Title: A Friend or How Mulder Learned to Just Be There
Rating: G/K
Author: Singing Violin (Pearl on Ephemeral/Gossamer)
Summary: How did Mulder go from completely dismissing Scully's feelings in early seasons to silently supporting her later? Post-episode for "All Souls."
Category: VA
Archiving: Anywhere, just let me know.
Disclaimer: The X-files characters and universe are not mine.
Author's Note: I'm still working on "Struggling." I actually watched "All Souls" to try to inspire more of that, but it ended up inspiring this instead. I'll get back to "Struggling" shortly.
As she walked out of the confession booth and made a beeline for the exit to the church, Dana Scully angrily wiped at her tears, which, despite her best efforts, would not cease.
And despite her better judgment, she knew only one place she could go, one person she could go to, in order to have any hope of reining in her emotions.
She got into her car.
She sat at the wheel for a moment, attempting desperately to collect herself, if only enough to be able to make the drive.
She succeeded, barely, her tears ebbing to a slow trickle as her breathing slowed and steadied.
In a daze, she made it to his apartment, and for a moment, contemplated turning back.
She knocked.
"Just a moment," she heard, and had to bite her lip to keep from losing it right there, in the hallway.
He opened the door, and she looked up at him, hoping his presence alone would calm her, force her to put on a brave face, to save face, as it had so many times before.
To her dismay, it didn't work. He instantly saw her distress, reached an arm around her shoulder, and ushered her into the room.
"Scully?" he asked after closing the door. He peered at her worriedly, hoping she would tell him what was going on.
She took a deep breath, willing herself to speak clearly. "Mulder, I need...," her voice trailed off; she was suddenly afraid, unable to voice her deepest desire.
"Anything," he told her quietly, "anything you need, just ask."
She knew his offer was sincere, but she also knew he might not be able to deliver on his promise.
She breathed again, then began to speak quickly so as to get it out before she changed her mind. "I need you not to judge, not to tell me I'm being misled, not to discount my feelings as a mere obstacle to objectivity. I need you to respect my faith. But mostly I just need you to be there. Because right now, I'm really upset," she admitted, her voice squeaking as her tears began anew, "and I just need a friend." She looked up at him now, plainly showing her anguish, and hating herself for what she felt was emotional manipulation, but at the same time, needing his support too badly to withdraw.
Slowly he nodded, then reached his arms out to her, and she gratefully walked into his embrace. For quite some time, they stood there in silence, save for the soft sounds of her muffled sobs into his shoulder. After a moment of shock at her open vulnerability, he began to rub her back, and felt her relax a bit in response.
Finally she pulled away, her tears finally having abated. "Thanks," she told him, and turned to leave.
"Wait," he pled, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder to stop her exit. "Aren't you even going to tell me what's wrong?"
She looked down at the floor and shook her head, and for a moment he thought she was going to start crying again.
"Never mind," he quickly amended, pulling his hand away. "It doesn't matter. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."
She looked up at him, surprised.
He continued, "I've been a jerk, Scully. I could tell how much this case was affecting you and my first thought was about saving those girls, when it should have been about you...especially since you knew what was going on, more than I did. You're right that I didn't respect you or your faith." He paused for a moment, then spoke again, his voice low and thick with emotion. "I guess I felt that, if you were the believer, it was my job to fill your usual role as the skeptic."
She nodded now, understanding. "But even when I'm skeptical, I always keep my mind open to the possibility that you might be right, which, a lot of the time, you are." It was a big admission, coming from her.
He gulped. "And if you can admit when I'm right, I should admit when you are."
She nodded again, thinking he was clarifying what she desired, not making his own assessment.
"I mean that I don't, or I haven't, and I'm sorry, and I'm going to do better."
Her eyes grew wide. "Thank you." She waved haphazardly at the door, "I should go."
"Stay, please, Scully," Mulder insisted. "You said you needed a friend—let me be your friend tonight. Let's just hang out. We can do anything you want: watch a chick flick, order pizza, whatever. Just stay. Let me be there for you."
She was unconvinced and slightly embarrassed, as she didn't want to impose any more than she already had.
"Like you have for me, so many times," he pointed out, holding out his arms to emphasize his open invitation.
"Okay," she breathed, fighting tears again, but this time they weren't borne of grief or anger. Once more, she walked into his embrace, knowing now that it would be there whenever she needed it.