AN: I think after several anonymous comments I should clarify something here. These stories are a vanity work for me. I share them here for those who are amused by them. If you do not like the subject, direction, pace, or characterization that is fine, perhaps you should move on to another story that you find more interesting or pleasing. This is clearly not the story for you. I am sorry you don't like the story, but don't plan on changing it one whit for you and find that sort of criticism less than constructive. I explore topics that interest me within the stories, and if they don't interest you, then you can read something else. That being said, any anonymous post regarding the disgruntlement with the subject for the chapter or the lack of MSR happening just when they want it will be filtered.
For those who have followed the Seasons stories throughout and like the subjects covered, don't mind it, or don't care and are just waiting for the parts you do like and have stuck with it (even through the many grammar and typo mistakes that make me cringe), thank you. You all bring a smile to my face. This is a hobby for me, a way of de-compressing from more stressful matters, and I am glad that some of you enjoy the work I put out there.
"Two weeks, Mulder." It was already one day into Mulder's forced medical leave and he was harassing her at the office, bored out of his mind. "They only just released you yesterday. Skinner told you that it's two weeks of medical leave and he's not to see you in this office."
"I didn't say I'd work in the office, Scully!" He was petulant on the other end of the line, and she could hear his couch creaking underneath of him, the leather protesting whatever he was doing.
"What in the hell else would you do here?" Scully eyed his empty desk, the piles of papers, the stacks of magazines, and the forest of pencils already jammed in the brand new ceiling tiles.
"I don't know…bug you?"
"Yeah, because that's exactly what I want in my workday," she muttered, frowning at the half-written email he had interrupted. "I'm in the middle of putting together my report for Skinner regarding the events in Tennessee."
"How far have you gotten on it?"
"Mulder!"
"What? I'm not working, I'm simply asking?"
"You should be resting!"
"I am resting, I just want to hear what you put into your report."
He was like this every time he was on medical leave, even the one he was on only six months before after his impromptu brain surgery. He wasn't going to stop pestering her until she agreed to tell him. "I simply stated that as far as we could tell that Jared Chip was likely killed by the Reverend Mackey, who used snakes he purloined somehow to attack the boy so that it would look like Enoch O'Connor was responsible for the killing."
"That's it?" He didn't sound impressed.
"I'm not going to put in there that you suspect that Mackey is the devil, Mulder."
"You suspect it too, Scully. Admit it!"
She wasn't going to do that either, even if the idea of the man and the ordeal that Gracie went through sent cold shivers up her spine. The memory of Donnie Pfaster was far too fresh for her. "I did mention that the whereabouts of Mackey are unknown and that all efforts are being made to find him. Otherwise the case now is in the hands of the local authorities."
"So case closed?" He didn't sound too confident that it should be.
"We don't have a lot of a choice, Mulder. There is really no further reason for us to be involved, we discovered the reason for the weirdness, the suspect is missing, the case is solved, I don't know what more you want out of it."
"I don't know," Mulder admittedly with a long-suffering sigh. "I hate glossing over the truth just because it's so weird that no one will believe it."
"We aren't lying," she reminded him gently. In truth, it bothered her as well, this selective inclusion that went into all of their reports. But it made their lives on the X-files much easier in the long run.
"Just remember, Mulder, we did good down there in Tennessee. Gracie O'Connor is reunited with her father. We discovered the real culprit behind the deaths of Jared Chirp and Iris Finster. At the end of the day the good guys won."
"I don't think every case is about winning and losing, Scully."
"No, but for me right now, I am happy to take that sort of ending." She felt they had too few of those in their cases together. It was nice to feel that some sort of resolution was reached, even if it was incomplete.
"So, Mulder, no new work, no open cases. I suggest you look at the next two weeks as vacation time."
His groan at the other end of the line clearly indicated that he was in no mood for vacations. "I feel fine, Scully, really I do."
"The amount of snake venom that was pumped into your body nearly killed you, Mulder. It will take your system at least that long to readjust, and at the rate you tend to find trouble, you will likely be injured as soon as your back. So just humor me and stay at home and behave yourself, so I don't have to put you back together again for a while."
"Tired of playing doctor with me, Scully?"
"The medical kind, yes." She knew the suggestion that evoked, and left it hanging in the air. Mulder was quiet for the longest of moments. Scully couldn't decide if she was embarrassed that she said it or if she was hopelessly amused by his stunned silence on the other end of the line.
"Well, if you want to show up at my house in nothing but a doctor's coat and a stethoscope, I'm game."
He'd recovered his bearings quickly enough. What would happen if she said yes? As tempting as it was to toss it out there and see what would come of it, Scully knew better than to tempt fate. That was playing a dangerous game she wasn't sure she was ready to commit herself to yet let alone see what the outcome would be.
"How about you just listen to my doctor's advice and stay at home and rest?"
"I can't," he replied, earning her ire. "At least not for tomorrow night."
"Why not?" Was she seriously going to have to tie him to his couch and order him to stay there unless otherwise commanded?
"Have you not paid attention to what tomorrow is?"
Scully hated to admit that she hadn't, but lazily glanced at the date at the bottom of her computer screen. "The twenty-third…oh!"
It was her birthday.
"So what do you want to do?"
He sounded far too cheerful about this. "We don't have to do anything, Mulder."
"Come on, Scully! I actually remembered it for a change, give me some credit."
"It's nice that you did, Mulder, but I haven't been home in a week, my house is a mess."
"You live by yourself, how can your house be a mess?"
She glared at his desk, wishing he were there to be at the receiving end of her ire. "You should be resting."
"How strenuous is a dinner out? Well, unless you really do want to take me up on that offer regarding the stethoscope?"
That brought up images to mind that she didn't think she should be considering. "All right, dinner. Someplace nice. With cloth napkins and real plates."
"For your birthday, Scully, anything." He seemed gleeful that she was at least allowing him this much respite. "I'm just glad I get to have dinner out with a woman I'm not related to for once."
"It would look awkward sitting through dinner with your phone up to your ear on one of those 900 numbers you like to call."
"Hey, now, be nice! I'm planning on a fancy dinner!"
"A fancy one, well." She flushed. How long had it been since she had been to a nice restaurant with any man? Years?
"With more than just cloth napkins and real plates, waiters in matching outfits even, and food in languages where you don't pronounce half the word."
"You don't have to go to great lengths, Mulder, just a step up from pizza would be nice."
"Ehhh, what am I going to spend my money on, Scully, paying off my 900 number phone bills?"
She supposed, if that was how he wished to treat her for her birthday, she couldn't argue. "Let me know the time and place."
"I'll make the reservations," he confirmed somewhat smugly. He had gotten his way in the end.
"But, outside of that, I want you at home. I don't even want you jogging, or going to the gym, or running at the track, or out hitting baseballs…"
"Yes, Nurse Ratched, I will behave myself."
"Thank you." It was all she could ask of him, really.
"Of course, I likely just won't tell you what I'm doing, so you won't yell at me."
Sully sighed. Mulder was indeed the worst patient ever. She quietly wondered just how long it would take for Mulder to get himself in trouble in some other mess simply out of sheer boredom.