Week 5
Monday, Fox informed her he remembered how to drive.
His driver's license of course, stated he was 37 years old, and Scully doubted a cop would believe he was the same man if he got pulled over.
He asked her if it had ever happened before, and she had lost the argument then and there.
Scully let him drive to the mall, and conceded he was indeed a good driver and letting him use the Bureau car was okay.
She could almost smell the estrogen as she and Fox walked around The Gap, the female teenagers trying vainly to act inconspicuous as they perused clothing after clothing confined to the shelves that were directly in front or beside him.
He smiled at a few of them, the ones he caught looking, but made conversation only with the clerks.
His new haircut and a-tad-too-tight-jeans are doing the trick, Scully thought. <He could murder someone at this mall and they'd all give him an alibi.>
Walking into the shop and letting him leave his arm around her was a bad idea, perhaps. But she was completely blameless for his territoriality, i.e. remaining within 5 feet of her, holding her hand, tugging on her sleeve, seeking her approval with a nod and hugging her from behind as often as he could.
Since he was 'three years old', and the fear of all that he was going through constantly loomed like a shadow, Fox had used Dana to keep the fear at bay. What he lacked from his family, Dana had given him unconditionally. A shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, a reassuring hug and most of all, her time and love, was helping him see through the unique and difficult situation.
His dependency, her mother assured, would gradually abate as he matured. "Remember Dana, I mentioned to you a long time ago Fox was tactile. More so now with you because you've been a constant companion. A source of strength and comfort. It's only natural of course."
Scully had conceded to the fact, but was still worried on how her relationship with Mulder would change once he got back to his normal self. Everything he was experiencing now he would remember, and she couldn't help but speculate, if maybe this overly-physical Mulder might be what her FBI partner could have been like, had they not been professional partners.
Was Mulder as tactile as her mother said he was? Scully had been under the impression that 'tactile' meant touchy. Mulder wasn't very touchy, and neither was she. The occasional hand on her back, and his not-too-frequent forays into her personal space. Well, okay, more-frequent-then-I'm letting-on forays into my personal space, she thought. But that wouldn't really put him into the tactile category, could it?
This new Mulder though… the one she had taken care of during his journey back to childhood, was highly dependent on her and it was understandable. She was, after all, the only one who understood fully what he was going through, and provided all that he needed and more.
Week 6
His Oxford education was coming back to him in chunks, and Scully would find him writing things down frantically, or staring off into space as his mouth recited lectures silently as his lessons came back.
Scully woke up at 3 AM Wednesday morning to check on him, and found his bed unused.
She found him at the dining table, wearing only his boxers and socks in front of the computer. "Hey," she greeted.
He looked up at her. "Damn. Did I wake you, Dana? I'm sorry," he apologized.
Scully shook her head and approached him, pulling out a seat beside his. "You didn't. I just stood up to use the bathroom and heard the keyboard. What're you looking at?"
He rubbed his eyes and pointed to the monitor. "Look," he marveled. "I'm in here."
Scully studied the screen. There was his name on a homepage about Monty Props, his brilliant monograph on the serial killer that assisted the felon's apprehension.
She snickered. "Is this what you've been doing all night? Surfing around the Net for your name?"
Fox blushed a shade red. "Yeah, curiosity got the better of me. There isn't much though. The search engines didn't have much to go on Fox William Mulder."
She let her eyes roam over his face, a short-lived feeling of where the time had gone over the last several weeks. He was a man now, and she missed the little boy she treated and loved like a son.
He was fast reaching the point of becoming the old Mulder, she knew. And every second of this special relationship with him was coming to a close.
"Why are you staring at me?" he suddenly asked, catching her by surprise.
Scully shook her head and smiled at him. "I was just thinking of how fast you grew," she said. "People always say that, but this time, when I say it, it's literal." She waved her hand off in dismissal, realizing she sounded like a regretful and lonely old lady and stood, planning to fix them both something to eat.
She heard him push his chair away from the table and walk into the kitchen area, following her. He stood behind her and observed her movements, and offered his help. "No, you go back to the computer. I can handle it fine in here."
Fox placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, planning to throttle her playfully till she let him help her.
Scully's robe parted, and the first two buttons of her pajamas were open, leaving her white skin vulnerable to his gaze.
A spark of sexual electricity sizzled between them, but denying what it was is was what they both did best. It was late at night, Fox was shirtless and Dana was dressed only in her pajamas. They broke guiltily apart, but for different reasons.
In Scully's scientific mind, Mulder had just finished tumultuous puberty, and any functioning female was sure to cause his carnal side to surface. It was up to her to, it was HER responsibility, to make sure that their association before all this remained the same.
Yes, she found Fox attractive. Mulder was attractive, there was no denying that. And the atmosphere now was doing strange things to her. From the soft light surrounding them to his lack of clothing and even the way his smile suddenly disappeared - an erotic air was undoubtedly hanging thickly in the tiny kitchen.
Any attraction he felt towards her was strictly testosterone-induced, and certainly not exclusive to her. After all, she had treated him like a son, how could he possibly think of her in any other sense than maternal or platonic?
Fox was just trying his damnedest not to embarrass him or Dana with his adolescent crush. But why does it feel like a lot more? he thought. <A lot, lot more.>
Their conversation during their midnight snack was strained and labored.
-------------------
Wednesday
Constantly, he would beg her to bring him books and magazines about psychology from the Bureau's library, if only, he said, to refresh the growing vault of memories in his mind.
Fox was also learning to flirt with her, just like old times. He could be so blatantly mischievous at times, teasing her mercilessly about how she had 'ruined' him for other women.
To the casual observer's eye, it was an unalterable infatuation.
Scully took it all in stride, seeing it as a sign he was nearing the stage where his manhood was beginning to assert itself. He hadn't tried anything so blatant as to kiss her, or succumb to the usual ploy of overly-horny men and cop a feel.
The sad truth of the matter though, was that Fox Mulder was falling in love with her. And neither of them realized it.
On Wednesday night, Scully and Fox were having dinner together when they talked about criminal psychology.
--------------
Thursday
He sat up in his bed, suddenly remembering Phoebe.
With indignation, he looked down to see his erection tenting the front of his boxers and decided he needed a cold shower.
The first memory of when he had met her came first, followed by a flash or two of them flirting with each other, and the first time they had sex. It was mind-blowing, from what he could remember. She had shown him what to do to please her, and he had been an eager pupil.
A few more memories of the insanity they succumbed to, to alleviate their mostly sexual relationship burrowed out and finally, the big break-up. The one that had started off with her telling him she was moving on to greener pastures, and ending with his fists cracking the drywall of his apartment.
He turned the water on and kept it as cold as he could muster. Dana would be coming into his room soon to call him for breakfast, and the last thing he wanted her to see was a morning hard-on.
Just as he was beginning to lose it, the thought of Dana seeing him in this state hardened it again. <Quit it, you fucking pervert!> he shouted to himself, thumping his head against the white tiles. <I could've been stuck living through this crap with a cow, a bull or something that didn't look quite as attractive as Dana. But fuck, no. I had to get a red-headed angel instead.>
He screamed a string of obscenities when his erection got even harder.
Scully was scrambling eggs when she heard the "Goddamnfuckingsonofabitchinmotherfreakin'asshole!!!!" and almost dropped the pan. Cursing certainly came naturally to him all of a sudden.
She ran to Fox's room and burst in, not bothering to knock and heard the shower. She banged on the door and asked him what was wrong.
He yelled that he was fine, just stubbed his toe, he said. But it didn't sound convincing.
She let him leave it at that, and left him to finish and get dressed.
Scully was trying hard to stifle her smirk during breakfast. He was grumpy and irritable. <Stubbed toe, my foot.>
"Toe still hurt?" she asked.
"Toe? Oh. No. No. Not at all," he stammered. He pushed his eggs around his plate then set his fork down. "How much of my past did I tell you about, Dana? I mean, when you knew me before."
Scully put her fork down as well. "Not very much. You'd reveal a few things here and there, but we never really - talked."
He looked at her observed her carefully. "But we were partners for five years, right?"
"Yes, but we never really got too personal," she answered, suddenly becoming a tad uncomfortable at where the conversation was heading.
"Did you and I ever - uh, how do I say this without shooting myself in the foot -"
"Go from professional partners to a more intimate relationship?" she ventured.
His cheeks turned a rosy red. "Yeah?"
Scully managed a weak smile. She was thankful that Fox had been looking at his scrambled eggs and missed it. Or he would have an inkling to the truth of how she felt about him. "No, that never happened."
He nodded, desirous of asking her why not, but was too apprehensive of what her answer might be. "How much of my past did I tell you about?"
"Very little," she answered.
He was contemplative for a moment. "Did I ever mention Phoebe?"
Scully looked up at him, startled. He was SHARING with her. "Yes. She… she came back into your life a few months after you and I were assigned together. You mentioned that you had had an affair with her during your Oxford years."
He chuckled uneasily, pushing his eggs around his plate. "I just realized how much I hated that bitch."
Holy cow.
"She was amazing," he continued. "In bed and out of it. Intelligent, driven, independent, arrogant in a way that drove me crazy. She made me forget about my family by making herself the center of my universe. I did everything I could do to please her. Then she got bored. Maybe I did too." He looked up at her and smiled regretfully. "It made it easier for me to think that way when she told me we were over."
Scully didn't know what suddenly came over her. "I hated her on site."
This time, Fox was the startled one. "So you actually met her?"
"Yes. But only a few times when you were assisting her on her case. Once or twice, both under undesirable circumstances."
"Undesirable circumstances?"
"She played a prank on us. She left a tape in our car saying it was going to explode, and the next time I found the two of you dancing in each other's arms right before a fire in a hotel we were surveying broke out. She was more preoccupied with congratulating the false hero of the moment than attending to you. A victim of smoke inhalation."
Fox shook his head in disgust. "I actually danced with her? What the hell was I thinking."
"I'm sure I don't know," she answered. "But we pulled through it. Mulder and Scully always do."
They would take long walks in the park or around the neighborhood, Fox's arm around her shoulder. When she spoke, his facial expression would be one of total immersion and concentration, and it was as if Scully's face had a gravitational pull that drew Fox's face to within inches of hers.
They talked about everything under the sun, around the moon and a little left of Uranus. No topic of discussion was left unturned, and Scully found herself talking to Fox about her childhood, teens, medical school and Quantico.
It seemed so easy to talk to him, to confide about even the littlest things, because the man in front of her was not Mulder, it was Fox. It was not the Mulder who she felt was constantly judging her performance, not the Mulder who she couldn't fail, and not the Mulder who saw her as an asexual partner at work.
--------------
Saturday
3:01 AM
A soft thud woke her up, followed by hushed voices and her front door shutting quietly. Quickly, Scully stood up and took her service weapon from her bedside table. She padded out of her bedroom, forcing her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she surveyed the immediate area around her before running to the door and looking out the corridor. Nothing.
She made her way back inside, a horrible feeling of fear gripping at her chest as she went into Fox's room.
His bed was empty, and he was nowhere in site.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3:20
AM Assistant Director Walter Skinner's Residence
Any phone call before sunrise is bad news, thought Skinner.
He picked it up and cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes. "Skinner."
"Sir, we've got a situation on our hands."
"Scully. What's the matter?"
"Mulder's been kidnapped, sir."
He bolted into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Where are you, Agent Scully?"
"At my apartment, sir."
"I'm on my way."
When Skinner arrived at Scully's apartment, a battalion of FBI agents were already there. Agents were sweeping for fingerprints, others were taking pictures, while others still searched every nook and cranny for clues.
Whispers and mutterings of why Mulder had been at her apartment in the first place at 3 AM didn't escape Scully, nor did she bother explaining to them why he'd been in a separate room when the kidnapping had occurred. "Probably a lover's quarrel," provided one.
Skinner, dressed in jeans and a blue shirt was greeted by "Morning, Sir" by the agents there, then directed to Scully's room. She was on the phone, her index finger stuck in her ear to keep the din outside from interfering with her hearing. "Thanks, Frohike," she said, before replacing the handset.
"Agent Scully."
She looked haggard, worried and stressed, but still very much in control. She had changed before the FBI came over into jeans and a sweater. "I'm sorry for waking you at this hour, sir," she apologized.
Skinner waved off her concern. "What happened?"
Scully explained about the noises and finding Mulder gone. Skinner could hear the carefully disguised and hidden panic in her voice.
They walked back out to the living room together, Skinner summoning the agent in charge of the evidence sweep. "Find anything?"
Agent Hollis shook his head. "No sir. Whoever took Agent Mulder was very professional. No fibers, no hair, no fingerprints or footprints, no anything."
"Any sign of a struggle?" asked Skinner.
"Yes, sir. We found traces of blood on the floor. They've already been analyzed. They were Agent Mulder's." He sounded defeated. "There's something else we found, sir."
"What?"
The agent left the room momentarily and came back with an armful of fairly thick black wires attached to little apparatuses. "Surveillance cameras, sir. One from each room of the house, including the bathrooms."
"Send them over to the lab. I want answers. Where they came from, and how were Agents Mulder and Scully observed, understood?"
"We've already traced them sir. Video cassette recorders were found in the apartment adjacent to the one above Agent Scully's, but there were no tapes to be found."
Skinner turned to Scully. "If you've got any bright ideas, now's the time to voice them out."
"I've already spoken to some sources, sir. They'll get back to me as soon as they hear or find anything out."
Skinner nodded. "Keep me informed at all times, Agent Scully." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll get him back."
She nodded and brought him out of the apartment, hoping with all her heart what he said was true.
She remained in constant contact with the Lone Gunmen, but all they came across was one dead end after another. Langly and Frohike had been running all over the city on false leads, while Byers stayed at headquarters.
The frustration at not being able to do anything, totally helpless, was driving her to the brink of a nervous breakdown. She felt as though she had betrayed Mulder. She had betrayed the trusting Fox, who depended on her to keep him safe.
Scully had almost gone to his apartment to tape an X to his window, then remembered the violent ending of the dubious informant.
There was only one thing left to do. She went into his room and sat on his bed and prayed.
His consciousness was coming back in drips. First, he was aware that he was half-awake and half-asleep. Next, that the area around his eye, ribs and lower back stung. And finally - and this was the weirdest - there was something in his mouth, something pinching his nose, and he was completely immersed in water.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and panicked. He WAS submerged in water, but now that he was totally awake, it didn't feel too much like it. It was bluish and thick, like hair gel, but just a little thinner in consistency.
Fox looked around. He was in a large aquarium-like container, a breathing apparatus covering his mouth and nose. He pressed his palms against a side and peered out, and saw a man in a lab coat at a computer. Pounding on the side didn't help, he was too weak to get a sound out.
He looked up and saw a lid covering the aquarium and tried to shove it off with his foot, with no success. He struggled with it more, and finally gave up, deciding he would wait till the idiot at the computer noticed him.
Something caught the man's attention. A sound, it appeared and he rushed over to a monitor, then looked at Fox. His eyes widened and he ran out of the room for a few seconds and returned with 3 others who were dressed exactly like him.
One of them walked up to Fox and motioned for him to calm down. He freaked out even more, trying his best to curse with the device shoved in his mouth. The substance surrounding him seemed to be moving, and slowly it drained from around him.
One of the men brought out a rifle that looked to be equipped with a tranquilizer dart and aimed it at him, as the lid above slid open.
Fox stood gingerly, placing his hands on the edges, wearily observing the surrounding scientists, especially the one with the gun. He spat out the breathing device and cleared his face of muck. "Where the hell am I?" he demanded.
Silence. Fox surveyed each of them. One was obese and balding, one had a small goatee and thinning hair, and another was tall and clean-shaven but had long, black, curly hair. "I SAID, where the hell am I?!" he demanded again.
Baldy approached. "Mr. Mulder, please calm down."
His tone was venomous. "I will calm down when someone gives me some answers, dammit! And where's Dana?! What the hell did you do to Dana?!!"
"Agent Scully is fine. She's still at her apartment, no one touched her, she was in no way harmed, I can promise you that."
"Who the fuck are you to make promises?! I want to see her and make sure she's fine, do you understand?!"
Baldy nodded to the rifle-toting lab boy, Goatee. He raised the rifle, and shot Fox in the arm even before he could utter a protest.
When next he woke, he was strapped down to a bed. A quiet drone from a TV monitor was playing some kind of surveillance tape in black and white, and Curly was sitting nearby watching it. He heard the rustle of the bed sheets as Fox sat up and smiled at him sleazily.
"Look familiar?" he asked. "Both of you look cute together. At any of your ages."
Fox gazed at the screen. It was him and Dana eating dinner, when he was about 4 or 5. The volume was too low, but he could make out words from their conversation.
"Broccoli…..you….boy," she said.
"I….broccoli but…..carrots." he had answered, and Dana had smiled at him.
Curly had a remote in his hand and fast-forwarded the tape. He scanned over different sections of Dana's house, spanning his rapid growth. He and Dana playing on the floor, he and Dana asleep in her bed; it even included the night he had his nightmares and Dana woke up to comfort him. He watched, only realizing then how she had kept vigil over him.
"You've been doing extremely well," said Curly. "Much better than anticipated."
So they were responsible for all the weird crap that was happening to him, he thought. He fought against the restraints, trying desperately to break free just for the sheer pleasure of ripping Curly's arm off, and beating him over the head with it.
"Calm down, Mr. Mulder. You aren't going to be able to break free. You aren't in any kind of danger here. We just want to see how you're doing."
"I'm not in any kind of danger?! Then why the fuck does it feel like someone's been playing street hockey on my face?!" he demanded.
"You resisted our initial attempts at bringing you here peacefully. If two of our men hadn't been so badly injured, I and the others would actually be proud of you."
"Listen Obi-Wan, I'm not Luke-Fucking-Skywalker," he spat. "I want to know why you've done this to me!!"
Curly pulled his chair to Fox's bedside. "Now, now, Mr. Mulder. At this point in your life, you haven't become Agent Mulder yet, and as is the case, are unfamiliar with the importance of secrecy in our lines of work." He smiled ruefully. "Let's just say you've stepped on a few toes, but coincidentally enough could have been the only individual physically adept enough to cope with our little experiments."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Curly ignored the question and stood up. "You'll be returned to Agent Scully's care in a few hours. The blood tests have been taken care off, and I suggest you be a little more cooperative when the technicians come in to take samples of your hair, nails and skin. The faster you cooperate, the quicker you'll be returned to Agent Scully." He turned to leave the room, then stopped in mid-stride and faced Fox again. "Who, by the way, is taking excellent care of you. Please extend our deepest appreciation."
About half an hour later, a nurse and two lab technicians walked in. All three were carrying medical kits.
The nurse attended to Fox's eye and other bruises, treating them with antiseptic and changed the bandages on his lower back and rib.
The two tech heads worked in synchronicity, one acquiring samples, the other placing them in petri dishes or slides. Strands of his hair were cut off, the nail from his thumb trimmed, and a skin scraping from his arm all filed. When they were done, the nurse took a syringe out and injected him.
The last thing on Fox's mind before he fell into drug-induced slumber was hoping Curly had not been lying in saying Dana was alright, and that he would be going home to her very soon.
Week 7
His eyes opened to his favorite thing in the world. Dana.
He was in a hospital room but he was with her, she was okay, everything was all right.
Her hand was sifting through his hair, his head in her lap. She didn't see that he'd already opened his eyes, too engrossed with a file she was reading. They were on the bed, one of his arms around her waist, indicating that at one point during his drugged sleep his subconscious recognized her presence and snuggled closer.
Fox tightened his grip to let her know he as awake.
"Hi, there," she greeted. "Welcome back."
"It's good to be back. How did I get here?" he asked, trying to sit up.
Scully pushed him down gently, keeping him prone. "It's better if you try sitting up slowly, Fox. You might get nauseous from the effort, okay?"
He nodded and lay back down, searching out her hand and interlacing his fingers with hers. "How did I get here?" he asked again.
"I got a call that you were back in your apartment," Scully answered, a tad uncomfortable at the intimacy he was showing. "I called the Bureau and Skinner sent some agents and paramedics there to check it out with me. We found you on the sofa and brought you back here. You were really out of it."
"They uh, stuck something into my arm. It took about 5 seconds for me to get knocked out," he replied, feeling woozy again and shutting his eyes.
Scully brushed some hair off his forehead. "I'll need to ask you some questions later on, Fox. But not until you're up to it, okay?"
He nodded groggily and burrowed into the covers deeper, already drifting off. "I'm glad you're okay, Dana…I thought they'd done something to you. I would have killed them if they hurt you."
Scully didn't say anything. She watched his chest rise and fall till he was breathing deeply.
When her phone rang a few hours ago to tell her of his location, her adrenaline started pumping throughout her body and fear rose in her throat like bile. Calling Skinner and telling him what had just happened prolonged the agony to almost unbearable proportions. The agents were told to meet her there along with paramedics.
When they found him on the sofa, he was so still Scully thought he was dead. She and the paramedics checked his vitals, and concluded he had been heavily drugged and was unconscious. They took him to the hospital and tests were taken while he was still asleep.
The two doctors who had treated him the first time he was brought there were shocked at seeing him again, trying their best to get Scully to open up about the medical and scientific miracle that was Fox Mulder. They would have had more success squeezing blood from a rock.
When Fox woke up again two hours later and told Scully he was feeling much better, they made arrangements for him to be checked out. The hospital faxed their findings an hour later, confirming the drug used to knock him out was Haldol. Aside from that, the levels of anti-aging drugs in his system were still diminishing at a steady rate, and there was evidence that he had been given a strong anti-bacterial and antiseptic bath before they had found him.
<Someone doesn't want us knowing what they're up to, the bastards.
Surprise, surprise.>
-------------
8:00
PM
When Fox woke up later on, he heard Dana in the living room on the phone. She was talking to Skinner, he assumed, by the way she was saying "Sir."
He sat up, feeling a lot better and swung his feet over the edge. Carefully, he stood up to talk to Dana. She would definitely want to know as much as he could tell her about what had happened to him.
He walked out of the room, Dana taking notice of him and spoke into the phone. "He's awake, sir. Hold on while I ask him if he's up to going to the Bureau." She looked at him expectantly. He nodded back and headed for his room to change.
"We'll be there in half and hour, sir."
It was a good thing they arrived there way after office hours. Most of the agents had already left, and the few that remained in the building were easy to get around.
Skinner and Scully agreed to meet in the X-Files office at 8:30, and when she and Fox walked in, he was already there.
"How are you doing, Agent Mulder?" he asked, completely forgetting Fox wasn't Agent Mulder yet.
Fox grinned. "That has a nice ring to it, don't you think, Dana?"
Scully smiled up at him. "Not for another few days, Fox."
Skinner cleared his throat and sat on the edge of Mulder's desk. He and Scully watched as Fox surveyed the room, taking in every little object, touching everything. He stood in front of his I Want To Believe Poster, and looked back at Dana. "Mine?"
She nodded. "Yours."
His palm reached for the image of the UFO, caressing it slowly. "What did I want to believe in, Dana?"
Ah, the $64,000 question. "The truth, Fox. That's what the X-Files and our partnership was all about."
Skinner stood up, hating to break his voyage of rediscovery, but questions needed to be asked. "Agent Mu - Fox. Fox, we need some answers from you about your abduction."
Fox nodded, slowly turning around giving the poster one last look. "What do you need to know?"
"Do you have any idea at all where you were taken? Even an approximation of how long it took to get there from Scully's apartment. Anything at all."
He shook his head. "No. The last thing I remembered was waking up because I heard a noise, and I thought it was Dana. I stood up from bed and called her name, and something was shot into my arm. I hit the floor, then woke up in a tank."
Scully stepped closer. "A tank?"
"Yeah. I had a breathing apparatus in my mouth. And I was immersed in a weird blue liquid that was kind of thick."
Skinner had been jotting down notes. "Could you see out of it?"
"Yeah, it didn't hurt my eyes at all. There were three doctors. I can remember their faces clearly, if you want me to talk to a sketch artist."
The AD nodded. "I'll send someone over first thing tomorrow. Maybe we can come up with something feasible then."
Fox told them about the rest of his experience, the samples taken from him and remembered to tell Dana about the surveillance equipment. She nodded, telling him they'd already been found and dealt with.
They talked for another 20 minutes or so, Fox recounting as much as he could to give them a clue to the identity of his abductors. But already Skinner and Scully knew only dead-ends would turn up. Still, Fox was confident he could identify the scientists if he saw them again and that had a shred of promise to it.
Scully invited Skinner to grab a cup of coffee before going home, but he politely declined. The VCS had been behaving like a bunch of brats blaming Mulder and Scully's desertion for their failure to solve their pending case. He'd had a pounding headache all day, and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep.
But in spite of the AD's fatigue, he caught the smiles between Scully and young Mulder, and the way Mulder's hand splayed over her hip as he led her out of the X-Files office. There was something more intimate about it; different from the way they usually touched the other.
Mulder, Skinner thought. <You owe this woman BIG TIME. Don't screw it up.>
------------------
Wednesday
She was a little sad when he asked her if he could stay at his place just this one night for the meantime. It would give him a clue to his identity, he said and she agreed.
She regretted it however, when on the same night she caught a nasty case of the flu and was too immobile to even fix herself some dinner.
Calling him to tell him she wouldn't be over was a bad idea too. He guiltily explained to her over the phone that it was his fault she was under the weather, convinced that the woman behind her in line to pay for HIS dinner that sneezed into Dana's back was the virus-carrying culprit.
He quickly re-packed his bag and shoved his toilet kit inside, and headed for her apartment.
Since his signature was already the 37 year-old Mulder's scribble, he decided to stop by a nearby new age shop, remembering having read somewhere that certain scented candles helped sick people recover faster.
Purely by coincidence, he saw the deli across the street that gave him a good idea, and some chicken soup and bread joined his other charged items.
He took a cab to her apartment and let himself in, knocking softly on her bedroom door.
"Dana? It's me."
A muffled moan broke its way through the layers of bed sheets piled on top of her. "Get out of here before you catch this thing!"
He chuckled and sat beside her on the bed. "You and I know I'm incapable of getting sick with this weird metabolism thing going on."
"Go ahead and gloat. I'll kill you in the morning."
He stood up and brushed the hair away from her face. "I brought you a few things. Soup and some scented candles. Let me put them away and I'll see what I can do about that nasty fever, okay?"
<Soup and scented candles?> God, she thought. <I must really be sick. I'm starting to hear things.>
Fox walked into the kitchen and poured the chicken and rice into a bowl and set it on the counter. He surveyed the living room, concluding it would be much easier for himself to take care of her out here than the bedroom.
He pushed the sofa back and dragged the mattress from his room to the living room floor and fitted it with sheets, and piled pillows across it and grabbed a comforter from the linen closet.
Next, the candles were arranged and lit, and he selected a video from her collection to play on the VCR before heading back to the bedroom.
Gently, he sat down next to her again and softly whispered, "Dana? I'm going to carry you out into the living room, okay? I've made a bed there and you'll be more comfy."
Scully tried her best to protest, but he wouldn't hear any of it. He gathered her into his arms and carried her out, using his cheek to feel the heat emanating from her forehead. He laid her delicately on the makeshift bed, then headed for the bathroom and wet a face towel.
When he came out, she was curled into a ball, sullenly watching Breakfast at Tiffany's on the TV.
He sat beside her and laid the towel across her forehead, and tugged on her to lay her head on his lap. "This'll be more comfy for you," he said. "And I know you aren't hungry now, but if you could get some soup in, there's chicken and rice waiting to be heated up."
"Forget about the FBI," she grumbled. "Be a nurse instead."
Fox grinned and stroked her hair softly, leaning his back against the sofa and turned down the volume a little, hoping that she'd fall into a deep and healing sleep.
He rubbed her arm from the joint of her shoulder to her wrist, listening intently to her breathing.
Images of George Peppard and Audrey Hepburn danced across the screen as Scully snuggled closer to him, her fever causing chills to coat her body.
"Still cold?" he asked.
She nodded her head against his thigh, loathing her helplessness. Fox pulled the covers over her more, but her chills were really pissing him off.
Impatiently, he slid down from his sitting position to lie beside her completely, and twined himself around her to warm her up, of course. At least, that's what he told himself when a little voice asked him what the hell he thought he was doing.
He continued to stroke her hair gently, and used his other hand to rub against her arms till it lay across her hip. He heard her sigh and snuffle, then move towards his warmth all the more.
Minutes later, she was fast asleep.
Gently, he kissed her eyelids and took the wet towel off her forehead, placing it on the floor beside the couch.
A feeling of peace surrounded him. Something told him this was just RIGHT. That Dana belonged in his arms, and taking care of her was something he was born to do.
When sleep came to him, it was deep and inexplicably euphoric.
------------------
Wednesday
I could get used to waking up like this, thought Fox. He felt a wonderful tenderness for Dana, sleeping in his arms, her fever gone.
The entire apartment was silent, Dana's deep breathing the only interruption. Fox watched her chest rise and fall, her tiny hand loosely holding on to the comforter.
<Arousal, thy name is Dana.>
Reluctantly, he stood up, gently extricating himself from her grasp. He checked on the chicken and rice soup from the night before, and it was still good but since her fever was gone, she might want something solid.
He called an Italian restaurant and had some pasta delivered, then set about tidying the apartment a bit. He fixed her bed and cleaned the bathroom best as he could, and washed the dishes that had accumulated during her brief convalescence.
When he checked on her again, she was still sleeping soundly. Quietly, he sat down next to her and caressed her face. His thumb danced delicately over her cheekbones, cheeks and the slope of her nose.
He suddenly remembered her tattoo, and challenged himself to take another look. He had been too young the first time he saw it to appreciate the eroticism, and a blood rush hit him hard in the groin at the recollection. Cautiously, he placed his hand on the joint of her shoulder and pulled her back to him. The desired effect was met, as Dana rolled to her side, her back to him. He lifted her shirt and bent his head. Sure enough, it was there.
He stared at the image of the snake eating its tail, against the porcelain white skin of her back and his breathing became ragged. He realized there was a dark side to Dana, one that she had not shown him. He wondered if he as Mulder had seen it, and how he had reacted to it.
Fox suddenly felt exceptionally warm. The atmosphere, the tattoo, and the woman in his arms were hitting him in all the wrong places. Everything seemed to be there to titillate his sensuous and erotic side, and instantly a dangerous idea popped into his head.
Did he dare, he asked himself.
<Yes, I do.>
Slowly, he lowered his head and touched his lips to her forehead. Dana didn't stir.
Another kiss, on the tip of her nose. Still, no reaction. He grew a bit bolder and touched his lips to hers.
A shudder coursed through him, and he pushed it back down viciously as he let the moment of insanity take over. He nipped at her full lower lip oh-so-gently, his lips almost protesting for him to increase the pressure. His palm cupped her cheek, and with one final taste he withdrew and sat up again.
Dana stirred, he froze. "Mm. Mulder," she murmured, as her lips formed a tiny smile.
Fox closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Had he heard right?! Had she breathlessly whispered his name and actually appeared to have enjoyed his kiss?
He mulled the thought over and smiled euphorically. If there was one single, infinitesimal chance that she did, Fox Mulder knew he was the luckiest man alive.
Week 8
He was sitting in front of the TV playing Riven, stuck at a dead end. He was frustrated that after a good 4 hours of play, he couldn't go any further into the game and flung the game controller aside.
He looked around and saw Dana working on her laptop again, the light from the monitor bathing her face, transforming her into an ethereal beauty. He sat quietly observing her, from the pale smoothness of her skin, to her fathomless blue eyes, and strong patrician nose. And her lips. No adjectives would come to his otherwise brilliant and eloquent mind.
Just gazing at her pacified him. The names Reggie Purdue, John Bartlett and a few others had seized him out of nowhere while he was in the shower and clawed through his insides. He wondered if he had ever told Dana about them. Reggie was his ASAC, and Bartlett - well, he'd rather forget about Bartlett.
There were a lot of thing he regretted doing in his life, some more than others.
A simple gesture from Dana caught his attention. She was playing with the cross on her necklace. As sacrilegious as it sounded, it was turning him on. The way her fingers played over it, bringing attention to her smooth skin and collarbone made him salivate.
And god, oh god. Her lips were working again, teeth lightly biting on the red, red fold of flesh.
He was sick, he told himself. A shameless pervert and ingrate, thinking all these things he wanted to do to her, the same woman who played surrogate mother and friend to him - and later on partner -were inexcusable.
The taste of her lips refused to leave him. How could it, when they were the softest and sweetest thing on earth to him. And the way she had murmured his name afterward, husky and passionate.
Too bad she was asleep! he thought. <But then again, it might have been worlds different. Like maybe it would never have happened, or she would have blown your balls off.>
He sat back and laced his fingers behind his head, and watched her for the rest of the night in deep thought.
--------------
Tuesday
It had been an exhausting day for both of them. He and Dana had gone back to his apartment, anticipating that by next week, he would be the old Mulder again, and would move back to his place.
The lack of a bed at his place peeved him about himself, and Dana agreed it would be a good idea to transfer all the clutter they'd accumulated during his stay with her to his place. The toys, picture books, clothes, his beloved Playstation and other knick-knacks were placed into cardboard boxes, and it took three trips from her place to his to get the job completed.
Scully was silent as she packed the boxes, fighting off tears of an unknown origin back. There were feelings inside her tearing through her heart she couldn't isolate or identify. It was like losing a son, a lover, a friend, a confidant - all those things, and more.
He was still only half an hour away, but it seemed like light years instead of miles. For five years she had survived without him under her roof, why was this time different?
Because there would be no more good-morning smiles, no more shared meals and laughter, no more talking about anything and everything and nothing. No more touches, no more companionable silences, no more shoulder to lean on. No more hand to hold, no more warmth to move close to when it got cold.
In a few days, Mulder would be back. Things were going to go back to normal.
Scully hadn't noticed, but Fox had stopped packing a box, silently observing her. When she raised a tissue to her eye to give it a meek dab, he strode from across the room and took her into his arms.
She put her arms around his waist and hugged him hard, still trying her best to suppress the tears until Fox cupped her chin in his palm and looked down at her, and tears were brimming in his eyes as well.
"Let it go, Dana," he whispered.
And the cavalcade of tears poured forth unsuppressed for the first time in Dana Scully's life. She shed the tears, letting them gush out, letting herself lose control. No attempts at repressing them from Fox, because this was FOX, it was not Mulder.
In her arms was the man she had danced in her underwear with when he was 5, read to at night, cuddled in her bed, played video games with, shared her meals, given baths to.
She would miss all that, and more.
A few days left to treasure, and he wouldn't even be with her. He would go back to the look-but-don't-touch Mulder. The don't-try-getting-into-my-head Mulder.
Even if he was a new man now, she felt that certainty in her heart. Because he would see through what she had done as a mere ruse for him to be able to sleep at night, and nothing more. The demons she had fought hard with would come back to haunt him, and he would conceivably resent her for having gotten into his head during his vulnerable phase. The Mulder she knew didn't like that.
Fox was crying in her arms as well. He held on to her for dear life, afraid of what she was afraid off too, but much more. The last nightmare he had was the most awful, but it wasn't about Samantha. After dinner one night, he and Dana were talking about his impending step back to Mulder and she had told him things would be very different from then on.
Because he would remember.
Fox vehemently denied that could ever happen, but she had been stubborn. "Fox, LISTEN TO ME. Things are going to change." Her head shook, every word labored and difficult to say. "For five years you and I were partners, we were NEVER this close. Never. You never shared my bed, I never read to you, gave you baths, played games with you or went to the mall just to walk around and buy things. I never went with you for your haircuts, and we rarely ever watched movies together." She fought off the tears that started brimming in her eyes. "I'm sure you had your reasons. God knows I had mine."
She turned around and ran into her bedroom, leaving Fox standing in the center of the living room. My god, he thought. <How much of an asshole could I have been?! Simple acts of affection and caring, and I couldn't even give it to her?>
He chose not to follow her into her room for now, she needed to be alone. He called a fancy French restaurant and had them deliver food and wine. Maybe he could make her feel a little better, treat her like the princess and angel that she was in his eyes.
Methodically, he set the wine aside, brought out some nice dishes and lit a few candles. He set the table with care and lit the fireplace.
When everything was just right, he softly knocked on her door and let himself in without waiting for a reply. He found her curled into a fetal position in bed, hugging a pillow and staring out the window. He sat down beside her, brushing away the strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek.
"I'm sorry about what I said. You didn't deserve it."
He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. "I'm sure I did."
Oh god, she thought. <No more tears, please no more tears!>
But they had a mind of their own and started streaming down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but Fox used his thumb instead. He lay down and put his arms around her, rocking her gently, letting her sob quietly into his chest.
A few minutes later, the fit subsided and she fell asleep, the emotional exhaustion finally taking its toll. Fox sighed and pulled a blanket over both of them. He'd watch over her, he promised himself. <From now on.>
He woke up a couple of hours after that, the space beside him empty but still warm. He sat up and saw Dana standing in the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. "The food's gotten cold," she said.
Fox smiled. "That's what the microwave's for, isn't it?"
"Re-heated French food. No wonder they hate us."
He stood up, trapping her against the wall, bracing his arms on either side of her head. "It's been a tiring day, Dana."
She lowered her eyes.
"Dinner. You and me, my treat. We're going to get through this, Dana. You said that Mulder and Scully always pull through." He lifted her chin to look at him. "This is Fox and Dana right here, right now. I don't know why, but we're stronger." He softly kissed her forehead.
Her eyes were still red, but she nodded and let him lead her to the dining table.
They ate cold champignons à l'ail for an appetizer, and boeuf à la bourguignonne for their entrée. The wine the restaurant had provided for their meal was excellent, even for the $250 he popped.
There was more than half a bottle left, and Fox led her by the hand to the living room, telling her to take a load off and relax from the stress of the day. She was quiet, which was to be expected.
Together, they sat down. Fox sensitively pulled her to lean against him as he draped an arm around her shoulders, then laid back across the sofa to bring her with him. He was half-sitting, half-lying on it, and Dana was nestled comfortably between his legs, her head resting on her palm that was flat on his chest. It was an intimate position they had no business being in, after all they weren't lovers. But the wine had done its duty for the night, and after the tumultuous emotional display a few hours before that, they were both ready for compromises.
He played with her hair with one hand, the other still holding his wineglass. They were both silent for long minutes, staring at the flames in the fireplace, just enjoying the feel of the other's body.
"You never called me Dana," she suddenly said.
He frowned, and tilted his head to look at her. "What do you mean I never called you Dana?"
She almost hit herself on the head for saying it. "Well, not never. Occasionally, you would. But day to day I was always Scully and you were always Mulder."
"That's ridiculous. Why wouldn't I call you Dana?"
"I don't know. I never asked you. It took some getting used to, but I did. Even the other agents stopped calling me Dana."
He sighed wistfully, trying to read into her mind. He detected a small resentment and perhaps he was imagining it, but it had started to dawn on him how emotionally detached he was to her as a partner. She had told him about all the times they had saved each other's lives, that once she had broken down and cried in his arms and vice versa.
Obviously they had been through a lot - emotionally, physically, spiritually - and yet, my god… what an idiot he had been. Had he been there when she needed him, not as a partner but as a friend? A REAL friend? Held her and told her how important she was to him, called her just to make sure she was okay, or provided a shoulder to cry on?
Her cool detachment as she recounted their adventures and exploits made him conclude an emphatic no.
"I was a lousy partner, wasn't I?"
Scully could hear his breathing tempo increase. "No, no. You were - are - always brilliant. You showed me things, taught me things that opened up new worlds. And you always managed to be there when it counted the most."
"Good partner, lousy friend."
She closed her eyes. She hadn't even told him about her cancer. "You saved my life."
"So did you," he shot back almost defensively.
Should she tell him? Would it make a difference? The consequences of telling him were indeterminable. Frohike had told her of breaking into the fertility clinic, and some of their other covert and dangerous actions. Mulder had risked his life, and theirs, to find a cure. Frohike had made her promise not to tell him of their conversation. During her ignorance, it was excusable not to have thanked him, but when she found out, excuses had run out.
She smoothed the cloth of his shirt, as if trying to calm the beating heart underneath even before it increased its tempo below her ear. "I had cancer."
She felt him tense suddenly, the muscles in every part of his body in contact with hers flexing. "Had?"
She nodded. "You found the cure."
Scully didn't have any expectations for a reaction. But his caught her off-guard. His arms formed bands of steel around her, crushing her to his chest.
Fox buried his face into her hair, weeping heavily, as his hands ran over her back. Grasping, clenching, searching and trapping. Anyway he could assure himself that what she had told him was the god-honest 100% truth.
He sobbed and cried hard, letting it all out. He wanted her to know how much he cared about her.
Dana gently pushed herself away from his chest, and exchanged places with him. It was her turn to hug him and comfort him. "You found the cure, Fox. Thank you."
"Dana," he choked. "What would I have done if I lost you?"
Scully didn't say anything. There were no answers to those kinds of questions.
---------------
Thursday
Scully could pinpoint the exact moment the very sight of Fox made her irritable. One minute she realized that he looked exactly like the Mulder she had met 5 years ago, and she fell apart.
He'd been sprawled on her bed, his legs hanging over the side, one arm flung back bracing his head. A remote control was on his chest and he was watching TV. It was the exact position she'd seen countless times during their ratty motel days, and it hit too close to home.
Fox had felt it even before Dana could understand what was wrong with her. Living with her had attuned his senses to her every feeling, thought and emotion. His gut instinct told him to back off, or risk getting his balls shredded into tiny strips.
He was saddened at this sudden attitude change towards him, and with a unique certainty knew that it was because of her reservations of him turning back into Mulder.
He tried to stay out of her way as best as he could, but he missed her too damn much. There were too many uncomfortable silences between them now, it depressed the hell out of him. He tried to watch her through the corner of his eye, but she would always catch him and give him a dirty look.
Many times he'd wanted to just stand up and ask her to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING, to get it out of her system.
Instead, he would trudge into his room, quietly shut the door behind him and sit on his bed. His elbows would rest on his knees, his head would bow till his chin touched his chest and he would let the tears start to run.
Week 9
It was the day Scully had been dreading for the last 10 weeks. Fox would step into the world where they were partners again, and nothing more. Mulder was coming home.
They were both silent on their way to his apartment, neither of them were in the mood to make conversation. He had tried to hold her hand, but she took it away and spent the rest of the ride looking out the window.
Skinner had run out of excuses with the higher ups, and told Fox he needed to make an appearance along with Scully at the Bureau. Just for appearance's sake, he said.
So there they were, two people without conversation in the car. They made their way up into his place and Scully finally spoke up. "You know how to tie a tie already, don't you?"
He nodded quietly and went into his room to change.
Scully sat on the sofa, nervous at how she would react to seeing him as Mulder again. The last 10 weeks had been easy to believe the illusion he was someone else; not once did he wear a suit but now - she swallowed and forced herself to calm down.
10 minutes later he came out.
Agent Mulder was back, and the walls of Dana Scully's 9-week dream came crumbling down.
He was wearing the charcoal-gray suit that she liked. And the same tie during the Eddie VanBlundht escapade. Memories, memories.
She stood up shakily and opened the door to leave for the Bureau with him. Another step back to harsh reality time.
They went up to Skinner's office, various agents calling out to both of them with "Long time, no see", and other irritating quips. Skinner's secretary, Holly, smiled and asked where they'd both been. Scully had only answered, "Out of town on a case."
They were buzzed in, and Skinner was at his desk on the phone. He motioned for both of them to sit down. "Both the agents are back. Yes, they're in my office right now. Of course. No, they kept me updated on the case they were working on, it was unavoidable." He replaced the receiver and eyed them both. "How're you feeling, F- Mulder?"
"Fine, sir. Thank you."
Scully was silent. Skinner's eyes darted from Mulder to her, trying to get a hold of what the hell was going on. "Is there something wrong, Agent Scully?"
"No sir."
<Oh, crap.> thought Skinner. "Both of you need to fill up some paperwork. Take a walk around the building, let people see you. I've run out of excuses. Dismissed."
They left, Skinner taking special note of the fact that there was no physical contact between them at all, not even when they almost bumped into each other reaching for the door first.
A migraine suddenly flew up from hell and into his head. <What the hell is going on with those two?>
---------------
Thursday
Margaret was on her way to Dana's apartment, a shopping bag hanging from her wrist. She had spent several days at a friend's house helping her prepare food for her son's wedding and wanted to stop by to check on Fox and Dana.
She had missed the two of them greatly, and wondered how old Fox was by now.
She had bought him a bottle of Giorgio Armani, three pairs of boxers from J.Crew, and two undershirts from Calvin Klein. Dana would undoubtedly accuse her of spoiling him again, but it was a small price to pay to see his face light up with a bright smile.
Margaret pressed the buzzer on Dana's door, straining to hear their voices as she usually did. Only silence came from behind the walls, and Margaret was not at all reassured when the somber face of Fox greeted her at the door.
Her face fell instantly, even as she received his warm kiss on her cheek. He had aged so much since the last time she had seen him, and was dismayed to realize that it seemed he was back to the Mulder she had known.
"Hello, Mrs. Scully," he greeted.
Margaret was right. Fox had stepped into the background. Mulder had returned.
Week 10 & 11
It had started raining hard, and the sun had long since set.
Fox Mulder was back at his apartment, Dana's cold treatment having become too unbearable. He had left without saying a word, afraid of what she might - or might not - say to him. Silently, she had watched him pack his bag and leave, knowing that what he was doing was for the best in the meantime.
The solitude in his apartment was welcoming. Over the course of the last 10 weeks he had learned that he didn't like isolation. Not when Dana was around.
But this time, it was exactly what he needed. The steady patter on the roof and the darkness outside were like brothers to him.
A beer dangled from his thumb and index finger. It had been cold when he opened it, but now it was warm. Only a few drops had been sipped from it. Mulder had forgotten that a beer was meant to be drank and not stared at.
He had wanted to be inebriated as best he could, because Dana had told him the most difficult recollections about their relationship would be coming back very soon. She didn't have to tell him - he had read all the case files when she had a meeting with Skinner. He had an inkling of what to suspect, but he knew that ink on paper would never fully elucidate what had really happened.
He leaned his head back against the couch and readied himself for the onslaught.
-------------------
Wednesday
The last time Mulder had had any semblance of sleep was Monday night. Every waking moment was consumed recalling his memories, bringing them out, remembering them, analyzing and dissecting them.
It is impossible to imagine a sensation never felt before. Or grasping something without substance, or making sense of illogical matters. Fox Mulder was going through it all. Because he felt his soul ripping in half as all the retrospection flooded back.
Photographic memory be damned, everything was there in all of full-colored glory.
Flashes of their first handshake, when first they laid eyes on each other, the first hug, the first touch on her back, her first smile, their first car ride, their first plane ride, their first phone call, the first time he feared he would lose her. The first time he felt something more than friendship. The first time he realized he would die for her, and without her.
In the beginning they were unbearably painful to rehash. The one that chose to play in his mind in full detail and precision was Dana's abduction. But his heart began the slow and explicit process of tearing in half with Luther Lee Boggs. Rip.
Duane Barry. Triple rip.
Donnie Pfaster. Rip.
Robert Patrick Modell. Double rip.
Paranoia-inducing television waves. Rip.
Gerry Schnauz. Rip.
Ed Jerse. Rip.
Leonard Betts. Rip.
"I have cancer." Rip, gash, laceration, mutilation.
Agent Pendrell. Rip.
Emily. Nothing left to tear apart.
And with it, the last 11 weeks became a roaring reality. The way she had nurtured him, cared for him, kept him safe.
He realized he also had his share of dark moments, and although a part of him knew they too had been difficult, they seemed numb now because Dana had changed the consequences of his history. She had found and given him a strength unrivaled by any other.
It was as if his memories, feelings and recollections, were still there but a kind or serenity surrounded the anguish and distress. He felt at peace with himself in spite of them all. A peace that was never there before.
By the end of that week, Mulder had such a deep and abysmal shame for the traumas and ordeals he had put Scully (Dana!) through - the woman same woman who was responsible for his absolution - that he did what the old Mulder knew how to do best.
He pushed her away all the more.
Christ, he thought. I was already in love with her before. And I fell in love again.
One thought traveled back and forth at lightning speed from his mind, to his soul to his heart.
<Twice in one lifetime.>
He would love her till they took his heart away.
---------------
Thursday
Scully had called him every single day, sometimes twice a day to check on him but he was too caught up with his memories and self-torture to perceive the apprehension and concern in her voice.
When he had left her apartment, she thought it was a good idea. Both of them needed time away from each other to settle back into their lives before this whole milestone had started. It was necessary for them to live their lives independently once again, like always.
Those were the reasons that Dana repeated in her mind over and over again. Too bad her heart was brutally disagreeing.
Mulder didn't have an inkling what he was putting her through again, because all her anxieties came into fruition.
He WAS furious at her, he WAS resentful, he WAS enraged.
She just barely managed to put the phone down after his curt, "What is it?" without losing control and sobbing into the mouthpiece. How could she have been so half-witted, she asked herself over and over again. She took so much pride in knowing Mulder better than he knew himself, and yet, for the last 11 weeks, had managed to screw things up so severely between them.
She had overstepped her boundaries, and she would have to pay for that by losing him.
Scully braced herself for the descent.
-----------
Friday
Skinner put the phone down. Holly had just informed him that neither agents Scully or Mulder had reported for work again, their mobiles were both turned off, and neither of them were picking their home phones up. Two agents had been dispatched to check on them and found them at their respective apartments, and both of them "looked like hell."
He tapped his fingers idly on his desk, musing over some possibilities. Obviously, Mulder HAD fucked up again somewhere along the way. When it came to Scully, he always managed to. Skinner knew that Mulder had only the best intentions for her of course, even before his little journey back to childhood. He could swear at times that they talked telepathically. The smallest gesture that would be totally irrelevant to others held thousands of words between them, and he was positive that all the other had to do was SENSE the other's presence and everything in the world was going to be alright. No one in the world could control Mulder except for Scully, and Mulder recognized this power that she had over him and he seemed to nourish the idea instead of push it away.
Scully, on the other hand, was a different story. Skinner didn't think she fully understood that she was the center of her partner's universe. Somewhere along the fine line that they walked, Samantha had stepped into the background and Mulder's universe began revolving around Scully's own truth. It was her truth that set Mulder free, and her living breath that fed Mulder life. Mulder was a strong man, but stronger only because of Scully.
He saw himself in Mulder in a lot of ways. Driven, emotionally detached (or at least trying damn hard to appear to be), a loner at heart and bull-headed.
Skinner came to a decision. There was a big chance he would regret it for the rest of his life, because what he was about to do was something Walter Skinner never did in his life.
He was about to butt in between two people's love story.
Skinner's knuckles were starting to hurt from all the pounding on Mulder's door. He knew Mulder was in there; after his third knock Mulder had yelled "Whoever the fuck you are, I'm not interested!"
After 10 minutes, he had finally reached the limits of his patience and kicked the door in.
Skinner found himself standing in the middle of what looked like the remnants of a hurricane attack. He stepped over clothes, bottles of beer, gin and vodka, broken lamps, and overturned chairs. The only thing that indicated he was still in Mulder's apartment was his sofa, still in the same spot with Mulder lying across it.
"Mulder." Skinner greeted.
Mulder didn't even bother to stand, much less look at the A.D. "Fuck off."
Skinner moved to the sofa to take a look at him. Mulder's hair was disheveled, there was several days' worth of beard growth on his cheeks and chin, and all he had on were a pair of boxer shorts and t-shirt that looked as if they come straight out of the city dump. There was also a bloodied bandage wrapped around his wrist.
"You look like 4 day-old shit, Mulder."
Mulder laughed mirthlessly. "Thanks, I feel like it too."
"And smell it."
Mulder finally sat up. "Did you come all the way over here to give me a bath, SIR?" he asked acrimoniously. "Because that really isn't my cup of tea."
Skinner felt a wave of anger rise high in his throat. Mulder was an asshole 365 days of the year, but he remembered that he owed Scully and him for helping him prove his innocence a few years back with the murder of that hooker. But it had become apparent from the moment he stepped into Mulder's apartment that no conventional talk was going to snap him out of his lightless seclusion.
Without breaking eye contact with Mulder, Skinner took a quick step forward and made a grab for his shirtfront. His fists seized the fabric and hauled Mulder to his feet, hurling him against a wall.
Through dazed and alcohol muddled eyes, all Mulder could manage was a yelp of protest. His head swung uselessly from side to side as he valiantly tried to fight Skinner off but the sober and much more experienced older man was too skilled to be swayed. "Now I get it Mulder. You fucked up with Scully again because you were absent a lot in charm school, weren't you?"
Mulder shut his eyes painfully. Skinner's forearm was now pressed across his neck, totally immobilizing him, as well as his words. He commanded himself not to start crying again, but all of Mulder's recent battles against himself were never victorious.
Skinner watched as Mulder's eyes closed. He could tell he was fighting hard against tears of frustration out of sheer pride. He softened his hold on Mulder and let him collapse to the floor in a squatting position, his back against the wall behind him.
He looked down at the young agent who was using the balls of his palm to press the tears back into his eyes. "When was the last time you saw or spoke to Scully, Mulder?" he asked.
Mulder took a deep breath. "Four days."
Jesus Christ, thought Skinner. <Not even a week and this is what happens?>
He contemplated on whether or not to call Scully to inform her of Mulder's deterioration. The bandage on his wrist was soaked in dry blood. Thank god he had changed his mind along the way. One could only guess what would happen to Scully if she had found the man she loved dead from a slash to the wrist.
The world would have lost two very special people in one fell swoop.
Skinner reached inside his coat for his cellular. It took 6 rings before Scully answered, a good omen, he though, considering Scully hadn't been picking it up for the last several days. "Agent Scully," he began.
Mulder's head snapped up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he seethed.
Skinner covered the mouthpiece. "Something you should have done long ago, you fool."
His curt answer derived a very unexpected reaction from Mulder, one that Skinner hadn't anticipated. He had already braced himself to be tackled, but all Mulder did was bury his face in his arms. His face had contorted as though incredibly hurt, like a 6 year-old after a vicious spanking.
Skinner spoke into his phone again. "I think you should see Mulder as soon as possible."
A long silence on the other end. "I don't think that's a very good idea, sir."
Skinner walked across the tiny apartment, temporarily leaving the weeping Mulder to get out of earshot. "Any idea would be better than leaving him alone, Scully. If you refuse to come here as his partner, then come over as his doctor."
The tone of his voice succeeded in conveying his hidden message. "I'm on my way, sir."
Skinner ended the conversation and tucked his phone back into his coat. He walked back to Mulder and hoisted him up by his arm. He lead Mulder back to the couch and deposited him there, Mulder mutely allowing him to do so.
Skinner observed the mess around him once again, and wondered if Scully had ever seen it any worse. It was a good possibility, Mulder's natural disposition being dark and self-persecuting. "Scully's on her way, Mulder. I suggest you clean this place up a bit. She's your partner, your doctor and friend. Don't make her into your housekeeper too."
Mulder stood up and almost hypnotically began picking up his clothes and returning objects to their rightful places like a man doing penance for crimes against humanity. He had finally stopped crying, although Skinner could see it was a continuous battle with himself internally to do so.
"You'll never realize what you've missed until it's gone, Mulder. Get that into your head before it's too late."
Mulder suddenly hurled the armful of paraphernalia in his arms to the floor and whirled around. "What the fuck do you expect me to do??! You have no fucking idea what I'm going through right now, and you'll never understand the shit, crap and fucking pain I've put HER through!! TOO MUCH, GOD DAMMIT! TOO FUCKING MUCH! SHE COULD BE DEAD BY NOW AND IT WOULD BE ALL BECAUSE OF ME!" he emphasized the last three words with vehement punches to the wall nearest him, causing the tiny paintings to fall to the ground. Skinner saw that his wrist began bleeding again as well.
Now he understood fully what Mulder was going through. Mulder's memories had been too much for one man, and that was all he was. Skinner realized that after five physical years and another lifetime with Scully, Fox Mulder had finally admitted to himself how much he had loved her. It was never a question whether or not he did, it had always been how consuming his devotion was.
Skinner stood awkwardly watching the broken man sob and fall into a heap on the floor. He had no idea what to do. It was bad enough seeing Mulder cry like a baby, but he felt somewhat obligated to do something to comfort him. He opted to place a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Do what you think Fox would do."
Mulder looked up at him. Before he could even censor himself, his fear poured out of his mouth. "How can she love me? She's better off without me."
Skinner was dumbfounded. What Mulder had just said made sense and didn't all at the same time. There was still a sentimental part of him that told him love could conquer all. The same part that told him Mulder's love for Scully was omnipotent and would transcend all the barriers of time and space. He straightened and gave Mulder a small smile. "There are far too many things in this world that can't be explained, Mulder. You of all people should know that by now."
A quiet voice from the doorway interrupted the uneasy silence. "Mulder."
Scully stood in the doorway, a small medicine bag in her hand. Quietly, she walked over to the two men and surveyed the situation. Her eye traveled from Mulder's face to his torso, arms and wrist. She saw the bloodied bandage and knelt in front of him gently taking his hand into her own.
Skinner decided it was time for him to leave and let himself out without a word. He prayed that things would work out for both of them.
Eyes swollen from his crying fits, Mulder tried his best to look at Scully. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed her beautiful face until he saw her again. Both of them were silent as she guided him to his couch and sat him down.
She unwrapped the gauze from around his wrist. The slash was long but shallow, and visions of Mulder - the same Mulder who she had come to know as Fox as well - slicing through his own vein disturbed her so much that she felt bile rising in her throat and tears forming in her eyes. She cleaned the wound with antiseptic, checking it for any sign of infection and dressed it again.
Still no words were spoken. Scully sat on the couch, pulling his head in to her lap, content with caring for him now, and trying her best to avoid the inevitable talk they would have to have. Right now, all she wanted was for him to get better.
Her fingers sifted through his hair, and he sighed peacefully. He needed this quiet time with her as well, having been deprived of it for too long.
Mulder allowed himself to fall asleep.
He woke up a few hours later, suddenly noticing that his head was no longer in her lap. He sat up and looked around his apartment, and saw that it now had a semblance of order to it once again.
Night had fallen, and the only sounds he could hear were dishes being cleaned from his kitchen. He watched her silently, and she sensed his presence behind her. Her hands stopped working as she heard him slowly approach her.
Mulder shook her shoulder gently. Scully stood up and faced him, and he saw her eyes were brimming with tears as she valiantly fought to keep her breathing even and steady. It was a losing battle. "Dana," he whispered. "There's something I want to tell you."
She refused to face him, to let him see her tears. "What?"
Mulder lowered his eyes, letting his hand drop away. There was a sudden mass rising in his throat and his eyes suddenly got painful and watery.
"Face me," he ordered.
Scully shook her head no.
He tried another tactic, one that he hoped wouldn't kill both of them. "Is this anyway to treat the man who fell in love with you twice in one lifetime?"
It suddenly became very difficult for her to breathe. And her legs seemed to lose all their muscles and bones in half a second. She hoped to God, hoped and prayed that she had heard right, and that he was telling the truth. "I wish I could believe you."
He felt his heart tear in half. And hurriedly, he gathered her to him and hugged her fiercely. This was no way to end what had happened. No way in the universe was he going to go back to their relationship after all he and she had been through together.
Not after the epiphany of falling in two diversified kinds of love twice with the same woman in a single lifetime .
"I fell in love with you. All over again. I WAS in love with you," he murmured then looked at her. "I AM in love with you. It wasn't the first time. It's the second."
Dana refused to meet his gaze. Forcefully, she tore herself from his grasp and crossed the room. She fought the tears off, trying desperately to stop herself from shaking so much. "You don't know what love is, Mulder. Not the kind of love that I do."
Fox stood his ground. He turned around and felt his eyes betray him and swell as well, as he fought valiantly against much needed tears. If he let go now and let his body undergo the trauma of his heart breaking, he would never get to tell her what he was feeling.
Quietly, he sat down on a nearby chair, forcing himself not to look at her. He placed his elbows on his knees and cupped his face in his hands and took a deep breath. "You want to know what love is to me, Dana?" he asked her.
Dana swallowed deeply. Deeply enough for him to hear it.
"Love is breathing. Inhaling and exhaling and realizing with every breath I take I fall in love with you more. After every breath I can't imagine how much more I can, but I do. Every single time. After every single breath." He stood up and walked to her, until he was less than a foot from her back. "Love is sleeping. Before I go to bed every night, I know that when I wake up I'll be more in love with you than I was before I closed my eyes."
By this time, Fox's voice had started trembling under the strain. Dana's back was still facing him, and he could see no part of her face. His fists had clenched so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. Tears had started streaming down his cheeks, and his knees started to wobble. How he managed to take one step forward was beyond anyone's comprehension.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, not so much to catch her attention but to steady himself, and felt her slight tremble.
Slowly, she turned to finally face him. She stared into his beautiful tear-filled eyes, for the first time believing it was all true. That her love wasn't one-sided, and there was someone who burned for her.
That Fox Mulder was truly, madly and deeply in love with Dana Scully.
"Mulder," she said, trying to find the right words.
He shook his head gently and took her into his embrace, then lowered his lips to her ear and softly whispered, "It's Fox."
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THE END