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Title: Nick of Time Summary: An Agua Mala fill-in-the-blanks as to what happens to Mulder after they shut the door on him. Author's notes: I have been a big time lurker and reader here in ATXC, and don't ask me why I decided to de-lurk and write now. This was done on the spur of the moment, and without beta readers, or even a second viewing of the episode (which BTW I liked, contrary to popular opinion) so yes, I know some of the dialogue is wrong, and some of the names are wrong, but you should be able to figure out what's going on here. And, I have no medical background whatsoever, so those that do, forgive the medical jargon I used here. I tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about, I just stole a whole bunch of it from that old TV show Emergency! Those mistakes aside, let me know if you think I have a future here, or if I should just go back to lurking. Okay, on with the show. Mulder watched incredulously as the door shut in his face. "Scu-," he gasped, his entire body straining to draw in breath. Help me, he cried silently, I can't breathe. All at once, he became light-headed, and the survivalist part of his brain demanded rest. Sit, rest, breathe. He collapsed backward until his back met the hallway wall, and slowly he slid down it. The hurricane's fury had reached even this far, and puddles of water dotted the floor, soaking Mulder's jeans, but at the present moment, wet clothes were the least of his worries. One hand grasped his shirt, as though lifting its weight from his chest would allow him to breathe easier, and his other hand brushed his neck. A firestorm of pain swept through his upper torso, and convinced him NOT to try THAT again. He glanced over at the door. Where are you Scully? I need you... Mulder's eyes were drawn to the ceiling again, and the writhing form of his attacker was easy to see through the clear fluorescent light panel. No, no, no, not again, not me!!! He stumbled to his feet and ran the opposite direction, not really sure of where he was going. He just knew he couldn't stay where he was. The French doors that marked the end of the hallway and led outside shuddered violently as the wind and the rain assaulted them. Mulder's thought processes had been reduced to fight or flight responses, his body siding in with the flight. The coherent thoughts became fewer and further between, as his entire body began to protest the lack of oxygen, and this time when he stumbled, he took a full-fledged header, landing just short of the doors. His body flexed and heaved in an effort to suck in air. A sudden, shrieking gust of wind caught one of the French doors and flung it open, exposing Mulder to the full fury of the storm. He winced as the wind-driven rain pelted him, stinging him on every exposed inch of skin. Holman Hardt, where are you when I really need you? the random plea floated through his foggy consciousness. "Meow." What the-!? Mulder looked up, and found himself face to face with the Shipley's cat. How the hell did it get here? And why didn't that thing eat him like it did the rest of the family? Bemusedly, he watched as the waterlogged cat shook itself, and tried to groom its water-spiked fur. Water...water...cat...washer...water...his eyes widened as they made the connection. Water! Fresh water, that...thing didn't like fresh water, just salt water. Out, need to get outside, in the rain... Drawing on his last reserves of strength, Mulder pulled himself by his elbows until he lay half in, half out of the door. Rolling over to his back he welcomed the harsh pounding rain on his wounds. He thought he felt something slide down his neck, as the last bit of awareness left him. Raindrops, or something more sinister? Scully..... Dana Scully's mind was going 500 directions at once. Watch the guy with the gun, deliver the baby, help Mulder....Oh, God, Mulder. She knew she'd never forget the look of total panic that swept Mulder's face as the door slammed shut. Forcing herself to shove her emotions aside, Scully made a mental list. Get through the delivery, then go out and help Mulder. And God help anyone who got in her way. She hunkered down at the foot of Angela's feet and prepared for the inevitable. Check the dilation, oh, there's the baby's head. "It's coming," she announced, unnecessarily. Angela sure as hell knew it was coming. A flicker of movement in the light fixture caught Scully's eye, and to her horror, she saw a white tentacle thrash around in the confined space. Jesus, it's coming alright, her mind screamed. Can't alarm Angela. The thrashing continued, as did the labor. Scully dipped her hands into the bucket of clean water in final preparation for delivery, when all at once it hit her. Fresh water, that was the key. This thing only liked salt water. "Water, that's it," she mumbled. Angela's screams brought her back to the task at hand. "Here it comes," she yelled, not quite sure if she were announcing the arrival of the baby or the sea monster. Angela's final scream of pain drowned out the sound of the glass fixture breaking, but nothing could hide the horrific sight of Mr. Vincent's body being grabbed and jerked up in midair by the monster. "Grab the gun! Grab the gun!" Scully ordered Walter, and after a second's hesitation, he did. "Shoot at the sprinkler! The sprinkler!" She shouted. His arm weaved back and forth as he tried to get a shot off that wouldn't pass through Vincent's body first. Finally, a path cleared and he squeezed the trigger. Jackpot, Scully silently cheered as she cradled the newborn baby boy with her right arm. The sudden spray of water had immediate effects. Mr. Vincent dropped to the floor as the tentacle withdrew back into the depths of the sewer pipe in the ceiling it had come from. Taking a towel, Scully wrapped the newborn and laid it gently on Angela's stomach. "Congratulations, you have a brand new baby boy," she told the amazingly silent Angela. She moved over to Vincent's prone body. The welts were there, although not as pronounced as Deputy Greer's, or Mulder's. Satisfied that he would last for at least the next hour, she swept up the gun in one hand, and the penknife and ballpoint pen in the other, and advanced on the door to the hallway. "Hey, where are you going," an alarmed Walter called out. "My partner's out there, and I don't care if I have to go through the Loch Ness monster to get to him, I'm going. Got a problem with that?" she arched her eyebrow at him, and Walter, well-conditioned by Angela, ceased his protests. Scully flung the door open...to an empty hallway. Dammit, Mulder, where the hell did you go?! You knew, you KNEW, I wouldn't just leave you out here to die. Gusts of wind from the open doors at the end of the hallway grabbed her attention, and hard on the heels of that, her discovery of a long pair of legs arranged drunkenly on the floor had her run-sliding down the rest of the hallway. "Mulder," she yelled. The sight that met her eyes was one that would giver her nightmares for a long time to come. Her partner lay halfway out of the door, his left arm reaching out as if in supplication to some unseen deity. The harsh rain plastered his hair into a dark, silky cap, contrasting with the utter whiteness of his face. His body jerked in small spasms as it fought valiantly for even a small gasp of air. God, she thought, he's suffocating right in front of me. She reached down and checked his airway. Almost nothing getting in. I'm going to have to do it, she thought. And the detachment which had stood her so well up to now suddenly deserted her. I have to cut a hole in Mulder's throat. The hand holding the penknife shook visibly. No, no, why can't I do this?! Scully berated herself. There's a reason they don't let doctors operate on family, a small voice inside her head sing-songed. And this is why. She shook her head. No, I HAVE to do this, or Mulder's going to die, and it will be MY fault. She reached down, finding the trachea, and prepared to make the incision, when a foreign sound halted her. What the hell!? It's...a siren!! God, please let it be an ambulance. The sudden flashing of red and blue lights was an immediate answer to her fervent prayer. "Over here!!!" she screamed loud enough to be heard even through the howling winds. Two men, loaded with medical equipment, came around the side of the building. "You the one that called in the attack, and the trach?" Scully didn't have time to explain anything, so she just grabbed the first equipment case that came close enough. "There's no time!!" she bellowed. "I need some epinephrine, now! His airway is almost fully constricted, he's going to go into respiratory arrest if we don't do something! Hurry!" To their credit, the two men dropped immediately to their knees and began treatment. Scully leaned back, aware she was only getting in the way now, and let them do their job. Which is not to say that she didn't keep an eagle eye on everything they did. Within minutes they had the esophageal airway down his throat, and an IV coursing medication through his body. Her own body sagged in relief as she watched the sheet-white pall leave his face and a healthier pinkish hue replace it. One of the paramedics was busy probing Mulder's neck, where the rows of welts stretched in angry glory. "What in Hell did this?" he asked Scully. Scully never took her eyes off of her partner's face as she replied, "I don't know what in Hell did this, but I hope it decides to go back there soon." The End Yes, it's a funky way to end, but like I said at the beginning of this, I just did this off the top of my head. I Didn't even go back and watch to see if I got the dialogue and names right, so be gentle if you decide to flame me.
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