A/N: The following glosses over a good chunk of plot-pertinent episodes from the end of Season 8. It helps to have viewed them first. This chapter runs from the end of "This Is Not Happening" and through the following episodes, without sufficient detail to the show's storyline; I want to keep the focus on the important scenes and episodes for Scully and Reyes. Enjoy!
11:26 PM
Agent Reyes sped down the dark highway, ignoring the darkness and desolation of the world around her. She was used to the climate and atmosphere, having grown up in Mexico, but there was something about this part of the Montana wilderness that was not beautiful. The radio was off as she silently considered the things that had been bothering her since her arrival.
She recalled lonely nights spent with John Doggett, nights where she knew there was no hope, and she knew he was thinking the same, though he'd never say it. She hadn't needed sleep during those few weeks; how could she sleep when an innocent young boy was missing with no note, no ransom, and no trace? It hurt her worse to know it was John's son; she and John had gotten close right from the start. She had sensed that John trusted in her maternal instincts, which is what made him open up to her. She never revealed to him that she really hadn't had any maternal instincts, and instead tried to open herself up to the idea of thinking like a mother.
It didn't take long before John's wife officially gave up on the case, growing increasingly frustrated with John's persistence in something that she was only trying to get over. John became incensed that she would let their son go so easily, and the two became even more distant. John revealed to Monica that their relationship hadn't always been what it should have been from the start, but he had always loved their son and their family. As if Luke were the glue holding their union together, they drifted apart, leading up to that one impulsive evening at the field office in which Monica and John's relationship would be forever changed.
Monica bit her lip as she remembered him crying on her shoulder, her hands holding his head as she fought back tears for him, knowing this was his official sign-off on the case. The rest was a blur of pounding hearts, meaningful stares, frustrated, desperate kissing, and John taking her right there on top of his desk. It was as if they were unstoppable, destined to do what they did. The quickness and impulsive nature of the thing shocked Monica more than anything. John had cried as he gently held her body against his own, but she never felt the need to stop what was progressing. Now, and only now, she wondered why.
They'd parted company on the case in good terms, but it was as if both were ignoring what had happened, closing it in with the case file. There were no phone calls, no goodbye kisses, no leftover chemistry-just an end. Now, more than a few years later, Monica was back with Doggett on another case, and she was finally bringing it back up. She wondered if he was, too. She had hoped they would maintain their professionalism, keeping their emotions behind their curtains as they had on Luke's case. They were close, and they both knew it, but some things were better left unsaid, unspoken and unseen.
Monica glanced to the passenger's seat longingly, observing the pack of cigarettes she had failed to dump in the trash bin back at the investigation site earlier that day. She promised herself not to smoke any of them, but couldn't throw them away. Now, her mind reeled with forgotten past skeletons, and her mouth, body and lungs craved the tang of the nicotine she'd been trying to resist. Losing the fight, she reached for the pack and took one out. She placed it between her lips as she fumbled in her pocket for a lighter, but stopped as she felt the car shudder.
The lights on the dashboard flickered and the car was slowing. Then, the lights suddenly came back on, the speedometer gauge rose, and the car was once again moving as she accelerated. Frowning, she looked outside the windows. She had to double-take as she realized there was a bright light glowing just outside the passenger's window, a light where there shouldn't have been one. To add to her disbelief, the light was moving, fast.
Thoughts of UFOs and spaceships flooded her mind as she watched the peculiar lights. Absently she removed the cigarette from her mouth. "No fricken way," she said to herself. Slowly, she pulled over, her eyes still glued to the illuminated sky. It wasn't until the light was almost touching the ground that she could see the craft it was attached to. Almost perfectly cliché, the spaceship was the characteristic saucer-shape seen in most fabricated images. But this was not fake; Monica had had strange withdrawal symptoms from cutting out nicotine before, but she was absolutely sure this was completely real.
Deciding she needed to get closer, a flicker of Agent Scully in the back of her mind, she reversed and pulled up onto the terrain, driving along-side of the bright light as she looked for a good vantage point. The craft had disappeared by the time she had gotten close, but she observed two figures moving around near the landing-site. They were lifting something oblong up into a pickup truck, and Monica had been in the Bureau long enough to recognize a body bag when she saw it.
Heart pounding, she unbuckled and hurried out of the car, dashing quickly down the hill while trying to un-holster her gun.
"Stop there!" She screamed at the men, who turned at her approach. "I'm a Federal Agent!"
"The men panicked, working quicker to secure their cargo in the back of the truck before hurrying in themselves. The truck lurched into gear and sped off into the night, the tires leaving behind trails of dirt as Monica finally reached their previous position. She had just enough time to spot bare feet poking out from underneath a blanket in the back of the truck. It was possible their "body" was still alive. . . .
In despair over losing her targets, Monica turned, finally catching her breath after her romp through the underbrush. On the ground before her was another body, but she knew instantly upon looking at it that the man was dead. Slowly she advanced forward, the only thought on her mind was Agent Mulder.
The man was naked, his body bruised slightly and scraped in places. She couldn't be sure if it was then men in the truck who had discarded him, or the strange spaceship. She looked at what she could see of his face, but she didn't know what Fox Mulder looked like. If this was him, she'd need someone else to make the ID.
Sighing, she pulled out her phone, her lighter falling to the ground. As she dialed, she absently kicked it into the underbrush, her decision made.
Scully's heart raced as she barely registered the words through the earpiece of her phone. "It's Mulder?" Her voice was hardly a whisper.
"They're not sure on that, Agent," Skinner said calmly. "They need an ID, and an autopsy."
Scully's eyes were filling with tears as she nodded. "I'll meet them there."
She hung up on Skinner and was out of the door quicker than she could think. The drive took minutes, but it felt like hours. She could barely control her fingers as she tried to change clothes and suit-up for an autopsy, but a part of her knew that the body Agent Reyes and Doggett had brought in was not Mulder. She would have known, she would have heard, if it were Mulder.
Emerging into the lab, she noticed right away the man lying on the table was no more than a boy. Her heart fluttered as she walked towards the body, but sunk again as she recognized the face of Gary Cole, and she was transported back to her first X Files case, with all the same strange occurrences. His face was bruised and pocked with holes, and Scully instantly knew he'd been touched by experiments similar to her own.
Skinner and Doggett stood silently against the far wall. She glanced at them briefly before obtaining a tape-recorder and beginning the preliminary evaluation of the body. Skinner and Doggett stayed silent as she observed. The body was ravaged, and Scully found herself unconsciously imagining Mulder, wondering if he'd been given the same treatment. For the first time she could remember, Scully felt like breaking down at the table. Her voice was weak as she finished her record. Doggett and Skinner were looking concerned, but no words were said.
"Where's Agent Reyes?" Scully asked, attempting to shake her fear, dread and hopelessness. "Didn't you say she found him?"
Doggett nodded. "She was on 35 and had a-chance encounter," Doggett said, side-glancing to Skinner. "She's outside."
Scully nodded and the door opened, the miserable face of Gary's best friend Richie visible. Scully knew he was there for another ID, but she couldn't subject him to much more than a glance. His face contorted instantly as he recognized his friend. "Gary," he stammered, looking ready to bawl.
"You can go now, Richie," Scully said gently. "They'll just need you to fill out a form."
Richie nodded and was led away by a suited man. Scully gripped the table as she felt her stomach plummet again. If this was to be Mulder's fate, she was certain she was not prepared to take it.
. . .
Days Later
What the agents encountered over the following days did little to quell Scully's fear, and when Agent Mulder was identified in a field on another "drop-off" and presumed dead, Reyes dislodged herself from the case completely. Doggett hadn't argued, and they again parted company. He had told her to keep her phone on for him, and she realized he'd appreciated her help on the case, even though she walked away feeling like there was little she'd done. Her heart was aching for Scully, even though she barely knew her, because she couldn't even imagine what it would be like to find her 7-year partner dead after an illicit abduction. Returning to work in New Orleans seemed like a dream, and her head wasn't in it. She kept recalling what she'd seen and witnessed. It seemed there were rules out of anybody's control, and a part of her felt that even Mulder was an exception to those rules. She could fear the worst, but hope for the best.
Scully, on the other hand, was feeling the disillusionment of everything happening around her. She never truly believed Mulder was dead, and when he suddenly was, it was more than she could take. The whole thing wasn't right, didn't make sense to her, and frustrated her because of its severity. She had felt that perhaps it was all a wrong nightmare, and that it couldn't be so bad. She turned out to be right. Mulder was alive, again, and before she even knew what had happened or would happen, it was back to normal in a most surreal way.
She stayed up late at night, staring at the ceiling and rubbing the growing baby inside her, wondering why all the most intense moments of life tended to become glossed over after they were finished. She had felt like a marionette for the past few days, barely aware of her own movements, actions or decisions. Under stresses like these, Scully entered a state of being that left her no control, and she hated this feeling. Now that Mulder was back, she hoped that she could again gain control over her life and the people in it.
She was also aware of her tendency and distaste for wishful thinking.
Through a blurry series of days, Scully trudged along, miraculously keeping composure, avoiding arguments with Agent Doggett, and mostly pretending Mulder's ordeal hadn't happened-taking her lead from his own actions. The baby gave them both something to be strong for, and although they were both aware it was not over, they were content to at least pretend it was.
With all the spinning thoughts and confused musings that plagued her late at night as she tried to fall into something like sleep, the thought of Monica Reyes occasionally surfaced. Scully hadn't said goodbye, or even a thank you, to the agent who had essentially led them to Mulder. Guilt tickled the edges of her senses, but she reasoned that with everything that had happened, she couldn't be held accountable for a slight slide of manners. She also figured out that Doggett's involving of Reyes on the case was probably a personal matter; there was something between them that Scully couldn't directly label, but was ever-present when they were together. Any further business Agent Reyes had in the case and in DC would surely go through Doggett.
There was a history there-a disappearance and murder of a child, a divorce, weeks of misery, and a plaguing mystery that Scully felt was little to do with her. She herself had too many problems creeping up behind her, and wondered if every FBI agent had difficult lives.
