ALLERGIES By Kate Dyer Athena1600@aol.com CATEGORY: V, H RATING: PG SUMMARY: How much damage can a speck of pollen do? [Told from Scully's POV] SPOILER WARNING: None KEYWORDS: MSR DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully are owned by FOX and 1013 Productions and I'm not getting any money from this. ARCHIVE: Yes, though please inform me of any archiving. FEEDBACK: Must I beg? WRITTEN: April 9, 1999 POSTED: April ALLERGIES By Kate Dyer Athena1600@aol.com It all started with a molecule of pollen. It's ironical how something so microscopic could cause such a huge misunderstanding. I first felt it Tuesday night; a subtle tingling in the back of my throat. Tuesday had been a beautiful day. The ornamental fruit trees were all in bloom, the sky full of clouds like white cotton. The world was alive with life. Before slipping into bed I opened my bedroom window a few inches, allowing the rejuvenating spring air to flow freely. While the melodious spring birds had sung me to sleep, I was awoken by an entirely different sound; that of a woodpecker enjoying itself against the aluminum paneling of my building. The incisive sound that seemed like a machine gun rattled through my head. I rolled over and groaned, burying my head in my pillow. It was then that I made a realization. The sound that had emitted from my mouth sounded foreign to my ears; a deep, reverberating groan. Another soon followed. I sat up groggily and dragged myself to the bathroom, just in time to catch a sneeze in a tissue. The malignancy of spring had found its way into my body: the sinister totalitarian often referred to as allergy. My sinuses were congested, my joints ached, my voice had dropped an octave. I had opened my medicine cabinet and was riffling through boxes of Tylenol Allergy Sinus and other products that would induce a zombie like state, when the phone rang. I picked it up on the second ring, answering in my recently acquired deep voice. After a brief apology, the caller hung up. Blowing my nose loudly, I crawled back into bed, deciding to take the day off. The instant I walked into the office a few days later, I could tell that there was something wrong with Mulder. He was uncharacteristically reserved and snide, practically cynical. It was about four when I decided that I was fed up with his act. I approached him and asked him what his problem was. I can still remember the conversation: 'Look, Mulder, I don't know what your problem is, but I've had a rough week and I don't appreciate the attitude you're giving me. If I did something that you don't agree with, then come out and say it.' 'Oh, you've had a rough week? I bet. And where were you all this week…no, I really don't want to know. If you would rather skip work to 'sleep in' (And when he said that, he made those annoying little finger quotes that my biology teacher in college always did. I always hated that.), it's fine with me, but I think you should get yourself a new partner.' 'Excuse me? What are you implying? And as I see it, I've been more of a partner to this team than anyone else has. I was sick, Mulder…' Then he laughed. Not a kind, or a sad Mulder laugh, but a cruel, caustic laugh. I stared at him wide-eyed and confused, not understanding what he was upset about. 'Don't even try, Scully. I know about him. I called your apartment. And a MAN answered. And I don't think we can be partners anymore.' And with that he had walked out. I sat down with a wheeze as all the air exited my lungs. I still couldn't figure it out. What had he been talking about? No one, much less a man, other than him, of course, had been in my apartment since my brother visited practically a month ago. And Mulder hadn't been acting this strange back then. In fact, things had been going quite smoothly lately. Only a week ago we had gone out to a nice sit down dinner one night after a strenuous case. His attitude only changed after I had stayed home. But he said that he had called my apartment. And that a guy had answered. I didn't remember him calling at all, except that one morning. I gasped as the blatant mistake became obvious. I had a sore throat and was losing my voice, it was practically an octave lower than usual. Could he have mistaken me for a man? Somehow that seemed a bit insulting. When Mulder finally sneaked into the office late that night to collect his stuff, I was waiting for him. He had calmed down and allowed me to explain the misunderstanding. He didn't second-guess me and he trusted my word instantly and eagerly. I think he was looking for an excuse to believe that it wasn’t true. We smiled, made up, and went out for dinner. And all due to a speck of pollen. I got home and immediately picked up the phone to call Mulder and thank him for dinner. Mulder was unlocking his apartment door as he heard the shrill ring of his phone. He quickly pushed the door aside and threw his briefcase on the floor without turning on the lights. Swiftly walking toward the phone he cursed as he tripped over his sneakers. Turning, his groin impacted with the corner of a small table. Doubling over he emitted a small squeaking noise and hobbled toward the phone. "Hello?" He squeaked, his voice rising to the level of an adolescent boy's. Could it be? Mulder? And another man? He wasn't…. He couldn't be! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The End Kate Dyer Okay, that's my desperate attempt at humor, hope you liked it.