TITLE: "Just Another Day"
EMAIL: JenR13@aol.com
SPOILERS: 100% Spoiler free
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST
SUMMARY:  A Mulder hospital stay from a third person point of view.
Disclaimer:  I'm just borrowing them, Chris! Honest! 
Author's Notes: I currently have two stories in the 
works(yes, A Child Shall Lead Them is still in progress, but I 
have all the ideas for it outlined), but I got this little idea and 
just decided to write it.  Be gentle, the only other POV story I have 
written came from the mouth of a fish. :-)
"Just Another Day" 
By Jen
	Hospitals.  I hate hospitals.  Ironic, because I am forced to 
be in one.  Not by choice though.  At least not by my choice.  I just 
happen to have a father who is a doctor and thinks I spent too much 
time on my butt.  Which is probably true.   I have probably set the 
world record for "sitting and doing nothing" in the 16-year-old 
division.  So, here I am.  Working as a candy striper from 3 p.m. to 
6 p.m., Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and 12 to 4 on Saturdays.  
	It's not a boring job, though.  Sure, I have to run things to 
radiology and stuff, but I've met a lot of interesting people.  
Especially the cute guy in 339 that broke his leg skiing.  I've been
keeping a real close eye on that one.  
	But lo and behold he's going home today.  Oh well, I've have 
to remember to get his phone number before I leave today.  I stop by 
the nurses station to get my assignments today.  I'll be fine as long 
as I don't have to see any blood.  I had one experience with that, 
when I was working on the pediatric floor.  A little kid cut his 
stitches open when he tripped over a wheelchair.  There was a lot of 
blood and a lot of whining.  I never want to see that again.
	"Afternoon, Mary Anne," Christine says to me.  She's the head 
nurse on this floor.   A real nice woman I met at my dad's Christmas 
party.  She tells me to call her Christine, but my dad corrects me 
every time I do.  She tells him there is nothing wrong with it and 
then they argue.  Not like my mom and dad used to argue, before 
their divorce, but almost like simple lovers' spat. I wish he would 
juts ask her out.  God knows I am going to do it for him if he 
doesn't do it soon.
	"Hi, Christine," I answer back.  Christine's 39, but you 
would never guess it by looking at her.  Why is my dad so blind?
	She places some flowers in front of me.  "I'm sorry to do this,
but I need you to deliver these to room 223."  She pointed to bouquet 
of flowers with a white card sticking out of them.
	"Why are you sorry?" I ask as I picked up the flowers.  I 
like deliveries.  I rarely got to do them and they give you a chance 
to meet new people.  That's how I met Mark, AKA the cute guy in 339.
	"He's not what we call the 'best' patient."  
	"So?  I wasn't the best patient when I broke my leg last 
year."  That one experience that helped turn me off hospitals.  Well, 
at least the medical aspect of them.
	Christine laughed.  "Don't I know it.  Now deliver those 
flowers, because I've got some duties for you and Kelly."
	"Duties for me and Kelly?"  Kelly is my best friend, and also 
a candy striper.  But, unlike me, she wanted to be here.  I still 
to this day do not know why.
	"Yep."  She turned around to her paperwork and I started to 
walk to room 223.  I looked down at the card in the flowers.  It had 
a name on it.  Fox.  Weird name, but interesting.  I would love to 
have an interesting name.  Anything other than Mary Anne for sure. 
	I reached the door of room 223 and peered in.  A man was 
sitting up in the bed, a very unhappy look on his face.  He glared 
at something I couldn't see.  I moved to get a closer view and could 
hear a woman's voice.
	".......Mulder, you're staying put, end of discussion."  I 
stayed by the door afraid I was interrupting an important discussion.
	"But, Scullee," the man whined and I decided to knock 
cautiously on the door.  The man and his companion turned to me and 
I got a better look at them.  The man looked a little younger than 
my dad, probably in his mid-thirties, I supposed.  He had brown hair 
and hazel eyes definitely set on getting his way.  The woman, I 
guessed also had to be in her early to mid-thirties.  She had a head 
of red hair that reminded me of my mom's.  Of course, if hers was a 
dye job, it was done a hell of a lot better than my mother's.  Her