Mulder had finally sought out Scully at eleven o'clock the previous night, and she jumped from her doze at his touch to her shoulder. She had looked around and noticed that the children were gone from the room, but when she jumped up, he had shaken his head lightly. "They're fine, Scully, they're all asleep now. And I think you should be, too. There's nothing more for us to do tonight."
Too tired to argue, and not seeing a reason to since the children were in bed anyway, she had let him lead her to the car, and as soon as she had reached the motel, had all but passed out in exhaustion over the incredibly long and demanding day.
The following morning at nine, she found herself in back in the hospital in the children's Psych Services therapy room. It was painted in bright primary colors, the shiny enamel disguising the flimsy hospital walls below, and books, toys, stuffed animals and dolls were stuffed to overflowing on the shelves lining the perimeter. None of this seemed to interest the Love children now, though; they sat huddled in a child-sized denim sofa, their eyes still vacant, but momentarily clearing when they blinked. A tight knot had fastened itself on the inside of her throat, and with each of their slow blinks, she swallowed painfully. She watched them, clutching onto a plush lion she had pulled from one shelf in the hopes of interesting them. It hadn't worked; they had glanced at it with passive interest, but that was it. She exchanged a look with Ms. Kern, who was still trying to engage them by asking them what their favorite colors were, what was their favorite subject at school, weren't they excited to see their friends again?
All at once, Scully knew what to ask, and she understood that in that moment she was absolutely channeling Mulder, and his ability to intuit the essential questions. She could feel him there with her, and it was least of all because he was on the other side of the viewing window.
"Winnie," she said suddenly, cutting across Ms. Kern, who abruptly stopped and gave her a questioning look. "Do you know who Petey is?"
Immediately, all the Love children stared at her, agog and with pupils dilated.
"You know Petey?" the littlest one Mikey asked slowly and incredulously, as if just rousing from his afternoon nap.
"I do know Petey," Scully answered him with an encouraging smile.
"He's my frien'," Mikey announced with slightly more lucidity in his baby voice, and his two older siblings nodded slowly. "We played good guys an' bad guys and hide 'n' seek!"
Ms. Kern surveyed the children with amazement over the way they had suddenly all snapped to attention, but remained a silent observer.
"He's the one who saved us," Winnie offered dazedly, speaking for the first time. Her eyes still hadn't completely focused, and she looked as if she were still in a waking dream.
"How did he save you?" Scully pressed gently, her heart fluttering in her chest with excitement and anxious anticipation.
"He saved us from the thing outside our room, and took us to the nice place," Jon answered in the same high monotone as his sister.
"And how old is Petey?" Scully asked, hearing Mulder's question coming from her lips again.
"OLD!" Mikey shrieked emphatically, the clarity in his eyes sharpening, and Scully nodded (Peter Love would be about 40, according to the NCMEC records).
But Winnie and Jon both shook their heads, their eyes closed lightly and small creases in their brows.
"No. . .he wasn't that old," Winnie answered finally, dreamily. "He was 12 like me. . ."
Scully was interrupted mid-thought with this unexpected revelation, unable to process it in a way that made any sense. If it was indeed Peter Love who had taken them, they wouldn't be looking for a 12-year-old at all. So then, who was this mysterious other Petey? She automatically looked up at the viewing window, and though she couldn't see Mulder to exchange a glance with him, she knew he was watching keenly, and would register her reaction.
". . .So it was funny. . ." Winnie went on, turning her face slowly like pulling an oar through deep water, so that her wide eyes fixed on Scully's own.
"What was funny?" Scully asked softly, though her mind was still on the 12-year-old. Perhaps it was another, previous victim and the name was simply coincidental?
When she came back to the moment, she was suddenly startled to see the young girl appearing more present than she had yet.
The eldest of the Love children had cocked her head to one side and was giving Scully an appraising look, before she leaned forward and confided with full awareness, "He wanted me to stay and be his Mommy."
Icy chills immediately raced down Scully's back and arms at that brief sentence, and she gave an involuntary shudder and found herself hugging the lion against her chest subconsciously.
"Don't be sad," cooed Mikey, making the first real move of any of them as he pitched forward off the small denim couch and crawled into her lap with the lion. "It was funnn, lotsa fun! And Petey was funny." He gave a husky giggle, and Scully felt the strain in her throat tighten even more, as she fought not to squeeze all the breath out of the solid, warm little body in her arms. The result was that she was obviously holding herself too rigidly, so Mikey wriggled into her even more, as if trying to get the exact sort of comforting response she was holding back from giving.
"Agent Scully?" Ms Kern asked, clearly sensing something in Scully—discomfort, anxiety, sadness—but Scully nodded briefly at her, and allowed her to put her arms around the toddler, while trying to ignore the rush of. . .something. . .in her chest. What was Mulder thinking right then? Had he even noticed this moment of internal struggle?
She cleared her throat. "Winnie. . .did he say why he wanted you to be his-his mommy?"
Winnie shrugged, seeming to withdraw into herself again.
This time Jonathan piped up, his voice becoming steadier and less vague as well. "He said he wanted to just be a kid forever, because being a grown-up is too hard—" How astute, Scully thought "—but that he missed having someone take care of him. He said being a kid wasn't nearly as fun if you didn't have someone to take care of you."
"But I didn't want to!" Winnie suddenly whimpered, looking up into Scully's eyes as if pleading for her understanding. "I said, But who would take care of us?" Her face was becoming red and flushed, and tears started to stream down her cheeks. "I'm just a kid too—I need my mom! I'm too young to take care of anyone, that's why I even needed a babysitter! It was true, I was too young, Mommy was right!" Her voice was rising steadily in pitch from panic. "But she's dead, isn't she? I know she is! And Daddy, too!"
Winnie launched herself from the couch and began to pace around the room before finally curling herself up in a ball on a large overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the room, where she sobbed chokingly and disconsolately. Apparently the recollection of what had happened before they had disappeared had fully shaken her from the vague stupor in which she and her brothers had arrived.
In Scully's lap, Mikey began to cry as well and burrowed his face in the crook of her arm, while Jon just looked on in mute shock, his face colorless and grief-stricken.
"I want to go back," he whispered to no one, and then his face crumpled and he began to cry as well. "I want to go back to the place with Petey."
Scully felt as if her hollow expression probably reflected those of the distraught children, and clearly Ms. Kern noticed it too, because she held her arms open and indicated that she hand Mikey over, a sympathetic expression in her eyes. Wordlessly, Scully gathered up the little boy and passed him to the guardian, despite how he grabbed fists of her blouse's fabric tightly in his hands so that they needed to be gently disengaged. Breaking him apart from Scully caused him to squall even more loudly, and call out in an increasingly hysterical wail, "Mommy, Mommy, MOMMY!"
Suddenly, she had to get out of the room. The children's raw pain at having lost their parents complemented her own grief too well, and she didn't trust herself to stay much longer. Either she might make a completely inappropriate and compulsive decision such as offering to foster them, or she would lose all sound judgment on the case itself—and neither were options. Collecting her belongings hastily, she stood from the chair and made her way quickly to the door without a word. She knew she was leaving Ms. Kern mystified, but she didn't care, and frankly the woman had bigger issues on her hands that the strange behavior of some FBI agent.
On the other side, she leaned against the wall, feeling her heart hammer in her ribs against the cool hospital wall, and she struggled to catch her breath and control her face before she had to meet with the rest of the team. Then suddenly Mulder was by her side, and she wanted nothing more than to give in to his warm, concerned presence and fall into the solid encompass of his arms, but she knew that once she let herself dissolve like that, any chances of her being able to go forward in a subjective manner would be destroyed. Instead, she went the opposite direction and steeled herself, and refused to return his tender expression.
She raised one eyebrow at the general vicinity of his shoulder, not quite making eye contact, which would also break down her resolve in seconds. "So what did you gather from that, Mulder?" she asked, quickly directing the conversation. "Are we looking for a previous kidnapping victim that was kept in the same location? I would dismiss the story about the 12-year-old, except that they all seem to agree upon it. But that doesn't necessarily prove that this person existed. . .Their state upon arrival indicates that they would have been open to suggestibility, though I can't imagine to what end the—
"Are we going to play that whole game where we pretend you're fine right now? I really thought we were past this," he snapped at her, interrupting her somewhat nervous delivery with narrowed eyes. Since they had started to sleep with each other, he had become much more comfortable calling her out on something, as opposed to tiptoeing around the subject for fear of getting in over his head emotionally.
She bristled immediately, her defenses up. "No, we're playing that game where we pretend that we're actually professional," she retorted, immediately betraying that she wasn't actually nearly as cool as she was trying to depict.
Mulder shook his head in annoyance. "Scully, I saw what happened in there, and I don't think it makes you unprofessional to step back from this a little. The kids are fine now, and that was our prime objective. You can slacken the reins, okay?" He placed a hand on her shoulder as if trying to physically press his request into her.
Scully felt a flush of irritation at the patronizing tone and glared at him, then shrugged. His hand slid off and dropped to his side. "We still don't know what happened to them, who's responsible, or if they really are fine," she pointed out. "I don't think it's appropriate for me to indulge in my own personal matters when there's still plenty of case I'd like to follow through."
Mulder rocked back on his heels a little and looked up at the ceiling in obvious frustration. "I wouldn't call it indulging, Scully," he replied after a moment. "I would call it looking out for yourself."
"Yeah, well. . ." she answered, turning to leave. "Right now I need to look out for those kids. Like I've said all along, they're my priority."
"Well you're mine," Mulder answered softly, trying a second time for physical connection by catching her hand as she turned. She had to brace herself to prevent her lower lip from trembling. "I don't want you to burn out on this, Scully."
"I'm fi—"
"Don't," Mulder interrupted in hardened tone, not allowing her to finish her predictable sentence, and she pursed her lips and snatched away her hand. A moment later she felt rather childish, and blushed. "Look," she tried again. "I'm not pretending that this is easy, but it's nothing I can't handle. . . But you need to let me handle it, okay? My way."
Mulder looked as if he was ready to fight with her on that point, and she knew as well as if she's heard him, that he was thinking, Your way to handle things is to not handle them at all. But instead he just watched her for a long moment, then inclined his head to indicate they walk down the hall together.
Just when they had nearly reached the doorway to the waiting rooms and the slightly chilly silence had almost become too much for Scully, and she was trying to think of something—anything—to fill it, he spoke up. "Dissociative Disorder," he stated suddenly, apparently temporarily letting her off the hook through the change of subject. "Do you know about it?"
Scully grasped onto this offering immediately, grateful to be back in charted territory, and without the intense and knowing probe of his eyes.
"Yeah. . ." she nodded. "It's when a person experiences a sense of detachment—either to his or her person or surrounding—or even goes so far as to construct alternate realities as a coping mechanism in response to some type of trauma."
"Right," Mulder concurred. "Mild cases are diagnosed relatively often, while the more extreme cases may present as the controversial 'Dissociative Identity Disorder'—so-called 'Multiple Personality Disorder.'" He stopped short at the exit and turned back towards her with bright eyes that foretold of another 'spooky' yet unnervingly accurate leap. "Scully, I've been thinking, and when I heard the kids' statements, something clicked: what if we're seeing, for lack of a better word, the extreme of an extreme case?"
She tilted her head and waited for the usual thrill of hearing a bizarre new theory to distract her from the painful details of the case. She hadn't confided this to him—at least not yet—but their intellectual repartees had been one of the main reasons she'd fallen in love with her partner, so she had come to relish and even need them. She certainly needed the relatively routine and familiar exchange (how ironic, considering the subject matter, but it was. . .) to anchor her now.
"In Dissociative Disorders, it's thought that the so-called 'multiple identities' represent various elements in one's own cohesive personality," Mulder explained, and she was with him so far, but knew it was only a matter of time before his theory veered off. "In Peter Love's case, I believe that he only had two overwhelming aspects to his personality, which vied for control. One side of him yearned to return to the happy, carefree and innocent days of his childhood, while the other just wanted to lose himself in the oblivion of his rage and hurt, and lash out at everyone he blamed for inflicting such horrors on him, including his parents and older brother. I think that it all came to a head one night."
"The night Peter Love disappeared the second time?" Scully asked, wondering if Mulder was going to actually build a theory from hearsay based on what an already-traumatized kid saw in the middle of the night.
"Precisely," Mulder nodded enthusiastically, apparently not seeing any problem with doing just that. "You mentioned the construction of alternate realities. . ."
She was always amazed and even grudgingly impressed at how he took her words describing accepted scientific fact, and through them, managed to make it seem as though she were validating his outer-limit theories. She could also now see where this was going, and shifted from one foot to another, waiting to hear the actual words.
"Well," he continued, "what if Geoff witnessed the moment when Peter Love's personality finally split into his two opposing parts, and each of these fully-manifested personas was able to literally escape into his own 'alternate reality?'"
This is what she had been expecting, but she was stunned nonetheless, proving that after seven years, she still had not become inured to his ideas. "Mulder," she said, when she'd found her voice after a minute, "I already have a hard time buying Multiple Personality Disorder as it is. . . !"
"The more child-likesplit of his identity created a place where he was able to recover a semblance of innocence, and remain suspended in childhood forever," Mulder elaborated insistently. "The seemingly-innocuous themes of the games Mikey Love mentioned—'Good Guys and Bad Guys, and Hide and Seek'—show that Peter Love could never escape the traumatic events, but he could take out the fear. But," he added, giving Scully a significant look, "all that horror, and trauma, and rage, and despair had to go somewhere."
"Hence the other identity?" she asked resignedly, already knowing how he would answer.
"It's Yin and Yang, Scully," he concurred with one deep nod. "Whereas the Light side wanted to rescue the children and shelter them in the safe world he had created, Peter Love's Dark side only sought to destroy everyone and everything that he came upon, either intentionally (as I think is the case of Dr. Love and Van Hoek), and accidentally (as I think would have been the case with the kids)."
Scully watched him for another moment, then felt a sardonic half-smile play on her lips, and she realized with a start that this exchange was definitely working to distract her, though as soon as she understood it she flitted her thoughts back to the present, so as not to derail its success.
"Mulder, don't you think it's much more likely that the kids were taken by the adult Peter Love, and that they were just confused? Occam's Razor, Mulder. . .between two explanations, the simpler one is usually the correct one. . ."
"True, but your theory doesn't explain it. It can't account for how the killer and abductor got into locked areas."
Scully sighed. Yes, that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? "Okay, let's say for the moment that you're-you're actually correct in this theory. Just for the sake of argument, why now? Why forty years later, Mulder? Taking out all the fantastical elements again for a moment, one could suppose that it was either the sight of Geoff Love in the magazines, as we've discussed—or perhaps the timing of Van Hoek's release from prison. . ."
But Mulder was already shaking his head, and so she just trailed off and gave him a 'what, then?' stare.
"Both those theories are sound, but the fact is you just can't take the ' fantastical' out of this. . .and with that in mind, something Dr. Mitfuhlend said strikes me as having especial significance."
They locked eyes and Scully waited for it, but just when she raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to prompt him, he continued.
"He mentioned that Geoff was shaken by an experience in the lab one night when he was there on his own. . .Scully, I agree with Mitfuhlend, and think that Geoff was lying about a failure, and was actually terrified. I suspect that far from having failed, he had succeeded: he had in fact finally broken through the 'boundary of human knowledge' but on the other side, he somehow accessed his brother's parallel realities. No—no, I can't explain how," he forestalled Scully, when she started to jump in, a million rebuttals racing in her mind. "But I believe something along those lines happened that night. And though it terrified him, I think he was still resolved to fully understand it, and how his area of study, teleportation, related to it. Also he probably wanted to know the converse: how so-called replacement transference could perhaps explain what happened to his brother."
He touched her arm and gave her a small, personal smile. "By finally being able to explain it in scientific terms, I think he felt he'd be able to get some closure. Unfortunately—" he continued in a more solicitous voice, "I don't think he realized the repercussions of his actions that night. . .He wasn't nearly as terrified as he should have been."
There was a momentary silence that seemed especially deafening in the empty hallway, as Scully tried to process all she had just heard, and organize her thoughts in response.
Finally she responded, "So, just to clarify, you're basing your entire theory on the suppositions that one, what Mitfuhlend said Geoff witnessed as a teen is actually valid, which takes quite a leap of faith in and of itself, and two, Mitfuhlend's personal interpretation is correct: that Love hadn't failed that night, but had been terrified by something?"
"And the statements of the Love children," he added, but she just shook his head dismissively. None of this so-called evidence would even come close to getting through a prelim hearing if this were a court.
"After this sort of trauma it's natural that they might not remember what exactly has happened," she replied, and got a sudden flashback of the glassy, staring eyes. "They're in shock and were possibly even drugged and open to suggestion. I mean, come on Mulder! Let's base our conclusions on a bit more hard evidence, shall we?"
As soon as she finished, he jumped in. "Something like physical evidence?" he asked, in a tone a little too eager for her liking.
"Ye-e-es," she answered slowly. "If we had a theory backed by physical evidence, that would of course be ideal."
"How about that dust we found everywhere?" he immediately rejoined.
"What about it?" she countered, wondering where he could be going with this. "We still don't know what it is."
"True, but we know what it's made out of," he retorted triumphantly, looking like he'd been waiting for just the right moment to spill this news, and it had finally come. "When you were waiting with the kids, the lab came back with a spectrum analysis. Titanium Dioxide, Zinc Oxide, Bismuth Oxychloride, Iron Oxide, and prolactin," he recited, and though she was thrown by this news, she had to admire how fluently he rattled off the compounds. Maybe she was rubbing off him somewhat. She'd sometimes believed, at her most frustrated times, that he was steadily changing her, but that she never changed him, and despite loving him, she'd felt worried and lost by the thought. She was impressed now, but also knew that he was going to do it again: use scientific ingredients to build a bizarro pie.
"Did you ever watch Sesame Street, Mulder?" she asked, and she got the satisfaction of seeing her own nonplussed expression appear on his face. Ha.
He looked at her for a moment then blinked, the only indication that he was slightly thrown, then answered, "It was a little after my time, but Samantha did, why?"
"Well 'which one of these things is not like the other?' The first several chemical compounds you mention—Titanium Dioxide, Zinc Oxide, Bismuth Oxychloride, Iron Oxide—make sense together. They can all account for the shimmer and/or consistency of the so-called dust we've found. But the presence of prolactin is strange. It's a peptide hormone primarily associated with lactation, but is also thought to cause to decrease levels of sex hormones in humans (estrogen for women and testosterone for men), lower sex drives, and delay hair growth in young bo—" She stopped at the smug expression on Mulder's face.
"So it would be fair to say that it's possible that an individual who hyper-produces this hormone might remain physically and perhaps sexually underdeveloped—young—due to lowered testosterone, suppressed sex drive, and a delay in certain hair growth patterns?
Scully knew what he was up to immediately and tried to make a preemptive strike. "Mulder, no one could possibly assert that with any credibility, without conducting trials, tests—"
"Just, 'for the purposes of argument,' he repeated back at her, "is it possible?" he repeated.
"Mulder, I—" she sighed deeply, seeing the trap laid out and resignedly stepping into it anyway. "Fine. But again, only or the sake of argument. I'm not agreeing with you here—"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he jumped in, and she gave a short nod.
"But yes, if a young boy were dosed with this chemical, it is feasible it would delay puberty. But only delay, Mulder, and it wouldn't suppress physical development, just sexual. So the child would continue to look outwardly normal, he just wouldn't be able to gain an erection or grow hair on his chest."
Mulder bit his lip, his eyes sparkling, looking as if he was trying exceptionally hard to refrain himself from saying something, most likely because it was completely inappropriate at the moment. But she knew what he was thinking nonetheless, and rolled her eyes.
"Anyway," she said, "if he did just flit off with the Love children into this alternate reality he'd created—"
"I never used the word 'flit,' Scully."
"Fine. If Peter Love's 'innocent' persona wanted to protect the children from going through what he had experienced, why are they back? Why wouldn't they stay there in this state of alleged bliss, knowing that they have no one at all waiting for them here?"
"I believe that the entire point of Peter's constructed world is that it is sheltered and free from horrors of any sort, and unfortunately the Love children arrived there tainted by their grief and lack of innocence after being present in the house when their parents and babysitter were butchered. Because they weren't innocents, the only role left for them was that of parent—mother—but they couldn't fulfill those roles either, because they were too young. Ultimately, I believe they were too complex and flawed for that Never-Neverland-type utopia."
An answer for everything, she thought, but said nothing.
He put an arm around her and guided her out through the door to face the rest of the team, who were milling about on Blackberries or chatting in sotto voices. As soon as she came through the door, though, they stood up and looked at her with expressions of concern, and it irked her. What did they think—throw a couple of vulnerable kids into the mix and Agent Scully goes into some sort of female, maternal overdrive? It didn't matter that it was truer than they could ever know—the principle of the matter was that they shouldn't assume it. She frowned, and cleared her throat.
"We had to end the interview," she informed them in as carefully detached a voice she could muster. "They became hysterical, and it's clear that no more information may be gleaned until they become calmer, and speak to a therapist with Child Services."
"No 'more'?" Montes asked. "So you did learn something?"
"Actually, we—" Mulder started, but Scully immediately jumped in:
"As I said, the children are in a state of severe emotional stress right now, and they were somewhat incoherent." She knew he'd inwardly chafe at the interruption, but she wasn't ready to have Mulder unveil his theory yet; they still had some more talking to do partner to partner.
"Agent Scully thinks that the statements the children gave should be taken with more than just one grain of salt after the ordeal they faced, but in fact they all agreed on certain key points," Mulder managed to break in nonetheless, with a look in her direction she couldn't interpret.
Oh, here it comes, Scully thought, and this time she didn't see a tactful way to derail him. She felt the familiar flush of embarrassment start, though it wasn't nearly as keen as it used to be. Now she was almost more fascinated by Mulder's absolute willingness to look foolish in order to defend what he believed, and her respect of him for that almost outweighed any peripheral embarrassment. Almost.
"All three children referred to a 'Petey' as being present with them, and this is obviously the same first name as Geoff Love's brother, Peter Love—himself a victim of kidnapping and childhood trauma. The NCMEC records indicate that law enforcement had originally believed that Peter Love was a runaway; it was only the statement of Geoff Love—who described a second assailant the night he vanished—that changed the status of the case. But he could've misrepresented what he saw to the police, and I think that now that we've found his fingerprints at the scene, there can be no doubt that Peter Love is alive, and somehow involved. Scully has two separate theories as to what prompted the attack at this time, but I'm still open to other ideas, and still curious as to how Geoff Love's work could have played a part in explaining how someone could get into an apparently locked room."
Scully was stunned at what she was hearing. What had happened to the total willingness to look foolish in order to assert what he believed? His explication had been rational and feasible, and he had mentioned nothing of constructed alternate realities and two opposite yet complementary personas. There was only a token-like hint of the strange at the end, but it was far from the controversial theory he had shared with her.
She gave him a quizzical look and he looked mildly back, and when she turned to the group she saw them actually all nodding thoughtfully, an incredibly rare phenomenon in response to a Mulder theory.
"We were thinking along those same lines ourselves, Mulder," O'Brien agreed. "Now that we know the brother is alive, it all fits. Well, except for the answer of how he got into the house. Ideally we could answer it and forestall a good defense lawyer from getting him off that way, but sometimes there are just some things you can't answer. . ."
Welcome to my life, Scully thought, while still watching Mulder for a hint of what he was thinking.
"So do you think Peter Love is responsible for both crimes, then?" Montes pressed him, and her partner nodded slowly.
"I do think Peter Love murdered the parents in a fit of homicidal rage, and I think Pete is responsible for the kids' disappearances," he answered carefully, and the other agents didn't seem to notice the slight disparity, but Scully did. So he wasn't lying about what he thought, but he certainly wasn't telling them the whole truth of his theory, either.
"Well we obviously need to get a warrant for Peter Love so I'll set up a meeting with Park ASAP to go over our evidence—and notify SFPD so they don't cry foul," O'Brien said, and the others nodded solemnly.
"I'll get on it," Jamie volunteered, and he turned away from the others to get on his phone. "Agent Parks please. It's Jamie with a status update and a liaison request. . ." she heard him say, before Montes spoke up again.
"We should get back to the office to put things in motion—you guys coming?"
"Yeah, I'll just grab a ride with Mulder," Scully answered quickly, glad to have another few moments alone with her partner to find out what had just happened.
"What the hell was that about, Mulder?" she launched as soon as they had buckled their seatbelts, and while watching the mirror as he reversed, he answered without looking at her:
"That was me doing us both a favor."
She waited another minute for him to elaborate, but when he didn't she sighed through her nose and said, "Okaaay?"
"I'm not such a megalomaniacal egomaniac that I don't see how my theories are received Scully, and we're already walking a tightrope with Agent Park, not to mention the inter-jurisdictional mess that resulted from the interview with Zydek yesterday. So I just figured they didn't need to know about all the details we discussed. . ."
"Are you saying that you're finally going to be diplomatic?" she asked, her eyebrows quirked in disbelief, not daring to believe what she was hearing.
"No—no. I'm the same stubborn ass I've always been," he quickly answered, and she was surprised at how strangely reassured she felt at hearing it, despite how many times she had entreated that he keep his nose clean. "But in the interest of wrapping up this case quickly, I felt that I needed only mention the points that are still relevant to this case. The kids are back now, and I don't think that the one responsible is any threat anymore—not that he ever really was. . .
"So as far as I'm concerned, the FBI case is closed. If they want to link back with SFPD to mutually try and track down the real threat—the corrupted side of Peter Love—then fine, but I'm not sure that we can be any additional help at this point. The only thing I can do is talk to Larry Mitfuhlend, and encourage him to continue his work, and maybe find a way to close Pandora's Box. I think he's our best chance at ending this thing."
"Mulder, why do you want to wrap this case up so quickly?" she asked suspiciously, that one phrase having stood out in her mind. He had never been one to walk away from what he believed to be a legitimate open case, so why would he now? "Why aren't you going to try to stay on the team and work with the SFPD until we track this thing down—whatever it is. It's still an X-File!"
"After our one interaction with the Chief, I somehow doubt SFPD is going to open its arms to me again. But as to why I want to wrap it up, that much should be obvious."
His eyes left the road for a moment to cast her a significant look, but she averted her gaze and stared out the window, beginning to seethe. She had thought that she'd made it clear that she wanted to handle this on her own—besides, they had come onto a case regarding kidnapped children, so of course they were her top priority. Why was he turning it all around on her? She pursed her lips and kept her head turned, and she heard him sigh heavily next to her, but he continued the drive in silence.
"Mulder, please don't walk away from a case just on the notion—misguided, I might add—that I'm can't handle this case," she told him a minute later. "Once again, for the record, I can."
He didn't immediately respond—just slightly raised his eyebrows, and she didn't know if she was relieved, or felt like drawing him into a confrontation. Mostly she was just frustrated at his obvious skepticism, and though she could admit that she wasn't being truthful to herself, it deeply bothered her that he wasn't giving her the benefit of the doubt.
"We're not 'walking away,'" he spoke, just when she became convinced they were going to spend the rest of the ride in silence. "We've done what we came to do: we've thoroughly investigated the case and come to our own conclusions, and I passed what I see as the relevant information on to the home-team. Now I'm tying up some peripheral loose ends with Dr. Mitfuhlend. And, most importantly, the kids are back and apparently safe besides the obvious hardship of losing their parents. So no, I don't think we're walking away."
"Well what about what I want?" she bristled. "I told you I'd like to see this through, Mulder. I want to be able to talk to the kids some more when they're calmer, and I'm invested in seeing Peter Love in custody and questioned."
"Due to precisely who/what Peter Love is, I'm not sure that will ever happen, Scully," Mulder said. "So now is as good a time as any for us to wrap it up. . .and maybe take a few days off. Come on, what do you think," he said, his tone suddenly softer, warmer. "Jjust the two of us, driving up the coast and catching some minor league baseball ga—"
"Mulder, this is not the time," Scully cut him off sharply, shaking her head. She was in no mood to be emotionally blackmailed by the promise of unfettered quality time between the two of them in the future, in exchange for giving up ground now. She hoped it was just bad timing on his part, and not a cognizant manipulation, but either way, she was not pleased.
Her interruption seemed to have cut him, and now he too stared moodily ahead, while she glared out the side window. This time the remainder of the ride was silent, and until they reached the federal building, Scully felt a sort of awkwardness that she hadn't known with Mulder since the days before they had finally confronted their feelings for each other. Back then, every touch or lingering eye contact was fraught with agonizing internal bouts of angst and confusion—what does it mean. . .does he feel the way I feel. . .what would the consequences be. . .
She had thought that when they became involved, she'd never feel that uncertainly again, but now she faced the challenge of a new type of intimacy: emotional. Striking the balance between being seen as a strong and capable partner and an honest and committed woman in a relationship was proving much more difficult than she could have ever expected. When she didn't think it would affect their work, she often opened up to him, and she had even done so earlier in the case. But now, even though ultimately she wanted nothing more than to confide in him, she feared for the loss of equality in their partnership that would come about from this protectiveness of her. If they weren't also FBI partners, she would have let him into all her thoughts by now, but they were, and she could not threaten their dynamic due to her own personal issues.
This time, neither of them spoke until they reached the Federal Building.