Spoilers: After Je Souite, the X-Files were summarily closed down for good and Requiem or anything after it never happened.

Summary: Will Scully truly be left behind this time?

Author's Notes: I was sitting in a Starbuck's with my new iPad and wanted to write, but I didn't have any of my documents on it yet. So I just began writing, and this is what I came up with. The title is Danish, btw, for "left behind" if Google Translator did me right.

Size: 2400 words

No beta readers were harmed in the making of this fic, and I hope that it doesn't show.

Efterladt
By Suzanne L. Feld
Rated PG-13

This wasn't the way it was supposed to end, she thought dejectedly.

In all the years she'd been working with and following after and chasing Mulder, believing in his quest for the truth at the cost of her life in more ways than one, to have him just quit, walk away, leave her without a word was not what she was prepared to deal with. He had clearly been avoiding her for the better part of a week and now, this.

She stared around the echoingly empty office; his files, trophies, diplomas, and certificates were gone, the wastebasket full of his odd newspaper clippings and photos which had once covered the now-empty corkboards. Even the ceiling panels were clear of pencils, which were lined up neatly on the otherwise-empty desktop. She wasn't quite sure where the phone and blotter had gone to, but his nameplate was in the trash as well. Everything but the desk was gone, even the filing cabinets that had once contained his life's work.

Dazed, she stepped out, automatically closing the door behind her. She had figured that once the Consortium was destroyed and Samantha's fate discovered Mulder might feel the urge to move on, but she couldn't believe that he would do it without her. Right now she felt empty, shocked, almost nauseous. It was bad enough that they'd been broken up as a team; she felt truly adrift if their relationship was over as well.

Standing outside the office, she glanced back to find that his nameplate was gone from the door as well. And she had never even gotten hers on there.

Mulder had mentioned to her a couple of weeks ago that, since the X-Files had been permanently closed down, there wasn't much he was interested in doing if he stayed in the FBI outside of going to Quantico to teach. There was a position open in Behavioral Sciences, but the problem was that he didn't want to go back to profiling and that was what he'd be teaching. In the meantime he'd taken a temporary leave of absence and, she thought, Skinner was probably so relieved to have Mulder out of his nonexistent hair for a while he'd approved it immediately. Though she'd spent the last couple of weeks in the bullpen doing scut jobs Scully had already been permanently reassigned, her time at the lab starting Monday. Why hadn't Mulder told her what he was thinking of, be it the teaching position or, as it appeared, quitting completely?

At a loss for what else to do Scully went to the elevator and pushed the button, remembering all the times they'd stood here with Mulder's hand in the small of her back. Or the times they'd ended up down the hall talking with heads close together in hushed voices between the tall metal cabinets and shelves, hoping that they were far enough away from the office bugs to be safe. This basement held a lot of memories for her, and she had thought for him as well. But apparently not if he could just walk away without a goodbye or a look back, which she did now as well.

Without thinking she went to her car and drove away from the Hoover. When she realized that she was heading for his apartment she hesitated, then continued. Unless he had the security chain on she was going to confront him about this, find out just what in the hell he thought he was doing.

To her shock Scully found the apartment bare of almost everything personal including the fish tank, feeling as abandoned as the office although it wasn't quite as empty. All of the furniture was there but his bedding, clothes, toiletries, everything that he could carry, had left with him. She wandered though the apartment, finding that the few dishes, silverware, and pots and pans he had were neatly placed in the cabinets, but the fridge was clean and empty.

She went back into the living room and stood at the arm of the couch in front of his bedroom doorway. The bed, now stripped and nothing more than a plain white mattress, was where they'd first made love just a few months ago; the couch had seen its fair share of action since that first night as well. The place still even smelled like Mulder, she thought dazedly, bringing back strong memories of their lovemaking, but he had left here too without a trace. She was so numb that she couldn't even cry.

Moving on autopilot, she locked the door behind her and left #42 Hegel Place for the last time. She didn't want to go home and face her quiet sterile apartment, which had once been a haven for them but was now nothing but a depressing memory. Mulder in her bed, her shower, on her couch. Even the kitchen—and basement laundry room on one memorable occasion—had seen its share of action, she thought darkly. But there was nowhere else for her to go.

Halfway home she considered going to her mother's, but for once Margaret wasn't going to be any comfort. Besides, she thought, once her shock wore off it wasn't going to be pretty.

She felt the numbness begin to lift, anger taking its place, as she walked down the hallway to her apartment, hearing rather loud music and not in the mood for it. Since she'd moved to a higher floor several years before it had been quiet around her apartment, although there was a new tenant in 340 down the hall that she knew nothing about. It had to be their loud music, she thought, since most of the neighbors were either elderly or rarely home.

Putting the key in the lock Scully felt the door give and froze; it was not only unlocked but also ajar. What if Mulder hadn't left, what if he'd been kidnapped and his belongings forcibly removed? And now they were after her? At that thought the shock left her, and she flipped her blazer back with a practiced move and unsnapped the holster at the small of her back, freeing her gun. Holding it at her side and down but with the safety off and her finger on the guard rather than the trigger, she eased the door open just enough that she could peer in around it and felt her jaw drop in surprise.

The living room was undisturbed but Mulder sat at her dining table reading a newspaper, his aquarium taking up most of it although it was barely a quarter full of cloudy water without anything in it but a few fish. She went to push the door open further and it stopped, blocked by a small stack of suitcases and gym bags piled behind it. Another cluster of assorted bags sat across the living room in the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Hey Scully, I was wondering when you'd get home. Surprise!" Mulder jumped up, tossed the paper on the table next to the tank and came over to her, then glanced down at the gun in her hand and slowed to a stop a few feet away. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I thought you had left for good!" Scully snapped, still trying to get her head around all this. She put the safety on and holstered her gun with short, sharp movements that were a combination of relief and anger. "The office and your apartment were empty, I've barely heard from you in nearly a week—"

"This was a surprise," he said, his face showing hurt and dismay at her outburst. "I thought you'd like it!"

"It's not that I don't, it's that you scared me!" she replied sharply, closing the door behind her. "And turn down that damn music, I could hear it halfway to the elevator."

Frowning now, Mulder went to her stereo and switched off Bruce Springsteen in mid-riff. Silence descended as he turned to glare at her. "You really know how to ruin a surprise, Scully."

"And you really know how to ruin my day, Mulder!" she replied just as heatedly. "What do you think went through my head when I saw the office empty? And your apartment?"

"You don't trust me? You assumed that I'd just up and left!" he snarled, hands on hips.

"You've done it to me more than once!" she yelled right back, stamping a few feet into the living room and turning to glare up at him from just a foot or so away. "Tell me you haven't."

"I've ditched you upon occasion, but I never have and I never would just up and leave you—especially now," he said in a slightly lower tone, though he looked just as angry. "Scully, what in the hell are we doing fighting about this?"

"I'm still angry at the scare you gave me, don't try to calm me down just yet," she snapped back, but her tone had modulated as well. "Why didn't you just tell me, Mulder? After we talked about you moving in, you disappeared for days on end. You haven't even told me what you've decided to do for a job yet. Don't you think perhaps that looked like a man with cold feet?"

"If I'd had cold feet I'd've told you, Scully, not walked away," he said. His scowl had eased though he still looked annoyed as he folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not thrilled that you just assumed that of me. As for the FBI, I haven't decided yet. I figured we could talk it over, see what you thought."

"I wouldn't have even considered it if you hadn't ditched me so many times," she grumbled, turning away and feeling her shoulders slump as she made her way towards the dining room, where Mulder's goldfish still held court over the table, peering out through the murky water. "Where are you going to put your tank?"

She stopped when his large, warm hands descended to gently cup her shoulders, not touching her anywhere else but, she knew, as much of an apology as a vocal one. "Anywhere you want them, Scully, except in the trash," he said close to her ear in a smooth, husky tone. She could feel the heat of his body behind her even though he wasn't touching her anywhere else. "Personally I think it'd look great on the dresser in the bedroom, be our nightlight when we want a little romantic lighting."

She turned and let him draw her into his embrace, loose but warm, his arms around her shoulders. Non-demanding. He obviously knew not to push her too hard just yet. "How about we buy a stand for it instead?" she said, putting her hands lightly on the waistband of his faded jeans and resting the side of her face against the soft grey material over his chest. She kicked off her shoes so that the top of her head tucked neatly beneath his chin. "There's more than enough room in there."

Mulder brushed a kiss over side of her head, nuzzling her hair gently. "Works for me. Do I still get the closets in the guest room?"

"Yes, and you're lucky you're not sleeping in there tonight," she said, leaning back and lifting her eyes to gaze up at him. The worry on his face made her realize that he was still unsure of their arrangement. "I'm sorry I thought so badly of you, but you do have to admit that there's a precedent there."

He bent down and kissed her softly, non-demandingly. "And I shouldn't have scared you like that. It just never occurred to me that you'd think I'd left you, especially after you asked me to move in. I had so much to do that I thought it'd be like a honeymoon when I finally got to spend the night here for good."

She smiled slightly up at him close-mouthed. "Yeah, after I finally got all your not-so-subtle little hints that you wanted to move in with me."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Only if you never, ever do something like that to me again," she said, all traces of amusement gone from her face. "And I mean that, Mulder."

He gazed down at her, hands still on her shoulders, face equally serious. "Fair enough. You have my word. Now, can we get to the make up and/or move-in sex?"

She stared at him for a moment, still annoyed enough to be tempted to give him a good shove and knock him right into his damned fish even if it made a huge mess. Luckily it only lasted for a moment, and then she broke down and smiled close-mouthed up at him. "That's two separate events you need to perform for. You'd better get busy, Mulder, I think it's going to be a long night for you."

His grin matched her growing smile, hazel eyes sparkling down at her. "I hope so, because I plan to make love to you until you never, ever doubt me or my intentions again," he assured her, and then leaned down for a longer, less subtle and more direct kiss, moving his hands to her head and cupping her skull, holding her in place as he plundered her mouth. Scully felt herself melt against his body and didn't fight it, so relieved that everything had worked out that she didn't deny herself even if she was still exasperated with him. She would figure out a way to get him to make up for this day, quite dearly in fact, but now was not the time worry about that.

No, right now she was going to make him pay in a different, much more pleasurable way.

###

Late that night, as she lay in the twilight realm between awareness and oblivion, she gazed sleepily over at the clean and filled, dimly lit aquarium in its temporary spot on her dresser and smiled to herself. Mulder was curled tightly around her naked body with his own warm one under the covers, the arm around her waist holding her like she would try to fight free at any moment but that was as far from the truth as it was humanly possible to be. He had made love to her for hours with all of his considerable skill and attention just as he'd vowed to do, and she was as reassured about how he felt about her as it was possible to be. That, on top of his repeated promises never to scare her like that again, had made her finally relax and believe him.

Right here in Mulder's arms was where she planned to stay and, if she could help it, she had no plans to ever let him scare her like that again. No matter what, or where they ended up in the future which she was now once again looking forward to.

Finis