Title: Essential

Fandom: The X-Files

Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or its characters; they belong to Chris Carter and 1013 productions. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in a sense own Mulder and Scully as well because they bring the characters to life.

Summary: One Shot. Set in the 2nd season in between the episodes 3 and One Breath. This fic involves Mulder's ruminations on his partnership with Scully, as well as the women herself and his utter desperation to find her. Also his relationship with Maggie Scully during that time.

The guilt burns in him, a steady thrum of fire searing through his heart and soul as he continues searching for her. Had someone told him the day he'd met her that she would become so essential to him, that her presence alone would come to comfort him, steady him in a way he even now finds unconceivable, he would have laughed in their face.

Fox Mulder sits in the blanketing darkness of his dreary apartment, without even the flickering light of the television screen to keep him company. This self-imposed punishment of his does nothing to alleviate his guilt at having lost her. The guilt burns in him, a steady thrum of fire searing through his heart and soul as the trail becomes colder and colder. Had someone told him the day he'd met her that she would become so essential to him, that her presence alone would come to comfort him, steady him in a way he even now finds unconceivable, he would have laughed in their face. The preposterous notion that the little redhead spitfire that was so set in her scientific ways could ever get under his skin would've negated everything he'd deluded himself into believing about his resolve to be on his own.

When he'd met her he'd been the perpetual lone wolf, and that was precisely the way he'd wanted to keep it. He was used to being alone, he'd been a loner since childhood, especially so after Samantha was abducted. The majority of the small group of friends he'd had, despite his freakish intelligence, had deserted him, choosing to believe along with the rest of their peers that he'd murdered his sister and hid the body. But Scully was different from anyone in his past, refusing to desert him and constantly proving herself as loyal until she'd somehow managed to surpass all his walls and take up residence deep within his heart and soul. Essential.

He can hear the phone ring but chooses to ignore the loud trilling. He doesn't want to talk to anybody. The answering machine picks-up and he can hear Mrs. Scully's voice, the concern there overwhelming him. "Fox I haven't heard from you all week, I've been a bit worried, would you please call me back.

He heaves a ragged sigh pressing the heels of his hands against his eyeballs, eyeballs gritty and sore from lack of sleep. He can't talk to Mrs. Scully, can't face her. He can't tell her that a maddening three days ago he was called into Skinner's office and told that he was no longer allowed to search for her daughter. That the bureau is insisting that he focus on other cases seeing as she's been gone for nearly three months and there's no hope of finding her alive.

His weary eyes lock on his service weapon, sitting there on his coffee table, seemingly innocuous. He reaches out and takes it into his hands, feeling the cool steel under his fingertips. He strokes the gun reverently while contemplating how easy it would be to put the gun to his head, to pull the trigger and end it all. The pain would be over, the deep searing ache eradicated.

He doesn't know long he sits there like that, contemplating suicide, but eventually he hears voices outside his apartment door. Then a key being put into the lock, and the door being opened. In walks Mrs. Scully, cautiously surveying his nearly pitch black apartment. 'She must have gotten the landlord to let her in.' he thinks absent-mindedly.

He moves away from her, to the other end of the couch, holding his gun tightly. He can tell the exact moment she spots him, for her eyes widen as they lock onto the gun in his hand. He can see her mind working frantically as she tries to figure out if the reason he's holding his gun has to do with her barging in here at this ungodly hour, or if he means to do harm to himself. He can tell when she realizes it's the latter for her eyes fill with despair and a bit of fear. 'Fear for him or herself?' he wonders, his hand compulsively tightening around his government issue gun. She heaves a great big breath and moves to sit in the arm chair across the room from him. He eyes her warily because he's not at all sure of what she's planning to do.

She speaks softly, so as not spook him, "I haven't heard from you in awhile Fox. I've been worried about you."

The concern in her voice is palpable and it nearly does him in. His breath feels caught in his lungs, his chest heavy with irrepressible guilt and despair. His throat tightens and he can feel the sting of tears pricking at his eyes. He bites his lip to stave them off, sucks in a harsh breath. He can't ignore her, so he speaks, his voice rough, cracking with disuse.

"They told me I have to stop looking for her… I'm sorry I haven't found her. I'm supposed to find her… I have to find her."

The broken desperate quality to his voice makes him flinch in surprise, makes him question, 'Is that really my voice?'

He can only imagine how terrible it sounds to her.

"Fox this isn't your fault. You've been trying so hard to find my baby girl. I know that with all my heart. You've been such a source of strength for me in this most difficult of times." Mrs. Scully tries to soothe.

He shakes his head frantically, still holding the gun in a tight grip.

"It is my fault, I should've protected her… god it should have been me, why didn't they take me. I deserve it… I deserve to be in pain not her. I can't do this… she's gone and she's the only one who cares about me… about Spooky Mulder." he rambles brokenly, the last words spoken with such derision.

Mrs. Scully moves from the chair, and comes to sit on the coffee table in front of him. She takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Fox I need you to listen to me. I don't want this, and Dana wouldn't want this. You're not to blame and you don't deserve to be in pain."

She caresses his cheek and continues tenderly, "According to Dana you've had far more than your fair share over the years. She cares about you so very, very much. She would be devastated if you took your own life. She'll need you when she comes back to us. Please give me the gun sweetheart.

Tears slide down his face unfettered, her tender words having done him in, and he nods shakily before handing her the gun.

She takes it from him and turns to place it gingerly on his desk. She turns back to him just in time to see his face crumple as the sobs overtake him. She reaches out and pulls his large shaking frame into her arms, one hand coming up to card through his thick brown hair.

"I'm sorry. So sorry." he chokes out through his tears.

"Oh sweetheart, its okay. You're going to be okay. I've got you." She murmurs pulling him closer, and rocking him a little.

His arms tighten around her and he buries his face in her neck, allowing the comfort of her embrace to ground him. He's not sure how long they remain that way, the passage of time eluding him, but she doesn't pull away until his sobs have tapered off, and he lays pliant in her arms, the unnatural hitch of his breathing the only indication he has not fallen asleep. As she pulls back she raises his face so she can see him properly, allowing him a glimpse of her face. He's shocked by the evidence of her own spilled tears, and despite his exhaustion his feelings of guilt begin to creep in again.

Mrs. Scully must see something in his face because she shakes her head at him. "Oh no you don't. We've just made some progress here."

He furrows his brows, shooting her a look of utter bemusement before glancing away.

She pats his cheek to regain his attention. "Fox..."

Before she can say whatever it is that she plans to say he interrupts her, voice desperate. "Mrs. Scully I promise I won't hurt myself. Please don't make me go to the hospital."

"Oh I know you won't, we're not going to the hospital and I think it's about time you start calling me Maggie." She responds seriously.

He nods uncertainly, then watches her warily through thick eyelashes still wet with his previous tears.

"Fox honey I would like it if you'd come home with me."

He can tell by the tone of her voice that this is not a request but can't help himself from trying to talk her out of it.

"Mrs. Scully… uh Maggie", he amends upon the look she shoots at him, a look very much like her daughter's, "You shouldn't have to look after me. I promise I won't hurt myself."

"Maybe I need to look after you… you'd be doing me a favor. I need to focus on something other than missing my husband and children, and worrying about Dana. And if you're going to be in any shape to find my daughter you need some looking after. I want to help you Fox, please let me."

Her words bring tears to his eyes but he manages to keep them at bay as he nods shakily. "Okay Maggie, I will."

A smile brightens her tear stained face, a smile so like his Scully's it nearly knocks the breath right out of him. "Thank you sweetheart." She responds, her voice sincere.

"Why don't you go take a quick shower, get changed out of that suit, and pack a bag to bring to my house for the weekend." She tells him, her words making the sentence sound like a suggestion though the tone she uses tell him it's an order.

He looks down at his suits wrinkled appearance and nods before smiling sheepishly and heading off to do a she's bid.

While showering he ponders over Mrs. Scully's concern and care towards him with a sense of wonder. She's shown him more compassion and affection in one night than either of his parents have in years. If he weren't so unbelievably exhausted this revelation would undoubtedly bring him to tears again. He shakes off thoughts of his own parents, shying away from comparing them to his partner's mother, because he knows they'll come up lacking and finishes up in the shower. He quickly dries off and makes his way to his bedroom where he pulls on boxers, his most comfortable well-worn jeans, his favorite New York's Knicks's t-shirt, socks and his running sneakers. He then packs his travel bag with enough clothes for the weekend before making his way back to the living room and Mrs. Scully.

As he enters the living room to find Mrs. Scully comfortably ensconced on his couch, all trace of tears gone, he suddenly finds himself feeling all of four years old. He ducks his head and shifts his feet restlessly just as he did the first day his mother took him to preschool. As if sensing his sudden shyness Mrs. Scully makes her way over to him, gives his shoulder an affectionate squeeze and guides him out to her car as if this were a normal occurrence.

The ride back to her house in Baltimore is quiet. The low volume of the radio, the steady movement of the car, the sense of security Mrs. Scully's presence brings, and his utter exhaustion all conspire to lull him to sleep within a few minutes of leaving his apartment complex. When they arrive at her house she gently coaxes him awake, helps him out of the car, and leads him inside. She guides him to the couch in the living room and he sinks down onto it. She runs a tender hand through his hair and smiles as he leans up into her touch much like a kitten or a puppy.

"Fox I'm just going to make up the bed in Dana's old room, Then I'll be right back."

He nods sleepily in understanding and lets his eyes slide shut after she's walked away. Ten minutes later her soft footsteps alert him to her presence and he opens his eyes to find her looking at him with an affection he remembers seeing only from his mother, but not for a very long time. Before Samantha's disappearance certainly. Tears prick at his eyes, and once again he finds himself biting his lip to stave them off. It's almost more than he can bear to be looked at like that again after such a long time, especially from her. How can she look at him as if he's something precious when he's lost her daughter? Hadn't his own mother stopped looking at him that way for committing the same crime? How could she absolve him when his own mother couldn't?

Giving himself a mental shake to rid himself of such thoughts, for that way led madness, he answered her look of affection with one of gratefulness. Mrs. Scull smiled kindly at him and helped him rise from the couch. "Come on sweetheart let's get you to bed. You're exhausted."

He nodded and allowed her to guide him up the stairs and into Scully's room. The covers were already pulled back on the bed when they entered. He moved to sit on the bed and quickly removed his jeans before laying down on his stomach and reaching to pull up the covers. Mrs. Sully beat him to it however, pulling the covers up to his neck, smoothing them along his back and shoulders, securely tucking him in. She pressed a tender kiss to his soft hair, and whispered, "Goodnight sweetheart. I'm just next door if you need anything."

He nodded shakily, and whispered around the lump in his throat. "'Night Maggie."

Once she left he reached up and grabbed the cross hanging around his neck, rubbing his thumb across it reverently as he prayed fervently for the return of its owner. His mind turned over Mrs. Scully's easy affection toward him and not for the first time since Scully's abduction Mulder promised himself if he could just have her back he would show her just how much she meant to him. How essential she was. His resolve to find her reawakened he whispered the word aloud to himself before drifting into sleep.

"Essential."

The End

AN: I hope this doesn't suck. I've had half of it sitting on my hard drive for years and today finally found the inspiration to finish it. It's the first piece of X-Files fanfiction I ever started and it feels like a huge accomplishment to finish it. This is the first time I've written for fun in a year, as I've been so focused on stuff I have to write for school. Please Review and constructive criticism is always welcome.