Scully's hands were shaking when Mulder handed her the new keys, keeping one for himself. He guided her in, his hand protectively resting on her back.
She feared what was waiting for her inside, but everything was cleaned, neat and tidy. It looked like an average apartment, like a home.
But not her home. She was already contemplating moving again.
"I'm afraid to ask how much this costed," she said to Mulder.
"I'd let you pay me back, Scully, but I've lost the receipt," Mulder answered jokingly. "So I don't know what you owe me. Consider it an early birthday present."
"Or a late one," she nodded absentmindedly. She would pay him back, of course, birthday or not, but she wasn't up to arguing about it now. He's done more than enough for her.
"Thank you," she said instead.
Mulder went to her bedroom to put her overnight bag in there, but she didn't follow him. She went to the bathroom instead, desperate for a shower.
But the bathroom… It was where it happened. It was where Pfaster had squeezed his disgusting hand around her neck, warning her to be still and quiet.
"I'd rather you be alive for this," he'd told her. "But it is not necessary."
She hadn't been able speak, hadn't been able to breathe, but she had tried to nod that she understood. She'd had to play by his rules, to buy more time to think, to figure out how to escape, how to overpower him…
But time didn't help her.
She had traded her dignity for her life. The worst decision she's ever made. She wanted to take it back, she wanted it so badly that it hurt. Her body shook in a burst of rage, but not even the tiniest part of her anger was directed towards her attacker. It was all for her and her alone.
She could have died a hero.
Instead, she chose to live like a victim.
Scully never really hated herself before. But now she knew pure evil, she knew it in a biblical sense, she let it fill her, consume her, taste her and spit her out like an empty shell, no longer useful for anything at all.
His hands. She tried to scream but she couldn't breathe. She didn't even want to. Her body fought for breath, but it didn't deserve it, not after betraying her like it did, after opening up and responding to his touch…
His hands.
All over her.
Inside her.
Choking.
"Scully!"
Stroking.
"Breathe!"
Hitting.
"Come on!"
Pulling.
"Scully!"
Spreading.
"It's me!"
Thrusting.
"Breathe, damn it! Come back to me! Scully!"
"Mulder!" she gasped, taking a deep breath. Her body won again, filling itself with oxygen. Her heart was beating hard, her blood flowing in all directions, her eyes blinking, her skin sweating, her stomach producing acid… It all happened the way it wanted, not asking for her permission, instructions or supplies. She had no control over it, no control over anything at all.
"That's it," Mulder praised her, stroking her cheek. "You scared me big time."
"I'm fine," she said automatically, not because she wanted to say it, but because she was programmed to. Like everything else about her, she had no control over it.
As her breathing was slowing down, she noticed that she was no longer in the bathroom. She was sitting on the couch now, with Mulder crouching in front of her and carefully watching her every move, and she had no recollection of how that happened.
"What's happening to me?" she asked her hands, addressing her whole body. She moved her fingers a little, surprised with their cooperation.
"I assume you got triggered," she heard a quiet, monotone voice. Gentle and friendly, it was like a music to her ears. Her mouth curved in a slightest smile and warmth spread around her heart. Her head leaned into his hand, closing her eyes in the process.
"Mulder," she whispered, though she didn't have to. Her body knew who he was and its every single cell reacted to his presence, to his touch. This was where she wanted to stay forever.
"I'm here," Mulder whispered back, coming even closer and pressing his forehead to hers.
They stayed like that in silence for a few moments, and then she gently pushed him away.
"Go home, Mulder," she told him.
"I'm not leaving you like this," Mulder objected.
"I'll be fine," Scully insisted. "You did all you could."
"It's not enough."
"It is," she took his head in her hands and kissed the corner of his mouth, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek onto his, putting her mouth next to his ear.
"I promise," she whispered to him. "You can call me or… come back later to check on me. I'll be here, resting. I just need some time for myself."
"Scully," he broke the embrace to look her in the eyes. It took an effort to keep his gaze, but she managed it.
"I promise," she repeated.
"Are you sure?" he asked, wiping a lone tear from her cheek, just another thing she didn't have any control over. Damn tear!
But it was a single tear. She managed to keep the rest of them inside. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
"No," she admitted. "But he's dead and I'm not. He can't hurt me anymore. Panic attacks won't kill me either. Life goes on and I have to find a way to go with it. You can't be around all the time."
"I'm on a vacation," Mulder smiled. "It's not like I have anything else to do."
"Have you finished your report?" Scully asked teasingly and he chuckled.
"You got me there," Mulder admitted. "I promised Skinner he'd have it yesterday, but you know me and the deadlines…"
"Yeah," Scully nodded, lowering her eyes to the floor. The report. The truth that she wanted to hide because there was no point to reveal it.
"Scully," Mulder raised her chin with his finger to get her to look at him again. "I will only tell them what I saw. He gave you no choice and my report will reflect that. What you told me off the record stays off the record. No one in their right mind would blame you for any of it, and you can't blame yourself."
Scully sighed, but she didn't respond. Mulder was sweet, but he didn't know. How could he? He didn't see her with Pfaster, he didn't witness her body reacting to him in the worst possible way. Even if she described him every single detail of that night, he could still convince himself that it wasn't her fault. Mulder believed what he wanted to believe.
But if he had been there… If he had seen it with his own eyes… He would never want to even look at her again. Scully was sure about that.
"Would you really rather think of yourself as evil than as a victim?" Mulder asked her as if he could read her thoughts. Of course he could. You don't spend seven years stuck in a basement with someone without learning to read in between the lines, to hear what they are not saying.
"I'm going to spend a fortune on therapies, am I not?" Scully sighed.
"Well, it'll probably still be cheaper than drilling a whole in your head," Mulder shrugged. It made Scully chuckle.
"I keep forgetting how much you need me," she observed.
"You shouldn't," he said seriously.
"Do you want to come back in the evening with a dinner?" Scully offered. "I'm not in the mood for cooking."
"Sure," Mulder agreed. "What do you want me to make?"
"I want you to pick up Chinese," she smiled. "Or something else if you prefer, I don't really care, as long as you don't cook."
"Ok," Mulder played with her hair, watching her intently for signs of weakness, of strength, of anything that would help him decide what was the right thing to do. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't want to treat her like a child who can't take care of herself either. Where was he supposed to draw the line?
"Ok," he decided. "I'll be back later, but keep your phone with you, even in the shower, 'cause I'll be calling you every five minutes and if you don't answer…"
"I'll be fine," Scully tried to assure him.
"You damn well will be," Mulder agreed. "I'm just going to require proof of that. Every five minutes. I'm not kidding."
"How about every hour?" Scully suggested.
"Fifteen minutes?"
"Forty-five."
"Half an hour."
"I… okay."
"Half an hour it is."
Mulder got up, briefly kissing her cheek on the way to the front door. She watched him leave and her heart sunk into her shoes. The prospect of being alone, in the place where it all happened, was terrifying and paralyzing. She wanted to run away and never come back, but it was her life, it was all she had. She had to face it, the sooner the better. Besides, Mulder would be only a phone call away…
"Mulder," she stopped him. He turned around, his hand already on the door knob, and waited to hear what she had to say.
"Every half hour," she reminded him. "Don't forget."
"I won't," he promised.
"Thank you," she nodded. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"Don't thank me, Scully," Mulder said. "Because I'm not done yet. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go not cook us a dinner."
With that, he left.
Scully went to the door to lock it after him, and then she just stood there, shaking and fighting for breath, but she was fine.
She had to be.
For him.
She owed him as much.
