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By dee_ayy
Disclaimer: If they belonged to me, I'd be rich and living in Malibu. I'm poor and I'm thousands of miles away. Get it? The people they DO belong to, Chris Carter, folks at 1013 Productions and Fox, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, etc., ARE all rich, and they probably all live in Malibu. So I am certainly not worth the trouble.
Rating: PG-13 for language. Lots 'o Mulder Torture, with plenty of angst for his circle of friends.
Spoilers: BIG TIME!! For "Triangle" from the 6th season. Don't read if you don't want to know how the episode ends.
Feedback: Is mandatory. dee_ayy@yahoo.com
Thanks: To the muse and master of Muldertorture, Vickie Moseley, for not only allowing, but encouraging me to step on her "fill-in-the-blank" genre toes. To Keryn, my tireless medical consultant -- you keep me honest, babe. To Christine and Kristina, for telling me they liked it.
Note: This story is meant to nestle right into one of the few black-screen scene changes in TRIANGLE, the one right before that last scene (trying to be cryptic for the international set!).
Summary: Did _you_ wonder what Scully
meant by "been through the wringer" in TRIANGLE? Me too. Try this on for
size.
_______________________________________________________
The Wringer
By dee_ayy
Mulder's lifeless body slipped to the floor of the boat.
"Shit! What was I thinking! We shouldn't have done that. MULDER? Come On, Mulder, open your eyes. Can you hear me?" Scully lightly slapped her partner's face as she yelled at him. Nothing. She put her ear over his mouth, her hand on his chest, and watched.
"Shouldn't have done what, Re..." Frohike couldn't believe it. He'd almost called her "Red."
"...Scully?"
"He's not breathing." She opened Mulder's airway by thrusting his jaw forward, and pushed two breaths of air into his lungs, then pressed her fingers into his neck. "But he has a pulse, thank God." Scully turned to the mismatched trio standing by helplessly. "Take us in."
The three looked at each other, and back at her. "Ummm, Agent Scully? We can't drive a boat." Langly toed the floor as he spoke, but he saw Scully practically spit into her partner's mouth as she was delivering his next breath.
"WHAT? You were at the wheel coming out here! Never mind. Just never mind. Please tell me at least one of you knows CPR." She gave Mulder another breath, and checked his pulse again.
Byers kneeled down next to the pair on the floor. "I do, but my certification expired a couple of years ago."
Scully looked up from delivering another breath. "Who cares. Think you can take over for a minute?"
"Of course."
Scully positioned the man by Mulder's side. "One breath, every five seconds. Watch his chest rise; make sure it goes in. Keep checking his pulse. Call me if you can't find it. Keep his airway open by pulling his jaw forward. Don't tilt his neck."
She got up and dragged Langly to the controls of the boat. "I can't believe you three. You can hack into the readings from a spy satellite, but you can't start a goddamn motor boat?" She started the boat, steered it back toward shore, and physically placed Langly behind the wheel. "Go straight. Go fast. Got it? And get on the radio -- I _trust_ you can use a ship-to-shore? -- tell them we need an ambulance on the dock. Tell them to be prepared for a near drowning and a possible spinal injury."
Langly's head shot up. "Spinal injury?"
"Langly, we have no idea how he got into that water; what happened to him. We NEVER should have hoisted him out of the water like that." She returned to her partner.
"Anything, Byers?"
"Pulse is still strong. Still not breathing, though."
"Well keep it up. I'll take over in a second. I want to get a look at him first."
"What can I do, Re..." Shit! He'd done it again.
"Blankets, Frohike, go get blankets. All of them." He went down below.
"Shouldn't we take off his wet clothes, Scully? I remember that from the CPR course."
"Normally, yes. But what if he has a spinal injury? Best not to move him again until we can immobilize his spine. I can't believe we just pulled him up like that. One of us should have gotten into the water with him." As she was speaking, Scully was gently feeling all of Mulder's extremities, looking for broken bones. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found none. She lifted his shirt gently, and was greeted with the sight of an abdomen covered with bruises.
"Geezus, Mulder, what did you do to yourself out here? I'll take over Byers." The two people switched places, and Scully resumed breathing for her partner. "When he comes to, he'll probably be coughing. We need to log roll him so we don't injure his spine any more, and so he doesn't breathe the water back in. Do you know how to do that Byers?"
"Uhhh, I've seen it on TV. On ER."
"I'll hold his head. You and Frohike will roll his body. It's all about keeping the spine completely straight." She delivered another breath. "That is, if he wakes up."
"He'll wake up. He always does, doesn't he?" Scully grinned ruefully at the bearded man, and delivered another breath.
Frohike returned with the blankets, and they were piled on top of Mulder. Scully gave the two men a brief course in log rolling, and they took their places at the man's side, ready to spring into action when he started breathing on his own.
They didn't wait long. Scully had her mouth on Mulder's and was delivering a breath when her eyes went wide and she pulled away. Mulder gasped.
"Now!"
Scully stabilized Mulder's neck, the three people rolled him onto his side, and he coughed up what looked like gallons of water. At least it looked like gallons to Frohike. When he was done he kept breathing. It sounded horrible -- wheezing and ragged -- but he was breathing.
"Atta boy, Mulder. Roll him back, guys, gently." Once flat again, Scully yelled at her partner again. "Mulder? MULDER? Come on, Mulder, open your eyes. Look at me." He didn't respond, so Scully took her flashlight, and flashed it into his pupils.
Byers couldn't tell, so he asked. "Did they react?"
"Yeah. Come on, Mulder, I know you're in there." Scully felt her partner's skull, and stopped at a point in the middle of the back of his skull. "Shit. He's got a welt the size of a grapefruit back here. Geezus, Mulder, it isn't enough to just drown?"
The prostrate agent suddenly started to groan and mumble incoherently, prompting Scully into action once again. "We can't let him move, understand? Frohike, come here. Sit at his head, and hold it down. Put your hands on the sides of his head, and don't let him move it, understand? Not even an inch. "
"Got it, Scully." Phew. Got it right that time.
"Byers, you watch his body-same thing. Don't let him move at all. But try not to put any pressure on his abdomen in case there are internal injuries."
Frohike was kneeling at the younger man's head, cradling it in his hands. He leaned in, and spoke. "Hang in there Mulder. Help is on the way."
"Scully?? We're almost in." The voice was coming from the front of the boat. Scully sighed and went up to Langly.
"I can't _believe_ you guys." She steered the boat into the dock, where they were greeted by a Bermudan ambulance crew, waiting with a gurney and a back board. They climbed aboard the boat with the board, and Frohike and Byers leapt out of the way. The two paramedics efficiently rolled Mulder onto the board, put on a cervical collar, and strapped him down in every conceivable fashion.
"Geezus," Langly said. "Ain't no way he's gonna move."
Scully looked at the three men. They all had a vague look of panic on their faces. "That's the idea, Langly."
One of the paramedics was placing an oxygen mask over Mulder's face. "What happened to him?"
Scully turned her attention back to the paramedics. "We don't really know. His boat is completely wrecked out there. It almost looked like it exploded, but it was probably the storm. We found him floating face-down. And he has a head injury."
"Has he regained consciousness?"
"No, not really. He was mumbling a bit, but never coherent."
"You want to come with us?"
"Absolutely. Where are we taking him?"
"Bermuda National Medical Center. About 5 minutes away."
Scully turned to the Gunmen. "You can find it? I'll see you there." She climbed into the ambulance and was gone.
+ + + + +
"So where the hell is this hospital?" Langly was pulling their rental car out of the lot at the boat dock.
"Damned if I know. Look in the glove compartment, Byers. Maybe there's a map."
"No map. The ambulance went that way. It's a small island. Look for signs."
"Did you see him, guys? He was gray."
"That's because he was drowned, Frohike."
"You think he's gonna be alright, Byers?"
Langly had heard enough. "Of course he's gonna be alright. This is Mulder! He's always all right! Look, there's a sign. Good call, Byers." He took the turn and in no time the hospital loomed in front of them.
+ + + + +
"Hey, there she is." Frohike pointed to Scully, pacing the hallway outside a trauma room. "Scully!" She looked up and approached them.
"How's our boy?"
"Don't know, Frohike. They're doing x-rays now. A bunch of other tests."
"He wake up?"
"No, not really. Just more mumbling. I hope it's just a concussion. Wait, that's one of his doctors." She pointed to the man approaching them.
"More friends?" He smiled. "The c-spine series was negative. No spinal damage that we can see. We took off the collar, but we'll keep him on the board for the time being. He's got extensive bruising on his lower back and abdomen. Has he been in a fight recently?"
"No, why?"
"Well, because several of the bruises look distinctly like boot marks, that's all. Must be a coincidence. Anyway, his abdomen was a little distended, so we did a peritoneal lavage, which was negative."
"Huh?" Frohike wasn't gonna let _that_ term go by undefined.
"No internal abdominal bleeding, Frohike. That's good." Scully turned her attention back to the doctor. "His kidneys?"
"We've got a Foley in him, and no visible signs of blood. We're doing a urinalysis now, and we'll do other kidney function tests as well, but I think we're going to be lucky there, too."
"Is a Foley what I think it is?"
Scully arched her eyebrows, and looked. "A catheter, Frohike, in his urethra, yes."
Langly muttered "Yikes!" and Frohike recoiled, but he still hadn't heard what he wanted to hear. "So if everything is so peachy, why isn't he awake?"
The doctor turned his attention to the short older man. "Probably a concussion from the blow to the head. We're getting ready to take him up for a CT scan, to rule out a subdural hematoma."
"Not another one!" Langly muttered it under his breath, but the doctor heard it anyway.
"He's suffered one before?"
"Ummm, well, no, not really....." Langly was stammering, useless when it came to talking to doctors, so Byers took over.
"No, actually, he didn't. He suffered a head injury earlier this summer, a grazing gunshot wound. They were very concerned that one was developing for a while, but it didn't. He was fine."
Scully knew all this; it was ancient history. "What about his lungs, doctor?"
"Well, there's no doubt he aspirated
-- breathed in --" he turned to the three men when he made the clarification,
"some salt water. This is cause for great concern. Right now he's doing
okay. His chest x-ray and blood gas levels from on arrival are okay. Not
great, but okay. And his breath sounds are a little wet, but he's taking
good breaths. But the next 24 to 48 hours are crucial. I probably don't
have to tell you that he's still at risk."
"No, you don't. I understand. Thanks,
Dr. Rogers." Scully looked down the hall and saw Mulder's gurney
emerge from the treatment room on the way to the CT scan.
The unconscious man's four friends all raced toward the bed. Mulder was still strapped to the board, but the apparatus around his head was gone. They all muttered encouragement, he was taken away, and they returned to the waiting room. Scully segregated herself from the other three, sinking into a chair across the room, and pulling her knees up to her chin. The three men watched her for a minute, and then Byers decided to ask what they all were thinking.
"Agent Scully? What did he mean, 'still at risk'?"
Scully looked up. "Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Secondary drowning. The body attacks the lungs because of the foreign substances in them -- the salt, I guess. It attacks them by flooding them with fluid, basically trying to drown him all over again."
Langly was horrified. "That's gonna happen?"
"Not necessarily. But it might. It's a possible side effect of near-drowning."
"Sounds bad."
"It is bad, Frohike. It could be fatal if it happens. But we won't worry about it unless we need to, right?"
+ + + + +
"So who's this?" The CT technologist entering the room was referring to Mulder, and speaking to his colleague running the scan.
"American. Boating accident, near drowning. Got a huge knot on his head to boot. Rule-out subdural hematoma. Almost done."
"Oh, hey, I heard about this guy. The FBI agent, right?"
"He's an FBI agent?" Their gossiping was interrupted by a sound coming from the patient himself. At first he was just groaning, and then trying to move, then he became coherent.
"Hey. HEY!"
"Shit, I hate when they come to in the tube." He turned to his visitor. "Do me a favor, go get Doc Rogers. Tell him he's awake." Then he turned his attention to the patient, and switched on the intercom.
"Mr. Mulder, my name is Chuck. You're at the hospital in Hamilton. You had an accident, and hit your head. You HAVE to lay still and be quiet so I can finish your CAT scan. Five more minutes and we'll get you out of there, okay?"
"WHERE am I?"
"Hamilton. Bermuda."
"Ohhhhh." Mulder quieted.
Doctor Rogers arrived just as the scan was completed. Mulder was quiet, so he took a moment to read the scans. "Get Dr. Bryan to take a look, will you? But I don't see anything. Christ, he's lucky."
"Hey. Hey." It was Mulder again, only this time the word came in gasps, as he struggled for breath.
Rogers looked into the scanner room, could immediately see that Mulder was having difficulty. "Maybe not so lucky. Let's get him back to the ER." They transferred Mulder back to a gurney, and raced him back to the trauma room.
+ + + + +
Scully heard the commotion before she saw anything. What she saw was many people racing into the room Mulder had been in. As she headed toward the door, with the Gunmen not far behind, she silently prayed that a new patient would be the recipient of all the attention. No such luck.
She watched through the doors as the staff spoke to Mulder, and she could swear she saw him answer, though the oxygen mask made it hard to tell. Then the staff elevated the gurney so Mulder was sitting slightly, and she saw him pick up his arm, and she saw his eyes blinking. That was all she needed; she barged through. "He's awake? Mulder?"
"Scully?" Every word was an effort, and Mulder craned around the people surrounding him in an effort to see her. "Scully?"
Scully moved toward the patient, but a nurse pushed her back. "Please, stay back. There's no room for you here now."
Scully stepped back, and almost shouted to be sure he heard her. "I'm here, Mulder. Just relax and let the doctors do their thing. I'll talk to you in a minute." She began to panic, though, when she heard Doctor Rogers speaking to a nurse. "It's ARDS. Gotta be. Get another chest x-ray, and blood gas. Stat."
+ + + + +
"Mr. Mulder, my name if Doctor Rogers. You almost drowned today. What's happening now is that your body is attacking your lungs because of the trauma that they went through, and the foreign substances from the salt water that is in them. The more they are attacked, the harder your lungs will work, and the more they work, the more your body will attack them. It's a vicious circle. Do you understand?" Mulder's eyes were wide with fear and confusion, but he nodded.
"The only way to stop this is to stop your lungs from working. We can do that, but we have to put you on a respirator."
"Nuhhhhhh, Noooo. Hate respirators. I can breathe."
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Mulder. You can breathe now, but not for long. Your lungs are filling with fluid, and soon you won't be able to breathe at all. We have to stop your lungs from working, and to do that we have to relax all your muscles -- effectively paralyze you -- and let the machine breathe for you until this clears up."
Mulder's EKG readings went wild as his heart rate soared. "No. No way. Scully?"
"It is absolutely vital that we do this right now, before the damage already done to your lungs is permanent, or gets worse. If we do it now, you have a very good chance of pulling through this. If we have to wait, well....."
"Pull through? What?"
Of course he'd pick up on those words. Scully couldn't stay back any longer. She rushed forward, and grabbed Mulder's hand. She was shocked by what she saw. In just a few moments Mulder's skin had returned to the pasty gray it was immediately after they'd pulled him from the water, his lips were blue, and every breath was an effort, despite the oxygen he was being given. "Mulder, it's me." He turned his attention from the doctor on one side of his bed to her on the other, and Scully could swear he sighed. "Listen to me, Mulder, he's right. I know this is scary, and it doesn't sound like it makes sense, but he's right. If they put you on the vent right now, you'll be fine." She knew she was lying, she didn't know that for sure, but she had to reassure him. "If they wait, it's gonna get worse and could be fatal. They'll put you to sleep first, Mulder. You won't even be awake while you're on the machine."
"Hate them, Scully. Hate the tubes."
"I know, Mulder, I know. But when you wake up again, they'll be gone. I _promise_ you that. Let them do it, Mulder. Trust me." Mulder looked hard at his partner, and could see the conviction in her eyes.
"Okay."
"Who's got the consent?" Rogers took the proffered form. "Mr. Mulder? We need you to sign this consent form." He removed the pulse oximiter from Mulder's right index finger, and handed him a pen. "Can you sign here?" He pointed to the spot, and it took some time, but Mulder managed to sign his name. He dropped the pen, and looked at Scully and then the doctor.
"She'll do." Breath. "The rest."
Doctor Rogers hadn't wasted any time. The minute Mulder gave his consent, an anesthesiologist he'd called ordered the drugs that would put the agent to sleep and keep him there for as long as it took for his lungs to recover. Scully watched the drugs as they were injected, and turned back to Mulder. "When you wake up it will be all over, Mulder. Just go to sleep."
The last thing he felt was her hand on his forehead.
The minute he lost consciousness Scully was pushed away from her partner. She backed toward the door and watched as Mulder was laid flat, intubated and hooked to a respirator. She heard Rogers bark out the settings, and wished she had paid closer attention during her cardio-pulmonary rotation in med school. The numbers meant nothing to her. The anesthesiologist moved over to Mulder's left wrist, where a nurse had laid it flat and draped it, creating as sterile a field as she could. The doctor inserted a long needle.
"That's an arterial line. They'll need to test his arterial blood gasses several times a day. With that they won't have to stick him over and over."
The voice startled Scully, and she looked to see that a nurse had come up next to her. "Uhhh, I know. I'm a doctor."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just figured you didn't know what was going on."
"Well, I don't. Not really. I know enough to be terrified, though."
The nurse patted Scully's arm. "Don't be. We treat hundreds of near-drownings a year. This is Bermuda, after all! We caught it extremely early. That's always good. Why don't you go out and sit down. I'll send Doctor Rogers out to talk to you as soon as he can. I think your friends," she motioned toward the door, "are going out of their minds." Scully turned and saw the three faces practically pressed up against the windows of the trauma room doors.
"Okay. Please send him out to talk to me, though." She turned and headed out the door, where she was barraged by Mulder's three friends. She didn't hear any of their questions, just the noise. She slowly walked past them, into the waiting area, and sank into a chair.
Byers stopped his two friends from accosting the woman any longer. "Scully? What's going on?" She just looked at him blankly, then shook her head slightly, shrugged, and looked at the floor again. "It's bad?"
She looked up again, and took a deep breath. The three men sat down across from her. "Yeah. It's bad."
"Is it that acute respirwhatever - that drowning thing?" Langly wished he'd paid better attention when she was talking earlier.
Scully nodded. "Yeah. He was having more and more trouble breathing. He was drowning from the inside."
Frohike dared to touch her knee, just to get her attention. "You were talking to him? He's awake?"
Scully shook her head. "Not any more. He was, though, for a little while. But they've put him in a coma." She didn't get any more out, as all three men reacted to that news. She stopped them with a stern look. "The only way to treat this is to stop his lungs from working on their own. The only way to do that is to completely paralyze him. The only way to do that so he doesn't fight it is to put him to sleep. They know what they are doing; they're doing the right thing."
"For how long?" Scully couldn't tell which two of the three asked. She shook her head.
"I have no idea. I guess it's up to Mulder. I really don't know any more. But the doctor will be out soon."
"Is he gonna be alright, Scully?" Frohike couldn't hide his concern.
"I hope so."
+ + + + +
"Soon" stretched to over an hour. The four people waiting anxiously shifted in their chairs, paced, drank coffee, but didn't speak. No one knew what to say. Finally Doctor Rogers appeared in the doorway, and Scully sprang from her chair. The Gunmen stayed a respectful pace behind her. "So? How is he?"
"We're moving him up to ICU. When we get him up there we're gonna insert a Swan-Ganz so we can monitor his hemodynamic pressure, and rule out pulmonary edema caused by congestive heart failure - but of course with the drowning, we pretty much know what's causing this." Frohike started to question, but Scully threw up her hand, effectively shutting him up so the doctor could continue.
"We've also got him on heavy doses of antibiotics to hopefully prevent infection, heparin so he doesn't throw a clot, and diuretics to dry him out. He's young, he's healthy, we caught it as early as possible, and this isn't being caused by any serious underlying disease or injury. These are all things working in his favor. But this is very serious, and he'll probably get worse before he gets better. ARDS works that way. You told me earlier that you have his medical power of attorney?"
Scully nodded.
"Well, we're going to monitor him closely for the next 8 hours or so. Sometimes when you catch it this early it can reverse itself. But if not, I would like your consent to start him on nitric oxide inhalation therapy. It's a vaso- and bronchodilator, and it's proving to be extremely beneficial in reversing the effects of this condition."
"Yeah, sure. Of course. When can we see him?"
"It's gonna take at least an hour to get him situated, and get the cath in. Go and get something to eat, relax a little. Come back in a few hours."
"Thanks for everything, Doctor." Scully shook the man's hand, watched him leave, and turned to face the inevitable questions from the three men. "Okay, look, here's what he said. It is Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. This is sometimes -- often -- caused by heart trouble, so they are going to put a catheter called a Swan-Ganz catheter into his heart. This will both rule out heart failure as a cause -- and we _know_ it's not the cause -- and it will also allow them to monitor his heart function while he's . . . while he's in . . . while he's asleep." Suddenly, she couldn't say the word "coma."
Langly looked as if he'd just been slapped. "Another catheter? They've got catheters everywhere!"
Byers tried to keep the conversation on track. "And what about the drugs? Nitric oxide? That's a pollutant! The main component in smog, acid rain, isn't it?"
"In the environment, yes, it is. But research is proving that nitric oxide in our bodies controls all sorts of things. It's got something to do with Viagra, for example." She looked slyly at the three men when she said that. "And the doctors who won the Nobel Prize for medicine a month ago researched its role in something to do with the cardiovascular system." She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "But I never got around to reading the article."
"But there's nothing wrong with Mulder's heart, is there?" Langly was trying to keep up.
"No. Not now. Could happen, though, if this goes on for a long time. If they can't stop the progression of the respiratory failure, his organs will start failing one by one." She turned her back on the three men, who all assumed it was so they wouldn't see her getting emotional.
The men looked at each other, all unsure of what to do, but they didn't have to do anything. After a moment Scully turned back to face them, and continued her lesson.
"Umm, what else did he say? Antiobiotics. Those are a precaution, so he doesn't get an infection. Heparin is a blood thinner. With all these invasive procedures and his lack of mobility, blood clots are a concern. Heparin will prevent them. Diuretics do just what he said-dry you out. Hopefully they'll dry up the fluid in his lungs. As for the nitric oxide, I know it would act as a dilator. It makes passages open up, in this case I imagine the small alveoli in his lungs, so that they will oxygenate better. I'm guessing, though. I don't know anything about it, really."
"So what do we do now? Anyone hungry?" Leave it to Frohike.
"You three go and get something. I'll stick around here."
"Scully, you don't have any clothes, you don't have anything. Don't you think you'd better make some arrangements, get a hotel room?" Byers turned to his colleagues. "Us, too."
Byers always was the sensible one. Scully hadn't thought of any of that, to be quite honest. "Yeah, I guess so."
A nurse entered and spied Scully. "Are you Dana Scully?"
"Yes?" She was suspicious.
"We have a phone call for you at the desk." Dana was perplexed. No one knew where she was. She shrugged at the Gunmen, and followed the nurse out.
"Normally we don't allow calls at the desk, but he said it was an emergency." She handed Scully the phone.
"This is Dana Scully."
"What did he do to himself this time, Agent Scully?" It was Skinner.
"Sir! How did you find. . . ?"
"This is Agent Mulder, Scully. When you didn't check in, the hospital was my first thought. So you did find him."
"Yes sir, we did."
"Is he all right?"
"Uhhhhh. No, sir, not really."
"What is that supposed to mean? Explain, Agent Scully."
"His boat wrecked. We found him face-down in the water. He almost drowned, and now he's suffering a complication of near-drowning called Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. . . . " She proceeded to explain the problem as clearly as she could.
"This sounds serious."
"It is, sir. Very."
"Potentially fatal?"
Scully paused for a moment. "Well, sir, the doctors here say that he has every possible positive indicator working in his favor, but yes, potentially fatal."
"I'll be there as soon as I can. Do you need anything?"
"But sir! You're not supposed to have anything to do with us, isn't that right?"
"Fuck that, Scully. What do you need?"
Scully chuckled at her superior's language. "Everything, sir. I didn't plan well, that's for sure. I had no idea I'd be staying. Can you bring me some clothes?"
"Consider it done. I'm on my way. Oh, and Scully, don't worry about Kersh. I'll talk to him."
"Thank you, sir."
+ + + + +
Byers had gone to procure hotel rooms, and Langly had disappeared somewhere, leaving Scully and Frohike in the awkward position of being alone together. Scully knew about his crush - Lord knows, Mulder had teased her about it enough times. But she never paid any attention to it; never paid any attention to him, really. They sat across from each other, quietly, for a long time before Scully finally decided to break the silence.
"You know, I know you call me 'Red.'"
Frohike actually blushed. "Ummm, it's just . . . it's just a nickname. Red hair and all."
"Yeah, I get it. My dad used to call me Red once in a while."
Great. He reminded her of her father. Fabulous. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Not often, but once in a while. Sure beat 'Carrot Top,' which my older brother was fond of -- when he wanted to piss me off."
"Right. Bill." He must not have hidden the distaste from his voice, because Scully's eyebrow arched in surprise. Shit.
"What do you know about Bill?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Mulder mentioned meeting him, that's all."
"Oh." She didn't pursue it.
Time to change the subject, Frohike. "So when are we gonna be able to see him? It's been almost 2 hours."
Scully sighed. "I don't know. But I imagine they have a lot of stuff to set up in there. Where'd Langly go?"
"No idea. He just took off. He had some idea in his head, I guess. We're used to it. He'll be back."
+ + + + +
"Well, I got us all rooms at a hotel about a mile down the road. The proprietor was really nice. Said we could use the hotel shuttle to come and go from the hospital. Just call and they'll come pick us up."
Scully couldn't care less. She didn't anticipate spending much time there anyway. "Thanks, Byers."
"Have you seen him?"
"No, not yet."
Byers was surprised, but chose not to voice it. "Where's Frohike?"
"He went to get some coffee, I think. He said he'd be right back."
He studied the woman for a moment. "Are you okay, Agent Scully?"
Scully looked up and smiled. "Yes, I'm okay. I'll be fine. Believe it or not, I've done this a time or two before."
Byers smiled and sat down next to her. "I know. Mulder really lucked out when he was paired with you."
Scully didn't reply; instead she lurched forward, toward the ICU doors - the doctor was approaching. "Can we see him now?"
"Yup. I think we have him settled in."
"How's he doing?"
"No change, really. We just sent down a new set of lab work. That ought to tell us more."
"I've been thinking -- what about the concussion? Will sedating him cause a problem?"
"Well, it's a concern, for sure. But I don't think so. The CT scan was clear, it doesn't appear he was unconscious all that long, and when he woke up he was quite lucid and responsive. I'm not too worried. But under the circumstances, we didn't have any choice."
"I understand." Scully looked at Byers, then back to the doctor. "Can we go in?" She looked back at Byers. "Do you want to go in?" He nodded.
"Go ahead. There's a nurse in there. He'll have one-on-one care as long as he's under. She can explain the machines for you. Don't be afraid of them -- most of them are just monitors. Talk to him. Many patients in drug-induced coma report hearing people talking to them."
Byers was stricken. Talk to him? And say what? Maybe he didn't want to see him after all. But no, he told Scully he did. And he would. He was roused out of his tiny panic attack by Scully's voice.
"Ready?"
"Uh huh."
The two people went through the ICU doors. Scully asked the closest nurse "Mulder?" and was pointed to his cubicle.
Even she was taken aback. Mulder was absolutely covered in wires and needles, with every piece of medical monitoring equipment imaginable surrounding his bed. She stopped dead in the doorway, effectively blocking Byers from entering. "Oh my God."
The taller man behind her craned around the woman, and peered at his friend in the bed. He sucked in a long, slow breath to keep from saying anything. After a moment he spoke. "What _is_ all that, Scully?"
The question snapped Scully back to attention, and she mentally thanked Byers for the push. She walked into the room with a purposeful stride, and introduced herself to the duty nurse.
"Hi, I'm Dana Scully. This guy here," she motioned to Mulder, "is my partner. Quite a mess he's gotten himself into, huh?" She turned to Mulder. "Be _very_ glad, Mulder, that you can't see yourself like this!" Her tone was confident, almost breezy, definitely upbeat. Byers was impressed. She's quite an actress.
For his part, Byers had moved inside the doorway, and was leaning against the wall. He couldn't take his eyes off Mulder, and he couldn't process all of the equipment. It looked to him like something out of Frankenstein. But as he surveyed the man in the bed, one thing bothered him most of all, and he kept going back to it. Finally, in a voice only slightly louder than a whisper, he asked.
"Why are his eyes taped shut?"
Scully didn't hear; she was busy reading the monitors. But the nurse did. She came over and introduced herself. "I'm Kim. They're taped shut because Mr. Mulder's muscles have all been relaxed; even the automatic reflexes like blinking aren't functioning. If we didn't tape them shut, his eyes may stay open, which can damage his corneas. We untape them and open them from time to time, to put some drops in and keep them moist. He's asleep; he doesn't notice. Are you a relative?"
Byers had missed the beginning of her explanation, but eventually had tuned in. "No, no. Just a friend. Name's Byers."
"Well, Mr. Byers, we're taking good care of him. Don't you worry about that."
"I'm sure. I'm sure you are. Excuse me. I have to go for a minute." He wasn't proud of it, but he had to get out of there. He didn't even say anything to Scully, he just fled.
+ + + + +
Frohike was turning the corner with four cups of coffee when he saw Byers race through the ICU doors, and head straight into the men's room. He put the coffee on the table in the waiting room, and followed his friend in.
"Hey Byers, what's with you? Mulder alright?"
Byers was standing in front of a sink, leaning heavily on the porcelain, and staring in the mirror. The water was running, but he hadn't touched it. Frohike startled him, and he jumped. "What? Is he all right? I'd say not."
"What do you mean?"
"You've got to see him, Frohike. You hardly _can_ see him under all the equipment. Wires, tubes, things beeping and hissing. I couldn't stay in there. I just abandoned Scully. Just left." He stuck his hands under the cold water, and buried his hands in them.
"Red's tough. She can handle it. Don't worry about her. Think I can go in?"
Byers assessed his friend. "They let two of us in. I suppose you could replace me. But be prepared. And apologize to Scully for me, for running out."
"Will do. I got you some coffee. It's in on the table." Frohike left, and Byers turned to the mirror so he could resume mentally berating himself.
+ + + + +
Frohike approached Mulder's room confidently. He'd seen a lot in his day; how bad could it be? Byers has always been too sensitive.
"Jesus Christmas!" Okay, it was bad.
His exclamation got Scully's attention, and she looked up from her place on Mulder's right side. All she did was shrug.
"Do _you_ even know what all this stuff is, Scully?"
"Most of it, Frohike. Kim," she motioned to the nurse sitting in the corner, "explained what I didn't. Most of it is monitoring equipment. His body has been shut down. They have to regulate and monitor everything."
Frohike was standing at the foot of the bed, and he jumped when he saw the blanket move. "I thought he was paralyzed! He just moved!"
"No, he didn't. There are cuffs around his lower legs that inflate periodically to keep the blood moving down there, so it doesn't pool and clot. The pump is under the bed."
Frohike looked down and saw the pump, and followed the air hose up to Mulder's feet. Sure enough. "Can he hear us, Scully?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Lots of people believe you can. I've been talking to him. It can't hurt."
Frohike approached the bed, and stood across from Scully. "Hey, Mulder, it's Fro. Geez, man, Gilligan ain't got NOTHING on you when it comes to taking a little boat ride. This is nuts. You should see this stuff. I hope you have good insurance!" He spoke a little too loudly, but his words made Scully smile.
Just then Kim approached. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to step outside for a little while. We need to turn him, and it takes quite a few people, and it will be a little while before we have Fox resituated."
Scully and Frohike looked at each other, and then spoke simultaneously. "Mulder."
"Excuse me?"
Frohike turned to face the woman. "If you're going to be talking to him, too, you better not be calling him 'Fox.' He hates that. It's Mulder. Everyone calls him Mulder. Got it?"
The nurse smiled. "I got it. Sorry."
"No problem. You couldn't know. But don't go calling him Fox. It's enough to keep him in a coma. Come on, Scully, I have some coffee for you anyway."
+ + + + +
When they returned to the waiting room, Langly had rejoined them. He had a pile of paper on his lap, and was reading. He looked up and started to stand when he saw Scully, almost spilling the papers to the floor. He caught them just in time. "Oh, good, Scully. This is for you. Everything you always wanted to know about nitric oxide and Acute Respiratory whatever, but were afraid to ask. Most of it doesn't make any sense to me, but it sounds like good stuff."
Scully was shocked, and she took the sheaf of papers. "Where did you get this, Langly?"
"There's an internet caf‚ downtown. I just did a search, and all this stuff came up. I didn't even have to do any hacking. You said you didn't know anything. Now you will."
"I don't know what to say. Thanks." She took her coffee and her papers, and curled into a chair to read.
Langly turned to Frohike. "Byers says it's ugly."
"It ain't pretty. But once you get used to it, it's okay."
"I don't think I want to get used to it. I don't know if I want to go in there."
"Hey, man, he's your friend. Give it a try. If you can't, you can't. But you gotta try. They're turning him now, so you can't go in anyway."
"They have to _turn_ him?"
"Langly, they have to do _everything_, get it? He's paralyzed. He's in a coma. He ain't moving on his own, that's for sure."
"Shit, man, that's unbelievable. That's making him _better_?"
"That's what they say."
+ + + + +
The reading had finally allowed the exhaustion to catch up with Scully. She'd put down the papers, and was curled on the sofa, having told the guys she'd only be asleep for a few minutes, and to wake her when they said it was okay to go back in. She was sound asleep when Walter Skinner arrived.
"What are you three doing here?"
The Gunmen had been playing cards, and looked up when they heard the commanding voice addressing them. Byers stood up.
"We helped Agent Scully find Mulder."
"Oh. I see. How is he?"
"I think Scully can tell you more. I guess he's okay. He's no worse, anyway. At least we don't think he's any worse."
"How's she?" He gestured toward the sleeping redhead.
Frohike muttered "amazing," then realized what he'd said, and struggled to cover. "She's been amazing. Very strong. Mulder looks like hell, and she's right there with him."
"Well, that's no surprise."
Scully stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes. She saw Skinner, and sat up. "Sir."
"Agent Scully. I didn't mean to wake you."
"No, sir, that's okay. I was just resting. Can we go back in, guys?"
Langly turned to face her. "Yeah. But we figured you needed the rest. Mulder isn't going anywhere." Scully scowled at him, and stood up, stretching again.
"Can I come with you, Agent Scully?"
"Sure, sir. Come on."
They walked through the doors, and were three paces away from Mulder's cubicle when the alarms started to sound. They were coming from his room. As a nurse pushed past her, Scully joined the race to his bedside. She'd almost made it to the door when Skinner grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"Agent Scully! Stop! Don't get in the way. Let them work."
"But sir! I have to know what's happening!" She pulled away from him, and made it inside the door, but she still didn't know what was going on. It looked like everything was flashing or beeping. There was so much information to be had that she couldn't focus on any one thing long enough to assess what it meant. She felt a pair of arms move her aside, and heard the voice of Mulder's doctor as he rushed past her.
"Dr. Scully. Go outside. Now."
That was all Skinner needed to hear. He took his former agent by the arm, and led her out the door.
+ + + + +
"You two weren't in there long," Langly stopped speaking when he saw the stricken look on Scully's face. "What happened?"
Scully sat down, but said nothing, so Skinner spoke instead. "There seems to be some problem. They asked us to leave."
Byers turned to Scully, and addressed her directly. She's the only one who would know anything. "What kind of problem, Scully?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" She shouted at the man, saw all four men recoil, and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I don't know, though. From what I saw half the alarms on his monitors were going off. I don't know what happened, or what it means. We'll just have to wait and see."
Skinner went and sat down next to the woman. "It's alright, Scully, we're all concerned. No need to apologize."
Scully slumped back in her seat. "You don't understand, sir. I did this to him. I talked him into it. He's in there, do you understand? Under all those tubes and monitors and the drug-induced coma, he's IN there. We could bring him back just like that," and she snapped her fingers for emphasis.
"But for how long, Scully? From what you explained to me on the phone, he'd have suffocated by now if you hadn't talked him into this. He'd be dead."
"We don't know that for sure, sir."
"Think, Agent Scully. Think like the doctor you are. You do know that. You acted in the best interests of Agent Mulder when you convinced him to consent to this treatment. You know you did. Now we just wait and hope for the best."
Scully looked at her former boss for a moment, then put her head back and closed her eyes; but she said nothing. Skinner gave her a few moments, and then asked the question he'd been wondering since Scully first barged into his office earlier this morning looking for his help. "Agent Scully, what exactly was Mulder doing out here?"
Scully looked at him with a face that belied that she didn't really know herself. "What was he doing? He was being Mulder. He was doing something stupid. Incredibly stupid, I'd say." She closed her eyes again, and Skinner decided that there would be plenty of time to get the whole story later.
+ + + + +
Scully felt a poke to her ribs, and opened her eyes. Doctor Rogers was walking toward her, and he sat on the table opposite her.
"He's okay." Scully and the doctor turned to look at the three people sighing and exclaiming their relief across the room. They came closer.
"What happened?"
"Well, we'd actually had him on intermittent ventilation at first, hoping his lungs could do some of the work. It's always best to start out as conservatively as possible. But his O2 sats" he realized he was speaking to a wider audience than the doctor facing him "-- the level of oxygen in his blood, and therefore in the rest of his tissues -- plummeted. The edema -- congestion -- in his lungs has gotten much worse, and much more quickly than anticipated."
"The diuretics aren't working?"
"Not yet. The disease is progressing faster than the diuretics can work. We suctioned his lungs, have him on full ventilatory support now, and we had to jack up the oxygen we're feeding him. I know I said we'd wait 8 hours for the nitric oxide and we're not there yet, but I don't see any reason to wait."
Scully looked over at the stack of papers Langly had given her, only half of which she'd had time to read. "It's still experimental, isn't it?"
"It is. We're part of the latest clinical trial. But I'm telling you, it's a miracle drug. It's his best chance. Every time we have used it the improvement in the patient's lab work has been immediate. It helps open up the lungs, and helps the oxygen get to his tissues. And since it's inhaled, it causes only localized vasodilation. It doesn't open up all his blood vessels, just the ones we need to open up."
"What about side effects?"
"None, really. His blood pressure will drop somewhat, but we expect that and can deal with it."
"Do it. And I want to see him. Now."
'Come on, then." The doctor and Scully stood up and headed toward the door. Once there, Scully turned back to the four men.
"Anyone coming with me?" The Gunmen all looked to Skinner, deferring to him in case he wanted to try going back in. Langly actually sighed when Skinner stood -- he'd been spared again.
+ + + + +
Scully and Skinner stood to the side as Doctor Rogers attached the cannister of nitric oxide to Mulder's endotracheal tube, and delivered the drug to his lungs as each breath was forced into his lungs. He turned to Kim.
"Take an ABG in 15 minutes, and chart his other readings every 15 as well. If his BP drops too low, call me immediately." He turned to the two people in the corner. "We'll know in about half an hour if it's working."
"If it does work, what then?"
"We'll keep giving it to him and monitoring the improvement. Once he has improved enough, we start weaning him from the vent, and then we'll bring him up."
It sounded good to Skinner, but he wanted a time frame. "How long, then, are we looking at?"
"I can't tell you that. It depends on how well his lungs respond to the nitric oxide, and every person is different. We started him on a standardized dose, but he may need more, he may need less. That's what these first test results will show us."
"What's your best and worst case scenarios, doctor?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't even know who you are."
Scully startled. "Oh, I'm sorry. Doctor Rogers, this is Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI. He is our supervisor." Scully realized her blunder, and looked sheepishly at Skinner. "I mean, he was."
"Nice to meet you. Best case? We hit the right dose on the first try here, and we just keep it up for a couple of days until his lungs clear, then we wake him up. Worst case? It doesn't work, he doesn't respond to the NO. Then we are back to trying to stay one step ahead of the progression, drying his lungs and feeding him enough oxygen to keep his organs healthy without poisoning him. "
"I see. Thank you, Doctor." Rogers left, and Skinner turned to Scully. "Well then, it sounds as if this had better work."
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, Scully, start over there" he pointed to the monitor furthest from Mulder's bed, "and tell me what all this stuff is."
Scully chuckled. "Okay. That one over there is attached to a monitor actually in his heart. It's measuring how hard his heart is working. The one next to it is just an EKG, and it also monitors his blood pressure from the cuff on his wrist. Those electrodes on his wrist are used to measure how well the drugs are blocking his muscle tone. They'll attach a machine that will deliver an electrical impulse to his ulnar nerve, and count how many twitches it causes. In this case, it would make his thumb flex. No twitches, then his muscles are 100% relaxed. They need to monitor that to make sure he's deep enough, but not too deep. They want one twitch," she turned to Kim "one twitch, right Kim?" Kim looked up and nodded. Scully turned back to Skinner "one twitch to know they have the proper level of neuromuscular blockage. Too little, and he'll fight the vent. Too much, and it could take a very long time for him to regain muscle function when he wakes up." Scully continued around the bed, and explained everything for her ex-boss.
+ + + + +
The Gunmen were on their eighth game of War, and were getting bored. Finally Langly spoke up. "What are we doing here, guys? Isn't there something we could actually be _doing_?"
"Like what, Langly? Frohike and I were talking about that while you were gone earlier. There's nothing we can do but wait. Unless you want to leave?"
"Naaah. I don't want to leave. We can't leave. But sitting around like this doing nothing is totally bogus.""
"Welcome to the real world, Langly." Frohike slapped him on the back. "Wait, wait, and wait some more. Wait for something to happen. That's life for ya."
Skinner came in then, and the look on his face was one of relief. "It looks like that nitric oxide stuff is working. Don't ask me what the numbers are or mean, but Scully says they are much improved." The three men all voiced their relief.
"So, Mr. Skinner, does that mean he's out of the woods?"
"I don't think we can say that yet, Frohike -- you are Frohike, right? He's definitely better, though. Where are you guys staying?"
Byers answered. "We have rooms at a hotel down the road. Nothing fancy. I got one for Scully, too."
"Great. Just what I wanted to hear. She's exhausted. I'm going to get her out of there, and I want you guys to take her to the hotel, and make her get some rest."
He left, and Langly turned to Frohike. "Five bucks says he can't get her out."
"I'll take that action. He can get her to do just about anything, I think."
Frohike won, and the Gunmen escorted Scully to her hotel.
+ + + + +
"Sir?"
Skinner jumped awake, and for a moment was unsure of where he was. Then his eyes fell on Mulder, and he remembered. "Agent Scully. I thought I sent you to get some sleep. What time is it?"
"It's after six, sir. I did get some sleep. Over four hours. Now it's your turn."
"I'm fine, Scully. Four hours is hardly enough. Get out of here."
"I can sleep in that chair Just as well as you can, sir." She watched as he cracked his back painfully. "Better, actually."
"Okay, Scully. Where are the three stooges?"
Scully smiled at the name. "Still asleep, as far as I know. No one's here but us. How is he?"
"Beats me, Scully. Better ask Jill. Did you meet Jill? Kim left a couple of hours ago."
Jill waved from her place in the corner. "He's much better, actually. We've been able to decrease his O2 support, and his saturation is on the rise."
Skinner had no idea what she was saying. "Scully?"
'She said that the oxygen levels in his blood and tissues are going up, even though the air they are feeding him through the respirator has a lower oxygen concentration than earlier. It's great news."
Skinner still wasn't sure what it meant, but he decided to take her word for it. "Call me if you need anything, Scully."
"Yes sir, I will. Thank you, sir."
Skinner left, and Scully leaned in to Mulder, who was lying on his side. "Did you hear that, Mulder? You're pulling out of it. Keep it up, you hear me?" She turned and curled herself into the chair.
+ + + + +
The sound of whispering woke Scully again. She opened her eyes to see three hospital staff members around her partner. "What's the matter?"
Jill turned to look at the redhead. "Oh, nothing. It's time to turn him, that's all. We've got to be careful not to hurt him." Scully looked at her watch. It was 7:30 in the morning. "He's okay?"
"He's okay."
Scully got up, stretched her petite frame, and headed out. "I'll be back."
When she left Jill turned to her colleagues "I'll bet she will be, too."
+ + + + +
The day passed uneventfully. Scully
had to be dragged from Mulder's bedside for breaks, and the men took turns
keeping her company in the ICU. All but Langly, who still managed to find
excuses to stay away from Mulder's bedside. By evening Frohike had had
enough of that.
"Geez, Langly, aren't you at least
curious? He's getting better. Go get a load of all that crap while you
still can."
"No thanks. I'll let my imagination do the walking."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean? What is wrong with you, anyway?"
"Haven't you noticed, Frohike? I don't like hospitals, really sick people, all this stuff. Never have. You're lucky I'm willing to sit out here and keep _you_ guys company. But sit with Mulder? No way. If Byers couldn't take it, I sure can't."
"So Byers was a little surprised at first. He's in there now, isn't he? It's not that bad. You want Mulder to know you wigged out on him in his hour of need?"
"You wouldn't."
"You bet I would. Come on. I'll go with you."
"I'll look. But you can't make stay."
"Fair enough, my man. Fair enough."
Frohike followed the taller man through the doors. A nurse looked at them suspiciously, and Frohike realized that four people for one patient was probably too many visitors. But as long as no one stopped him, he continued to lead his friend toward Mulder.
Langly stopped in the doorway. "Holy shit." He turned to go, but Frohike blocked the path, and turned him back to face the room.
Scully looked up and smiled. "You came in!"
Langly could see how pleased she was, and dared take a step in. "Yeah. Frohike threatened to rat on me."
"Come sit down. Take my chair. I want to stretch my legs anyway." Scully got up.
"No, no. I don't want to sit. Just wanted to see for myself that he's doing okay. But that," he motioned toward the man in the bed, "doesn't look like okay."
Scully smiled again. "No, he is doing okay. Great, actually. He keeps improving. The nitric oxide is working. You were right. It is good stuff."
"Glad to hear it." Langly was fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Ummm, I gotta go." He turned to Mulder. "You take care, Mulder. I'll catch you later." Then the blond man turned and practically ran back to the relative safety of the waiting room.
For the first time in a day and a half, Scully allowed herself to laugh.
+ + + + +
The nursing staff had convinced Scully to spend Mulder's second night in his drug-induced coma at her hotel room. She had been exhausted, and they promised to call if anything changed. In case they forgot, she had posted her phone number on the wall over Mulder's bed, in big block letters. But they hadn't needed to call, and when Scully arrived at seven the next morning, she was feeling human again.
"Hey, Kim, welcome back. How's he doing?"
"Better all the time. I think he gets his last NO treatment today, then we let his body take care of the rest."
"Are you kidding? That's great!" She turned to her partner. "You hear that, Mulder? You're almost home-free!" Scully looked up at the heart monitor when it showed a little jump in activity. But it settled right back down, so she thought nothing of it. Probably just a coincidence. She started to sit down, but stopped and kept her ground by the bed when Kim came up.
"It's time to clean his mouth and put the drops in his eyes, Dana. Do you want to do the eyes?"
Scully had been shown what to do yesterday, and it made her feel better to actually be able to do something for Mulder, so she readily agreed. As she'd been coached to, she told him everything she was doing. Always assume the patient is wide awake, they'd told her. You never know.
"Mulder, I'm going to open your eyes now, and put some drops in, okay? It will make them feel better."
She removed the tape from his left eye, and opened the lid. He was looking at her.
Scully jumped back a step, then untaped and opened his right eye. She positioned herself so she was directly in his line of sight.
He was looking right at her with both eyes.
"Mulder? Are you looking at me? Can you see me?" Mulder's answer came through his heart monitor, which showed a quickened beat. Scully turned to Kim, but she was outside the door, getting the equipment for his mouth care.
"Kim! Get in here! I think he's awake!"
Kim's head shot up from the tray of equipment. "What?" She joined Scully at the bedside.
"Look, Kim, he's looking at me. There's recognition there." She spoke directly to Mulder. "You're awake, aren't you Mulder?" Again the man's heart rate visibly quickened for a moment.
Kim checked his IV, to make sure it was still delivering the sedatives meant to keep him asleep. "He must have fought himself awake. Unbelievable." She looked at Mulder and smiled. "You're unbelievable. You're supposed to be asleep, you know." Then she turned back to Scully. "Keep him calm. I'll go call the doctor."
Scully had to practically sit on the bed so he could see her, since he couldn't even move his eyes. She rested her hand on his forehead, just as she had in the ER, and spoke to him.
"Oh, God, Mulder, I promised you wouldn't be aware of any of this. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't be awake. But you're doing great, getting better all the time. Just a little while longer. Please, Mulder, go back to sleep."
The only indication that her words were registering was from the EKG, which showed his heart rate calming to the sound of her voice.
"Mulder, you'll damage your eyes if they stay open. I'm going to close them, okay?" She gently closed the lids, and continued to stroke his forehead until Kim returned with a hypodermic.
She added it to his IV. "This ought to put him out until the anesthesiologist can get in here and check things out. Back to sleep, Mulder!"
They waited a few moments, and Kim lifted a lid. He was asleep again. Only then did Scully move from his bedside. She grabbed Kim by the arm and pulled her away from Mulder, lest he be listening.
"What the hell happened here? WHY was he awake like that?"
'Sedation levels ebb and flow, Dana. His level of unconsciousness shifts all the time. This time it just so happened, I bet, that he wasn't very deep when you opened his eyes. He probably heard your voice, and fought to reach you. I've seen it before. It's nothing to worry about, really it isn't."
"But you don't understand. I promised him, PROMISED him, that he'd sleep through this whole ordeal."
"I seriously doubt he'll remember it, Dana. Don't worry."
"You don't know him. He remembers everything." She went back to her partner and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Mulder."
+ + + + +
"Is something wrong, Agent Scully? Did something happen?" Skinner could see by the look on her face when she'd reentered the waiting room that something was wrong.
"He woke up!" That got the attention of the Gunmen, who looked up from whatever they had been doing, huddled together in the corner.
Skinner stood and approached his former agent. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know. I opened his eyes, and he was looking right at me. He was awake, but he couldn't move, couldn't make a sound."
"So how do you know he was awake?"
"He _looked_ at me sir. Right at me. I could tell, And his heart rate fluctuated when I spoke to him. It must have been terrifying for him."
"You don't know that, Scully. He knew what they were going to do before they did it, didn't he?"
"Yes, it was explained to him."
"Well then, let's give him the benefit of the doubt, and assume he was able to assimilate what he was experiencing. There's no point assuming something when we actually have no idea. Is he still awake?"
"No, they increased his sedation. He went back to sleep."
"Good, then, we have nothing to be concerned about any longer, correct, agent?"
"Yes sir."
"Scully?" Frohike was calling her from the corner.
"Yeah, Frohike, what?"
"I'd bet he was glad to see you. Better you than one of us." Scully managed a grin.
+ + + + +
"Dr. Scully, do you have a minute?"
Scully looked up from her place by Mulder's bedside, and saw Doctor Rogers speaking to her from the door. "I have plenty of them, actually."
The doctor returned her smile. "Good then, let's take a walk. I bet you need to stretch your legs. The staff tells me you haven't left since Mulder woke up the other day."
Scully stood and walked out of the cubicle with the doctor. "Not true. My friends have spelled me from time to time. I just want to make sure there is a friendly face around if it happens again. "
"Ours aren't friendly faces?" the doctor was joking, and Scully knew it.
"Okay, then. A _familiar_ face, okay? What's up?"
"I want to show you something." He led the petite woman to an x-ray view screen, flipped it on, and mounted a chest x-ray. "This one is the 'before,' taken 6 hours after we put him on the vent, right before we started the NO treatments. And this" he put up another one "is this morning; the 'after.'"
The difference was remarkable. In the first film Mulder's lungs were covered with huge patches of white -- congestion. The second showed virtually clear lungs. Scully was stunned. "It's gone? It's over?"
"It looks that way. There's still some fluid in there, but it's not too serious. We haven't given him any more nitric oxide since yesterday, and his lungs still improved. We're over the hump. I think it's time to start weaning him off the respirator, and bring him back."
As he spoke, Scully's face went from registering surprise to registering absolute glee. "I know you have to do it slowly. But how long do you think it will take?"
"Well, he's been on full support for three days now. We'll lower the level of neuromuscular blocking agents now; hopefully bring back his reflexive actions. Then we'll turn off the vent for a couple of minutes and see how he does with spontaneous respirations. That should help us determine how quickly we can go."
"One thing, doctor. He's been on vents before. He fights them, every time. He can't help it. And I promised him that he wouldn't be awake while he was ventilated."
"You want us to keep him sedated while we wean him off the machine?"
"If you could, yes. It will be easier for you in the long run, of that I am certain. And I did promise."
"Okay, Dr. Scully, we'll see what we can do. Why don't you go tell your friends the good news."
"I will. But I want to be there when you turn the vent off for the first time, okay?"
"I won't let you miss it, I promise. It will be a couple of hours, though, while we let the some of the blocking agents leave his system."
+ + + + +
"Okay, Mulder, time to breathe on your own." Dr. Rogers turned off the machine, and Scully, Skinner, and Frohike all leaned in, waiting to either see or hear their friend take his first solo breath in several days. Scully kept looking at the clock, counting the seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
And then he took one. It was shallow, but he did it. But it was another 20 seconds before he took another. And another 15 before the next. The wait between each was excruciating for his friends.
"Okay, that's enough for now." Dr. Rogers turned on the machine again, and set the dials. He turned to the three civilians in the room. "Let's go outside."
"That didn't look good." But Frohike knew he didn't know anything.
"No, actually, that was fine. Let's not forget that he has a lot of drugs still in his system. It's entirely possible that the paralyzing agents are still depressing his respirations. He took breaths. That's what matters. The only thing that would have concerned me is if he hadn't breathed at all."
Scully had been fidgeting nervously. "So what did you set him at?"
"Well, in this case we have two options. We could either put him on vent-assist, so that the machine would augment each breath he takes, but he would only breathe when _he_ takes a breath, or intermittent mandatory ventilation, which periodically takes over and forces breaths in, augmenting his own. He was only taking a breath every 20 seconds or so. That's not good enough. So I put him on the intermittent mandatory. Right now he'll take his own breaths for a bit, then the machine will breathe for him for a while, then we'll let him breathe again, and so on. We'll watch his O2 levels, and monitor how he does during the periods when the machine isn't breathing for him, and take it from there. Hopefully his own breathing will get stronger as the levels of neuromuscular blocking drugs continue to drop."
"And if not?" Skinner wanted the whole story.
"Right now we still have him sedated, at Agent Scully's request. He remains asleep. If his breathing doesn't improve, we might lift the veil entirely. Unparalyze him, wake him up, and see if it isn't one of the other drugs depressing things. But I'm encouraged by what I saw. I think he'll do fine."
"Might the congestion return?" Years in the military and the FBI had made Skinner good at asking the hard questions.
"It might. Anything is possible. We'll monitor for that, of course. But his lungs look great right now. I can't imagine that happening."
"And will he suffer any permanent damage?"
"No, I don't see that happening. He's only been on the vent a few days, and we started reversing the condition after a few hours. He'll need some time to recover, but do I think he will suffer from any lasting or serious respiratory deficit? No."
Skinner allowed himself to grin at the good news. "Thank you, doctor, that is most encouraging." He turned to Scully. "Go watch your partner breathe, Scully."
She returned to Mulder, while Frohike and Skinner went to deliver the good news to Byers and Langly.
+ + + + +
"Good Morning, Dana! He's not here!" Kim had intercepted Dana as she arrived at the ICU that morning.
Scully stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly afraid. "Where is he?"
"We just moved him to the stepdown unit. He's been breathing on his own since four this morning. He's a fast healer, I guess! Three days to completely wean is fantastic."
"Where's the stepdown unit? Has he woken up?"
"It's right around the corner. I'll show you. Nope, he hasn't woken up. We haven't given him any sedatives since, I think, two a.m., but he hasn't woken up. It will take time. He's been down for a long time."
Scully passed the pay phone, and stopped. "Hang on a second, Kim. Let me call the guys." She dialed the phone. "Morning, Frohike, sorry to wake you. But sleeping beauty should be waking up soon. I thought you might like to get down here. Can you tell the other three? Thanks. I'll see you soon." She hung up and turned back to Kim. "Okay, where is he?"
Kim led Scully to the door of Mulder's new room. What a difference. Of the countless monitors and tubes still in place when she'd left him the night before, all he had left was the heart monitor, the arterial line, an IV, the Foley, and a nasal cannula oxygen line. He was lying on his left side, sleeping peacefully. "You removed the Swan-Ganz? How are his O2 saturation levels?"
"We did. He hasn't really needed that for at least a day. His O2 levels are excellent. Normal."
"So does he really need the oxygen? He hates those things. He'll want to pull it off the minute he wakes up anyway. Can I try to wake him?"
Kim laughed. "Of course you can! We were waiting for you. Thought you'd like the honors, actually."
"How will he feel when he wakes up?"
"Well, I'd guess he'll feel pretty bad. Groggy, achy. Like shit, basically."
"Should I wait for Doctor Rogers to wake him?"
Kim smiled. "Why? He already saw him at seven this morning. I'll call him and tell him you're here. Wake him up, Dana." She patted the woman on the arm, and then lightly shoved her into the room.
Scully approached her partner's bed warily. Just a few days ago he'd looked like death warmed over. Now he looked like he was taking a nap. It was amazing. The first thing she did was remove the nasal cannula. She'd promised no tubes when he woke. She couldn't do anything about the Foley, but he wouldn't feel that right away anyway. But she could get rid of the oxygen; she'd make him put it back on later.
Then she leaned in close, pressed her knuckle into his shoulder under the clavicle, and rubbed. "Mulder? Mulder wake up. Time to wake up."
Nothing. He took a deep breath -- it was almost enough for Scully to see him do that - but he did not wake.
She repeated the stimulus, and almost shouted his name. "Mulder! Wake up!"
Another deep breath, but he still didn't wake.
Scully waited for a few moments, and then decided to take the more familiar approach. She leaned in, and spoke the words he was accustomed to hearing from her. "Mulder? Mulder, it's me."
Her partner stirred slightly, then his eyes shot open with a start. "Where am I?"
What a first question! "You're in a hospital."
Apparently awareness of his body suddenly hit Mulder, and he groaned. "Ohhhhhhh. I feel . . . like hell."
"I'm not surprised. You've been through the wringer, I'd say."
"What happened to me?"
Scully smiled. Where to start? Well, the beginning is always a good place. "You did something INCREDIBLY stupid."
<THE END>
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