Title:   Gesundheit
Author:  dtg
Rating:  PG
Archive: Two weeks at IMTP VS10. Others, please ask.
Summary: "Who brings a thermometer on a cross 
country ski trip?"
* * *
Gesundheit
by dtg


Frost crept up the windows in crystalline patterns 
that grew more elaborate every time she breathed 
against the glass. Outside, the snow was already 
knee-deep, with more on the way. 

They were snowbound by choice. No phones. No 
electricity. A pump next to the sink for water. A 
bathroom that was an antique but, thankfully, 
indoors. Kerosene lamps for light, and a fieldstone 
fireplace that kept the immediate area warm but let 
ice form on the sills. The scent of wood smoke and 
pine was everywhere.

It was like waking up in a Christmas card.

Mulder had asked her what she wanted for Christmas, 
and this was it. A rustic but comfortable hideaway, 
as far from D.C. as they could manage in the three 
days they had to work with. Nothing to do but be 
together, relax and--

>>Ah-CHOOO!<<

It was a very loud sneeze, and it made her jump. 
Scully turned from the window in time to see the 
down comforter get kicked to the foot of the four-
poster bed. "Mulder, you're sweating."

He shot her a look. "No kidding."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and felt his 
cheek with the backs of her fingers, then reached up 
to his forehead, frowning at what she found. 

"I really know how to make the season bright, don't 
I?" 

"You do seem to be glowing."

That got her his 'Ha Ha' look. When she picked up 
the thermometer from the bedside table, he stuck out 
his lower lip in a fetching pout.

"Who brings a thermometer on a ski trip?" he 
grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

"Not me. I found this one in the cabinet in the 
bathroom." At his horrified look, she added, "I 
cleaned it in alcohol, Mulder. It's fine."

"Scully, I didn't bring you up here to play doctor. 
At least not this way." 

"I don't think 'the other way' is an option at this 
point."

He opened his mouth to protest, and she stuck the 
thermometer under his tongue. "I'm not complaining, 
Mulder. You happen to be my favorite patient." 

"And the only one who can still hold up his end of 
the conversation."

"Not for the next two minutes, you can't."

They stared at each until the time was up. He was 
talking again as soon as she removed the glass tube. 
"I had something a little more romantic in mind for 
this weekend."

Scully held the thermometer up to the light and 
squinted at the numbers. "Mulder, everything you do 
is romantic."

He huffed at that, and the huff turned into a bout 
of coughing that made his eyes water. Scully rubbed 
his back until he settled back against the pillows. 
"So, do I have a fever?"

"101. Not bad, but enough to make you feel like 
crap. You've got the flu, Mulder. That's why it hit 
you so fast." 

They had started out early that morning on a planned 
daylong trek through the woods. Scully's prowess on 
cross-country skis had clearly surprised him. Waking 
up face first in the snow had probably surprised him 
a lot more. They had just reached the top of the 
first hill when Mulder swayed briefly and pitched 
forward into a snowdrift before she could react. 
"You should have told me you weren't feeling well." 

He dropped his head back against the headboard with 
an audible thud, then slid down to burrow under the 
covers. "Just let me die in peace."

Scully patted his back. "Don't sulk. I'll make us 
some lunch." A muffled groan floated up through the 
covers. "Just something light. It will make you feel 
better."

He pulled the blanket back and peered up at her. 
"Now *that* would be an x file." And then he sneezed 
again. Twice.

"God bless you."

"I doubt it."

"Tempting providence from your sickbed is pretty 
risky, don't you think?"

"I love a challenge. Got any mirrors I can break?"

She stood up. "It's not quite the same thing." The 
teasing tone she'd intended didn't quite come off. 

Mulder's smirk vanished. "I was kidding."

She looked down at him for a long moment. "Yeah, I 
know." She turned her back on his puzzled frown and 
headed for the kitchen.

"Scully?"

"I'll make that soup," she called over her shoulder 
without turning around. 

She lit the propane stove and pulled a battered 
saucepan from the cupboard, going through the 
motions of meal preparation. Her mind was elsewhere.

Why now? He'd been making jokes about religion for 
as long as she'd known him. And this one had been 
mild in comparison. Almost innocent. She had given 
up trying to make him understand what her faith 
meant to her. It was outside his experience-- and 
the only area where his relentless need to believe 
failed them both. So why did this time feel so much 
worse?

She swiped at unexpected tears. He could have been 
dead this afternoon. For a terrifying instant, she'd 
thought he was. What if he had been? 

"Scully?"

His voice was soft, but its proximity startled her.  
The soup can flew out of her hands and its contents 
splattered over the countertop and the wall. Mulder 
grabbed her shoulders gently. 

"It's okay. It's me. I didn't mean to scare you." He 
pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin so 
that his too-warm body was pressed against her from 
head to foot.

"You shouldn't be out of bed." She tried to turn 
around, but he tightened his hold just enough to 
stop her.

"Scully, what's wrong?" 

A few months ago, she would have put on a smile and 
told him a comfortable lie. Things were different 
now. She pulled away slightly, and this time he let 
her turn to face him.

"We seem to have opposing blind spots, and I don't 
know what to do about that."

He nodded as if that made perfect sense. "It was the 
'god bless you', wasn't it?"

She took a step back. "Do you do that on purpose?" 

He almost smiled. "Do what? Know when I've stuck my 
foot in my mouth? I do learn eventually." He touched 
her face, wiping gently at the drying tears.

That made her smile in spite of herself. He always 
seemed to do that when she most wanted to smack him. 
"It's a tender subject."

Mulder tipped her chin up and waited until she 
raised her eyes to his. "I wish I could have your 
faith, Scully. I know you don't believe that."

"Actually, I do." She put her arms around his waist 
and pulled him close. "I just wish there was 
something I could do to help you get there."

"You still don't know, do you?" He placed his hands 
on either side of her face, rubbing his thumbs 
softly over her cheekbones. "You're my religion. 
You're my faith.  But if it meant I could spend 
eternity with you, I think I could believe almost 
anything."  He kissed her cheek softly. "I can 
promise you that I'll try."

She turned into his touch and brushed her lips 
against his warm skin, bathing her senses with him. 
"I think I can live with that."

* * *

End