Christ it was hot, she thought to herself, wiping the sweat off her neck with the tail end of her shirt, the dry sand of the desert Southwest shifting beneath her boot heals as she paced beside their 'borrowed' car. Dana Scully didn't want to think whose car it was, especially as she knew it would never get back to its owner again. She kicked at the loose sand and gravel as she waited, watching the motel office for a sign of Fox Mulder coming out with the keys to a room that promised a shower, a bed, and rest from their long, northward journey.
She stared into the fading Western sun as she stuffed her hands into her jeans, thinking of the frenetic pace of the last week, much of it a blur for her save for the awful moment when John Dogget picked up her phone and told her that Mulder was sentenced to death. Her feet crunched into the sand and gravel as she paced about in a circle, trying as best she could to remember every moment from then till the one where she and Mulder were confronting that cigarette smoking demon, who dared to laugh at them and mock them as he confirmed Mulder's horrible truth, and revealed it to Scully. She knew now what the plan was, that there was no escaping their fate, that all these half-truths and lies all these years was to hide from them the inescapable fact that the shit was coming down, and there was very little that either she or Mulder could do about it.
Scully still wasn't sure how she felt about that.
They had run then, from the helicopters, from the soldiers, and driven to, God knows where, she wasn't sure where 'here' was, save for a dusty, wind faded neon sign on the highway. It was another motel in a long list of motels she and Mulder had stayed at over the years as field agents, another long list of temporary shelters in their long, and now seemingly ending quest.
There quest, she realized. Scully had thought of it for a long time in terms of "Mulder's Quest", as if it were some grand, romantic, Arthurian legend. But in reality it had been their quest, from the moment she had introduced herself to him in the basement office, and he had tried to scare her off with the pictures from Oregon. That had been the first step on this crazy journey together, as partners, as friends, and now…she frowned at the sand as it dusted her black boot, the most serviceable shoes she could grab quickly at a Target along the way. What was Mulder now?
Scully supposed, as she kicked at a desert shrub, that she and Mulder now had a long, long time to think about that. She knew in her heart that her career at the FBI was over, even if she wasn't wanted as he was now, she had no heart to return to teaching at Quantico. The Bureau had recruited her years ago, a fresh-faced young girl who had dreamed of changing the world by bringing a sense of justice to it. Now, she realized that there was no such thing as justice for anyone, only the vague hope that when the shit went down, you weren't caught in the middle of it. She was done, used up, heart sick, she had given and lost everything to the Bureau she had once taken an oath for, she had lost her sister, two children, her innocence, her youth, and even her ideals.
Had she lost her hope as well, she wondered sadly, digging her toe further into the sand, enjoying the residual heat of it as it seeped through her cheap, fake leather shoes.
She wondered where they would be tomorrow. They hadn't discussed where they would go. Kersh had warned them both to get off the continent, to go anywhere, as long as they did it via Canada. Mulder had blithely ignored that, and here they were still, thanks to the resourcefulness of Agents Dogget and Reyes. She wondered if briefly if the two were OK, and if she'd ever get a chance to thank them for all they had done for her. Probably not, she thought sadly. She doubted she would initiate contact with anyone in the FBI for a long, long time, perhaps Skinner, and that was only to see how much the heat was still on them, to see how much she and Mulder were still wanted by the powers that be. If they weren't scouring every dirty motel from Augusta, Maine to Portland, Oregon for the both of them, then perhaps she and Mulder could discuss what to do then. She still had her license, she could practice surgery somewhere, and she had connections in the medical industry that would allow her to find a good job, one where she could practice a craft she had been thinking more and more off in the last few years. It would be a good life for her, a nice life, a much more calm, less dangerous life.
Would it be a life for Mulder, she thought with a painful thump in her chest. Would he agree to settling somewhere with her, living a life in seclusion and secrecy, where she was able to go out, everyday, and have patience, colleagues, and friends, while he, a man condemned, was forced to pretend he didn't exist? She didn't know, and she was certain he didn't either at this point. All she knew as she stood there in the still sweltering heat of the fading desert day was that she and Mulder were alive for the moment, they were free, and they had a long, long time to figure these things out. They had found all the answers they had been searching for. Their quest was at an end.
Mulder's voice from the office caused her to swivel, her boot shaking off the sand and gravel as she glanced over the top of the car to where he stood, holding up a key ring, two bottles of what looked like cold water tucked under his left arm. He jerked his head in the general direction of where their room was, and began to saunter towards it, his long, jean-clad legs covering the distance much faster than she in her short legs. She glanced down at her now gray-colored boots, and attempted to knock off the dust against the tire of the car. It wasn't very successful.
She sighed, taking one last glance towards the setting sun, and the desert beyond. In the twilight the sand and rock took on an air of mystery, and the shadows crept up, hiding what in the noonday sun was open and clear, making everything mysterious and hard to understand. She sighed. She was done with mysteries for now, for now she only wanted simple things, a hot shower, cold water, and to curl up beside Mulder and take from him some reassurance that there was something hopeful to take out of all of this.
Scully turned from the desert and towards the hotel, a light already in the window of their room, Mulder standing there leaning against the doorframe, smiling softly in the fading sunshine as he waited for her.