Title: Desperately Seeking Scully (1/1)
Author: Evangeline Henri
Category: SRA
Keyword: Mulder/Scully romance
Rating: PG-13 for some cursing here and there
Summary: A Scully-less day for Mulder.
Spoilers: Pilot, Fire, Little Green Men, 3, War of the
Cophorages, Never Again, The Beginning, Biogenesis. Basically,
it takes place in the seventh season, so anything that's
happened up to there is fair game.
Dedication: This one goes out to Atalanta (AKA Dana, Hawkeye
Pierce), who, in addition to listening to my random rants on
'The X-Files', the public school system, and life in general
came up with the title, and took me into the Village where I got
my X-Files action figures and lunch box. You're the best!
Disclaimer: Hmmmmm.... checking tags on Mulder, Scully, and
co. Just as I suspected. Nope, these characters are most
certainly not mine. They belong to Chris Carter and the folks
at 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. I promise to be
careful and won't drop them. I'll put them back where I found
them when I'm through with them. Honest!
Author's Note: By far, my most ambitious work to date, I would
reeeaaaally appreciate feedback. Tell me what you think at
LHenry0122@aol.com
A break from all the really depressing (Mulderless)
subplots of the eighth season... no Dogget here!
*****
FBI Headquarters
J. Edgar Hoover Building
X-Files office
9:07 a.m.
I walked into the office this morning in a surprisingly good
mood, a welcome change from my usual Monday attitude. I don't
really know what it was that made me so chipper, perhaps the
gorgeous May morning outside or the impossible-to-ignore hint of
springtime romance in the air. Whatever it was, it had gotten
me so giddy I began whistling "Whistle While you Work" as I
opened the door to my office.
I walked over to my desk, noticing Scully's absence. This
didn't strike me as extraordinarily odd, though; she was often
held up by traffic from Georgetown. I just assumed this was one
of those mornings.
I sat down at my desk, and opened up the case file we had just
been investigating. It was a grisly homicide, the murder of a
young man in Cincinnati. The local PD had absolutely no leads
or suspects, so they called us in. That just pisses me off.
It's as if they say,
"Hey, this is a nowhere investigation, but since we can't find
any clues, let's call in Mr. and Mrs. Spooky; they have nothing
worthwhile to do." However, this case actually did turn out to
be an X-File. Although I strongly believed (still do) that the
victim was hexed, lack of credible information doomed this case,
like so many others we've investigated, to go unsolved. The
only things left were the closing notes and final report, so I
decided to work on my notes before she arrived, after which we
could do the report together.
9:34 a.m.
No sign of Scully. This was a tad unsettling. I was still
working on my notes, but I stopped to try to reach her on her
cell phone. No answer. "But Scully always answers her cell
phone!" A paranoid voice in my mind yelled. I tried to dismiss
it, and just left her a slightly nervous message. I still
couldn't help feeling that something wasn't right, though.
Hoping that the Georgetown rush hour traffic was especially
brutal today, I warily went back to work.
10:01 a.m.
"Where the hell is she?" I yelled aloud. Scully was never,
never, never this late! Oh God, what if something happened to
her? I'd never forgive myself!
By this time, I had dismissed the "late because of traffic
theory." It is physically impossible for traffic from
Georgetown to Washington, D.C. to hold anyone up this much. No,
Scully would never be this late simply from a traffic jam.
Something must have happened.
I called her house, trying not to think of what the implications
would be if she didn't pick up. I was shaking, but I
desperately forced my nervous fingers to dial the number.
"Ring!" Come on Scully! "Ring!" Pick up! Please Scully!
"Ring!" Please! "Hello, you've reached Dana Sc..." I hung up.
Damn! I was going insane with worry. An hour late! A whole
hour! This from Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, the queen
of punctuality! No, something must be wrong. Very, very wrong.
I started calling everyone I knew who might have a clue where
she was. Skinner, her mother, even the Lone Gunmen had no idea.
I had them all on the lookout for her, with instructions to call
me if she showed up.
There was only one thing left to do: go out searching for
Scully. Hastily, I scrawled a message, and left it on her desk
in case she came in. Grabbing my cell phone, I ran out, not
caring that I had left a half-finished bag of sunflower seeds
and the case file spread out on my desk.
10:10 a.m.
Pennsylvania Ave.
In my car, I paused, not really knowing where to look. My gut
instinct was her place, but I pushed it aside, having already
called there. I began making a mental list of all the places to
check. The Reflecting Pool, the Lone Gunmen's office (maybe she
was there and Frohike opted not to tell me), and (I shuddered)
the hospital crossed my mind. All of these were possible, so I
decided to try each.
The Reflecting Pool
10:15 a.m.
As I walked, my heart became heavier and heavier. My eyes
scoured the crowd, yet I saw no scarlet hair, no sparkling blue
eyes that could betray my partner from a mile away. I slowed,
nearing a bench. Our bench. Fighting the tourist-laden groups
of people who obstructed my view of it, I strained to catch a
glimpse. Finally, the throng of people passed, and I was faced
with... nothing but another empty bench.
Numbly, I sat down. It was windy out, and in my rush I had
forgotten a coat. I shivered. "Hadn't this day started out
warm?" I wondered. Perhaps it was the absence of Scully that
had made it so cold.
I put my hand where she had sat that day, trying to gather some
of her warmth but finding none. That was the day she had said,
"I'd consider it more than a professional loss if you left."
More than a professional loss. "Ha," I thought. "That's quite
an understatement." Look at me. Whenever she's not with me, I
fall apart. She's been gone an hour and a half, and already I'm
one step away from calling the National Guard.
Sighing, I scanned the faces of everyone nearby once again,
hoping that she might have snuck up on me unnoticed. Seeing
nothing but blank looks, I slowly headed back to my car.
"Scully," I muttered, "Where are you?"
11:10 a.m.
Office of the Lone Gunmen
I parked my car outside the Lone Gunmen's extremely nondescript
office. I wasn't worried about arriving unannounced; they had
probably known I was coming as soon as I pulled up the street.
I jogged up the stairs, and hammered impatiently on the door.
"Frohike? Byers? Langly?" I yelled. "Scullllleeeeeee!"
The door swung open, and I was faced with a startled Byers.
"Mulder, man, are you all right?" He asked, concerned.
I pushed past him into the office. "Is she here?"
By now both Langly and Frohike had also noticed my presence, and
looked up from whatever they had been typing.
"Is Scully here?" I repeated, although I could tell she most
likely wasn't. Still, I spun around, hoping to find her. All I
saw were two large television sets, four computers, some shelves
holding unidentifiable scientific tools, and a collection of
movies I would deny ownership of (although I had lent the Gunmen
several of them). The usual gunmen paraphernalia, but no FBI
agent.
"We told you, we haven't seen here," Frohike said.
"Yeah, dude, you have to calm down," Langly added. "We'll let
you know if we hear from her."
"I have to find her," I said staunchly. "What if she's hurt, or
in trouble, or..."
"What if she went back to Las Vegas to marry Harrison Ford?"
Frohike quipped.
I glared at him.
"Mulder, Scully's a highly trained federal agent with an
excellent field record. She's a big girl; she can take care of
herself. You should know that, I mean she's saved your butt
several times. I'm sure whatever happened, she can handle it,"
Byers reasoned.
I was well past hearing his logic, though. I muttered a good-
bye, and started towards the door. As I left, I heard Langly
say, "I hope he finds her. Normally, he's weird, but this is
just sad." The others nodded.
11:30 a.m.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
X-Files office
Dreading any visit to the hospital, I returned to the office,
hoping to find Scully at her desk, ready with a lengthy lecture
on overprotective, worrying partners. As I stood in the
elevator, I tried to imagine in. She'd be in her chair, dress
coat off, mug of coffee in one hand. She'd give me that
adorably exasperated look I see quite frequently, and sigh. And
all through her speech, I would try to seem repentant, while
secretly admiring her baby-blue eyes, her cute little nose, and
her pouty lips.
However, as I walked into the office, my cheery reverie was
shattered. There was no one here. It was just as I had left
it, sunflower seeds and all. Hoping she had at least called, I
checked the answering machine. One new message. "Yes!" I
thought.
"I knew you wouldn't let me down Scully!"
"Hello, Agent Mulder?" Skinner's voice boomed from the machine.
Not her!
Frustrated at myself for wasting time by coming back here, I ran
out mid-message, vowing to find her yet.
It was only after I had gotten in my car that I realized I had
again forgotten my coat.
11:45 a.m.
Georgetown General Hospital
Emergency Room
I hate hospitals. I hate their sound: machines' whirring
juxtaposed against screams and moans. I hate their smell: a
mixture of soap and amnesia. I hate the way a place of healing
and mercy can seem so austere and cold.
But mostly, I hate the memories I have from being in a hospital.
Scully's abduction, her cancer, my short bout of insanity, all
these and more played out within these stiff, sanitary walls.
We should get season passes, for all the time we spend here.
Just walking into the E.R. brings everything back, and it isn't
a pleasant experience.
I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the images of Scully,
lying deathly pale on a cot with tubes and wires connected to
her. I made my way towards the information desk, where a blond
heavy-set woman was talking on the phone.
I waited politely for her to finish, but I was inwardly
screaming for her to hang up NOW. Finally, she put the phone
down and inquired, "May I help you sir?"
Forcing my voice to remain composed, I replied, "Yes. My name
is Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI, badge number
JTT047101111." I flashed her my badge. "I was wondering, has
anyone by the name of Dana Scully been admitted to this hospital
in the past 24 hours?"
"I can check for you."
"Please do," I said gratefully. She swiveled her chair so it
faced her computer, and began searching for Scully. Not sure of
what to do, I waited impatiently at the desk.
As she worked, I felt torn. Half of me prayed to God that
Scully's name wouldn't be on that list. After all both of us
have been through, I didn't know what I'd do if that vision of
Scully on a hospital bed became a reality yet again. However,
the other half secretly hoped with all my might that she was
here. At least that way, there would be no more searching, no
more frenzied trips across town. I'd have answers, something my
life has been remarkably short on.
I didn't have very long to deliberate. The receptionist
returned. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no Dana Scully enrolled
in our patient log."
I let out my breath with a sigh, not even realizing I had being
holding it. So much for that theory. I should probably have
been happy, glad that she wasn't here. All I felt was
emptiness, though. This had been my last hope. For the first
time all day, I entertained the depressing thought that I might
not find Scully.
"God, what would I do if she's really gone?" I asked myself.
Honestly, I didn't know. I tried to remember how my life was
before she walked into the office seven years ago. How I drove
to work every day without knowing she'd be there, ready to cut
down any of my theories from left field. How I investigated a
case without her and her science and logic right beside me. How
I went to bed every night without wondering if she was all
right. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was thinking of me
too.
Try as I might, I couldn't. But that didn't make sense. There
were years and years before I met Scully. I must have lived
somehow! It was all a blank, though. It was as if life for me
had really begun when Scully was assigned to work with me.
Meeting her brought colors to my world. And although the time
we've spent together hasn't always been happy, I couldn't
imagine trading it for anything.
I had begun walking towards my car, but suddenly I stopped. It
didn't matter to me that I hadn't left the hospital yet, that I
was still surrounded by birth and death on all sides. In fact,
this was the perfect setting for me to finally realize this.
I loved Scully. I was madly, head-over-heels in love with her.
I'd loved her from the moment she stepped into my office, into
my life.
Filled with this glorious discovery, I ran to my Taurus. It
seemed as though a switch had been flipped somewhere. All of
the despair that had clouded my senses had lifted, and was
replaced with hope. Call me a hopeless romantic (you'd be
right), but now that I had admitted my love for Scully, I
thought it surely wouldn't be long until I could tell her in
person. At least that's how it worked in the movies.
As I drove out of the parking lot, I imagined how it would
happen. First, I'd run to her and hold her close, inhaling the
sweet scent of her shampoo. Then, I'd look into her eyes and
caress her cheek as I whisper the words both of us had been
waiting for for so long.
She'd gaze up at me, and smile that gorgeous Scully-smile that I
witness all too rarely. I'd lean in, bridging the distance
between us shrinking from inches to centimeters until finally
we'd kiss. And this kiss would be explosive and passionate, yet
soft and gentle at the same time, just like my Scully.
"Ring!" My cell phone cut into my glorious dream. I was cross,
and considered not answering it, but the possibility that it
was her calling me overruled this sentiment. I fished my phone
out of my pocket.
"Mulder."
"Hey, it's Frohike."
Dismayed but still hopeful, I asked, "Have you seen Scully?"
Frohike paused. "Possibly," he cautiously replied. "I don't
want to go into details over a live wire. Can you get here in
twenty-five minutes?"
"Be there in fifteen." I hung up and gunned the engine.
12:33 p.m.
Office of the Lone Gunmen
I paced back and forth. "So, what do you guys know about
Scully?"
Langly swung around in his leather chair. "Calm down man. Not
while we're dining." The gunmen had ordered a pizza, and he
grabbed a slice. I was too tense to eat, though. Impatiently,
I watched the three of them gobble a large pie with cottage
cheese, anchovies, and marshmallows. After this display, I
doubted I could have eaten had I wanted to.
Finally, Frohike wolfed down the last slice and explained to me
why he had called. "After you left, we decided something had to
be wrong for you to be so disturbed."
"Not that you aren't normally disturbed, but we felt this went
way beyond your usual psychosis," Langly added.
Frohike silenced him with a wave of his hand. He said, "We
also decided to help you by staking out Scully's apartment. You
said you called there, but no one picked up, right?"
"Yes..." I replied, not totally sure of where this was going.
Byers continued for Frohike. "Well man, someone was there."
Shivers ran up and down my spine. "What do you mean?" I asked
nervously.
"Just what I said," Byers stated. "We pulled up to her
apartment building at about quarter of noon. The shades were
down, but we could see shadows though the window. At first,
there was just one, whom we assumed to be Scully. Then another,
larger shadow appeared and they both disappeared. About fifteen
minutes later, the second shadow passed the window, but we never
saw whoever it was leave the building."
"What happened to Scully?"
The gunmen all shrugged. "She never reappeared," Langly
admitted sadly. "The light stayed on, but we didn't see any
more shadows."
For the second time that day, I quickly thanked them, and ran
out.
1:15 p.m.
West 53 Road
Scully's Apartment
There I was, at what I knew to be the end of a daylong search
for Scully. The minute I'd walk into her apartment, I'd know
what had kept her from being her usual prompt self this morning.
The tension was killing me.
I considered simply driving away. That way, if something had
happened to her, I wouldn't know about it. I could go on hoping
to find her one day. If I went inside, I'd lose that hope. For
better or worse, I would know what happened to Scully. I didn't
know if I could take the "worse" scenario if it was to become a
reality. Driving away would be much easier.
If I did that, though, Scully'd turn into Sam all over again.
There would be no closure, no answer to my questions. Scully
deserved more than an eternal question mark. I had to do this
for her, no matter my qualms.
My mind made up, I shakily marched into her building. I waved
to the doorman, and walked to the elevator. With a jittery
finger, I pressed her floor number, and waited for it to stop.
The last time I had been in an elevator, I had expected Scully
to be there, and was disappointed when she wasn't. This time, I
tried not to be so optimistic. However, I couldn't help smiling
in anticipation as I walked towards her door.
I cautiously knocked. No response. I could see light through
the door frame, so I tried again, this time calling, "Scully?"
Nothing. A bile taste filled my mouth. I banged harder, and
yelled, "You there Scully?" Still no answer. Desperately, I
screamed at the top of my lungs and kicked and pounded her door,
but it was all in vain.
I slumped up against the door, greatly disheartened by my
failure. I put my head in my hands and cried, the salty tears
running down my face. I was helpless to save Scully. It
reminded me of when she was abducted, when she left that God-
awful message on my machine. I couldn't help her then, and this
felt the same.
Suddenly, the door opened, and I fell backwards into the
apartment. I found myself staring up at my truant partner,
wearing just a towel and an extremely astonished expression.
Needless to say, Scully had been shocked to see me. However,
she took one look at my tear-stained face, and her surprise
changed to concern. She sat down on the floor next to me and
wrapped her arms around me. I cried even harder, and Scully
just held me. She rubbed my back, and kissed my forehead
softly.
"Mulder," she whispered. "What's wrong?"
I managed to speak though my sobs. "Sc-Scully, I was s-so sc-
scared I had lost you."
Her embrace was warm and soothing. I could have stayed like
that, just being held by her, for the rest of my life. "Why did
you think that?" she asked.
Calming down, I told her what had happened all day, omitting my
revelation at the hospital. I spoke slowly, not even looking at
her. Instead, I focused on her steady breathing, her heart
beating.
When I had finished, Scully hugged me again. "Oh Mulder," she
said. "How could you get so worked up over me?"
Without even thinking, I replied, "Because I love you." I
suddenly stopped crying. Oh my God! Had I just said that?
What was I thinking? Nice going Mulder. You just professed
your undying devotion towards the most gorgeous woman in the
world in the dumbest, most unromantic way possible. She's going
to shoot you down! She'll kick you out, and you'll never be
this close to her again. Just like you to screw something like
this up, to mistake camaraderie and friendly concern on her part
for romantic intentions. At least before, you two were friends.
But no, you had to go and blow that with your own selfish wants!
You're a real asshole, Fox William Mulder! I cringed, waiting
for the lecture on how she didn't feel the same way, how a
relationship based on anything but friendship would never work
between us.
But as the seconds ticked by, the blow didn't come. She
remained silent. I looked at her, waiting for the tempest to
break. What I saw made me curse myself again.
There was Scully, in nothing but her towel, crying like I had
been just moments before. My heart sank like a stone. Not only
had I now blurted out my obviously unrequited feelings, I had
made her cry as well. I was the scum of the universe.
Awkwardly, I embraced her. I pulled her close, and ran my
fingers through her silky crimson hair. I tried to ease the
sobs that racked her tiny frame, shushing her. It was my turn
to be the strong one, and although my heart was breaking, I
played my part well.
"Scully, I'm so sorry," I repeated over and over, without even
knowing exactly how I had caused this, but knowing it was still
my fault.
She looked at me, and the caring and trust that were once in her
eyes had been replaced by pain and anger. She pushed me away
roughly. "No, no, no, no, NO!" She cried. "This can't be
happening." Concerned, I reached my arms out to her again, but
she pushed them away. "Mulder, do you really want to know why I
was unreachable today?"
I nodded.
Scully took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, and began to
speak. She talked quickly, trying to say everything at once.
"Today was going to be my 'get over Mulder' day. I purposely
turned off my cell, and didn't answer the phone because I didn't
want to talk with you. I called in sick; that was probably what
the message on the answering machine from Skinner was about.
I'm sorry for causing you so much worry, but I needed to be
alone."
"Then what about the other shadow the Lone Gunmen saw?" I
inquired.
"That was my super. I told him my faucet was leaky, and he came
in to fix it. After that I took a bath to clear my mind. I
heard all the commotion you were causing, so I stepped out to
see what it was. I should have known you'd be a part of it."
My get over Mulder day. Did that mean...? "But why? Why did
you need to get over me?"
Scully sighed, and raised her eyebrows. "Are you this
oblivious, Mulder? Didn't you see it?" She gulped. I gently
placed my hand over hers to comfort her, but she pushed it
aside. "I don't believe I'm saying this... Mulder, I've been
in love with you for so long..."
Had she just said what I thought she said? I grinned. Special
Agent Dana Katherine Scully, my Scully, my goddess, loved me!
All was right in the world. I reached to embrace her, but she
evaded me again.
"I can't do this," she said sadly, almost... regretfully?
Puzzled, I asked, "Why not?" This was definitely not the scene
I had expected. "Scully, please don't do this. Don't lock
yourself up again. Just talk to me. Please." Hesitantly, she
looked at me. "Now tell me, why can't we make it work between
us?"
Abruptly, Scully stood up, almost dropping her towel in the
process. However, I was too confused to care. She began to
pace around her apartment hallway, running her hand through her
crimson hair and muttering incoherently to herself. "Wanna'
know why it why it couldn't ever work out, Mulder?" she
inquired, and I was surprised by the bitterness in her voice.
"I'll tell you why! I don't want you to hurt me again, that's
why!"
I reeled back, as if she had slapped me in the face. So that
was it. After seven years together, the best seven years of my
life, she still thought I would hurt her. She still thought
that one day, she'd find that I wasn't there, that I'd left her.
"Scully, you have to know that I could never hurt you."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't give me that crap Mulder. It's
bullshit. You can, and you have!"
That stunned me. Hurt Scully? "Wait just a minute! What the
hell are you talking about? I've never hurt you!"
"Oh sure. Tell me something, Mulder- extended a 'professional
courtesy' to anyone lately? You think that didn't sting, seeing
you cozy up to that cozy up to that Phoebe woman? What about
Bambi, the entomologist from Massachusetts? What exactly were
you extending to her? And don't think I know about Kristen
Kilar, because I do. Skinner told me! How could do you do
something like that?" Scully yelled. She was pissed, the
flame-red fury in her eyes matching her hair perfectly.
Not one to stay silent while someone shoots daggers at me, I
angrily replied, "Scully, you weren't even there! You have no
idea what went on between Kristen and me! At the time, I
thought you were dead. I never meant for you to find out!"
Scully was livid by now. She continued her screaming tirade.
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out that you slept with
her? Not even flirted like a horny German shepherd, or even
shared a passionate embrace. Mulder, you two had sex! And
don't even start with the 'I thought you were dead,' business.
That won't get you out of this. What- Scully's gone, now I can
fuck the next blonde bimbo I see? 'Cuz that's how it's coming
across, and that line of reasoning is not helping your case
here!"
Inflamed, I fired back. "May I remind you that this was in
1994? In fact, all three of those situations you've thrown in
my face occurred over four years ago!"
She laughed sarcastically. "Please Mulder, don't. Don't try
and make it seem like you've changed, because I certainly
haven't seen it. Do I have to remind you about Diana? When you
ignored every shred of rational evidence I had to disprove her
claims! She betrayed you, and you still ran to her! You
trusted her more than you trusted me! And that wasn't in 1994,
Mulder; that was last year. I'm not going to pretend it didn't
hurt, because it did!"
I shouted, "You leave Diana out of this! You don't know what
she meant to me!"
Scully looked like she was on the line between yelling and
crying. The former won. I had never seen Scully this angry,
and it honestly frightened me. "How was she different? What
did she do to deserve that kind of respect after betraying you,
after taking your heart and stomping on it? Tell me Mulder,
tell me. I'd love to hear it!"
I tried to think of a witty answer. All that kept coming to
mind was her questions, though. I realized that I didn't have a
response. I didn't know why I had trusted Diana; it had been a
huge mistake. I lowered my eyes.
She softened her voice. "See?" Scully said more quietly. "She
didn't deserve it. She never did."
Instead of calming down, though, her comments only sparked more
rage. "Okay, stop it with the holier-than-thou-Catholic-girl
approach! You haven't been goddamned Virgin Mary all this
time!"
Scully glared at me. "Just what are you implying?" she hissed.
"I'll give you two words: Ed Jerse! Remember him? Wow, the
things you do when I'm not with you on a case! Or should I say,
the people you do. You know, with that and the tattoo, I'll
never look at the city of Philadelphia in the same way again."
I knew I was being cruel and hypocritical, but I didn't care.
That case had been a taboo subject for us, and I was only now
venting my rage about it. She had hurt me, just as I had hurt
her, and I was intent on letting her know that.
Scully shot me a look dripping with venom. If looks could kill,
I would have been dead where I stood. She hollered, "How dare
you! How dare you accuse me of sleeping with him!"
I retorted, "It's the same as you saying I slept with Kristen!"
"No! No, it's not Mulder! Because in your case, unlike in
mine, it wasn't just an accusation. It was fact! You did sleep
with her! You know it; I know it; even Skinner knows it for
God's sakes! So just stop lying to me!"
Her response brought me back to reality for a brief moment. She
was right; I was lying. However, how did I know that she
wasn't? A tiny voice in my head murmured, "Because you trust
her." Crossly, I pushed it aside. "All this coming from a
woman whose idea of kicking back and letting loose is fooling
around with a suspect and mutilating her body! You sure know
how to have a good time, Scully!" I exclaimed sarcastically.
She screamed, "As opposed to you, Mr. My-social-life-is-porno-
flicks-and-take-out-Chinese! When was the last time you had
fun? The last time you kicked back and let loose? Huh?"
"Whenever I'm with you," I blurted out. Oops. Not exactly the
scalding comeback I had intended to say.
Scully opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped short
as the realization of what I had said sunk in. She stopped
pacing, and whirled around to face me. "You're everything to me
Scully," I whispered, my voice harsh from shouting. "Why else
do you think I came looking for you? When you're not right
beside me, I fall apart. I need you."
She didn't say a thing, just looked at me, trying to judge my
sincerity. I returned her gaze. Neither of us blinked, or
turned away. It was if we were frozen.
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Scully asked, "Do
you really mean all that?"
I nodded.
"Oh Mulder, I..."
I cut her off. Or rather, my lips did. Instantly, I knew what
our partnership had been missing: intimacy on this level. It
felt so right. I wrapped my arms around her, and drew her
close, closer than we had ever been.
After her initial shock, Scully reacted the way I'd always
dreamed she would, running her hands through my hair, and
tracing tiny circles on my temples with her thumbs. I was
kissing Dana Scully! This was perfect; this was heaven; this
was meant to be.
Need of air parted us, much to my disappointment. I glanced at
Scully, and the love and happiness in her eyes mirrored my
feelings exactly. "We should have done that a long time ago,"
she said at last.
I laughed. "I was tempted to the moment you walked in my door,
although I never would have admitted it. I thought you were a
Consortium spy."
Scully smirked. "That's okay," she replied, ruffling my hair
affectionately. "I thought you were a jerk when we met."
"Hey!"
"Well, you did act like an arrogant asshole at first."
"I did not!" I retorted with mock indignation.
"Yeah right! ' Now that's a credential, rewriting Einstein.'
What was that? It was only when I took off my clothes for you
in that motel in Oregon that you paid any serious attention to
me."
"No! OK, maybe." Suddenly I became serious. "Scully,
disregard anything hurtful I said before. I was just so pissed
at myself for putting you through any kind of pain. That has
never been my intention. This is where I belong, right next to
you. Forever." I kissed her forehead softly.
"I'm sorry too. Forgive me?" she asked.
"Already done. I love you."
"That's nice," she replied coyly, purposely looking away.
"Scuuuuuuuuleeeeeeeee!"
"Oh, don't be such a baby Mulder. Of course I love you."
"You better."
-The End-
Author: Evangeline Henri
Category: SRA
Keyword: Mulder/Scully romance
Rating: PG-13 for some cursing here and there
Summary: A Scully-less day for Mulder.
Spoilers: Pilot, Fire, Little Green Men, 3, War of the
Cophorages, Never Again, The Beginning, Biogenesis. Basically,
it takes place in the seventh season, so anything that's
happened up to there is fair game.
Dedication: This one goes out to Atalanta (AKA Dana, Hawkeye
Pierce), who, in addition to listening to my random rants on
'The X-Files', the public school system, and life in general
came up with the title, and took me into the Village where I got
my X-Files action figures and lunch box. You're the best!
Disclaimer: Hmmmmm.... checking tags on Mulder, Scully, and
co. Just as I suspected. Nope, these characters are most
certainly not mine. They belong to Chris Carter and the folks
at 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. I promise to be
careful and won't drop them. I'll put them back where I found
them when I'm through with them. Honest!
Author's Note: By far, my most ambitious work to date, I would
reeeaaaally appreciate feedback. Tell me what you think at
LHenry0122@aol.com
A break from all the really depressing (Mulderless)
subplots of the eighth season... no Dogget here!
*****
FBI Headquarters
J. Edgar Hoover Building
X-Files office
9:07 a.m.
I walked into the office this morning in a surprisingly good
mood, a welcome change from my usual Monday attitude. I don't
really know what it was that made me so chipper, perhaps the
gorgeous May morning outside or the impossible-to-ignore hint of
springtime romance in the air. Whatever it was, it had gotten
me so giddy I began whistling "Whistle While you Work" as I
opened the door to my office.
I walked over to my desk, noticing Scully's absence. This
didn't strike me as extraordinarily odd, though; she was often
held up by traffic from Georgetown. I just assumed this was one
of those mornings.
I sat down at my desk, and opened up the case file we had just
been investigating. It was a grisly homicide, the murder of a
young man in Cincinnati. The local PD had absolutely no leads
or suspects, so they called us in. That just pisses me off.
It's as if they say,
"Hey, this is a nowhere investigation, but since we can't find
any clues, let's call in Mr. and Mrs. Spooky; they have nothing
worthwhile to do." However, this case actually did turn out to
be an X-File. Although I strongly believed (still do) that the
victim was hexed, lack of credible information doomed this case,
like so many others we've investigated, to go unsolved. The
only things left were the closing notes and final report, so I
decided to work on my notes before she arrived, after which we
could do the report together.
9:34 a.m.
No sign of Scully. This was a tad unsettling. I was still
working on my notes, but I stopped to try to reach her on her
cell phone. No answer. "But Scully always answers her cell
phone!" A paranoid voice in my mind yelled. I tried to dismiss
it, and just left her a slightly nervous message. I still
couldn't help feeling that something wasn't right, though.
Hoping that the Georgetown rush hour traffic was especially
brutal today, I warily went back to work.
10:01 a.m.
"Where the hell is she?" I yelled aloud. Scully was never,
never, never this late! Oh God, what if something happened to
her? I'd never forgive myself!
By this time, I had dismissed the "late because of traffic
theory." It is physically impossible for traffic from
Georgetown to Washington, D.C. to hold anyone up this much. No,
Scully would never be this late simply from a traffic jam.
Something must have happened.
I called her house, trying not to think of what the implications
would be if she didn't pick up. I was shaking, but I
desperately forced my nervous fingers to dial the number.
"Ring!" Come on Scully! "Ring!" Pick up! Please Scully!
"Ring!" Please! "Hello, you've reached Dana Sc..." I hung up.
Damn! I was going insane with worry. An hour late! A whole
hour! This from Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, the queen
of punctuality! No, something must be wrong. Very, very wrong.
I started calling everyone I knew who might have a clue where
she was. Skinner, her mother, even the Lone Gunmen had no idea.
I had them all on the lookout for her, with instructions to call
me if she showed up.
There was only one thing left to do: go out searching for
Scully. Hastily, I scrawled a message, and left it on her desk
in case she came in. Grabbing my cell phone, I ran out, not
caring that I had left a half-finished bag of sunflower seeds
and the case file spread out on my desk.
10:10 a.m.
Pennsylvania Ave.
In my car, I paused, not really knowing where to look. My gut
instinct was her place, but I pushed it aside, having already
called there. I began making a mental list of all the places to
check. The Reflecting Pool, the Lone Gunmen's office (maybe she
was there and Frohike opted not to tell me), and (I shuddered)
the hospital crossed my mind. All of these were possible, so I
decided to try each.
The Reflecting Pool
10:15 a.m.
As I walked, my heart became heavier and heavier. My eyes
scoured the crowd, yet I saw no scarlet hair, no sparkling blue
eyes that could betray my partner from a mile away. I slowed,
nearing a bench. Our bench. Fighting the tourist-laden groups
of people who obstructed my view of it, I strained to catch a
glimpse. Finally, the throng of people passed, and I was faced
with... nothing but another empty bench.
Numbly, I sat down. It was windy out, and in my rush I had
forgotten a coat. I shivered. "Hadn't this day started out
warm?" I wondered. Perhaps it was the absence of Scully that
had made it so cold.
I put my hand where she had sat that day, trying to gather some
of her warmth but finding none. That was the day she had said,
"I'd consider it more than a professional loss if you left."
More than a professional loss. "Ha," I thought. "That's quite
an understatement." Look at me. Whenever she's not with me, I
fall apart. She's been gone an hour and a half, and already I'm
one step away from calling the National Guard.
Sighing, I scanned the faces of everyone nearby once again,
hoping that she might have snuck up on me unnoticed. Seeing
nothing but blank looks, I slowly headed back to my car.
"Scully," I muttered, "Where are you?"
11:10 a.m.
Office of the Lone Gunmen
I parked my car outside the Lone Gunmen's extremely nondescript
office. I wasn't worried about arriving unannounced; they had
probably known I was coming as soon as I pulled up the street.
I jogged up the stairs, and hammered impatiently on the door.
"Frohike? Byers? Langly?" I yelled. "Scullllleeeeeee!"
The door swung open, and I was faced with a startled Byers.
"Mulder, man, are you all right?" He asked, concerned.
I pushed past him into the office. "Is she here?"
By now both Langly and Frohike had also noticed my presence, and
looked up from whatever they had been typing.
"Is Scully here?" I repeated, although I could tell she most
likely wasn't. Still, I spun around, hoping to find her. All I
saw were two large television sets, four computers, some shelves
holding unidentifiable scientific tools, and a collection of
movies I would deny ownership of (although I had lent the Gunmen
several of them). The usual gunmen paraphernalia, but no FBI
agent.
"We told you, we haven't seen here," Frohike said.
"Yeah, dude, you have to calm down," Langly added. "We'll let
you know if we hear from her."
"I have to find her," I said staunchly. "What if she's hurt, or
in trouble, or..."
"What if she went back to Las Vegas to marry Harrison Ford?"
Frohike quipped.
I glared at him.
"Mulder, Scully's a highly trained federal agent with an
excellent field record. She's a big girl; she can take care of
herself. You should know that, I mean she's saved your butt
several times. I'm sure whatever happened, she can handle it,"
Byers reasoned.
I was well past hearing his logic, though. I muttered a good-
bye, and started towards the door. As I left, I heard Langly
say, "I hope he finds her. Normally, he's weird, but this is
just sad." The others nodded.
11:30 a.m.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
X-Files office
Dreading any visit to the hospital, I returned to the office,
hoping to find Scully at her desk, ready with a lengthy lecture
on overprotective, worrying partners. As I stood in the
elevator, I tried to imagine in. She'd be in her chair, dress
coat off, mug of coffee in one hand. She'd give me that
adorably exasperated look I see quite frequently, and sigh. And
all through her speech, I would try to seem repentant, while
secretly admiring her baby-blue eyes, her cute little nose, and
her pouty lips.
However, as I walked into the office, my cheery reverie was
shattered. There was no one here. It was just as I had left
it, sunflower seeds and all. Hoping she had at least called, I
checked the answering machine. One new message. "Yes!" I
thought.
"I knew you wouldn't let me down Scully!"
"Hello, Agent Mulder?" Skinner's voice boomed from the machine.
Not her!
Frustrated at myself for wasting time by coming back here, I ran
out mid-message, vowing to find her yet.
It was only after I had gotten in my car that I realized I had
again forgotten my coat.
11:45 a.m.
Georgetown General Hospital
Emergency Room
I hate hospitals. I hate their sound: machines' whirring
juxtaposed against screams and moans. I hate their smell: a
mixture of soap and amnesia. I hate the way a place of healing
and mercy can seem so austere and cold.
But mostly, I hate the memories I have from being in a hospital.
Scully's abduction, her cancer, my short bout of insanity, all
these and more played out within these stiff, sanitary walls.
We should get season passes, for all the time we spend here.
Just walking into the E.R. brings everything back, and it isn't
a pleasant experience.
I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the images of Scully,
lying deathly pale on a cot with tubes and wires connected to
her. I made my way towards the information desk, where a blond
heavy-set woman was talking on the phone.
I waited politely for her to finish, but I was inwardly
screaming for her to hang up NOW. Finally, she put the phone
down and inquired, "May I help you sir?"
Forcing my voice to remain composed, I replied, "Yes. My name
is Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI, badge number
JTT047101111." I flashed her my badge. "I was wondering, has
anyone by the name of Dana Scully been admitted to this hospital
in the past 24 hours?"
"I can check for you."
"Please do," I said gratefully. She swiveled her chair so it
faced her computer, and began searching for Scully. Not sure of
what to do, I waited impatiently at the desk.
As she worked, I felt torn. Half of me prayed to God that
Scully's name wouldn't be on that list. After all both of us
have been through, I didn't know what I'd do if that vision of
Scully on a hospital bed became a reality yet again. However,
the other half secretly hoped with all my might that she was
here. At least that way, there would be no more searching, no
more frenzied trips across town. I'd have answers, something my
life has been remarkably short on.
I didn't have very long to deliberate. The receptionist
returned. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no Dana Scully enrolled
in our patient log."
I let out my breath with a sigh, not even realizing I had being
holding it. So much for that theory. I should probably have
been happy, glad that she wasn't here. All I felt was
emptiness, though. This had been my last hope. For the first
time all day, I entertained the depressing thought that I might
not find Scully.
"God, what would I do if she's really gone?" I asked myself.
Honestly, I didn't know. I tried to remember how my life was
before she walked into the office seven years ago. How I drove
to work every day without knowing she'd be there, ready to cut
down any of my theories from left field. How I investigated a
case without her and her science and logic right beside me. How
I went to bed every night without wondering if she was all
right. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was thinking of me
too.
Try as I might, I couldn't. But that didn't make sense. There
were years and years before I met Scully. I must have lived
somehow! It was all a blank, though. It was as if life for me
had really begun when Scully was assigned to work with me.
Meeting her brought colors to my world. And although the time
we've spent together hasn't always been happy, I couldn't
imagine trading it for anything.
I had begun walking towards my car, but suddenly I stopped. It
didn't matter to me that I hadn't left the hospital yet, that I
was still surrounded by birth and death on all sides. In fact,
this was the perfect setting for me to finally realize this.
I loved Scully. I was madly, head-over-heels in love with her.
I'd loved her from the moment she stepped into my office, into
my life.
Filled with this glorious discovery, I ran to my Taurus. It
seemed as though a switch had been flipped somewhere. All of
the despair that had clouded my senses had lifted, and was
replaced with hope. Call me a hopeless romantic (you'd be
right), but now that I had admitted my love for Scully, I
thought it surely wouldn't be long until I could tell her in
person. At least that's how it worked in the movies.
As I drove out of the parking lot, I imagined how it would
happen. First, I'd run to her and hold her close, inhaling the
sweet scent of her shampoo. Then, I'd look into her eyes and
caress her cheek as I whisper the words both of us had been
waiting for for so long.
She'd gaze up at me, and smile that gorgeous Scully-smile that I
witness all too rarely. I'd lean in, bridging the distance
between us shrinking from inches to centimeters until finally
we'd kiss. And this kiss would be explosive and passionate, yet
soft and gentle at the same time, just like my Scully.
"Ring!" My cell phone cut into my glorious dream. I was cross,
and considered not answering it, but the possibility that it
was her calling me overruled this sentiment. I fished my phone
out of my pocket.
"Mulder."
"Hey, it's Frohike."
Dismayed but still hopeful, I asked, "Have you seen Scully?"
Frohike paused. "Possibly," he cautiously replied. "I don't
want to go into details over a live wire. Can you get here in
twenty-five minutes?"
"Be there in fifteen." I hung up and gunned the engine.
12:33 p.m.
Office of the Lone Gunmen
I paced back and forth. "So, what do you guys know about
Scully?"
Langly swung around in his leather chair. "Calm down man. Not
while we're dining." The gunmen had ordered a pizza, and he
grabbed a slice. I was too tense to eat, though. Impatiently,
I watched the three of them gobble a large pie with cottage
cheese, anchovies, and marshmallows. After this display, I
doubted I could have eaten had I wanted to.
Finally, Frohike wolfed down the last slice and explained to me
why he had called. "After you left, we decided something had to
be wrong for you to be so disturbed."
"Not that you aren't normally disturbed, but we felt this went
way beyond your usual psychosis," Langly added.
Frohike silenced him with a wave of his hand. He said, "We
also decided to help you by staking out Scully's apartment. You
said you called there, but no one picked up, right?"
"Yes..." I replied, not totally sure of where this was going.
Byers continued for Frohike. "Well man, someone was there."
Shivers ran up and down my spine. "What do you mean?" I asked
nervously.
"Just what I said," Byers stated. "We pulled up to her
apartment building at about quarter of noon. The shades were
down, but we could see shadows though the window. At first,
there was just one, whom we assumed to be Scully. Then another,
larger shadow appeared and they both disappeared. About fifteen
minutes later, the second shadow passed the window, but we never
saw whoever it was leave the building."
"What happened to Scully?"
The gunmen all shrugged. "She never reappeared," Langly
admitted sadly. "The light stayed on, but we didn't see any
more shadows."
For the second time that day, I quickly thanked them, and ran
out.
1:15 p.m.
West 53 Road
Scully's Apartment
There I was, at what I knew to be the end of a daylong search
for Scully. The minute I'd walk into her apartment, I'd know
what had kept her from being her usual prompt self this morning.
The tension was killing me.
I considered simply driving away. That way, if something had
happened to her, I wouldn't know about it. I could go on hoping
to find her one day. If I went inside, I'd lose that hope. For
better or worse, I would know what happened to Scully. I didn't
know if I could take the "worse" scenario if it was to become a
reality. Driving away would be much easier.
If I did that, though, Scully'd turn into Sam all over again.
There would be no closure, no answer to my questions. Scully
deserved more than an eternal question mark. I had to do this
for her, no matter my qualms.
My mind made up, I shakily marched into her building. I waved
to the doorman, and walked to the elevator. With a jittery
finger, I pressed her floor number, and waited for it to stop.
The last time I had been in an elevator, I had expected Scully
to be there, and was disappointed when she wasn't. This time, I
tried not to be so optimistic. However, I couldn't help smiling
in anticipation as I walked towards her door.
I cautiously knocked. No response. I could see light through
the door frame, so I tried again, this time calling, "Scully?"
Nothing. A bile taste filled my mouth. I banged harder, and
yelled, "You there Scully?" Still no answer. Desperately, I
screamed at the top of my lungs and kicked and pounded her door,
but it was all in vain.
I slumped up against the door, greatly disheartened by my
failure. I put my head in my hands and cried, the salty tears
running down my face. I was helpless to save Scully. It
reminded me of when she was abducted, when she left that God-
awful message on my machine. I couldn't help her then, and this
felt the same.
Suddenly, the door opened, and I fell backwards into the
apartment. I found myself staring up at my truant partner,
wearing just a towel and an extremely astonished expression.
Needless to say, Scully had been shocked to see me. However,
she took one look at my tear-stained face, and her surprise
changed to concern. She sat down on the floor next to me and
wrapped her arms around me. I cried even harder, and Scully
just held me. She rubbed my back, and kissed my forehead
softly.
"Mulder," she whispered. "What's wrong?"
I managed to speak though my sobs. "Sc-Scully, I was s-so sc-
scared I had lost you."
Her embrace was warm and soothing. I could have stayed like
that, just being held by her, for the rest of my life. "Why did
you think that?" she asked.
Calming down, I told her what had happened all day, omitting my
revelation at the hospital. I spoke slowly, not even looking at
her. Instead, I focused on her steady breathing, her heart
beating.
When I had finished, Scully hugged me again. "Oh Mulder," she
said. "How could you get so worked up over me?"
Without even thinking, I replied, "Because I love you." I
suddenly stopped crying. Oh my God! Had I just said that?
What was I thinking? Nice going Mulder. You just professed
your undying devotion towards the most gorgeous woman in the
world in the dumbest, most unromantic way possible. She's going
to shoot you down! She'll kick you out, and you'll never be
this close to her again. Just like you to screw something like
this up, to mistake camaraderie and friendly concern on her part
for romantic intentions. At least before, you two were friends.
But no, you had to go and blow that with your own selfish wants!
You're a real asshole, Fox William Mulder! I cringed, waiting
for the lecture on how she didn't feel the same way, how a
relationship based on anything but friendship would never work
between us.
But as the seconds ticked by, the blow didn't come. She
remained silent. I looked at her, waiting for the tempest to
break. What I saw made me curse myself again.
There was Scully, in nothing but her towel, crying like I had
been just moments before. My heart sank like a stone. Not only
had I now blurted out my obviously unrequited feelings, I had
made her cry as well. I was the scum of the universe.
Awkwardly, I embraced her. I pulled her close, and ran my
fingers through her silky crimson hair. I tried to ease the
sobs that racked her tiny frame, shushing her. It was my turn
to be the strong one, and although my heart was breaking, I
played my part well.
"Scully, I'm so sorry," I repeated over and over, without even
knowing exactly how I had caused this, but knowing it was still
my fault.
She looked at me, and the caring and trust that were once in her
eyes had been replaced by pain and anger. She pushed me away
roughly. "No, no, no, no, NO!" She cried. "This can't be
happening." Concerned, I reached my arms out to her again, but
she pushed them away. "Mulder, do you really want to know why I
was unreachable today?"
I nodded.
Scully took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, and began to
speak. She talked quickly, trying to say everything at once.
"Today was going to be my 'get over Mulder' day. I purposely
turned off my cell, and didn't answer the phone because I didn't
want to talk with you. I called in sick; that was probably what
the message on the answering machine from Skinner was about.
I'm sorry for causing you so much worry, but I needed to be
alone."
"Then what about the other shadow the Lone Gunmen saw?" I
inquired.
"That was my super. I told him my faucet was leaky, and he came
in to fix it. After that I took a bath to clear my mind. I
heard all the commotion you were causing, so I stepped out to
see what it was. I should have known you'd be a part of it."
My get over Mulder day. Did that mean...? "But why? Why did
you need to get over me?"
Scully sighed, and raised her eyebrows. "Are you this
oblivious, Mulder? Didn't you see it?" She gulped. I gently
placed my hand over hers to comfort her, but she pushed it
aside. "I don't believe I'm saying this... Mulder, I've been
in love with you for so long..."
Had she just said what I thought she said? I grinned. Special
Agent Dana Katherine Scully, my Scully, my goddess, loved me!
All was right in the world. I reached to embrace her, but she
evaded me again.
"I can't do this," she said sadly, almost... regretfully?
Puzzled, I asked, "Why not?" This was definitely not the scene
I had expected. "Scully, please don't do this. Don't lock
yourself up again. Just talk to me. Please." Hesitantly, she
looked at me. "Now tell me, why can't we make it work between
us?"
Abruptly, Scully stood up, almost dropping her towel in the
process. However, I was too confused to care. She began to
pace around her apartment hallway, running her hand through her
crimson hair and muttering incoherently to herself. "Wanna'
know why it why it couldn't ever work out, Mulder?" she
inquired, and I was surprised by the bitterness in her voice.
"I'll tell you why! I don't want you to hurt me again, that's
why!"
I reeled back, as if she had slapped me in the face. So that
was it. After seven years together, the best seven years of my
life, she still thought I would hurt her. She still thought
that one day, she'd find that I wasn't there, that I'd left her.
"Scully, you have to know that I could never hurt you."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't give me that crap Mulder. It's
bullshit. You can, and you have!"
That stunned me. Hurt Scully? "Wait just a minute! What the
hell are you talking about? I've never hurt you!"
"Oh sure. Tell me something, Mulder- extended a 'professional
courtesy' to anyone lately? You think that didn't sting, seeing
you cozy up to that cozy up to that Phoebe woman? What about
Bambi, the entomologist from Massachusetts? What exactly were
you extending to her? And don't think I know about Kristen
Kilar, because I do. Skinner told me! How could do you do
something like that?" Scully yelled. She was pissed, the
flame-red fury in her eyes matching her hair perfectly.
Not one to stay silent while someone shoots daggers at me, I
angrily replied, "Scully, you weren't even there! You have no
idea what went on between Kristen and me! At the time, I
thought you were dead. I never meant for you to find out!"
Scully was livid by now. She continued her screaming tirade.
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out that you slept with
her? Not even flirted like a horny German shepherd, or even
shared a passionate embrace. Mulder, you two had sex! And
don't even start with the 'I thought you were dead,' business.
That won't get you out of this. What- Scully's gone, now I can
fuck the next blonde bimbo I see? 'Cuz that's how it's coming
across, and that line of reasoning is not helping your case
here!"
Inflamed, I fired back. "May I remind you that this was in
1994? In fact, all three of those situations you've thrown in
my face occurred over four years ago!"
She laughed sarcastically. "Please Mulder, don't. Don't try
and make it seem like you've changed, because I certainly
haven't seen it. Do I have to remind you about Diana? When you
ignored every shred of rational evidence I had to disprove her
claims! She betrayed you, and you still ran to her! You
trusted her more than you trusted me! And that wasn't in 1994,
Mulder; that was last year. I'm not going to pretend it didn't
hurt, because it did!"
I shouted, "You leave Diana out of this! You don't know what
she meant to me!"
Scully looked like she was on the line between yelling and
crying. The former won. I had never seen Scully this angry,
and it honestly frightened me. "How was she different? What
did she do to deserve that kind of respect after betraying you,
after taking your heart and stomping on it? Tell me Mulder,
tell me. I'd love to hear it!"
I tried to think of a witty answer. All that kept coming to
mind was her questions, though. I realized that I didn't have a
response. I didn't know why I had trusted Diana; it had been a
huge mistake. I lowered my eyes.
She softened her voice. "See?" Scully said more quietly. "She
didn't deserve it. She never did."
Instead of calming down, though, her comments only sparked more
rage. "Okay, stop it with the holier-than-thou-Catholic-girl
approach! You haven't been goddamned Virgin Mary all this
time!"
Scully glared at me. "Just what are you implying?" she hissed.
"I'll give you two words: Ed Jerse! Remember him? Wow, the
things you do when I'm not with you on a case! Or should I say,
the people you do. You know, with that and the tattoo, I'll
never look at the city of Philadelphia in the same way again."
I knew I was being cruel and hypocritical, but I didn't care.
That case had been a taboo subject for us, and I was only now
venting my rage about it. She had hurt me, just as I had hurt
her, and I was intent on letting her know that.
Scully shot me a look dripping with venom. If looks could kill,
I would have been dead where I stood. She hollered, "How dare
you! How dare you accuse me of sleeping with him!"
I retorted, "It's the same as you saying I slept with Kristen!"
"No! No, it's not Mulder! Because in your case, unlike in
mine, it wasn't just an accusation. It was fact! You did sleep
with her! You know it; I know it; even Skinner knows it for
God's sakes! So just stop lying to me!"
Her response brought me back to reality for a brief moment. She
was right; I was lying. However, how did I know that she
wasn't? A tiny voice in my head murmured, "Because you trust
her." Crossly, I pushed it aside. "All this coming from a
woman whose idea of kicking back and letting loose is fooling
around with a suspect and mutilating her body! You sure know
how to have a good time, Scully!" I exclaimed sarcastically.
She screamed, "As opposed to you, Mr. My-social-life-is-porno-
flicks-and-take-out-Chinese! When was the last time you had
fun? The last time you kicked back and let loose? Huh?"
"Whenever I'm with you," I blurted out. Oops. Not exactly the
scalding comeback I had intended to say.
Scully opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped short
as the realization of what I had said sunk in. She stopped
pacing, and whirled around to face me. "You're everything to me
Scully," I whispered, my voice harsh from shouting. "Why else
do you think I came looking for you? When you're not right
beside me, I fall apart. I need you."
She didn't say a thing, just looked at me, trying to judge my
sincerity. I returned her gaze. Neither of us blinked, or
turned away. It was if we were frozen.
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Scully asked, "Do
you really mean all that?"
I nodded.
"Oh Mulder, I..."
I cut her off. Or rather, my lips did. Instantly, I knew what
our partnership had been missing: intimacy on this level. It
felt so right. I wrapped my arms around her, and drew her
close, closer than we had ever been.
After her initial shock, Scully reacted the way I'd always
dreamed she would, running her hands through my hair, and
tracing tiny circles on my temples with her thumbs. I was
kissing Dana Scully! This was perfect; this was heaven; this
was meant to be.
Need of air parted us, much to my disappointment. I glanced at
Scully, and the love and happiness in her eyes mirrored my
feelings exactly. "We should have done that a long time ago,"
she said at last.
I laughed. "I was tempted to the moment you walked in my door,
although I never would have admitted it. I thought you were a
Consortium spy."
Scully smirked. "That's okay," she replied, ruffling my hair
affectionately. "I thought you were a jerk when we met."
"Hey!"
"Well, you did act like an arrogant asshole at first."
"I did not!" I retorted with mock indignation.
"Yeah right! ' Now that's a credential, rewriting Einstein.'
What was that? It was only when I took off my clothes for you
in that motel in Oregon that you paid any serious attention to
me."
"No! OK, maybe." Suddenly I became serious. "Scully,
disregard anything hurtful I said before. I was just so pissed
at myself for putting you through any kind of pain. That has
never been my intention. This is where I belong, right next to
you. Forever." I kissed her forehead softly.
"I'm sorry too. Forgive me?" she asked.
"Already done. I love you."
"That's nice," she replied coyly, purposely looking away.
"Scuuuuuuuuleeeeeeeee!"
"Oh, don't be such a baby Mulder. Of course I love you."
"You better."
-The End-