This starts off optimistic, but will become much darker as the story goes on.
Reviews, good or bad, are much appreciated if you are willing. I am eager to read your opinions.
Thank you, with love,
Violet
Chapter 1
For hours, I fiddled with the files in our office just to keep a close eye on my partner. Usually, she was the one who typed our reports, but I had already finished up two today because I refused to leave her alone. The last time I had looked at the clock was 2:00, and with the knowledge we still had three hours left, I felt my heart sink for her personal wellness.
Earlier this morning, I had received a call from her with a request to carpool with me, to which I eagerly agreed. At the time, however, she failed to give me the reason for her appeal, and I had not asked, because I did not need to hear an excuse to be with her. When she entered the car, pallor on her face, my smile faded, and we drove to work in silence after she graciously thanked me for the ride.
"Scully, are you all right?" I badgered nervously, yet again, and could almost feel her eyes roll from across the room.
Independence was never a concept that she allowed to slide from her own authority, yet with this in mind, I cannot find the strength to ignore her when she is clearly ill.
"Mulder," she hissed, and turned to give me an icy glare, but I noticed those baby blue eyes lacked the luster and the focus that they usually expressed.
My stomach must have felt violent and vengeful due to my neglect all day, and it growled to grab my attention. It also alerted Scully, and she turned to me again.
"Mulder, please go eat something before your blood sugar drops and I have to pick you up off the floor," she demanded.
"I won't be long. Do you want anything?" I asked, although I already knew her response.
"No, but thank you," she said politely with her eyes closed, and appeared to have swallowed bile at the thought of food.
After a moment of deliberation, I closed the office door behind me, careful to not to make a sound. All these years together, I was well aware of Scully's migraine routine.
The IVF treatment had failed miserably almost a year ago, but Scully sought comfort from the only person who she felt could give it to her, which was thankfully me.
For some stupid reason, I had assumed that once she and I overcame the physical boundaries of our relationship, she would allow me to peer inside her mind with ease, rather than deal with the barrier that she builds around herself for protection.
Alas, this was not the case, but hell, a guy can hope. After all, this was the Scully that I had come to know and love, so I was well aware how to deduce her emotions.
There were times when I wanted to inquire about our relationship and take it further, but I would then realize there was nothing to question.
There was a loving, passionate relationship between two people, and though often unspoken, the new physical intimacy that had developed was far beyond anything that words could complicate.
There was nothing else we needed to figure out.
When Scully had approached me about IVF, I was shocked that she had so boldly initiated a catalyst to go forward with me for her future…well, our future. Although it was overshadowed by her strong desire for motherhood, and the technical means for my sperm to be used for her gain (hard as I tried, I could never get aroused by that).
I knew it was my job to interpret her request for something deeper: she had chosen me to be her partner, in every way, forever.
Our partnership had always consisted of interpretation for the other's silence. Somehow, miraculously, we were always right.
In record speed, I purchased a greasy Philly cheese steak sandwich for myself, before I went to the healthier, all natural deli across the street to pick up some tasteless broth for Scully. There was a good chance she wouldn't eat it, but I could try to convince her for her own health. Even though she's a doctor and should know better than to keep herself from nourishment when she feels queasy.
Before I entered the office again, I gulped all my food; I didn't want to cause a selfish assault on Scully's gastrointestinal system while she was so sensitive to smell. I'd also be less than thrilled to clean vomit from the office, though I'm sure the color might add a certain decorative flair to the dingy design.
As I entered, I found Scully in a brief moment of weakness with her head in her hands. Immediately, she pretended to be busy as she assessed some of the notes from an autopsy. Internally, I smiled, and sat the broth on my desk.
After I sat down, I saw her eyes assess the small cup of soup. If I'm not mistaken, a hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her lips.
"Mulder, I don't know what to say about this autopsy," she started softly, and I glanced over to her.
How she could function so highly under the pain of her head always fascinated me. Anytime I had I migraine I was a sloppy mess, though these fundamental differences between her and I said so very much about her Type-A personality… and my lack thereof one.
"Which is to say?" I said, completely confused.
"I cannot come to any conclusions about what killed this man. Usually there is some minute detail to offer some credibility, but I have nothing at all this time," she explained.
"Write the report the way I see it…" I suggested, and she frowned.
"…And say this man encountered his doppelganger, and was therefore fated to die?" she guessed, and I nodded.
"Better than nothing," I said with a shrug, as she shook her head, and then rose to remove the broth from my desk. The pain must have been awful, because she did not bother to have an intellectual argument about the case.
"Thank you…" she said in regard to the soup, but as she walked toward me, she encountered something unpleasant, because she walked very quickly out the door toward the bathroom.
For a moment I considered following, but stopped. I had enough knowledge of my partner to know that she would be far beyond her threshold for irritation and embarrassment to control her actions after she was done.
The clock read 3:37, and I began to pack our stuff to leave. Scully came back, around ten minutes later, with sweat glistened across her face, and with white lips.
"You look like hell, partner," I said with an air of finality, and she did not bother to argue.
"Are we going home?" she squawked, throat dry and probably sore, and I nodded. Silently, she grabbed her purse and jacket, and waited for me at the door. The frown on her face mimicked a child that had been reprimanded from eating cookies before dinner.
On the ride home, Scully had almost made it, before she urged me to pull the car over. Obediently, I did as I was told, and watched as she vomited spectacularly with the door open. Uncomfortable, I held her hair, and took a napkin from the glove compartment so she could wipe her mouth. Tears pooled in her eyes, and I could not tell if this was a normal response to her retching, or if she was simply mortified at her uncontrollable behavior.
"Mulder, I'm sor-" she started, but I ushered her apology away with my hand before she could finish.
"Scully, you've seen me puke before, and I've seen you do it, too. It's a normal, human response. Plus, we're way past the phase where we pretend we aren't disgusting creatures," I began in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Please do not feel an obligation to stay with me when I get home. I appreciate your help, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself," she urged, though she knew very well what my intentions were and that my mind was already made up.
"Are you kidding me?" I said, almost irritated, and when she noticed my tone she frowned.
"I'm fine, this is nothing new," she stated, with a glare that could freeze magma.
Well, this had turned into a disagreement rather quickly.
Not to say we fought often, but it was not completely uncommon. This was nothing new that had developed from our own progress. Scully and I had always challenged each other, and I used this to offer myself some peace of mind at times like these.
"Can you please not do this right now?" I urged.
There were times when I wondered if we would ever progress past the point where this conflict was no longer an issue. Some sort of deeper emotional connection was expected when two people became involved, yet it always seemed we lacked the openness I had often expected.
I could not decipher if I was just expecting too much, or if she was giving too little.
"Mulder, if you cannot respect my wishes, then you do not respect me."
"Scully, this isn't about me relishing your weakness, it's about me having peace of mind," I replied, now frustrated.
"About what?" she almost yelled, and her whole body writhed in annoyance.
"…About you! After everything we've been through, for the life of me I can never understand why you get so distressed when I worry about you."
"Perhaps it's because you immediately make everything about you," she sighed, and her words ripped through my being.
"This argument sounds familiar," I finally replied, after a long moment of silence.
That fateful day in the office, all those years ago, she had complained about the same thing. Admittedly, I was well aware I often over-stepped the boundaries she places for herself, but now that we were more than platonic, it has been even more difficult to hold myself in restraint.
"Mulder, forgive me. I feel sick and my patience is thin, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry," she apologized.
Now she felt regret, and attempted to soothe my ego. Damn, maybe she was right about my selfish tendencies. In profound consideration, I took a deep breath.
"No, really, don't feel bad. At least you're being honest. Sometimes I just wish I could offer you the comfort you give me. We're just…different people. What I want to give you is not always what you want to receive."
"I appreciate your understanding," she said quietly, before she closed her eyes and settled into her seat.
Maybe if I could shut my big mouth and respect her need for privacy, we would never have to stress about conversations like this. One would think I would have stopped nagging her long ago, but I could never bring myself to feign disinterest or lack of concern.
After I pulled into her apartment, I nudged her softly, and she begrudgingly woke up enough just to enter her building.
Despite my best effort, I failed time and time again to find comfort alone in my apartment. Truth be told, I could not recall the last time I had slept here. Most of my private time lately had been spent in some sort of passionate throw with Scully, though I could not mind in the slightest.
Eight years of lust will do that to people.
It would be ridiculous to portray the image that all we did was have sex, because that is in no way realistic, but for some reason it was all I could think about when I was alone. I guess some things never change…
Perhaps my apartment was never really a home. Not to say that I now viewed Scully's place as my home, but at least it was filled with a warmth created by two people. It was full of loneliness and depressive thoughts that seemed to invade my conscience regardless of my mood. It also lacked normal, homey supplies. There was no food, aside from some old take-out, and the only clothes that remained were dirty.
Hell, I even moved my fish to Scully's after she insisted that, in caring for them all these years whenever I disappeared, it would be a shame for me to destroy all her hard work.
Simply put, there was nothing worth value to me in this apartment any longer. With that said, there was no way I could move in with her based on my personal wishes. If there was one thing I'd learned with my partner, it was to wait for her signals, because if pushed without her permission, she would crumble from the expectation.
Today's outburst had been a direct result of this principle.
Arguments had occurred more frequently than usual to account for the changes in our bond, which we had both anticipated. We were very different people, with very different views, and now that we were more open with each other and spent more time together, conflict could not be avoided as easily as it could before.
The entire issue of her fierce independence continued to be the main problem between us. At times, I worried that one-day she may come to sacrifice me in return for her freedom, and the thought made me feel sick.
With this in mind, I had to remind myself to ease off when I so desperately wanted to cling to her for my own positive, internal reappraisal of our relationship. Perhaps the greatest benefit of my psychology degree was that I was armed with the tools to effectively infer what bubbled under the surface of our complicated personalities, and could navigate in a way that was good for both of us.
As I pondered these thoughts, and slipped back into my old insomniatic tendencies, the phone rang and interrupted.
A surge of excitement ran through me, and I answered more quickly than necessary.
"Mulder here…" I purred seductively, as I knew very well the only person who would call at this hour.
One of the reasons I had been staying at her place, was that her late night calls had become so frequent that we both thought it necessary to simply sleep in the same bed every night. If I answered and her voice was deep, it almost always meant lust. If it was high-pitched, it was her desire to have a companion to take away her loneliness in the middle of the night. Never picky, I always happily obliged for each, although I preferred the former.
"Mulder it's me. I'm sorry to bother you," she said in a weak voice, and immediately I stifled my arousal.
This voice was different.
"You're not bothering me. Is everything okay?" I asked, and tried to be as subtle as possible.
"I haven't been able to keep anything down, I think I'm getting dehydrated. Normally, I would drive myself to the hospital, but I'm feeling a little woozy," she mumbled slowly, and I sprang up quickly from the couch.
"I'll be right over."