Author's Note: So, just a reflection of Scully and Mulder throughout the series, and a search for a perfect life. May be a little disjointed. Just thought of it three hours ago while watching season eight. Enjoy and review!
Something plows into her right side, swipes her off her feet, and smacks her to the concrete ground. Some rookie agent who barely notices who he's run over before he's disappearing down the corridor.
She considers just lying there, waiting for it all to end. The sound of gunshots crackles throughout the building, but she closes her eyes and dims her ears. Maybe no one will notice.
But no. He calls to her from somewhere forward, rouses her from her half awake dream.
"Scully?" One part worry, one part where the hell are you?
"Coming," she replies, but before she can heave herself to her feet he appears over her. It takes her a moment to recognize him, in bulletproof vest, headgear and eye protection distorting his familiar form. He reaches out a hand to her, and is promptly shot in the back with a pink paintball. And then another, for good measure. There's a triumphant whoop from some corner of the training range as he plummets down next to her on the floor. They stare at the ceiling together as he catches his breath.
"Good shot, that one is."
"Thank you, Yoda," Mulder snorts. "That's what I get for looking out for my partner."
"Oh, please," she retorts. "I have far too much experience in that subject. I don't have enough fingers to count how many times I've saved your ass."
"Don't be so greedy, Scully, I believe the life saving goes both ways."
"You believe a lot of things."
"You really hate these things, don't you?"
He's right. She loathes these training exercises. For the agents who sit at desks all day and forget how to shoot, yeah, maybe they're useful. But she spends plenty of time being shot at and really feels no need to spend her Saturday playing paintball with a bunch of testosterone filled young men. And Mulder, who is far too chipper about the whole thing.
She turns her head to look at him. "Let's get the hell out of here."
They finally stand up, already removing the safety gear as they head toward the exit. Some young agent stops in his pursuit and looks up at them without recognition. Doesn't know not to associate with the Spooky couple yet.
"You're not supposed to take off—"
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it," Mulder replies, peeling off his helmet without missing a step. He turns to Scully. "Lunch?"
"Sure."
Back in street clothes, they find Skinner waiting for them in the parking lot.
"Aren't you two supposed to be—"
"What do you have, Skinner?"
He hands over a case file and two plane tickets. "Seemed like it was up your alley."
Mulder takes a cursory glance at the small town police report. "Yes, I think we might be able to take a look at this," he says, as if Skinner is actually giving him a choice in the matter. Frightening, annoyingly, and thankfully self assured, as usual. Scully feels that familiar twist of envy in her stomach.
Scully takes one of the tickets, finds the departure time. "See you at the airport?"
"Not unless I see you first."
"Ha," she laughs sarcastically, but smiles nonetheless.
In her car, she pauses, watching him drive out ahead of her. She can't believe this is all part of her routine these days. That it's familiar and that she actually, well, likes it. Leaving and returning at random intervals, playing the skeptic to Mulder's believer. How did she get here? Or, really, why is she still here?
She's tethered to it all now, so deep in it she couldn't leave without it bothering her for the rest of her life. Her scientific clarity is wavering as the anomalies wrack up before her eyes. And Mulder, who she knew from those first few cases that she could follow to the ends of the earth.
She can feel some kind of...satisfaction? No, satisfaction is a lie. There is always more to want. Maybe she's just content. Happy enough with where she is to that point where she can get out of bed everyday without begging the lord for strength.
Granted, she does have that nagging little fantasy.
In ten years, things have slowed down, the earth doesn't face annihilation. They can put their fears to rest. She and Mulder...well, she and Mulder are doing something. She hasn't quite worked that part out yet. And she imagines he'll have some say in that. In every projected situation, they're together, though. Cause she can't think of anything else.
And there's another constant: they're happy.
She drives off to prepare for their next odyssey.
m m m
A gloom descends upon her for a while there.
It's not Doggett's fault. She wishes she could tell him that, but she doesn't have the energy to deal with more emotion. Really, she's thankful to have him. He's smart, easy to work with, professional. She realizes he's the skeptic to her believer now, and from experience she knows that a dynamic that works.
It's not his fault he's a stand in. A mere shadow in a greater purpose. And it's not his fault she doesn't know where her life is going.
It's no fault of his that she's scared.
She mourns for those previous years. She never thought she'd call them simple, but that's what they are, compared to this. She wonders if she can ever go back to that, or if it's all lost.
Maybe that Mulder and that Scully are gone, their bodies never to be recovered.
She takes weekends now. Doesn't go out unless she has to. No more leaving town at the drop of a pin. And Skinner lets her cherry pick the cases. He's an ally now, the only one who could have any idea what she's keeping together.
m m m
She can find little bits of peace when they present themselves to her. Warm bodies, good food, long weekends. Life has never been easy for Dana Scully, but she's greeted each new set of circumstances like an old friend, with a polite grace. Her fantasy isn't her reality. But she was right about that one thing. They're together. And they're pretty happy, too.
Maybe satisfaction is a lie, but it's the only truth she ever found out there.