I'm imagining this story in three parts. I'm aiming to finish it in roughy 25-30 chapters - my longest story to date. I will try my best to stay consistent with updates. Feel free to hit me up with any questions. I am reiterating that this will have a happy ending. Stick with me kiddos. Also, I'm so sorry for the chapter confusion! I made the mistake of misnumbering everything. But, it's all fixed now!
He wasn't certain why she chose teaching after the she left the Hospital, Mulder supposed she'd needed the monotony of it. The didn't really talk much about her, but every night at dinner she'd always boast about the student's accomplishments. She made such an impact that quite a few kept in contact with her after their rotation with her.
They had settled into a slow routine. Mulder was thriving and Scully finally had office hours. They were home for dinner almost every night, and even spent the occasional weekend in the vineyard. The summers were spent on the beach.
One quiet night walking along the beach in June of 2009, Mulder got down on one knee and pulled a box of out his pocket. He presented Dana with a ring, his mother's wedding ring, and asked her to marry him.
They married that next weekend. She wore a white sarong, he wore board shorts. The reception was 10 minutes and the only guests were Margaret Scully and Walter Skinner.
Marriage came easy to them. It was the same as it always had been, just with an extra few ounces on Scully's ring finger.
One weekend after the winter break of 2011, Scully turned in her resignation and cut off all contact with anyone in the academic world. No one had time to ask why because the next day when Mulder asked if she was going to work, she suggested they pack up and move to Boston.
Fox Mulder, excited by any impulsive change in life, was delighted to uproot them and move 500 miles away. It was foolish, but he was so excited to get out of rural Maryland, that didn't stop to think about why she'd wanted to leave. Of course he'd forget about her feelings, that's kind of what he'd been doing for approximately 22 years. Never once did he stop to think that Dana Scully was also pretty good at self-sabotage.
Hindsight is 20/20 but not even bionic vision could see the Dana Scully was coming unraveled at the most gradual pace.
There wasn't a singular moment when it happened. As time progressed, Mulder regressed. History repeated itself and their relationship just seemed to take a backseat. Honestly, that was the norm for them. During their time at the FBI, their level of intimacy stayed a well-known secret. Once they left, Scully's health regarding William took precedence. She was incredibly fragile. Not only did she have to say goodbye to her miracle son in a traumatic way, she also had to part with every friend or relative that she'd known on the East Coast. Even if her family had been reduced greatly due to the Syndicate, Mulder saw her sliding further and further into emotional isolation every Mother's Day or birthday that passed.
In 2015, she was so upset on William's birthday, that she drove eight hours straight to the Cemetery to sit at Melissa's grave and cry. Mulder didn't realize she'd left until one of her apprentices called him asking if Scully had turned her phone off for her vacation. After hours of exhausting every outlet he still had he realized only after looking at the calendar that today William turned 14 years old.
He'd felt so guilty. Blessed with hyper vigilance in his emotions and everyone around him but fucking cursed with the inability to think about anyone but himself. Selfish but selfless. Someday he would be able to do grand things proactively instead apologetically.
Three days later she'd come home, tanned and quiet. Her normally fiery stare was defeated and desaturated. Had she slept in her car? Her hair was uncharacteristically thrown in a bun and her freckles had finally seen sunlight instead of being concealed. Honestly? She looked more beautiful in that moment, more raw and vulnerable than Mulder had seen her in ages. However, as all things must end, she soon disappeared into their spare bathroom and ran a shower to distract from her sobbing. As a token of his affection, Mulder had set some pajamas and oils outside the door and made a bed on the couch, knowing she wanted to hurt alone.
What started as an act of love turned into their new routine, Scully would shower in the guest room and Mulder slept on the couch. Whatever kept Scully happy. He was eager to please her in any way he could no matter the cost to his physical or mental health. Keeping her happy kept him happy. She jerked when his hand touched her shoulder. His voice only seemed to anger her. His presence in their home made her tense. He couldn't win. Mulder was running out of ways to try and make himself scarce. So, he picked up the dreaded night shift at a local gym. During the day he would strength train and at night he'd punch in and run the floor until the wee hours of the morning. It was nice for a while. Everyone who visits the gym at night was either so dedicated that they didn't give a shit about anyone else there or they were trying to sober up.
Eventually he had out-benched his PR from his 20's and his body fat was down to 15%. He was starting to notice looks from people in public and for once he didn't feel guilty about it because they were appreciative and not condescending like everyone in the Bureau. This was the healthiest he'd been in years, mentally and physically.
That alleviated the tension in the house. Mulder would come home after Scully left for work and sleep for a few hours. He'd tidy the house and try not to peek inside the spare bedroom. His schedule consisted of working, working out, eating and sometimes sleeping.
Mulder was thriving and Scully was crumbling. If she didn't want help, he couldn't help her. If there's one thing Scully was known for other than her hair it was that she was stubborn to a fault.
Coexisting was natural for Mulder. Years of obsessive emotional attachments ending poorly had prepared for his. Splitting was the act of turning your intense love and devotion to someone into a pure distaste at the mere mention of their name.
But hatred was something Mulder reserved for greedy government officials.
Not for his wife that cried loudly in the shower and pretended it never happened. Not for his soulmate - who would rather work a double overnight than be in the same home as him.
It wasn't until he'd fallen asleep alone in the house on his birthday, that he admitted that they was nothing her could do, nothing he could say to fix them. She was avoiding him, obviously. Mulder and Scully were no longer a partnership. He loved her endlessly and tirelessly .
He was slipping back into isolation, preparing his heart and mind to be alone again. He could feel himself slipping, his stability and foundation crumbling as he finally gave up. If he was going to be abandoned by the one person who promised to be his one-in-five-billion, than he would do it on his own terms.
He'd lived alone for years.
Alone.
The thought of being alone haunted him always. His paranoia was quieted by most of his lifestyle changes over the years, but the Illegitimate fears of Scully leaving or dying still stayed in the back of his psyche.
His birthday passed and the holidays crept up. Margaret Scully passed away on December 15th, 2015 quietly with her daughter at her side. Mulder had waited up at home just in case his partner needed some solidarity. After 15 hours though, he knew she wasn't coming home. Dana was probably in her basement office at the morgue, surrounded by death either way.
That's when Mulder made up his mind - he could not handle another solitary Christmas. They had never really kept up traditions. Their erratic schedules and Mulder's varying degree of sanity had made it nearly impossible to keep anything consistent. But Margaret was one of the last things they shared. Over the years, the Scully matron had taken a liking to Fox, even if her daughter did not share the same sentiment. He would be sit uncomfortable on the same couch that he'd slept on back during Scully's abduction, and they'd make small talk until Dana's phone would ring and she would go off to a crime scene.
So, on Christmas eve of 2016, Fox Mulder pulled out his duffel bag with the faded "FBI" on the side and began to pack.
He didn't have many things; a few free weights, some journals, and a computer were his prized possessions. Everything else was in storage back in D.C. or had been destroyed. Even when they'd moved to Massachusetts, Mulder had thrown away almost everything in his rat hole of a den. He had the random appliance in the kitchen or a few CD's by the sound system, but nothing of emotional value.
Well, weights could be replaced and would make his travelling pretty difficult so he packed them up in their box and pushed them into the closet. Maybe Scully would use them. Speaking of weights, he should probably call and quit the gym.
He pulled a few shirts out and grabbed for some pants. The duffel bag was only meant for a few days of clothing so eventually he'd have to set up camp somewhere or find a laundromat. Honestly all of his clothes were about the same color scheme, since he was colorblind. For any odd pieces, the colors were scrawled on the tags in Dana's pristine writing and he fought the urge to toss them all.
He noticed his old Knicks jersey crumpled at the bottom of the drawer and thought for a moment. He'd never wear it and honestly it reminded him of better times. So, he left it there. Let her find it. Maybe she'd remember all the times she sat atop him wearing noth
ing but as words of love tumbled out of her mouth. It probably still smelled like her.
Maybe.
He left his cell phone- technically still on her plan, in the middle of the bed. It had been reset and the little android logo was all that it showed. He had erased every trace of him on it.
He left the house with no goodbyes. This was not his home. He'd slept here, eaten here, fucked here, and definitely cried here. But he held no attachment to this place. This house held nothing but bad memories. It only took two boxes to clear the rest of his stuff out - he'd drop that by his storage unit that he'd kept since his basement office was set on fire at the FBI. The old container held case files that were thought by the Bureau to be destroyed. Surely they could use some company - he'd never need the suits again.
The walk down the driveway was solemn but freeing in a way. For him to detach from Scully was pretty hard, but she'd been shut down for years. If he told himself that leaving would increase her quality of life, then it was okay. She needed space from him, he was the problem. There is no way on Earth that Dana Scully could be at fault for any of this.
Or at least that's what he thought.