January 2018
Scully trudged bone wearily, up the front steps to their, no ... not theirs - Mulder's home. For some reason that thought made her feel sadder than all that had transpired the last few days. This was still not her home. It was not theirs.
Not yet.
She stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned against the railing of the porch. She held the videotape in her hand, not wanting to part with it for any reason. Mulder was grabbing things out of the car. She could hear the doors opening and closing, but she stared straight ahead, her eyes landing on the one lone chair that sat on the porch.
Everything about the house these days screamed bachelor pad not home the way it had when she was there. It was still cozy, she still the place she knew by heart, but she felt out of place, like a visitor and not an inhabitant.
She closed her eyes as she heard his steps crossing the grass, then falling on the stairs. She looked up as he approached, and he gave her a quizzical look.
"Why didn't you go in?" he asked, opening the screen door.
"I don't have keys," she said softly.
He looked back at her, his hand ready to put his key in the lock. Again, the same quizzical look and then sadness in his eyes for a second.
"My keys are inside. I met up with you, remember? My car is over there and I didn't need my keys with me while we were gone," she said, trying to ease his worries that she had not meant she no longer had keys to their home. His home. Shit.
He held her gaze as he unlocked the door and then waited while she went in ahead of him. She looked around as she walked in, the place cleaner than the last time she had been there. The Bigfoot impression was still on the coffee table, but free of the Goop-O it once held. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of what they had done instead of eating the mass amounts of the, non-taint flavored Goop-O.
He set the bags down and put his wallet and keys on the desk. Oh, she had not noticed that he brought her bag in, too. Her heart fluttered at that fact, at the hopefulness it showed in him.
She stood in the middle of the room, looking around. She missed it here, every time she visited. The creaky stairs, the drafty room in which she was always cold and he was always just right, the burner on the stove that always gave her problems, the mountain of items stacked haphazardly all over, threatening to tip over at any minute, she missed it all. This was home, not her place at Alan's.
Lost in her thoughts, she had not noticed Mulder moving around the room. She looked over at him as she heard him saying her name.
"What?" she asked, shaking her head slightly.
He gave her a small smile, as he knelt on the floor, and put out his hand. "Let me have the videotape, Scully," he said softly.
He had moved the television out while she had not been paying attention. He had the VCR on and was ready for the tape. He actually had both VCR's out. Mulder was the only person she knew who still had not only one, but two working VCR's.
He put in a tape and then again reached a hand out to her. "I want to make a copy, just in case. And then ... that way we ... we both have one at both our places," he said, his hand out, but his head down.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat, determined not to cry, as she handed him the tape. She knelt next to him on the floor and lightly squeezed his hand. A thank you and an understanding squeeze, as he put in the videotape.
He pushed play and there was William again. She inhaled, still not believing she had spoken to him, but not him.
"You seem like a nice person. I wish I could know you better."
"Well. Safe travels."
"Umm ..." Mulder said, clearing his throat, looking down again. "I'm ... I'm gonna rewind it and see if we can pinpoint when he shows up and the record it to the other tape."
Scully nodded, again squeezing his hand. He picked up the remote and they sat cross-legged together, on the floor. He rewound it and they watched things moving backward. They saw them pulling out of the gas station, but the car William was using was still there.
Mulder kept rewinding it and they saw William moving around, pacing in front of the camera, looking at his watch, glancing at the road, standing around, looking around again, glancing directly at the camera. Then he got in his car and backed out of the frame.
"Okay," Mulder whispered, letting the tape go little further back and then pushing play again, and also pushing record on the other VCR.
They watched together as William pulled in, and sat for a few seconds before getting out of the car. When he did, he looked around, he gaze landing right on the camera and nodding.
"He knew it was there," Scully whispered, beginning to breathe faster, her heart pounding. Mulder nodded next to her.
He began to look around, glancing toward the windmill, then heading to the street, going out and then coming back into frame. He looked at his watch, glanced at the road again and then went inside the gas station.
A few minutes later, they pulled in and got out of the car. Mulder said he was going to the bathroom and Scully said she would pump the gas. He walked away and she began to get it ready.
William walked out and her focus was on his face, his expressions, and the way he looked at her. She was searching for any ill feelings, hard looks, or any hatred. Her heart pounded as she did not see it. Could he possibly not harbor bad feelings toward her, while her own feelings of doubt and worry were always just below the surface? The hole inside her heart, that was forever present, had never properly healed.
She focused again as he drove away and Mulder was there on the screen. They ran out of frame and then came back, glancing at the camera and running toward the station. The taped stopped and they were silent.
Mulder stopped both tapes and looked at Scully. They stared at each other before he rewound it and they watched again. He paused it and they stared at William, looking at the smile on his face as he spoke to Scully.
"He was waiting for you, Scully," Mulder whispered.
"But how could he have been? Mulder, how could he know we would travel on that road? And at that particular time? What ... what if we hadn't shown up when we did?" she said, knowing the answer, but afraid to actually believe it.
"I think he would have kept waiting until we did. That snow globe with the windmill was part of your dream for a reason. He left it for you, knowing you would most likely take it. He was trying to tell you something," he said, looking at her, watching her face.
She stood up and paced around the room. She knew he was right, the evidence was right in front of her eyes. He had been waiting for them, or more specifically, for her. She stopped pacing and looked at him.
"He can disguise himself as anyone, Mulder. How? How can he do that?" she asked, so many questions and uncertainties surrounding him, as she shook her head.
"I don't know, Scully," he began, but she cut him off.
"And he looked right at the camera, he must have known it would show the real him. If he knew that, why ... why did he not just appear as himself? If he knew he would be on video, why hide that way? Why … disguise himself, if he knew ... if he planned ..." she could not go on. She knew the answer to these questions too, but she needed to ask them anyway.
He stood up, glancing at the frozen image on the television screen. She looked too, and saw the smiles on both of their faces. They were happy, content.
"Scully," Mulder said quietly, pulling her attention from the video. "What would you have done if it was him, as himself, in front of you?"
She looked into his eyes and she knew he knew the answer the same as she did. She would have been unable to be as collected as she liked to imagine she would be. She would have undoubtedly terrified him with her desire to want him close, to hold him, to convince him to come with them.
She knew Mulder knew what she wanted. She fought back tears, exhaling through her nose, and shrugging her shoulders. Finally, she dropped her head, and sighed.
"I ... just ... Mulder, I wanted my chance to ... tell him I was sorry. To ... apologize ... to explain why I couldn't keep him. Why we couldn't keep him. I didn't get my chance, Mulder," she said, a sob rising up in spite of her efforts to keep it down.
He pulled her to him and she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She cried softly for a few minutes, as he rubbed her back, murmuring to her.
"You did tell him, Scully. He heard you," he said into her hair, when she had quieted down. "I was there as you spoke to him. He heard every word you said to him."
"I said that to what I thought was his corpse, Mulder," she said, pushing back from him. "It's not the same ... not at all the same as face-to-face."
"Scully," he said, reaching for her, but she pulled away, not ready for his touch.
She felt that same feeling she had in the morgue, grossly inadequate saying all she needed to be say. Pouring out her heart, knowing she was too late, but needing him to know, to somehow hear her and have an idea of how sorry she was for everything. How every day away from him had been torture and his death being what brought them back together, felt like her heart had been scooped out and she was left with nothing inside.
She covered her face with her hands and cried. She knew she should be ecstatic he was alive. She should be celebrating his ability to apparently deceive everyone and escape. She was happy, very happy, but she still felt empty and hollow.
"I ... wanted to touch him," she said, through her tears. "I wanted to hold him. To see … see if he still smells the way I remember. I know that it's crazy, and I no longer have a claim to him, but I wanted to know. I've missed so much … "
"Scully, he gave you all he could, in the only way he knew," Mulder said, not trying to touch her, but staring at her so kindly it made her ache. "He was scared. He doesn't know us or if he can trust us. I don't blame him for being precautious."
She knew he was right. She knew that she would have done the same if she was tailing a suspect. But this was different. This was her son they were seeing. Their son. She wanted to go back in time and grab him and never let go.
"He came to you at the hospital because he heard your words and wanted to see you," Mulder said quietly. "He wanted to get a feel for the kind of person you are. What better way to do that than see how you behave toward a stranger?"
Of course he was right. Observing the way people treat strangers was an indicator of character. It was smart of him, but she still felt cheated.
"He ... he had you find that snowglobe for a reason. Maybe he had this planned all along. Not hurting the girls, but finding you. Getting us out there because he wanted to see us, see you. He waited for us, that much is obvious. He had a plan, Scully."
She stared at him, her wild thoughts voiced by him, made her feel less crazy for imaging he wanted to see her, to know her. Jesus, William had said it plain as day, and he knew the surveillance camera would see the real him.
It was suddenly all too much and she felt as if she had hit a wall. She stepped close to Mulder again, wrapping her arms around his waist. He held her close, his head resting on top of hers.
"I'm tired, Mulder," she whispered, her ear close to his heart. He hummed and she closed her eyes.
She wanted to stay, but she felt that old hesitation. Worry about whether it was a good or bad idea. Screw it, she thought. She needed him tonight.
"I want to take a bath. Is that okay?" she asked, still against his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes.
She felt his breath catch and his heart beat faster. His hands stilled in their movements across her back. He breathed out and his hands began to move again, stroking her back, her hair.
"Scully, you don't need to ask. Whatever you want, whatever you need," he pulled back and held her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers, his thumbs lightly stroking her face. "Whatever you want, Scully," he whispered.
She moved her arms and placed her hands on his chest. She pulled gently on the lapels of the jacket he still wore and brought his mouth down to hers. She kissed him softly, feeling his hands moving to her hair.
She pulled back and laid her hands on his chest. He stared at her as he let his hands fall from her and stepped back. She sighed and headed for the stairs, taking her jacket off and laying in on the bannister.
"Do you want your bag?" he asked softly.
She turned to him and shook her head. "All the clothes in there are dirty." She held his gaze and she knew he understood what she was implying.
"You know where my shirts are," he said quietly, with a nod.
She nodded back and went upstairs. She crossed the threshold into their room and looked around. She had not been alone in their room in a long time. The books she had been reading were still on her nightstand. Four years and they were still there. She blinked back tears as she looked at them.
The bed had been hastily made, only one side rumpled. A half a glass of water was on his nightstand, along with books he was reading. There was also a photo of them they had taken a few years ago. They had been at a lighthouse on the Vineyard and they had asked a fellow tourist to take their picture. It was a windy day and chilly. They were bundled up and her hair was blowing in her face and in his. They were laughing and had their arms around each other. She loved that picture of them.
She stepped closer to it and picked it up, tracing her finger over their faces. She was looking at the camera, but he was looking at her. His eyes were so full of love, the way they always were when he looked at her. Except when he stopped looking at her, and looked instead, into the darkness.
She set the picture back down and walked over to the dresser. She opened what used to be one of her drawers, why she did not know. To turn the knife a little more maybe, and see the physical emptiness, as well as feel it.
When she opened it, she let out a breath. Inside lay a couple of t-shirts, a pair of leggings and some underwear. They were clothes she had not worn in years, but they were there, as if waiting for her return. They must have been in the laundry and she forgot about them when she packed her things.
She touched them as she had the photo on the nightstand. The memories attached to something as simple as these items made her stomach hurt. She closed the drawer and walked into the bathroom, shaking her head. The past was gone and she did not want to keep living there, but she felt stuck in the middle. She shook her head and exhaled.
She turned the water on and started to fill the bathtub. She smiled softly as she watched it fill, remembering the day she had come home from work to an eager and smiling Mulder. He had been fairly bouncing as he pulled her upstairs. She was tired and not in the mood for sex, but he bypassed the bed and led her to the bathroom.
The new tub sat there, shiny and stocked with supplies- bubble bath, oils, body scrubbers. He filled the tub and helped her undress, taking her hand as she stepped in and sunk down in the water. He grinned at her and disappeared, returning with a glass of red wine and a calming cd playing on the portable player. She had soaked and relaxed, drinking her wine, then properly thanked him, all thoughts of exhaustion long gone.
She sighed, adding some of her bubble bath she found under the sink, still there after all this time. It made her feel the same way the books and the clothes had, confused and also happy.
She grabbed a towel and washcloth and took off her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She turned off the water, pulled her hair up in a messy bun, and stepped into the tub. She closed her eyes as she submerged all the way in, leaning her head against the back of the tub. The water was the perfect temperature, and the bubbles smelled wonderful. She took deep breaths and tried to stop her brain from overthinking everything.
There was a knock on the door and she opened her eyes. "Come in," she said softly.
Mulder stepped in and walked over to the side of the tub, a mug in his hand. He looked sheepish as he shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't have any wine in the house, but I made you some tea. It's chamomile. I don't have the sleepy kind. Guess I'll need to make a store run soon," he said, smiling slightly as he handed her the mug.
She felt tears in her eyes and blinked them back as she took the mug from him. She took a drink to try and push down the lump in her throat. It was just how she liked it, a touch of honey and not too hot.
"Thank you, Mulder," she said quietly, looking into his eyes.
He nodded and turned to leave the room. She reached out a hand and caught his in her own. He looked at her again and she held his eyes. She hoped she was conveying with her eyes what she could not seem to voice.
She swallowed and took a breath. "Thank you," she whispered, the words holding meaning for so many things. He nodded again and bent to place a kiss on top of her head. He squeezed her hand and walked out of the room.
She sat in the tub, drinking her tea, her eyes closed. Too much had happened in the past couple of days, she needed to stop thinking and relax. Assess what was true and move forward. William was alive, he had made contact with them and purposely made it known he was okay. She breathed a sigh of relief at that knowledge. She sent up a prayer that he would stay that way, but if he found himself in trouble, they would be there in time to help him.
She and Mulder were okay, both physically and emotionally. They were in a good place and for that she was most thankful. The two years they had been apart, before work brought them back together, felt like twenty. Every day she had missed him, the old Mulder and their old life. Working together again and seeing each other regularly, had given them that push they needed. They were so close now, she could feel it.
She stayed in the tub for a bit longer, adding more hot water when she felt it cooling off. She finished her tea and set the mug on the cupboard top behind her. She closed her eyes and settled in for a few more minutes. She used the washcloth and soap before pulling the plug and standing up.
She stepped onto the bath mat and grabbed her towel. She felt better now, the bath helping the way it always did. She wrapped the towel around her, opened the door, and stepped into the bedroom.
Mulder was not in bed, as she somewhat assumed he would be. He must have gone back downstairs. She stepped back over to her drawer and took out a pair of underwear, but left her shirts untouched, she wanted one of Mulder's.
She opened the closet and took out one of his shirts, a short sleeved, dark heather grey one, that was unbelievably soft from so many washes. She slipped it on and closed the closet door. The bedroom door opened and Mulder looked her up and down. She gave him a small smile, tugging on the shirt, feeling suddenly self conscious.
She had worn his shirts to bed thousands of times, but for some reason this felt different. He stepped closer to her, but did not touch her.
"I'm going to take a shower," he said quietly, looking her up and down again. She nodded as he headed for the bathroom.
"Scully?" he said, turning around and swallowing hard, as she looked at him. "I want you to stay." She frowned at him, tilting her head, and gesturing to her naked bottom half.
He smiled softly and shook his head. "No. I want you to stay. Don't leave in the middle of the night. Stay. Please?"
He stared at her, his countenance hesitant and unsure. He was holding his breath and she felt like weeping at the uncertainty on his face. She nodded and his body visibly relaxed. He breathed out and his smile widened.
"I'll be out in a few minutes," he said with a nod to her. He walked in the bathroom and shut the door halfway.
She heard the shower start and she went to her side of the bed and pulled back the covers. She slid in the bed and laid against the pillows. She sat up and took her hair out of the bun and leaned back again. That was better.
She closed her eyes as she listened to the shower running, the familiarity was overwhelming. He would be out soon, he rarely took long showers. She felt that sadness bubbling up again and she was anxious for him to come to bed, to hold her and tell her it would be okay.
The water turned off and she turned on her side facing away from him to give him time, the way he had for her. She heard him moving around, but she remained still. Finally, the light was shut off and she felt the covers lift and the bed dipped as he got in and laid down.
It was quiet. She knew she had to make the first move. She had to make it clear what she wanted and not feign sleep, although she doubted he thought she had fallen asleep so quickly. She turned toward him and he was lying on his side, staring straight at her. She could see his eyes in the moonlight through the window.
It made her think of him waiting on the other side of the motel room, knowing she would come to him. Tonight was different. She simply wanted to be held by him, kept safe in his arms, while the world may rage it's battles outside.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," he whispered back.
And then she was pulled into his arms. Her face in the crook of his neck, his hands stroking her hair and her lower back. She had an arm around his waist and one tucked to his chest. One of his hands went under her shirt and began to rub her bare skin, and that was all it took.
Within seconds her shirt was across the room and she had her mouth fused to his as he lay on top of her. She was pulling his hair and moaning into his mouth. He pulled back from her and looked in her eyes.
"Slow down, Scully. There's no hurry," he said, before he lightly kissed her.
She had tears in her eyes again. He knew her so well, he could read her like a book. She had wanted to go fast, feel something to replace the confusion and sadness she felt. But he knew it would not have been what she needed. God, she loved him.
He was kissing her neck and moving down her body. He took a breast into his hand and a nipple into his mouth. He ran his tongue around it in a circle before lightly biting it. She arched up into him and breathed his name. He did the same to the other and then moved farther down her body.
Of course she knew where he was headed, but tonight she did not want that from him. Considering they had just started to ramp this up, she was already incredibly wet. She was ready and she wanted to feel him and be filled by him. The only man who had ever made her feel loved and also completely aroused by simply looking at her.
"Mulder," she said closing her legs around him, and tugging on his hair. He looked up and she saw mild surprise on his face. "I just want you." He stared at her and then nodded.
He pulled her panties off and then his boxers. He settled back between her open legs and kissed her again. She could feel him hot and hard against her. She stroked her tongue along his and rocked her body, silently telling him what she wanted.
He leaned back and smiled at her. He trailed his fingers down her body and slid them inside her, making sure she was ready. She gasped and he looked at her with another surprised look. Yes, she was more than ready.
She watched as he took himself in hand, using the same one that had been inside her. He stroked himself a couple of times and she throbbed with anticipation. He did not keep her waiting long before he slid slowly into her. They both exhaled as he leaned forward, resting his head against hers, her legs wrapping around him.
He waited until she nudged him with her ankles. He raised his head and begin to slowly make love to her. He took his time, heightening both their pleasure, until she was crying out for more. She pulled him close and he started pumping faster.
So many thoughts swirled inside her head, but the one that kept coming front and center, was her love for him. How he could still affect her the way he did after all this time. How the feel of him inside her, made her feel complete and whole. Being with him in any way, but especially like this, made her feel like she was home. He was her other half. She knew it and had known for years. She was incomplete without him.
She began to cry, thinking about how much time they had wasted being apart. She tried to be quiet, but he heard her. He raised his head and stared at her. Tears ran down the sides of her face and into her ears. She could not stop them. It was as if a floodgate had been opened from this particular joining together.
He started to pull back and slip from her body, but she stopped him with her hands on his hips. He looked at her and shook his head, obviously not wanting to continue if she was upset.
"Please don't stop, Mulder. I need you. I need ... please," she cried as she held him to her. "I've missed this so much, please."
She was sobbing now, but still holding him and moving her hips to get him to go again. He moved them until they were side by side, still connected, but not moving yet. He stroked her hair, kissed her cheeks, wiped her tears, then held her to him.
She moved her leg over his hip, beseeching through her tears, for him to keep going. He moved a hand down her back to her waist and did what she asked. He began moving slowly, her tears falling on his neck as she cried.
She cried for the past and the decision she had to make alone and the sadness that followed it from which she could never fully escape. She cried for the happiness they had shared in this house, and the darkness that had been their undoing. She cried for the nights she had spent away from him and the time right now, when he would love her the way she wanted, while she sobbed in his arms.
"I'm sorry, so sorry," she cried over and over, meaning so many things. She heard him saying it back to her and she cried harder.
She knew he was close and she did not care that she would not get there with him. This was for him, for his strength and care of her for the last few days. She had no better way to thank him, to let him know how much his presence meant to her, than to give this to him.
"Scully," he said, in a strangled voice. He knew she was not close, and she knew he would not want it to happen that way, but his end was fast approaching.
"It's okay, Mulder. It's okay. Come, Mulder. Please," she whispered into his ear, her face tight against his neck.
He cried out as he did, holding her close as he spilled inside her, her name a mantra on his lips. More than his physical release, it felt as if he was giving her everything he had to give, breaking down another wall, and adding to their path toward each other.
Her tears were slowing, but still she clung to him. His body was as close to hers as she could get without sliding inside his skin. He smelled so good, like soap, Mulder, and home. She did not want to leave here again and yet, the path was still not complete. They were so close, a few more stones just needed to be placed.
Tonight though, they had gone far enough. They could take respite here and find solace. Her name still fell from his lips and she kissed his neck, tasting her tears. He stroked her hair as she felt him becoming flaccid inside her. She pulled him closer, her leg going higher on his hip.
"Scully," he whispered, pulling back a bit. He looked into her eyes and she smiled slightly. "You didn't ... I'm so sorry."
"No, Mulder," she said, touching his face. "Don't apologize. It's okay, I promise."
"I didn't want it to just be about me. You know I don't like that," he said, his expression serious. His hand moved toward her center and she stopped him.
"I can't right now. I ... I just can't," she said, bringing his hand to her mouth and kissing his fingers. "You gave me exactly what I needed, and I wanted to give you what you needed. It's okay, Mulder. There's no hurry, right?"
Hearing his own words said back he to him, he nodded, although his brow remained furrowed. She traced the lines with her fingers and he relaxed, closing his eyes. He shifted them again, moving from inside her body, but remaining in the same position.
Their breathing fell in sync as they lay holding each other. His heartbeat and his fingers running circles on her skin, relaxed her. The last thing she heard was his "I love you," before sleep claimed her.
She awoke in the morning, no longer in his arms. He was on his side facing away from her. The covers had slipped down and she could see his back, strong and muscly. She ached to touch him, but did not want to wake him just yet.
She slipped out of bed quietly and used the bathroom. She brushed her teeth with one of the extra toothbrushes she found under the sink. Years of traveling at a moments notice, had led to stockpiling items, even when it was no longer needed. She had at least four unopened toothbrushes at her own place. Old habits did indeed die hard.
She borrowed his brush and tried to make her hair a bit neater, before setting the brush down, and walking back to the bedroom. He was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took.
She slid back in bed, the sheets still warm from her body. She lay on her back and looked around the familiar room, the colors, the items, the man beside her and she began to smile. So much had changed in the past four years, but here, it was as if time stood still. The place was the same, albeit the aforementioned bachelor pad feel, but it still held the same memories and feel within its walls.
The man beside her was the one thing that had changed. She saw it, had in fact been seeing it for awhile. She was still hesitant and had her worries, but after these past few days, she felt a shift in him and in them.
Last night had been a cleansing of her soul and now she wanted to move forward. To focus on the good and not fixate on the bad. She had cried enough last night and now she wanted to be happy. To achieve a sense of normalcy in their crazy life. She closed her eyes and prayed for that chance.
Mulder suddenly stirred beside her, causing her to open her eyes. He took a deep breath and then relaxed before turning over quickly, his own eyes wild as he looked into hers.
"You're here," he said, his tone surprised, his eyes scanning her face.
"I'm here," she said with a smile.
He moved closer and stared at her, as she turned on her side to face him. His hair was wild and his cheek had a crease on it from his pillow. She thought he had never looked cuter or more sexy in her life. His eyes were darting all over her face, as if looking for a sign.
"Hey," he whispered, watching her eyes.
"Hey," she whispered back, a smile beginning to stretch across her face. He answered hers with one of his own, still searching, before she nodded.
He leaned closer and kissed her, lightly at first, but soon his tongue was asking for permission to enter. She gladly answered by opening her mouth and kissing him back. She felt her body respond immediately, the tears and sadness from last night, gone away in the early morning light.
He moved to lay between her legs and she felt him, already hard. He kissed her once more before pulling back and beginning to kiss across her jaw. He got to her ear and kissed before biting her earlobe. She shivered and he put his mouth to her ear.
"You taste minty," he breathed and she closed her eyes. Only he could arouse her with those words.
He kissed her throat, her chest, her stomach and her belly button. He stopped and looked up at her, his chin resting on her stomach. He asked her with his eyes if this was okay, if she was, and if they were. She stroked his face and smiled. He smiled back and began moving down her body once again.
This time, she did not stop him.