A piece of furniture. That's how she felt.
She had heard stories before, about women who felt that way. Every time she heard them, she was judgmental. If they were so unhappy, why didn't they just walk away? She only understood now that it hit close to home. It was also why she was so reluctant in listening to her gut feeling, the one that she tried to ignore as much as possible but that had never failed her. Never.
She closed her eyes, sighing a little longer than she usually did, trying to collect her thoughts. 7 years of partnership, 1 year apart due to circumstances that were out of their control, 2 months together again, another 1 year apart due to other circumstances that were out of their control, 13 years together after that. 22 years of love crumbling down right before her eyes, making her feel useless. She couldn't do anything about it, she had tried. She had tried her hardest, to the point of exhaustion, to the point of calling her mother at 3 in the morning hoping for words that would calm her anxiety. She, too, was struggling.
Her invisibility in his eyes was what made her decide. Even before they were together as a couple, even in those days when Phoebes, and Bambis, and Detective Whites, and Diana Fowleys existed, he had never neglected her. Ever. Now he passed by her in the rare occasion when he left his office as if she didn't exist. The sparkle in his eye, the adoration in his voice, the tenderness in his touch were long gone now.
She started to reciprocate, unconsciously, until one day she realized she was living with a stranger. A stranger she had once known better than she knew herself.
When she noticed, she tried to reach out. She would make him fancy dinners sometimes, even with her long hours at the hospital, the kind she knew he liked, trying to find a way to reconnect. She would buy new lingerie, hoping he would notice before getting under the covers and succumb to his restless sleep, like he did every night. He did notice, once, after one of the fancy dinners, and that was the last time she remembered having sex. It was rough, angry, frustrating. Even their terribly amazing chemistry seemed to be fading. How do 22 years fade away like that?
He was too inside his own mind, too obsessed with the end of the world that never came. She realized now that she was wrong in her way of thinking: the end of the world had indeed come. The end of their world. Their precious little world, created with so much struggle, and fights and losses (oh, so many losses!) but also persistence, love, happiness. Because they had been happy once.
The memories stung her eyes in the shape of tears, burning her eyelids as she fought them back.
It was useless to think of them now, she had made up her mind already.
But still they came rushing through her brain, waves that tore all the walls that she had carefully and slowly built in the past months to protect herself. They had been through so much, so much more than any other couple she knew. Hell, even more than any other couple that existed in the world! When she summed up everything that had happened in both their lives, separately, she was even surprised that they survived this long, literally and metaphorically speaking. But there were the good moments too.
Ah, the good moments were gold!
The endless flirting before they got together, the romance that came after, the amount of sex they'd had, the amount of love they'd made, the amount of laughter they'd shared… There was no question in her mind that she was loved. Had been loved. How she wished she could turn back time, go back to those days when the only thing that mattered was the sun on their skin, the wind on their faces and the bed creaking with their weight when he pounded into her every night. They were on the run, but she had never felt happier, never so alive, even having given up on everything in her life to follow him, to stay with him, to love him forever.
Forever.
Another myth.
There were few things left for her to believe anymore.
She had always been a skeptic, but she never expected to become hopeless one day.
She heard him walking around in the living room. If she closed her eyes, she would be able to see him clearly pacing, restless, running his hands through his hair, before settling down and going back to the isolation of his office again. She wouldn't let it happen this time.
His words were still echoing in her ears, almost as if they had a life of their own.
"The end is near, Scully! Aren't you going to help me?"
And before she could block them, her words to him also echoed in her ears.
"Our end is near, Mulder. That's the only end I believe for now."
Her next words had threatened to be stuck in her throat, so she just blurted them out before they could be reprimanded.
"I've helped you save the world several times. More times than I can count. More times than humanly possible, if you think about it. You know what's left for me now, Mulder? A man with a brilliant mind letting his obsessive behavior take over him and refusing help! I helped you, Mulder, countless times. I helped you not only because I believed you or because I wanted the world to be alright, but because I love you and I would do anything for you. Now I helped you, Mulder, I'm still trying to help you, but who's going to help me?"
He had frozen at her words, feeling betrayed, hurt. She could see it all in his face. Then he had just nodded, a sign that he was trying to process her words, and she couldn't take it anymore. She turned on her heels and went upstairs, to what used to be their place of comfort, the place where they talked for hours after she got home from the hospital and after they made love. Even their bedroom seemed cold and foreign to her now.
She took a deep breath and tightened her hands in a fist, mustering the courage she needed to do what she was about to do. Then, she bent down and held the handle of the large bag she used for their temporary getaways, now filled with things that were probably never going to see this house again.
It was time to leave him.
She went down the stairs slowly and stopped on the last step, watching as he paced around the room, sighing, trying to regain his composure. She knew this was hard for him, but she didn't know what else to do. As she expected, he didn't notice her. Why would he? She had really become invisible. So she did the only thing that she knew would call his attention.
"Mulder, I'm leaving."
He stopped on his tracks and turned around, towards the sound of her voice. She saw his chest go up as he inhaled the thick air around them, but it didn't go back down. She had really caught him off-guard. Did he really not see this coming, after everything that was said and done?
He finally exhaled, slowly, words trying to make their way out of his mouth. He struggled to form a coherent sentence.
"Scully, I… what is… I didn't…"
She understood, his thoughts were too much for him right now. The ache in her chest was increasing by the second, and she just wished all this would be over soon. She thought of just leaving him there and shutting the door behind her, but she wanted to give him a chance to say something. So she waited, patiently.
He walked towards her, slowly, as if he was afraid she was going to run away. She didn't.
"Scully, I'm telling you, I'm right this time!"
He was desperate for her to believe him, but she couldn't anymore.
She fought back the tears that came to her eyes and blurred her vision.
"I'm done with UFOs, Mulder. I'm done with the stranglehold they put on my very existence. On our very existence. I can't. Not anymore."
"Scully…" his voice was soft, tender, and for a moment she recognized old Mulder there. Her Mulder. He touched her arm softly, only two fingers brushing her skin. She looked at where his fingers were and let her tears run free now, she didn't care. "Don't do this to us."
She felt like hugging him, but she knew she couldn't. If she did, she would just be walking back to her own unhealthy cycle of forgiving him time after time while seeing herself deteriorate in the process.
She looked up at him again, struggling not to choke while she spoke, her emotions threatening to get the best of her.
"I love you, Mulder, but I have to go."
He tried to hold her arm a little tighter, but she got rid of his grip. Then she took her bag and walked away, forcing herself not to look back.
"Where are you staying?"
She heard his voice before she could turn the knob.
She looked over her shoulder just enough to catch his eyes. They were red, full of tears. She wouldn't be able to take it much longer, she had to go.
She thought of saying it was none of his business, but the truth sounded better now.
"At my mom's, at least for now. I don't know where I'll go next, but I'll let you know when I'm coming to take my things."
She turned her head again, sobbing, turning the doorknob one last time.
He didn't call for her again, he didn't say her name again the way she liked to hear it. She left the house that had given her the most precious memories of her life feeling like a vital part of her had stayed in there. She couldn't help but wonder: could she live without her heart?