How To Avoid a Boring Seminar Without Even Trying by Waddles52
Title: How To Avoid a Boring Seminar Without Even Trying
Author: Waddles 52
Summary: Mulder has to deal with a migraine and a boring seminar.
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Category: MT, Mulder/Scully friendship
Disclaimer: Just for fun. Not for profit. No copyright infringement intended.
Archives: Ask me and I'll probably say yes.
Feedback: I'd love to hear from you at [email protected]
Thanks: To my wonderful beta, Lisa. She's always there for me with plenty of great suggestions and encouragement. Additional thanks in author's notes at the end.
Mulder closed the last file on his desk with a flourish as Scully hung up the phone. He looked at her curiously.
"That was Skinner's office . . .again! Just a reminder that we are expected in the third floor conference room at 8 AM sharp."
"I will be sooo glad when this seminar is over. Skinner turns into a real bear when he's in charge of these things."
"I'll say," Scully agreed as the fax machine stirred to life.
"Don't tell me," Mulder sighed.
Scully peeked around him and laughed. "It's the latest revised agenda."
"How many does that make for today? Three or four?"
"You're slipping, Mulder. This is number five."
"Ah, must have missed one when I went to the restroom."
"Come on. Let's get out of here before number six materializes," Scully suggested.
"Good idea," he agreed, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair.
"Is your presentation ready to go?" she inquired as she threw the last file into her briefcase.
"Pretty much. The slides are in order and loaded. I just need to check out a few references on the Internet tonight."
"Very good. I'm sure you'll make Skinner proud. We could use the brownie points."
"We? Scully, you're the one bright spot in this division. You don't need brownie points from Skinner."
Mulder held the door for her as she exited their office, then turned to lock the door. "Where did you park this morning?"
"The usual," Scully replied, as they reached the elevator. She pushed the up button.
"I'm down at the end of the row. I couldn't get my regular slot when I got back from the cleaners."
The elevator opened and the ride to the parking garage was spent in comfortable silence.
When they reached Scully's car, she turned to Mulder and said, "Try to get some sleep tonight, okay? Remember, we have to be here bright and early."
"Yes ma'am. Seven in the AM," he grinned.
"Good. I'll see you then." She unlocked the door and got in. After closing the door, she buckled up and turned the key in the ignition. Instead of the familiar sound of the engine turning over, she was greeted with silence.
Mulder was still beside her car, waiting until she was on her way before continuing the trek to his vehicle. "Scully?" he questioned as she rolled down her window.
"I think the battery is dead. I'll have to call the auto club for a jump."
Mulder consulted his watch. "It's late. Why don't you let me take you home and give you a ride in tomorrow morning? By the time the tow truck gets here it will be too late to get another battery anyway, and the old one probably won't hold a charge over night."
"I don't want to put you out, Mulder. It's really out of your way."
"I don't mind, Scully. You know that."
"I have a better idea. You picked up some suits and shirts from the cleaners during lunch didn't you?" she inquired.
"Uh-huh."
"And your overnight bag is in your car. Correct?"
"As usual."
"Why don't you come home with me and we can go in together in the morning. I have some frozen lasagna that I can put in the microwave, and you can use my computer for your research. I'll even fix breakfast," she offered brightly.
"Would that happen to be homemade lasagna?" Mulder asked hopefully.
""Yes, it would. I even have garlic bread to go with it."
"Well, when you put it that way, I would be delighted to attend your slumber party," he agreed, opening her door.
"Slumber is the operative word, Mulder. I'd like to see you get to bed at a reasonable hour and get a good night's sleep," she said as they walked toward his car.
"You'll get no arguments from me. Dinner, no more than an hour on the Internet, then to bed and hopefully some serious Zs. Skinner has been riding us like crazy these past few days, and to tell the truth, I'm dog tired."
Mulder unlocked the door for her, and closed it when she was safely inside. After he got himself situated behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition and listened to the engine roar to life.
"Home, James," Scully directed with a smile.
Dinner was wonderful, and Mulder found exactly what he needed on the Internet in no time. Now, he was laying on Scully's spare bed, watching her crappy, older TV. Despite the lousy TV reception, life was good.
There was a light rap on his door and Scully stuck her head in. "Mulder, I'm going to bed now. I put extra towels in the bathroom for your shower in the morning, and breakfast will be on the table at 6 AM on the dot."
"Thanks, Scully. I'll be there."
"Don't stay up late, okay? You really look tired."
"I am tired, Scully. I'll be turning in soon," he promised.
"All right. Good night, then."
"Sleep tight," Mulder added.
Scully smiled broadly and shut the door.
"Yes, indeed," he thought. "Life is good."
He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the squiggly lines he'd been seeing all evening, with no success. Deciding that he was more tired than he thought, he hit the power button on the remote and crawled under the covers. Turning off the bedside lamp, Mulder settled in and was asleep almost immediately.
Mulder's travel alarm screamed in his ear, tempting him to throw it across the room. He slowly reached over to turn it off and opened one eye in the process. He quickly shut it.
"Damn! What a day for a headache," he groaned as he sat up. "Not a good idea," he decided as his stomach flipped, threatening an exit.
After a few deep breaths, the FBI agent felt well enough to stand. "Shit!" That was the only word that came to mind when his headache ratcheted up a notch. "This is not good."
Despite the ever-increasing pain in his head, he was able to gather up his clothes and head for the bathroom. Once there, he was forced to drop everything and hang over the toilet as his stomach violently rebelled.
After the heaving stopped, Mulder flushed and flipped the toilet seat down. He sat there for a few minutes until the trembling stopped, then scrambled to pick up his clothes and hang them up before the wrinkles became permanent.
He hoped that a hot shower would ease the pain of the worst headache he could ever remember. Mulder climbed in, adjusting the water temperature to as hot as he could stand it. He leaned over, putting both hands palms up against the wall as the water sprayed forcefully against his neck and shoulders. Although it felt great, the headache was a stubborn one.
He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, but it was no use. It felt like someone had taken a drill and was trying to carve a tunnel straight through his head, starting in his right temple.
The agent stood in front of the mirror and was shocked at his reflection. He was extremely pale, and had shadows beneath his eyes. "Damn, I look as bad as I feel."
He searched through his shave kit for the items he would need. First, he wanted to brush his teeth. After squeezing some toothpaste onto his toothbrush, he began the familiar task only to find his self positioned over the toilet again, heaving for all he was worth.
After recovering from his second bout of vomiting, he decided to search Scully's medicine cabinet for any medication that he could use. "Jackpot!" he exclaimed under his breath.
There, sitting next to the rubbing alcohol was a bottle of Pepto Bismol and some Tylenol. With shaking hands he removed the dosage cup from the top of the Pepto Bismol and opened the bottle. After pouring the correct amount into the cup, he choked it down, then struggled to keep it in his stomach.
After a few deep breaths, he was ready for the Tylenol. He took three, cleaned the dosage cup and returned both Pepto Bismol and Tylenol to the medicine cabinet.
The Pepto began to help his stomach, and the trembling in his hands eased off. He decided he was steady enough to shave.
He was just tucking his shirt in when Scully knocked on the door. "Breakfast in five minutes, Mulder."
"I'll be there in a minute," he told her as he gathered up his shave kit and dirty clothes.
At 6 AM sharp, Mulder strolled into Scully's kitchen feeling somewhat better. Though far from perfect, at least his stomach had calmed down a bit. His head was another story.
"Mulder, didn't you sleep well?" Scully asked as she put a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bacon on the table.
"I slept all night. Why?"
"Forgive me, but you look like hell."
"And good morning to you too, Scully."
"I'm sorry, Mulder. Are you feeling all right?" She motioned for Mulder to sit and placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.
"I'm feeling as well as I possibly could with that seminar hanging over our heads."
The oven timer dinged and Scully pulled out a pan of biscuits. "I know what you mean. I hate being cooped up in that conference room all day, listening to all of those ridiculous presentations."
After putting a plate of biscuits in front of Mulder, she put her plate and coffee on the table and settled down across from him.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Scully."
"Oh! I'm sorry. I wasn't referring to your presentation. You're always informative and very entertaining. I was thinking of Winslow. You know how boring he is."
Mulder nodded in agreement, then wished he had kept his head still. "Bad move," he thought, as he tried to keep his discomfort from showing.
"The last revised agenda had him speaking first. Maybe things will move along faster after that."
Mulder took a sip of his coffee. "When do I give my presentation?"
"You were scheduled last on every revision, Mulder. Skinner's not about to give you a chance to skip out early."
Mulder had been hoping that maybe he would be able to do just that. The Tylenol wasn't helping his headache at all. "Just put it out of your mind," he told himself. "You were able to travel to Antarctica after being shot in the head. You've worked with broken bones, concussions and even pneumonia. A little headache shouldn't get you down."
The problem was that this headache wasn't so little.
"Mulder, quit daydreaming and eat. I want to leave by 6:30." Scully got up and scraped her plate out and put everything in the dishwasher. "When you're finished, put your things in the dishwasher. I'm going to finish getting ready."
"Sure, Scully. I'll meet you in the living room."
Phew! At least he didn't have to eat anything. His stomach was still feeling a little uneasy despite the Pepto Bismol. This was one day when he would be glad to put in his eight hours and leave. He gathered up his untouched breakfast and headed for the sink.
The seminar was everything that it promised to be. Boring! Pastries, coffee and juice were available at their first break. Mulder grabbed a bottle of apple juice and headed for the basement office. He knew that Scully kept some painkillers in the small first- aid kit in his desk. If he could just find something to take the edge off of this headache, then perhaps he could make it past lunch.
He barely made it back in time for the second session, earning a piercing look from Skinner as he took his seat. Mulder settled in and tried to look interested as he attempted to discreetly massage his aching right temple.
Scully carefully slid a note his way. "Headache?" she asked in her unmistakable scrawl.
Mulder gave her a slight nod of affirmation, sliding the note back her way.
"Go to the office and rest during lunch. I'll make sure you get back in time," the next note said.
"Bless you! I'll dance at your wedding," he scribbled in reply.
She smiled at him and turned her attention back to the speaker.
Mulder was beginning to think that time was standing still. It seemed that noon would never arrive. The Tylenol that he had taken earlier had done absolutely nothing to ease the pain. Although he didn't think it possible, his headache had gotten worse.
When they were finally released for lunch, Scully followed him down to their office. Mulder collapsed in his chair while his partner observed him with concern.
"When did this start?" she inquired.
"I woke up with it," he answered, rubbing his right temple.
She felt his forehead and was relieved that he didn't have a fever. "Any nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to light?"
"All of the above."
"On a scale of one to ten, rate your pain."
"About a 15."
"Wow."
"That pretty much describes it," Mulder agreed, clearing a space on his desk and laying his head on his arms.
"When was the last time you took anything for it?" Scully queried.
"At the break. I took three Tylenol."
"Did they help?"
"Not a bit," he sighed.
Scully pulled out the desk drawer and rummaged around in the first-aid kit. She found a sample pack of Motrin and tore it open. "Here. Hang on to those while I get you some water."
After she returned with the water, Mulder took the tablets and laid his head back on the desk. "What's the verdict, Doc?"
"I think you may have a migraine. Have you had any trouble with them in the past?"
"Nope. Only the occasional tension headache."
"You need to be home in bed."
"Skinner would love that. As soon as I get through with my presentation, we're out of here."
"Maybe I can ask Skinner to move it up," Scully volunteered.
"No! Don't do that!" Mulder exclaimed, then instantly regretted it as his voice echoed through his head, causing the pain to increase. "My head hurts badly enough without having to listen to him yell at me for messing up the order of his seminar."
"All right, I won't talk to him. Do you feel like eating?"
"No! No food!" he stated emphatically.
"Okay. Rest, then. I'll be here ten minutes before we're due back."
"Thanks, Scully."
She lightly rubbed his shoulder in empathy and Mulder leaned into her warm touch. "Feel better," she whispered, turning off the light and closing the door quietly.
Mulder managed to doze off despite the pain. Too soon, Scully was shaking his shoulder to wake him.
"Feeling any better?"
"Unfortunately, no," he moaned, rubbing his eyes.
"Are you sure you don't want me to speak to Skinner?
"No. I can handle this, Scully. Give me a minute to splash some water on my face, and I'll meet you at the elevator."
He staggered a bit as he struggled to stand, every muscle in his face reflecting the intense pain in his head.
Scully worriedly watched as he made his way down the hall, grabbing on to any object along the way just to keep his balance. "Mulder, you'll never last until your presentation," she said under her breath, hoping he would prove her wrong.
They took their seats at the conference table seconds before Skinner closed the door. Despite the AD's attempts to keep the presentations moving along, they were running behind.
Mulder looked at the agenda, then his watch. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to look interested in the next speaker. Though he had napped briefly at his desk, the pain in his head hadn't let up a bit. To make matters worse, his stomach was beginning to feel very unsettled again. Every passing second only served to intensify his feeling of distress.
Scully was trying to discreetly keep an eye on Mulder. She was concerned that he was becoming quite pale, with a thin sheen of perspiration above his lip.
Mulder scribbled something on his notepad and slid it over to her. "Be right back."
He stood rather unsteadily and made his way to the door, gaining a stern look from Skinner who was standing by the exit. Mulder pushed past him without a word.
Scully looked at her watch and tried to look unconcerned as the minutes passed. When 15 minutes had elapsed without her partner's return, she decided that she needed to check on him.
As she exited the conference room, she thought she had escaped Skinner's eagle eye until she sensed someone behind her. "Agent Scully, what seems to be the problem?"
She thought about making an excuse but finally decided that honesty was the best policy. "Mulder isn't feeling well and I'm a bit concerned that he's been gone for so long."
"Would you like for me to check on him?" Skinner asked.
"If you wouldn't mind, sir."
Skinner made his way down the hall to the men's restroom and went in. Less than thirty seconds passed before he opened the door and motioned for Scully to come in.
When she pushed the door open, she found Skinner helping Mulder to a sitting position against the wall."I found him lying on the floor trying to get up," he reported. "I think he hurt his wrist when he fell."
"Mulder, what happened?" Scully asked as she began to check his head for bumps and bruises.
"I didn't hit my head. My right wrist got the worst of it," he answered, attempting to push her hands away with his left hand.
"That still doesn't explain what happened."
"I got sick and then felt lightheaded. I lost my balance and fell. Just let me rest a few minutes, okay?"
"No, it's not okay. This has gone on long enough. You need to be home in bed." Scully protested.
"What's wrong with him? Skinner questioned.
"Agent Mulder woke up with a migraine but insisted on staying here so that he could make his presentation."
"Mulder, go home and rest. You can give your presentation the next time around. I used to have frequent migraines in my early teens, and still get one occasionally. You need to be in a darkened room with an ice pack."
"I'll be fine in a few minutes," Mulder sighed.
"Mulder, you won't be fine and you know it. Look at your wrist. It's already turning black and blue," Scully observed.
"Agent Mulder, go to the emergency room and get that wrist looked at, and while you're there get that migraine treated as well. That is an order."
"But . . ."
"No buts. Agent Scully, make sure he gets there and stays until he's released."
"I will, sir," Scully acknowledged. "Mulder, do you think you can stand?"
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"Sure you are," Skinner said as he helped Mulder to his feet, catching him as he swayed. "I want you to go straight to the emergency room. Do not pass "Go". Do not collect $200. I want a note from the doctor stating that you were treated. Understand?"
"I'll be sure to ask for one," Scully promised.
"I just want to be sure you get treatment. I don't want you back at work until you're 100%. I appreciate the effort you made by sitting through that seminar. Agents Winslow and Baker gave me a headache just from listening to them drone on and on. Take care of yourself, Mulder."
"Yes, sir," Mulder replied, his voice sounding weaker.
"Will you need help getting to your car?" Skinner inquired.
"No, sir. I can make it," Mulder assured him.
"I'll get back to the seminar then. Even though you have a migraine, I envy you Agent Mulder. You have an excuse to miss the rest of that boring meeting."
"My presentation would have knocked your socks off, sir," Mulder winced as he moved his injured right wrist.
"I hope that isn't broken. Agent Scully, please keep me informed as to Agent Mulder's condition. As much as I hate it, I'd better get back."
The two agents waited until their supervisor was gone until they spoke.
"Mulder, what am I going to do with you?" Scully sighed.
"At least I got you out of that miserable excuse for a seminar," he said, managing a smile.
"That you did," she agreed, smiling back. "Let's get you to the hospital."
Mulder was lying on Scully's spare bed, watching her crappy, older TV. The ER doctor had agreed with Scully's diagnosis. He did indeed have a migraine, but an injection of Imitrex worked like a miracle. Within an hour, the headache was gone. He still felt wiped out, but anything was better than the sensation that someone was trying to drill through his skull.
He looked down at his right wrist, splinted and wrapped in an elastic bandage. Mulder had got lucky there, too. It was a pretty bad sprain, but it had earned him a few more days at Scully's apartment.
There was a light rap on the door, followed by Scully carrying a glass of iced tea and an ice pack.
"Mulder, how's the wrist?"
"Throbbing to beat the band," he answered.
"This ice pack should help," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed and placed it gently on his right wrist, propping it on a pillow.
Scully reached into her right pocket and brought out the bottle of pain pills that the doctor had prescribed. She opened it and shook out two, handing them to Mulder, leaving the bottle on the nightstand.
"Take these now," she directed as she handed him the tea.
"Thanks," he acknowledged after he swallowed them with a big gulp of iced tea.
"Dinner should be ready in about half an hour. Can I get you anything?"
"No, I'm good. Thanks for putting up with me, Scully."
She grinned, ruffling his hair with her fingers as she got up. "Not a problem, Mulder. Yell if you need anything," she directed, closing the door behind her.
Mulder grinned as he took a deep breath, smelling something delicious coming from the kitchen. He let the comfort of being in Scully's home wash over his sleepy brain. Yes, indeed. Life was good.
END
Author's notes: The idea for this fic came out of a conversation in the Mulder's Refuge chat room. I was suffering with a doozy of a migraine and Mindy suggested that I use my pain as the basis for a story. Of course, the MT freak in me could see some definite possibilities. So, after my nasty migraine finally went away, I got busy and transferred my pain to Mulder. The result was this piece of Muldertorture. Hope you enjoy!
Debbie