Don't get your hopes up guys. This isn't a new chapter, it's just a complete rework of my first chapter. The plot is the same as before, I just put a lot more effort into this version. If you've already read chapter one, you don't have to read this! But it'd be nice to hear if you think this is better. Thanks guys! X
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It had been a warm morning when I awoke. Small slits of light pushed through my blinds and splayed themselves across my bed. I woke up a few minutes before my alarm blared, saving me from its brazen sound. Slipping out from underneath the covers, I smoothed my hair out from my face. It was sunny outside, the sky void of clouds. I felt rested, for the first time in a long time, and after an exaggerated stretch I began my daily routine, ready to face the world with my famous Dana Scully eyebrow raise and lip pout.
My car journey to work was rather uneventful. The lack of traffic on the streets led to an impromptu visit to a nearby Starbucks. I ordered myself a proper coffee, regretfully thinking about the black sludge that disguised itself as the caffeinated drink back in my office. My office. Fox Mulder's office. Our office. Who's office was it anyway? I didn't even have a desk, my name wasn't on the front of the door. I thought about Mulder, sitting there, his figure hunched over some X-File that he'd dug up, ready to whisk me away to the other end of the planet in order to investigate his beloved "little green men". Or were they grey now? I subconsciously ended up choosing a pain au chocolat for him, and a plain croissant for myself. Maybe he could do with a pick me up. My morning had gone better than most, and I saw no reason for my partner to not be able to join in on my joy. I thought about ordering him a drink, but he was probably on his third cup of the morning. Fox Mulder always went to work early, and left late. Why he would spend overtime in that dingy little office was beyond me. But then I remembered his own apartment. Admittedly it was bigger, and arguably cleaner, but he still refused to sleep in a bed, only occasionally napping on his leather sofa. My own back ached just at the thought of how his must be feeling. If only I could just rub that pain away for him. Woah, hold on there Dana. Dangerous territory. What? It'd just be a friendly back massage. Hm yeah, 'friendly'.
It was another 15 minutes until I finally stepped into the basement office. I shut the door with my foot, throwing a 'good morning' in Mulder's direction. I never received a reply, but it wouldn't have been the first time Mulder had chosen to finish a paragraph over talking to me. Hanging up my trench coat on the nearby hook, I let myself stare at my partner for a while. As I expected, he was hunched over his computer, his back a little more rigid than I had predicted, however. God he is so beautiful. I let my gaze linger a little longer before snapping back to reality.
"I brought you a surprise!" I almost shouted at him from the other end of the room. I got no response and he seemed to be fully engrossed in whatever he was reading on the screen. Striding up towards him, I dropped the brown bag into his line of vision, obstructing the view of his computer screen. I tantalisingly swung it in front of him, inviting him to take it from my hands. "C'mon Mulder I know how hung-"
My sentence went unfinished as I suddenly found myself pressed up against a filing cabinet. I let go of the contents of my hands as a reflex, the hot coffee spilling on the floor and onto my skin, burning a little. I saw my croissant pathetically roll out from its bag. I felt a sharp pain as a protruding corner from the cabinet jammed itself into my back. "Mulder!" I practically screamed at him. "What are you doing?!" His fingers had found their way to my wrists and were gripping them tightly, holding them up to my shoulders. He'd effectively pinned me to the cabinet. I tried squirming under his grasp but it only made his hold on my tighten. I let out an involuntary gasp as the cabinet ripped through my clothes and sunk into my pale flesh.
Don't be scared. Don't be afraid. This is Mulder. Mulder won't hurt me. I kept repeating it to myself like a mantra, over and over, trying to control my breathing. I saw two possible plans of action: fight back or play the submissive. My fists clenched, ready to act on the first option, but then I stole a glance at his eyes. His deep, hazel eyes. And I saw nothing there but hurt. Something must have happened. A case. The Truth. Cancerman. Samantha. Truth be told, I had no idea what had gotten into Mulder, but I forced myself to physically weaken for him, choosing the latter. I wanted to touch him and tell him he was alright, push the stray strand of hair back to where it belonged, out of the way of his eyes.
Suddenly he spoke, his voice low and as sharp as razors. "How could you?" His grip on my wrists tightened to that of a vice. Oh Mulder, what has happened to you? I could see the muscles in his jaw contract as he clenched his teeth and I let out a whimper. I attempted to keep my voice smooth and steady as I spoke back to him.
"Mulder... you are hurting me." He let out an animalistic grunt at my confession and gave my body a harsh push against the cabinet, the cold metal corner pushing further and further inside me. I could feel a hot, sticky trail of blood slid down my cold back. I could have sworn I heard him mutter 'Good' but his own sounds were muffled by his barrier of teeth.
"How could you, you fucking bitch?" He accompanied his curt words with another sharp shove of my body. My back was aching and I let out a groan as I felt my skin be ripped even more by the metal corner.
"Mulder I don't know what you're talking about! Please stop Mulder you're hurting me!" I let a single tear drop from my eyes. "You're scaring me Mulder..."
My voice was hushed and small, but my words were powerful enough to break down his walls. His grip instantly loosened but his jaw was still set, his eyes still burning into me. Turning his back on me, he stormed over to his desk. I noticed his fists periodically clenching, his knuckles turning white with pressure. The only sound in the basement was my involuntary gulp, as I imagined those long slender fingers clasped around my neck, pulsing, squeezing. Stop it. He wouldn't do that. I glanced at an envelope that he was suddenly grasping. It was large and brown, but had been sliced open with a letter opener. It seemed thin, as if it only held one piece of paper. My suspicions were correct, as he handed me the object, allowing me to inspect the contents. Immediately I knew what was wrong, carefully extracting a glossy photograph from the paper pouch.
The photograph was black and white, taken of two figures who appeared to be in conversation. A light hearted conversation; one was smiling, the other laughing. They were walking side by side on a crowded sidewalk, their bodies uncomfortably close. To a stranger, it would have looked like two good friends who had decided to meet up during a lunch break, or maybe due to the age difference, a father and daughter talking about old times. But to me, the photograph looked like nothing other than the end of my perfect day. For in the photo there was no father and daughter, no old friends. No, in fact the starring roles of this photograph were myself and Cancerman. Shit.
"Mulder." I tried to keep my tone stable, it sounded broken and pathetic. "Where did you get this? Who gave it to you?"
He did not answer verbally, but instead threw his arms at me again, this time pushing me straight against the wall. "Why? So you can put a bullet in their head for betraying you? You lied to me Scully, you betrayed me. I trusted you and all the time you used me. You were working for them." He gave a lopsided grin before chuckling to himself. "Besides Scully, it seems as though you've got your own mole." He paused for a moment, his voice loud and crass. "Or is that not even your name? Dana Scully. I don't even know you." Oh, but Mulder you do know me. Better than anyone. Suddenly his voice audibly cracked, his eyes becoming damp and his posture weakened, defeated. "How could I have been so stupid, to think that I'd finally found someone who completed me? I believed in you. I believed in us."
My heart ripped at his words and I began to stretch my arm out to touch his wet cheek. He flinched and made an inaudible sound, screwing his eyes up in repulsion at me. His actions alone were enough to finally tear my heart in two. Don't lock me out now Mulder. My fingers managed to brush against his skin, and I felt his muscles relax under my touch. That's it Mulder, let me hold you. I placed the flat of my palm against his cheek, my thumb softly drying his eyes. "Ssh, Mulder. Listen to me. I need you to listen to me." Curling a finger under his chin, I was able to lift his drooped head to meet my gaze. "Mulder this photo is faked. I have no evidence on my person to prove this to you. But I'm sure if you took it over to the labs, they'd be able to tell you." I moved my other hand to his side, drawing lazy circles on his waist through his creased shirt. "I need you to trust me Fox. Just like I trust you." Please trust me.
Every ounce of calmness Mulder possessed in that moment dissipated from his body in the space of seconds. His frame went rigid as he grasped the wrist that was caressing his hot skin. "Don't. Call. Me. Fox." He spat the words out at me, our faces mere inches apart. Throwing my hand down to my side, he strode over to his trench coat and abandoned the office, not failing to slam the door behind him. He wasn't going to return.
I numbly walked over to my chair and felt the damp patch at the small of my back as I began to sit down. My clothes were drenched in blood from where the filing cabinet had pushed its way into my skin. It was sore, but I had suffered much worse in my shirt lifetime. It was not unfamiliar to me to be touched in that area, but it was normally such gentle touches. Mulder's gentle touches. But this time, his spot was brandished with hate and betrayal. Unshed tears began to burn down my cheeks, splashing down into my crumpled blouse. Is this what it was like when I turned my gun on Mulder?
I felt sick. My stomach was working against me, threatening to chuck up my measly breakfast of porridge oats. My brain began to pound against my skull, all I could hear in my ears was a constant, deafening ringing. Staggering out of my chair, I realised my legs had also failed me and I nearly tumbled to the ground. Nothing else matters except the overwhelming urge to make it to the ladies toilets. Pushing past A.D. Skinner in the corridor, I flung open the door to the nearest cubicle and emptied to contents of my sore stomach until I lay on the floor, retching and heaving as if my life depended on it.
I could hear the dull thud of Skinners knocks on my cubicle door in the back of my mind. "Agent Scully. Are you alright? I am going to break this door down if you don't respond again." Skinner can't see me like this. I begrudgingly supported myself on the toilet seat, standing up on shaky legs supported by shaky feet. I casually opened the cubicle door after flushing away my physical breakdown. Smoothing down my skirt I walked nonchalantly past my superior, careful to keep his prying eyes away from the bloody stain on my lower back.
"I'm sorry Sir, I must have caught a bug over the weekend." I began to run some cold water, still keeping my back facing the wall. I could feel his eyes on me as I splashed my face with water. Wash it away, make it all go away. I looked back up at him. Drying my face on some nearby tissues. "I'm fine Sir." He narrows his eyes at my overused remark but brushed it off. I mentally wiped my forehead and let out an exaggerated 'Phew'.
"Go home Agent Scully. Get some rest. I don't want you back here until you are better. I can't have sick agents working. It's counterproductive." I nodded in consent, my mind beginning to fall blank. I waited for Skinner to leave the toilets before I followed, walking straight to the office and slipping my body into my oversized trench coat.
My head began to reel again as I picked up my bag, walking out the door and locking it behind me. The corridor was spinning around me, and I leaned against a nearby wall for some form of support. Mulder, where are you?! I felt drunk, not being able to walk in a straight line. My legs kept giving way as I attempted to climb the stairs to civilisation. God, I've got to get home. I began to stumble down the main lobby, trying to regain my posture as I practically bolted out the Edgar J. Hoover building. My cheeks were flushed and my throat was dry but I had the sense to take a cab home rather than drive. Hailing a cab, I saw one pull over on the other side of the road, it's gleaming yellow paint contrasting against the bleak backdrop of office buildings. I ran over to it, moving my legs without registering. I never even saw the car coming. And then I didn't see anything else.