TITLE: Punch
AUTHOR: Shannon O'Connor
E-MAIL: shannono@iname.com
DATE: 13 March 1998
CLASSIFICATION: VAH
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
KEYWORDS: None
CONTENT WARNING: Language
SUMMARY: Scully gets fed up with Mulder and lets him have it.
COMMENTS/DEDICATION: Just a quick little fun vignette -- well,
it's not much fun for Mulder!! This one's for my web sis, Megan
(a.k.a. The Catwoman). I just couldn't forget her comments about
the "Kung Fu Scully with real kicking action" we were treated
to in "Kill Switch," and thus was born this piece!
DISCLAIMER: M&S aren't mine, and neither is Tylenol, but this
little scene is.

**********
Punch
Shannon O'Connor


Fox Mulder sat flat on his ass on the floor, staring up at the
blaze of fire above him.

Otherwise known as Dana Scully.

Her feet were planted in a classic attack position, her hair
swinging loose, her gaze like steel, her right arm just returning
to her side.

Returning from landing a solid punch to her partner's jaw.

The blow had caught him totally by surprise and slightly off-
balance, which explained his current position. The fist would
have hurt like hell anyway, but even the full, adrenalin-
backed force of Scully's relatively slight weight probably
wouldn't have been enough to land him on the floor otherwise.

But on the floor he was, hurting at both ends.

He looked up at his partner, his eyes wide with shock and his
injured jaw hanging open. A trickle of blood glistened at the
corner of his mouth. His breath was coming out in gasps.

As was hers.

They stayed like that forever, it seemed, before she finally
moved, dropping her hand the rest of the way to her side. She
straightened her suit jacket, smoothed her hair back, then
offered her left hand to him silently.

He watched her warily, but the fire had abated. He took her
hand, and she helped him to his feet, slowly. Still holding
his hand, she led him to one of the chairs sitting beside a
small table at one end of the motel room, motioning for him
to sit.

He sat.

Still silent, she crossed back to the bathroom, grabbed a
washcloth and dampened it, and walked back to stand before him.
She carefully wiped the corner of his mouth, then pressed the
cloth to the spot. With her other hand, she took his, lifting
it to hold the cloth over the broken skin.

She moved away again, gathering a hand towel, the full ice bucket,
a glass of water, and a bottle of Tylenol, the last from the first
aid kit she kept in her overnight bag. She placed the items on the
table, keeping the bottle and shaking out two tablets. She offered
them to him and he took them with his free hand, popping them into
his mouth. He let out a small sound of pain as he moved his jaw.

Still silent, she picked up the water and handed it to him. He
drank. She piled a double handful of ice in the center of the
towel, closed it up, and held it over the sore spot on his jaw.

Finally, she spoke.

"I'd say I'm sorry, Mulder ..."

"... but I deserved that," he finished for her, his voice a
little slurred around the injury. He tried a small grin, wincing
at the movement.

Scully returned the smile, briefly. "Hey, if you can't beat up
your partner, who can you beat up?" With her free hand, she
pulled Mulder's hand away from his mouth, bending to check
the small gash left by her small fist.

She leaned back and pressed his hand back into place. "It's
almost stopped bleeding," she said. "Just keep that on there
for a few more minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, raising his other hand to take the
ice pack from her and hold it himself.

Scully bit back another grin and backed up, falling into the
chair at the other side of the table. Leaning back, she turned
her head slightly to regard her partner, his elbows propped on
his knees, his hands pressed to his wounded face, his eyes
closed.

"So, you feeling more like listening to me now, Mulder?" she
said, unable to keep a hint of humor out of her voice.

Mulder slowly nodded his head, wincing slightly. "Yes, ma'am,
Agent Scully, ma'am," he mumbled, opening his eyes slightly
and glancing toward her to gauge her mood.

Fortunately -- for both of them -- Scully's anger had abated
moments after her fist connected with his jaw, and most of
the adrenalin had since drained from her body. In fact, she
realized, her hand was starting to hurt.

She looked down at her knuckles to see what promised to be a
pretty good bruise by morning. Sighing, she pushed herself out
of the chair and headed back to the sink for another towel.

"Scully?" she heard Mulder ask softly as she crossed the room.

"Just a minute, Mulder," she answered as she grabbed another
towel. Heading back for the table, she plopped the towel down,
filled it with ice, drew it closed, and placed it on the back
of her right hand as she returned to her seat. Then she looked
at Mulder, who had been watching her movements intently.

"A little sore there, Scully?" he asked, a trace of mirth
evident in his voice.

"Watch it, bud," she said. "I still have another hand. Or a
foot, if you prefer."

Mulder groaned and closed his eyes. "No, thanks, Scully," he
said. "I think a punch in the jaw is enough for one night."

Scully didn't even try to hold back the chuckle. "Yeah, but
you were bucking for more, mister."

Mulder nodded. "I know, Scully," he said. "I was totally out
of line."

"Yes, you were."

He shot her a look. "I'm trying to apologize here, Scully,"
he said, softening his words with a smile. "So can I finish?"

She returned the smile. "Okay," she said.

Mulder sighed. "I was wrong. I was bullheaded. I was stupid.
I was idiotic. I was ..." his voice trailed off.

"Oh, don't stop now, you're on a roll."

"Funny, Scully, real funny."

"*I* thought so."

"Anyway, Scully, I'm sorry. I wasn't listening to you. I
shouldn't have ignored you. I ... I don't have an excuse.
I don't know why I did it." He pulled out his best hurt-
puppy-dog look, a little easier to do with his injured
face, and looked at Scully. "Forgive me?"

Scully returned his gaze, a serious expression on her face as
she spoke, slowly and carefully. "Mulder, we've been partners
for over five years. You've been known to ditch me from time
to time, and we've rarely agreed on all the facts of any of
our cases. But in all that time, I have *never* seen you so
completely discount one of my theories. And even at worst,
you've never stooped to the kind of ridicule I heard a little
while ago." She sighed. "Why now, Mulder?"

Mulder looked away, dropping his gaze to the floor between
his feet. "I ... I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I mean,
I still don't agree with your theory, but then you probably
didn't expect that. But I really don't know why I felt ...
why I had to make fun of it. I guess something snapped, and
you were ... you were just there for me to take it out on."

Scully sighed. "Mulder, I think you need a vacation." She
laughed at the look of pure terror that crossed his face.
"No, really, Mulder. I think you are too embedded in your
work, and it's starting to take its toll on you -- and on
me, as this little scene should convince you."

"Scully, you know how rotten I am at vacations."

"Mulder, the way you work, even one day completely off every
few weeks would help."

"Even one day completely off, and I'm lost, Scully. If I
don't have something to do, I go crazy."

Scully shook her head. "Mulder, Mulder, sometimes I really
think you are hopeless," she said. She considered for a moment
before she spoke again. "How about this: We'll both take a few
days off and *plan* things to do. I'll do the work; all you have
to do is go along with it, and promise to stay away from work."

"A vacation? With you?"

"Yes, with me, Mulder, you don't have to make it sound so
repulsive. Friends *do* go on vacation together, you know."

Mulder looked guilty again. "Sorry, Scully," he said. "I
just seem to keep sticking my big ol' foot in my mouth
tonight."

Scully smiled. "Just be glad I didn't decide to plant one
of mine there, Mulder."

Mulder closed his eyes and groaned softly. "Oh, I'm glad,
believe me." He reopened his eyes and looked back at her
sheepishly. "So am I forgiven?"

Scully looked at him for long moment, taking a bit of
perverse pleasure at the discomfort she saw move across
his expressive face. Then, she decided to let him off the
hook. "You're forgiven, Mulder." At his relieved sigh, she
held up one hand. "This time, Mulder. Only this time. If
it happens again ..."

"It won't."

Scully smiled softly and a bit sadly. "Can you really make
that promise, Mulder? Because I know you. Maybe better than
you know yourself. And I find that hard to believe."

Mulder's voice was almost a whisper, his eyes intent on her,
as he asked. "Do you want to believe, Scully?"

They sat, each studying every nuance of the other's face, for
a long time.

**********END**********