Timeline: 3x12 Avatar
Category: Post-episode fiction
"It's just something I'd rather not know anything about," Scully pronounced as she inspected her sandwich for onions.
She always pulled her onions off of her sandwiches: it was just one of the mundane details that Mulder knew about her. Sometimes he felt like he had endless stacks of mundane details piled up about his partner, but the files that applied to Dana Scully in which he had more than a passing interest in still lay uninvestigated.
Mulder turned his gaze to the window to watch as people passed by the diner through the drizzle that had been coming down all day long. He'd convinced his partner to take a break from the office and get lunch with him, and they'd been sitting in this booth for the past ten minutes. It had only taken her five to bring up their latest case.
Still gazing out the window, he queried her about her statement: "is it that you hate knowing about Skinner's sex life or anyone's?"
Scully paused over her plate, as if he had just asked a ridiculous question. "He's our boss, Mulder. Why would I want to know about his sex life?"
"I don't know. You could be harboring some deep abiding secret passion for him for all I know. This could have been pertinent information to your romantic future with the Skinman."
"He's a married man," she responded with disdain.
"Separated, I believe. You don't deny your feelings…interesting," he said rubbing his chin with feigned interest in their imaginary office romance.
Scully rolled her eyes at him, "Don't tell me that this case didn't feel a little too…I don't know, personal?"
It did. The whole thing hit a little too close to home. He had not only felt a professional duty to defend his superior and prove his innocence, he had also had a nagging sense that Skinner's situation wasn't all that different from his own. Scully's shock and disdain as the details of the case unraveled unpleasantly around them felt distinctly personal.
"You know what I think?" he asked, stretching out in the booth and draping his arm over its shiny plastic green back.
"No," she replied, taking a bite of her sandwich.
"I think you don't really want to know anything personal about anyone. I think it makes you uncomfortable."
She squinted at him and placed her sandwich down before wiping her hands on the white paper napkin in her lap.
"I have no desire to know about my co-workers' sex lives, if that's what you mean."
He shrugged. "It's not. I mean anything. You don't want to know anything remotely personal. You're too clinical for that."
She cocked her head at him, looking distinctly annoyed at his declaration. "Is that what you think? Clinical?"
"Sure. Charming, but clinical."
She ignored the part of his statement that could be taken as a compliment, pushing forward in her self-defense. "Just because I'm trained in clinical science doesn't mean that I am clinical. I know plenty of personal things about you."
"Yes, you do." 'But not everything,' he added internally. If she knew everything, she would be less likely to accept his invitation to lunch. She wouldn't be able to trust his non-partner-like motivations.
"I just think that at work there has to be a level of professionalism that doesn't include…"
"Prostitutes?" he provided with a grin.
"I'm not a prude, but that was more than a little bit sordid." She paused before holding up her hand, "I'm not judging."
She was, bless her heart. But, true to her pronouncement, she wasn't a prude. She was rather good-natured when it came to his proclivities. Apparently her easy going approach to a man's sexuality did not extend to escorts and torrid one night stands, however. That was information he considered worth having.
"We have encountered more than our fair share of sordid cases," he said, pushing around the fries that were cooling on his plate.
"It was our first time at the house of a madam," she pointed out.
"The first of many," Mulder teased raising crossed fingers.
Scully paused, taking a deep breath and worrying her bottom lip. "I just didn't think I knew anyone that would…use an escort service."
Mulder watched her, noticing that she refused to look up from her plate.
"And you still don't," he reassured her. Skinner hadn't and neither had he, if that was indeed what she was getting at. "He didn't know she was a prostitute."
No prostitutes in Mulder's past, but there were a few one night stands. In fact, his last sexual encounter had been a one night stand. He, like Skinner, had misjudged and taken someone to bed that he shouldn't have. He'd done it out of despair. Out of a need to feel alive and connected, when he felt empty and dead inside. When his Scully was gone.
How much would it take to push him into another arena altogether? How much abstinence, self-hatred, and loneliness would make a man turn to a professional? Scully had even suggested during their investigation that sleep deprivation might cause a person to act out of character without recollection of their actions. He had sleep-deprivation in spades. Scully also had asked what else a man might be capable of who would hire a prostitute, but he only wondered how he would stay on the side of the line that separated the good from the bad in Scully's world. He never wanted to see Scully's look of disappointment directed at him. He believed himself to be a generally decent person, but he knew that it was possible to end up in situations that were more than a little bit out of character thanks to psychological breakdowns. There was no guarantee that he would remain sane: he had to pray that her principles would keep him on the straight and narrow.
"I still wish I didn't know," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't really want to discuss it anymore. We owe him that much."
"I'd be more than happy to never mention the AD's case again. I do feel compelled to remind you, however, that everyone has their moments, Scully. No one is perfect."
Some were closer than others, but he himself fell more than a little short of flawlessness.
"I know that. I'm not claiming sainthood, Mulder," she said wadding up her napkin.
The Cult of Scully: he considered himself the first and most avid devotee to that shrine.
"I've done things that I'm not proud of," she continued.
"Really?" he asked suggestively, leaning across the table. "Do tell."
She raised one of her eyebrows and gave him a withering look. "That's all you're getting, Mulder. Confession of imperfection…not sordid details. We've had enough of those for the week."
"Fair enough, but you realize that my mind is just going to run amok now. You'll have no control over the scenarios it will create for you in the absence of more concrete information about your flawed past," he said turning his palms up to indicate his inability to help himself.
"Mulder, it makes no difference. I never have had any control over you."
Little did she know: she was more than in control, she was his guiding compass.