As Scully gathered her sobbing partner into her arms to comfort him, her mind flashed back to several similar episodes from the past. They'd been here before, hadn't they?
There had been the aftermath of his father's death, when a shocked and drugged Mulder had crashed in Scully's hotel room, only to wake up angry at her. And there had been the time when his mother was in the hospital, and Mulder had returned from chasing an impossible dream. He'd broken down then, and Scully had been the one to hold him close to her and console him silently, until he had pulled away and asked to be left alone.
Yes, they had certainly been here before, but this time Scully was not going to leave Mulder alone. She rubbed his back gently, soothingly, and patiently waited, knowing that even if she had any other plans for the night, they would have all been defenestrated. When Mulder, her closest friend, needed her, every other plan faded into insignificance. She would stay here all night if she had to.
Eventually the tears subsided, and Mulder pulled out of Scully's loose embrace and leaned back in his chair, dragging his hands slowly down his face to dry it. Scully got to her feet and, unsure of what to do, hovered over him. "Do you need anything?"
Mulder blew air out of his cheeks and shook his head, his eyes closed. Scully inclined her head in a miniscule nod, though she knew he wasn't looking at her, and let her eyes drift around the room. She wondered if Mulder might ask her to leave, if he would push her away like last time. And she wondered why it meant so much to her that she had to stay. But she did have to stay, no matter what Mulder wished of her. She knew there was no choice.
"I, ah…" Mulder opened his eyes and blinked at Scully, his expression so open and vulnerable that it made her heart ache. "I'm sorry," he said finally, and leaned forward to rest his chin on the heels of his hands, running his fingers through his hair.
Scully nodded again, knowing that he wasn't apologizing for his emotions but rather for making her do the autopsy of his mother, the autopsy that had brought the dreadful news that her death had been a suicide. It had become so easy to read every nuance, every inflection of Mulder's voice, so that no hidden meaning could slip by Scully unnoticed.
"It's okay." She moved forward and rested her hand on his shoulder, causing Mulder to stare up at her. She spoke softly. "I think you'd better get some rest." It had been a long day for both of them, from their interview with Ms. Tecate to the news of Teena Mulder's death to Mulder's scouring her house for clues to the autopsy Scully had been pressured into doing. God knew they both needed to wind down, to put aside all thoughts of the case and just focus on themselves and each other and taking care of their emotional states. Mulder needed to calm down after this sudden trauma, and Scully needed to occupy herself with looking after Mulder. Sometimes the roles were reversed, but Scully had long considered herself as Mulder's guardian, someone to pull him back from the boundaries when he went too far, someone to bring him back to Earth when his head was in the clouds. And it was a role she gladly accepted, if she helped Mulder in any way.
Mulder stood up from his seat, and Scully moved to let him pass her, resting her hand on his back to guide him over to the couch. (After a mishap with his mysterious waterbed, which had caused it to leak all over the floor, Mulder had given it away and returned to sleeping on the sofa every night.) As she let her hand fall, it gently brushed against Mulder's for no more than a millisecond- but the brief contact seemed to be enough to make him take her hand and give it a squeeze. He didn't look at her, and Scully wasn't sure if he was holding her hand out of comfort for himself or for her. Either way, the reason behind the touch hardly mattered. Scully turned towards Mulder, in order to better see his face, and he moved fluidly, drawing Scully into another embrace. This time they clung together more tightly, and Scully nestled her head against Mulder's chest to hear his heart pounding a steady rhythm beneath his clothing. Mulder rested his chin on the top of Scully's head and sighed, and slowly Scully began to feel herself relax.
"I love you." Those were the words he had spoken upon waking up in the hospital, and Scully had automatically assumed he was merely loopy from the drugs given to him and could say nothing more than an exasperated "Oh brother." However, in hindsight the moment had seemed so out of character to Scully because normally Mulder would never have revealed his feelings for her. Instead they shone out in every action he took- his playful teasing about her seriousness and her healthy-eating lifestyle, the boyish way he tried to match her whenever she demonstrated a moment of superior intelligence, the fact that he would always come to her rescue no matter where she was. He had followed her all the way to Antarctica, though there was a chance she might have been dead, just to save her and her alone. He had referred to her as his touchstone, his guiding light, and Scully knew that the feeling was mutual.
The "I love you" would never be reciprocated. It didn't need to be. For just as Mulder's feelings were obvious from everything he did and said, Scully too never felt the need to explain herself. Her mere presence in his apartment was enough, the fact that she was here now to pick up whatever pieces needed to be recovered, to comfort him in his time of loss. No one else was as close to him as she was- no one could step into her shoes and work with Mulder as well as she had. Scully had once told him that she wouldn't have changed a day spent with him, and her words now had never rung truer.
They disentangled from each other's arms, and Scully reached up to cup Mulder's face in her hands, as she had done so plenty of times before. She stood on her toes to reach his forehead and gently pressed her lips to it, before letting go and ruffling his hair. Then she stepped back and let Mulder lie down on the couch, his body bunching up beneath the blanket and his eyes closing.
"Do you want me to stay?" Scully asked, and he responded. "Yeah. Yeah, please stay…" His voice rasped in his throat. "Stay with me."
And so she did. It was a rough night for both of them, but she stayed through it all, because Mulder needed her and she needed him and they needed to stay together, their lives now inextricably wound into a single thread. She stayed until Skinner knocked in the door the next morning, and even then didn't dare let him part Mulder from her.