grinned and nodded as the doctor retreated. Then he sat back down with a sigh. These two had managed to dodge another one.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
He heard a beeping noise. The aliens had beeping? No, that wasn't right.
He knew that sound.
Wait.
Aliens? What was he thinking?
The sound. It was a heart monitor, that's what it was. He was in another hospital, and that was a heart monitor. He'd know that sound anywhere, unfortunately.
It was never good when he woke up with one of those in use. But he was still so groggy, he couldn't remember what had happened. He opened his eyes, and they hurt. The light hurt them, and forced him to close them immediately. He couldn't bear to open them again, he knew, so he had to figure this out without looking. His hands. They were tied down? What was that about? And he was wearing gloves?
Oh, God, burns. His hands were burned. He remembered. His eyes, too. Could he see? He knew it would hurt, but he had to know. He slowly opened them again, and hoped they would focus. They did--as best he could without his glasses, anyway. He'd have to ask Scully to get his glasses from his bag in the rental.
Scully?
Where was Scully? He needed someone to tell him where she was, so he scanned the room quickly before the pain caused him to close his eyes again. He was alone; he'd figured that much out. And his hands were tied down, no doubt about that. He decided to see if calling to someone would help, but discovered that the only thing that came out when he tried his voice was a hoarse croak, and it hurt like hell. He wouldn't try that again. What the hell had happened?
Wait a minute. The call button. Someone had tied the call button right at his left hand; he could feel the cord. He grabbed it, felt his way to the end, and pushed.
"Well, another world heard from! Good afternoon, Mr. Mulder. How are you?" A woman. Voice vaguely familiar, he thought.
"You. . . tell me." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "The light. Hurts."
"Oh, of course." He heard the sound of the blinds being closed, and decided to risk it. Hopefully she'd turned the light off, too, so he dared to open his eyes in tiny slits. It was okay. But he didn't know if the darkness had anything to do with it. He watched the woman move closer to him. "My name is Christine. I'm a nurse, and I took care of you when you arrived here. Do you remember?"
Did he? No. Vivid dreams. He remembered having vivid dreams. But he didn't remember exactly what about (aliens?), and he didn't remember her. She was in a uniform. "Military?"
She smiled. "That's right. You're at Womack Army Medical Center, Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Sound familiar?" No, it didn't. He shook his head. "That's okay, you've been through a bit of an ordeal. It will come back to you, I'm sure."
"Scully?"
"Is that your partner?" He nodded. "She's fine. Right down the hall, as a matter of fact."
"See her?"
The nurse laughed. "Oh, not right now. You've been asleep for quite some time. The doctor is on his way up. We need to see how you're doing."
Mulder pulled on the restraints on his wrists. "Why?" He hoped she forgave his fragmented speech. It just hurt too much. She looked to the restraints, and began to untie them.
"You have some burns on your face. Nothing too serious, but we didn't want you touching them in your sleep. So don't touch, okay?" She smiled reassuringly again.
"Mouth. Throat. Hurts."
"I'm sure. They're burned a bit, too. But don't worry, you'll be fine." She patted his arm, and then produced a thermometer, which she stuck in his ear. When it beeped she looked at the reading. "Going down, Mr. Mulder. That's great."
Down? He'd had a fever? Why? Think. Remember. He surveyed the room again. "How long?"
"How long have you been here?" He nodded. "Almost 24 hours. You were brought in late yesterday afternoon. It's..." she looked at her watch "...almost 2 in the afternoon now."
Now that he could, Mulder picked up his hands and looked at them. They were swaddled in pressure bandages. The nurse gently touched his arms and returned them to his side. "You burned your hands, too. But they'll be fine. You'll be just fine. You were very lucky."
"What. . . happened?"
"Do you remember being trapped in a cave?"
Oh god, he did. It was just brief fragments, but he did. Underground, covered in, in stuff. And it burned. He did remember. He shuddered at the memory, then nodded for the nurse's benefit. "Goo. Looked like, like . . . snot."
The woman let out a laugh. "Well, now that you mention it, it *did*! But it wasn't. It did have a fairly significant concentration of hydrochloric acid in it, though. That's what burned you. But like I said, it's not too bad. You should be fine. In fact, it's time to put some more antibiotic ointment on your face. Let me go get it, and I'll be right back."
She left and Mulder was alone, with a few minutes to try and figure out what the hell had happened. His mind was a jumble of images and thoughts, and he couldn't tell the reality from the dreams. Some of it *had* to be dreams. Like that clear memory of Scully telling him he'd been right about everything. THAT, he was sure, was a dream. And he had images of gray aliens standing over a body--his body, as if he'd been abducted. He hadn't been. Had he? The cave, that was real. He was fairly sure that had been real. But what about the rest? He couldn't be sure.
"Hello, Mr. Mulder. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Colonel McDermott, a doctor here. I'm actually *very* well acquainted with you, but I suspect you've never seen me before in your life?" The man who'd entered the room was smiling. Mulder shook his head no. "No surprise. You've been totally out of it. How do you feel?"
"Confused."
The doctor chuckled. "That's not surprising either. You were under the influence of a pretty strong hallucinogen for a while from what we could tell."
Hallucinogen? Oh, right. "Mushrooms?"
The doctor nodded. "Uh huh. The folks in our Wilderness Medicine group are having a field day. Never seen anything quite like it. Your voice sounds rather raw. Does your throat hurt?" He pulled out his light and prepared to take a look.
"My mouth's a giant canker sore."
The doctor took a look. "That's an apt description. You do have some ulcerated burns in your mouth. But they should heal just as canker sores do. And the rest of your throat? Does it hurt? How are you doing swallowing?"
Mulder tried it. Every bit was painful. Mouth, back of the throat, gullet. All the way down. He winced as he swallowed, then nodded. "Hurts."
McDermott nodded knowingly. "That's to be expected. When you arrived you were covered in a goo that was partly hydrochloric acid." Mulder nodded. "You remember?"
"Sort of. Nurse told me."
"Oh, okay. Well, you swallowed some of it, and it burned your throat on the way down. But you don't appear to have burned the lining of your stomach, and more importantly, you didn't breathe any of it into your bronchial passages. Even the burns in your throat are relatively minor. You were lucky."
Captain LaRue walked in with the tube of lotion in her hand. "Oh, hi Colonel. I'll come back." She turned to leave.
"Christine, why don't you go and get the Sucralfate. Let's see if that doesn't provide some relief." She nodded and left, and the doctor turned his attention back to Mulder. "What that is, is a coating agent. You swallow it, and it coats the ulcers on the way down. It only provides temporary relief, but it should help. How do your eyes feel?" He gently lifted Mulder's left eyelid, and shined his pen light in his eye. Mulder recoiled from the light.
"The light hurts."
"I know, but just let me check the other one quickly, okay?" He did. "While you were out of it an ophthalmologist came in and did a test to check the severity of the burns. You did get some acid in your eyes, but only a little. The doctor put some dye in your eyes to look for lesions on your corneas and only found very very minor ones. Any corneal abrasion is painful, I know, but you have nothing to worry about from your eyes. But we can patch them for you if it's too painful." Mulder shook his head vehemently. "I didn't think so. He'll be back to check your vision properly, probably tomorrow. You can also expect visits from a burn specialist, an ENT guy, and a gastroenterologist."
"I'm on the tour." Mulder mumbled.
"Excuse me?"
"The tour. You put me on the tour. Everyone in the." He had to stop and swallow in order to continue, and it was excruciating. "Hospital will stop by on the tour."
McDermott smiled. "Pretty much. None of us have seen anything like this, as you can imagine, so we want to be sure we don't miss anything."
"Why a military hos." Shit. "Hospital?"
"A couple of reasons. We were one of the closest, and we had a full, separate, decontamination room already set to go. And we do have a sector on Wilderness Medicine. The Forestry Service thought they might come in handy with the mushroom poisoning. Turns out they were no help at all, but it was a good thought." Mulder nodded, and watched as the nurse returned.
"Well, I'll leave you to get some rest now. Looks like Christine has a lot planned for you." He smiled at his patient. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Rest your voice, though. Give your throat time to heal." The doctor got to the door, and turned back. "Oh. Your boss, Skinner was it? He's around somewhere, probably with your partner. She woke up several hours ago. Would you like me to tell him you're awake?"
"Please." The doctor nodded and left, and Mulder turned his attention to the nurse. "Now what?"
She smiled at him. "Oh, all sorts of torture. Ointment for your burns, drops for your eyes, and this." She held up a small medicine cup filled with an opaque liquid. "Let's see how you do swallowing this, okay? Do it slowly, though, so it coats better. And I apologize in advance for the taste." She gently lifted his head up from behind, and put the small cup to his lips. Mulder slowly sucked some of the liquid into his mouth, and reflexively pulled away from the lip of the cup. It was vile. Sweet, yet bitter at the same time. Basically awful. But he swallowed what was in his mouth with a shudder.
"Gross."
Christine smiled. "So I hear. But that's good. It means your taste buds weren't burned off! Halfway there. It will help, trust me." Mulder took a deep breath, and took the rest into his mouth, shuddering as he swallowed it. This time he could feel it going down his throat, and dammit if it didn't help. So why couldn't they make it taste better? They can put men on the moon, but medicine still has to taste like . . . well, like medicine. He pushed his head back against the nurse's hand until she took it away, and he settled back against the raised head of the bed.
"Better?" He nodded. "Okay, now I need to put some drops in your eyes. They're antibiotics, and it might sting a little. Open wide, and look up, okay?" He did, and she put the drops in one eye, and then the other, catching any wayward liquid with a tissue before it could fall down his face.
"Almost done. Just let me put some antibiotic ointment on your face, and I'll get out of here. I bet you're getting tired."
Mulder considered it as she gently spread the ointment on his face. He was feeling tired, though he'd only been awake for a little while. But that's not all he was feeling. He looked around at all the paraphernalia still around him. IV, heart monitor, a pulse oximeter stuck to the end of his bandaged fingers. He had to face it. In his current state, this wasn't something he could take care of on his own.
"Ummm. I need to . . . to urinate."
The captain smiled. "It's okay. You have a catheter in."
Fuck. "Why?"
"They needed a urine sample down in the ER for a tox screen, and you were in no shape to provide one willingly. They decided to leave it in as long as you were still unconscious. Why don't you make use of it now, and then I can remove it if you'd like. Or we can take it out a little later if you are tired. We will take it out today regardless, though. We want to get you up and moving soon."
If he had her remove it now, maybe he'd get to see Scully sooner rather than later. "Umm. Take it out now. Please."
"Gladly. Your voice is improved already. Have you noticed? Give me a second." She went into the bathroom, and Mulder could hear her washing her hands. But before she could return, the door opened and Skinner walked in. Mulder could see his boss grin at him slightly through the dimness of the room, but before anyone could say anything, LaRue came out of the bathroom.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Could you give us five minutes? We're almost done."
Skinner looked slightly startled. "Of course." He made a hasty exit.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
"Mulder, are you okay?" Skinner was more apprehensive upon his second entry into the room. It was dark in there, and that concerned him.
"Think so. Scully?" Even in the dark the AD could see the pain on Mulder's face as he spoke.
"Better than you, I dare say. You were out five hours longer than she was. You sound awful, Mulder."
"Better than I look, I bet."
Skinner smiled. Well at least he still had his sense of humor. "You look, Mulder, like you fell asleep under a sun lamp. At least I think you do. It's dark in here."
Mulder nodded knowingly. "Light hurts my eyes."
"What did the doctor say?"
"I'm lucky. I need to see Scully."
"You look pretty incapacitated, Mulder."
"Can she come here?"
"She's still got all sorts of monitors on her, too. She's fine, Mulder."
"I know. That's not it. I want to find out what she remembers."
Skinner sat down. "What do you remember?"
"Little pieces. Don't know. A hallu" He had to stop when it suddenly became too painful to continue. He swallowed carefully, and tried it again. "Hallucinogen?"
"That's right. From the mushrooms in that field. Mulder, I don't think you should be talking. The doctor told you to take it easy."
How did Skinner know that? Mulder dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. "Don't know what I remember. I'm not sure what's real. It's confusing."
"I'm sure it is, Mulder, but there's plenty of time to straighten it out. Don't worry about it for now."
"Sir." Mulder paused to take a moment to collect his voice, to make it as emphatic as possible under the circumstances. "I need to talk to her." Skinner watched Mulder try to keep the pain he was obviously feeling from showing on his face. Stubborn, that's what he was. What else is new.
"I think you need to rest, Mulder." He could see Mulder eyeing the telephone by his bed. He knew what he was thinking. "Mulder, her hands are bandaged, too. I don't think she can reach her telephone. And you can barely speak."
"She's down the hall, right? You could dial her here, then go answer for her? Please? I need to speak to her." Stubborn as a goddamn mule. Skinner knew he wouldn't talk him out of it.
"All right, let me go see if she's still awake. If she is, I'll get someone to wait and answer the phone, then I'll come back, okay?" Skinner watched his agent settle back contentedly.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Skinner dialed the phone, then put the receiver to Mulder's ear. When the man in the bed secured it there with a shrug of his shoulder, the AD let go, placing the rest of the appliance on the bed.
"Mulder?"
"You okay, Scully?" Mulder watched Skinner motion that he'd be outside, and nodded as his superior left him alone.
"I'm fine, Mulder. Your voice is hoarse. Are your vocal cords okay?"
"They're fine, Scully. A slight case of terminal heartburn is all." Fuck. He had to stop again. Swallow. Get your breath. Continue. "I'll be fine . . . . Scully, what do you remember? What happened?"
"I went looking for you, Mulder, in the field where the skeletons were found. I'd found out that that stuff on the remains was digestive fluids. I wanted to tell you. I followed your tracks to the cave, and then it kind of gets confusing."
"How so?"
"Just confusing, Mulder. Don't worry about it."
"No, Scully, tell me."
"It was an hallucination, Mulder. It wasn't real."
"You know what I imagined?"
He heard her sigh. "What?"
Mulder took a deep breath and swallowed yet again. It was an effort, but it was important, too. "That I had an alien in my bedroom, and that you told me I'd been right about everything. How can your hallucination be any more far-fetched than that?" He knew she could hear the mirth in his voice. It *had* been a doozy, after all. He expected her voice to be similarly upbeat, and was surprised when it was anything but.
"Everything you ever hoped for, huh Mulder?" Her voice actually sounded melancholy.
"What?"
"You hallucinated everything you ever hoped for. The answers. Proof. The Truth."
"And don't forget you."
"And me." Mulder heard her sigh again.
"What's wrong, Scully?"
"Nothing, Mulder."
"So what was yours? Debunk everything I've ever said to you? Prove once and for all that I'm a bubble or two left of plumb?"
"No, Mulder, not that."
"So what?"
"It doesn't matter. It wasn't real."
"I know, Scully, so tell me."
"Okay Mulder." He heard her sigh, then take in a deep breath. "Mulder, I hallucinated that I found *your* skeleton in that field."
It was his turn for a sharp intake of breath. "You *what*?" His voice caught on the last word and he swallowed painfully.
"I know, Mulder. I'm sorry."
"No. . . . No, it's okay. It wasn't real, like you said."
"I know. But still."
Tease her, Mulder. Make her feel better. He made a concerted effort to brighten his own tone of voice. "So now we know your deepest darkest desire, Agent Scully." Swallow. "I always suspected as much!"
"It wasn't that, Mulder."
"I'm kidding, Scully. I know! Doesn't mean anything." His voice was fading noticeably, and the effort was becoming almost unbearable. "Look, Scully, I seem to be losing voice. And I'm kinda tired. Maybe later I'll drop by, okay?"
"Okay Mulder. I'll talk to you later."
"Right. Later, Scully." He maneuvered the phone with his bandaged hands until he got it back in the cradle, and settled back on the bed.
She'd had her entire subconscious at her disposal from which to plumb her best hallucination, and she came up with him dead? *He'd* come up with his every heart's desire come true, and she came up with . . . him dead. Wow. He sure as hell hoped that didn't mean. . . . No, of course not. It gave him a momentary pause, sure. No one wants to hear that. But it didn't mean anything. It was the drug. But he shouldn't have just hung up like that, voice or no voice. Next time he talked to her, he'd have to make sure she knew he wasn't upset. He wasn't. Not really. It didn't mean anything at all.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Mulder shifted uncomfortably in the bed. Earlier he'd tried to lay flat to sleep, but it made the discomfort in his throat even worse--like the worst heartburn he'd ever had, multiplied by a factor of ten. He'd been forced to raise the head of his bed again, so he was virtually upright, and it was almost impossible for him to sleep that way. He shifted again, but stopped when he heard movement in the room. Was Skinner in here? He turned toward the noise, and in the dimness he could see Scully sitting by his bed.
"Scully? How'd you get here?"
"I'm a doctor remember, Mulder. I knew the monitors were just precautionary. I made them disconnect them."
Mulder gestured toward his own heart monitor. "Me too?"
"Sure, later. Mulder, I want to apologize."
"What time is it?"
"A little after nine p.m."
"Past visiting hours, Scully." He wanted his voice to be chiding, teasing, but he wasn't sure he was capable of such subtleties right now.
"Seriously, Mulder, I want to apologize."
"For what?"
"For what I hallucinated."
"Scully, you had no control over that."
"Maybe. I know. But that doesn't make it any less horrifying. I've been thinking about it. You, Mulder, you hallucinated all your dreams come true."
" *Most* of them, yeah."
"And me, Mulder, I hallucinated my worst nightmare come true."
"That's your worst nightmare? Scully, I'm touched." Did that sound playful? He hoped it sounded playful.
"I'm serious, Mulder. If dreams really are 'the touchstones of our character,' what does that say about me? About both of us? You dream everything wonderful. I dream everything awful."
Mulder couldn't help but smile. "Thoreau? Very literary, Scully, but it hardly applies. It wasn't a *dream*" The emphasis on the last word was almost too much, but he had to get this out clearly. Speak slowly; take your time. "It was a chemically-induced hallucination. Totally different."
She looked at him reproachfully. "You didn't think that when you had your run-in with Dr. Goldstein."
Mulder shook his head adamantly. "No, Scully, it's different." Deep breath. "Those weren't dreams, either. A repressed memory isn't a dream, just like a." Pause. "Hallucination isn't a dream. Dreams may be the touchstones of our character." Swallow. "But hallucinations are not dreams. The drug was choosing from your subconscious. Not you."
"Maybe so, Mulder, Maybe so."
"Besides. It's, it's. . . . " What was it? "It's touching that this bothers you so much."
"It's sobering, Mulder, to know that I'm capable of conjuring up something so horrible."
Mulder sighed. "*You* didn't, Scully." He grinned suddenly. "The mushrooms made you do it."
There. He'd made her smile. But it only lasted for a moment, and she turned pensive again.
"I've been thinking about something else, too, Mulder. What you said in the office. Maybe you're right. Maybe you do deserve the benefit of the doubt more often than I give it to you."
Mulder shook his head again. "Not this time. Not an alien in sight--except in *my* mushroom dreams." He swallowed again, and noted the sympathetic look that crossed Scully's face as she saw the pain register on his. "This time there was a purely scientific explanation. You were right."
"Not entirely. It was a little more fantastic than a ritualistic murderer."
Mulder looked at his partner pensively for a moment. "How did you know it wasn't real, Scully?"
She smiled warmly at her partner. "You, Mulder. I started thinking like you. I couldn't accept the pat answer that everyone was buying because I knew you wouldn't. Even the Gunmen were buying it, and I knew there had to be more to it." Mulder started to chuckle. "What's funny?"
"You know how I knew I didn't really have ET in my bedroom?"
"How?"
"You, Scully. I started thinking like you. You were there and even you were buying it, but it didn't make any logical sense at all. There were too many holes for it to be true." He paused to collect his voice yet again. "Funny how that works. I also hallucinated that you figured it all out and saved us, Scully. Maybe you did."
"I don't think so. I hallucinated that *you* figured it out. I think we just got lucky. Skinner found us."
"No, not luck, Scully. We're quite a pair." Mulder was silent for a moment, studying her. "Scully?"
"Yes, Mulder?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like a lobster that's been in the pot too long."
He could see her smiling. "Mulder, I hope *you* don't take this the wrong way, but I've looked in the mirror, so I know how I look. And you look worse."
Mulder smiled and wearily laid back on his pillows again. "That'll teach us to take on man-eating fungi without proper backup. But that's it. No more portobellos or shiitakes for me." His voice was barely a whisper by now, but he knew she heard him.
They shared a moment of companionable silence, until Mulder spoke again. "Get some sleep, Scully. And tomorrow I'll tell you about the gaggle of Gray aliens who treated me in the ER yesterday."
Scully chuckled and stood up. "We *are* quite a pair, aren't we?" She walked to the door and turned back before she disappeared. "Good night, Mulder."
THE END.