Five Times Scully Wore Mulder's Leather Jacket (And One Time She Didn't)
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are property of their lawful owners. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made. No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-8. Especially Emily, All Souls, This Is Not Happening and Deadalive.
Relationship: I'd say I'm sticking close to canon with this one. Whether you read that as UST or off-screen RST is your choice. No romance in this particular fic, but plenty of friendship, camaraderie and love. You know how these two are.
A/N: I was doing the "201 days of the X-files" Pine Bluff Variant rewatch a few weeks ago. (Can't believe I'm still doing the daily rewatches!) I started thinking that Mulder looks great in his leather jacket, and Scully in hers (though that wasn't present in said episode) but do we ever see Scully wearing Mulder's leather jacket? We couldn't remember such an occasion, and somebody said there needs to be a fic about it. So here we are.
First three parts of this story are figments of my imagination, the last three are episode tag-ish.
I'm new to X-files fanfics, English is still not my first language, I'm still too shy to have an actual beta and now even the spell check of my word processor is out of order since I returned the laptop to factory settings and haven't gotten around to re-installing the language packs. I apologize for any and all errors you will find in this story. Please let me know if they are bad enough to disturb the reading experience.
Oh, and I should probably give a possible tissue warning in case the spoiler list didn't alert you.
1: Looking Out For Your Partner
"Coffee?" Mulder offers the vacuum flask to his partner when she keeps rubbing her arms, obviously cold. "It's still surprisingly warm," he says and shakes the flask a little.
"We've emptied two of those tonight, Mulder. My bladder is about to burst as it is. We've been here forever."
"I know, I know," he sighs and puts the vacuum flask on the floor near his feet, careful to angle it so that it doesn't roll under the pedals. He keeps his eyes on the house they're observing, only giving an occasional sideways glance at Scully. "I honestly thought it would only be a couple of hours, not the whole night. I can keep watch alone for a while if you need to walk to that little diner down the street."
"This is not the kind of neighborhood where I want to walk around at night, Mulder. Not even with a badge and a gun. Especially not with a badge and a gun. I'm good for a little longer. Just... no coffee."
"Got it."
They continue their stakeout in silence. From the corner of his eye Mulder notices that Scully has started to shiver. She's sitting on the edge of her seat, swaying gently back and forth, still rubbing her arms though it's obviously not helping. She's only wearing a light jacket over her T-shirt and it's clearly not helping much. He keeps expecting her to say something about the cold but of course she doesn't.
Stubborn little thing, Mulder thinks to himself and slips his left arm out of the sleeve of his jacket. He's almost gotten the right one out as well when Scully notices something out of the ordinary is happening.
"What are you doing, Mulder?"
"You can't focus on the job if you're cold." He spreads the leather jacket on her shoulders without giving her a chance to protest.
"I'm fine, Mulder."
"Well you are now that you're warm again," he says.
She chuckles and slips her arms into the sleeves. The jacket is still warm from the heat of his body and it carries the oddly comforting scent of Mulder.
"Thank you," she whispers, and he smiles. Or perhaps the expression is best described as a grin, his white teeth awfully bright in the light of the distant streetlights.
"And look who finally shows up," Mulder mumbles and brings his hand to the key that's already waiting in ignition as they watch their suspect make his way to his car.
"You'd better take it easy in the turns and speed bumps or you're not getting back the deposit for this car," Scully says as she buckles her seatbelt.
"Noted." He starts the engine, puts on the gear and slowly rolls into the light morning traffic.
2: Ever the Gentleman
He's barely made it inside the restaurant when a crowd of people walks towards him, obviously in a hurry. Somebody grabs his hand and pulls him along, and it takes a moment before his brain registers who it is.
"Was the food really that bad, Scully?" he quips while they're marching towards the front door, his partner still holding his wrist in a tight grip. Just then the fire alarm goes off, drowning her reply, but he's heard her say "Shut up, Mulder" enough many times that he can read her lips loud and clear.
Scully is moving surprisingly quickly in her three inch heels and ground-licking evening gown which she's holding up with one hand as they go. He recognizes several of his workmates but it looks like they evacuated the whole restaurant, not just the FBI Christmas party in the private cabinet.
They finally stop about a block away from the restaurant and gather on a parking lot of a small market that's already closed at this hour.
"There was smoke," Scully explains before he has time to ask.
"Alright." Makes sense. Though there obviously wasn't lots of it if the people were already evacuating by the time the smoke detectors noticed.
"I thought you weren't coming, Mulder," Scully says and adjusts the little purse she has hanging from her shoulder. It has a gold-colored chain as a strap, Mulder notes, surprised that he pays attention to such detail but it's so unlike her that he can't help noticing.
"Well my fridge was empty and there was nothing on TV so... It was starting to sound like an okay option." He shrugs and takes a good look at Scully. She's wearing a long, sleeveless black dress with just enough cleavage to be feminine without being overly distracting. Her make-up seems different, too, her lipstick a little more daring and the dark eyeshadow gives her a dangerous look somehow. Her eyebrow climbs higher on her forehead when she catches him watching her.
"You look great, Scully," Mulder finds himself saying out loud.
"Thank you," she says with a little smile and he can tell she's moved by the rare compliment. "You look like you forgot to pick your dry-cleaning, Mulder." She adjusts his tie though he's almost certain the one block of power walking didn't do it any damage, and strokes the shoulders of his leather jacket briefly, like she was brushing away dandruff which he's pretty sure he doesn't have. But then again, this is Scully. It's possible that she knows something he doesn't.
"Busted," he admits. "But I figured nobody would notice because I'd leave it in the cloakroom anyway."
She chuckles and takes a step back, then wraps her arms around her torso, trying to stay warm. He can tell she's had some alcohol, not enough to even be called tipsy, but just enough that her smiles linger on her perfectly painted lips a little longer than they normally would.
Mulder takes off the leather jacket and silently offers it to his partner, holding it from the shoulders so that all she has to do is slide her arms into the sleeves. She raises her eyebrows but doesn't say anything.
"I can give you the suit jacket instead if this ruins your style."
She chuckles and lets him help the jacket on her. It's not the warmest piece of clothing but it's nice to have something between her bare skin and the crisp air of the December night. Besides, something about the mix of worn leather and Mulder's scent always makes her smile.
"Thank you," she says.
His reply is interrupted by one of the waitresses yelling a status report. Apparently somebody threw a lit cigarette into a trash can in the ladies room and there's no more danger, but they have to wait for the fire department to make an official checkup before they can return inside. Some cheer and applaud, others mutter in anger because it's late and they can't leave before they've gotten their things and paid for their dinners.
"I'll let you buy me a beer when we get back inside and we'll call it even," Mulder says, talking right into her ear to make sure he's heard over the chatter of the crowd.
"Fair enough," she chuckles, a beautiful smile sparkling in her eyes.
3: You're Gonna Be Fine
"Scully?"
"Mm-hmm?"
"Scully!"
"Go away," she mumbles and swats at him like he was an annoying insect buzzing around her head.
"Hey!" Mulder yelps when she manages to hit his ear, hard enough to make it ring. "Scully, stay awake."
"Don't wanna." She stubbornly keeps her eyes closed and shakes her head. Mulder puts his hands on either side of her face, burying his fingers in her hair just behind her ears, to stop her movement so she won't hurt herself more. She has a nasty wound to the side of her head and though he wrapped it up the best he could, he's worried she'll get dirt into it if she keeps up her trashing.
"Scully, you're injured. You hit your head. I need you to stay awake. Help is on its way." His voice is firm and steady, commanding in a way he rarely is, at least towards her. His thumbs keep stroking the sides of her face and he hopes she finds the gesture comforting but not too relaxing.
"'K"
"Scully!"
"'m awake! 'M awake. Stop screaming, Mulder."
"I'm not screaming."
"Well stop it anyway," she sighs.
"Alright," he agrees. "I'll stop, if you open your eyes, okay? Deal?"
She obeys with a bit of a delay, and her slightly unfocused gaze is met with a worried one from her partner.
"I'm cold," she whispers.
"Yeah," Mulder mumbles, pulling his hands away from her face so he can help her. "Of course you are, lying on concrete floor. I should've thought of that." He takes off his jacket and gently rolls her onto one side and then the other so he can help the jacket underneath her. He doesn't bother with putting her arms in the sleeves this time, just zips it up with her arms hugging her torso, trapped underneath the leather. She's tiny enough that it works.
"Better?" he asks with a gentle smile.
"A little bit."
He hesitates a moment and then sneaks his hands under her upper back and helps her sit up so he can gather her against his chest as he sits with his back against the wall.
"Mulder?" she whispers.
"Yes?"
"Am I bleeding?"
He glances at the red line that trickles down her temple slowly. "You're gonna be fine, Scully."
"I don't wanna bleed on your jacket," she mumbles.
"Shh... Don't worry about it. I can buy a new jacket."
"It won't be the same," she mumbles and... is she sniffing? Yes, she's sniffing the leather, he notes, amused.
"It smells safe, Mulder," she sighs.
"Well I'm glad." What else can you say to that? "And you won't ruin the jacket, don't worry." His shirt, however, has no chance of surviving. Not to mention the tie that he wrapped around her head as a simple bandage. But she hates his ties anyway so she'll probably be fine with that part. He's not going to mention the shirt, though. At least not yet. Maybe he'll joke about making her buy him a new one when she's lying in the hospital bed, safe and sound, drugged up enough that anything he says will make her smile.
"Hear that siren, Scully? Ambulance will be here in a minute." He focuses on the thought that she'll be in a hospital soon and she's gonna be fine. Just fine.
"Okay."
"Stay with me, Scully."
"Where else would I go, Mulder?" she mumbles, sounding honestly confused about the idea of leaving him. He smiles and kisses the top of her head, doing his best to ignore the metallic taste that sticks to his lips. She's gonna be just fine.
4: Different Kind of Cold
Something warm and heavy is lowered onto her shoulders, pulling Scully out of her thoughts. She turns her gaze away from the headstone, surprised to see Mulder standing right next to her.
"You looked cold," he says and adjusts the leather jacket a little so it doesn't slide off her shoulders.
"I'm afraid it's the kind of cold that can't be chased away with jackets, Mulder."
Yesterday she could have pinpointed the exact spot where the pain was, the raw, painful ache that had been her companion ever since she lost her beautiful daughter. It ate her from the inside, rolled through her every cell demanding attention, leaked out of her eyes and escaped her lips in hot, angry sobs at night when nobody was there to see.
Today the pain is gone, replaced with a cold emptiness. Where the pain seemed to explode and drown out everything else, this feels like imploding, caving in, like she is about to be sucked into the heavy darkness that has taken place in her chest. Nothing can escape it, even the tears don't find their way out anymore. She doesn't know if it means she's healing or if she's finally lost all hope of ever recovering.
"I know." He squeezes her shoulder gently and gives her a tiny, sad smile, the corners of his lips curling upwards just so, with his eyes full of sympathy. She knows he does. Somehow that makes it a little better. Not much, but a tiny bit. As much as anything can, nowadays.
She slides her arms into the sleeves of his jacket and zips it up, surrounding herself with his warmth and the familiar scent of old leather and something uniquely Mulder, a combination her head now automatically associates with safe. She reaches out to take his hand, in desperate need of a way to ground herself.
"I saw her, Mulder," Scully whispers. He won't understand, but she needs to say the words out loud anyway, and it's easier to feel bold when he's right there beside her. "She came to me, to say goodbye."
Mulder doesn't say anything, but he squeezes her hand back. After all the mockery and harsh words he spit out during the investigation, his silence is more than she dared to hope.
"And I let her go," she whispers, staring at the names engraved on the family grave. She can't believe they're all gone now. "I let her go, Mulder."
Mulder pulls her into a hug and presses a gentle kiss on her forehead. The gesture fills her eyes with hot tears all of a sudden, and the pain flares up in her chest again, new and fresh. She chokes on a sob and then fills her lungs desperately with air, breathing in the scent of him and the now familiar leather jacket. Perhaps she knows it's safe to fall apart now, she wonders, as the tears start to roll down her cheeks and rain onto the dark leather.
After the emptiness, the pain almost feels like hope.
5: Lost Without You
The knocking continues after a short break, intense and demanding, but Scully ignores it again. She tries to curl up into an even tighter ball on the couch but the baby bump gets in the way. She hears the key turn and for a brief moment her comforting darkness is disturbed when the door opens and a sliver of light sneaks along the floor towards the living room. She squeezes her eyes shut tight.
"Dana?" her mother calls. "Dana? Answer me if you're here."
"I'm here," she calls, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears.
"Oh, thank God," her mother mumbles, more to herself than to Dana.
The door is closed, and for a brief moment Scully gets her comforting darkness back. Then the little lamp on the drawer is turned on and footsteps come closer. Maggie heads towards the couch and crouches down next to her daughter.
"You didn't come for dinner. And you didn't answer your phone. I was worried."
"I'm sorry," Scully sighs, feeling exhausted. She opens her eyes and tries to smile, but she can't quite pull it off. Her mother strokes the hair away from Dana's face and gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"What are you wearing, Dana?"
"It was Mulder's," she whispers and snuggles deeper into the leather jacket that is zipped up now, a little tight around the baby bump. If she ducks her head and breathes in deep through her nose, she can still catch a hint of his scent. It's fading now, after months spent in her closet instead of his, despite the fact that she only takes the jacket out on the worst of days. There have been too many of those since he was taken and the last month, ever since his- she can't bring herself to finish that sentence, even inside her head. It still feels unreal that he's gone forever. The last month has been even harder than the long weeks before it, which says a lot.
"What happened today, Dana? What upset you so?"
"The baby kicked, Mom. I could feel it kick for the first time." Her voice is bit watery as she forces the words out. "And I miss him so much. Mom..."
The last word is nothing more than a sob, a plea, and without words Maggie urges her daughter to lift her upper body so she can slide to sit underneath her on the couch. She lowers Dana's head on her lap and gently strokes her hair.
"It's okay, honey. I'm right here. Just cry it all out."
And she does, with angry sobs shaking her body and hot tears wetting the thigh she's using as a pillow. Through it all, the baby keeps kicking, like it was saying it misses him, too.
Epilogue: Rightful Owner
"I wanted to return this." Scully extends the arm on which the leather jacket has been folded.
"You kept it?" he asks, surprised.
"I guess I've grown fond of it over the years," she admits, gently stroking the leather, an embarrassed smile on her lips. She raises her eyebrows when he doesn't make a move to take the piece of clothing back.
"You can keep it."
"It's yours, Mulder."
"Look, Scully... I don't... I don't really know where I fit in my own life right now, okay? The jacket is probably better off with you than me."
She heaves a sigh and pulls in the arm that was offering the jacket to him. She looks down at it, trying to decide what to do. In the end she steps up and spreads the jacket on his shoulders, quite an achievement considering how much taller he is.
"At the very least you need to charge it up," she says when he turns to face her.
"Charge it up?" he asks, but he's already putting his arms through the sleeves to humor her.
Scully takes a hold of the sides of the jacket, pulling them together to test if it still fits.
"I was worried I'd stretched it with the baby bump," she mumbles and smooths down the leather over his stomach. "But it's not too bad."
"How do I charge up a jacket, Scully?"
She lifts her gaze from his chest and gives him a little smile. "If it doesn't smell like you, it could be anyone's jacket. And I need it to be your jacket, Mulder. Otherwise there's no magic in it."
"Since when does Dana Scully the scientist believe in magic?"
"It's been a gradual process," she says and smiles at him, still keeping a hold of the sides of his jacket.
She could give him the scientific version as well, how scents are closely tied to memories and she associates his scent with safety, but she's willing to admit now that there might be a little bit of magic involved in how her brain made that connection in the first place.
"Scully..." he sighs and a million emotions flash in his eyes when she meets them briefly again, but none of them leave his lips.
He pulls her into a hug, as close as the baby bump allows them to get, and Scully wraps her arms around his waist under the warm, familiar fabric of the leather jacket. She breathes in deep through her nose, every sense filled with his presence.
"This feels right, Mulder," she whispers against his chest.
He kisses her forehead, words failing him still, and they stay in the embrace for the longest time.
"Yeah," he finally chokes out. "It does."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated.