Mulder stared at the ceiling, watching absently as the shadows danced across the ceiling from whatever it was that was on the television. His gut was in knots. The anxiety from fighting with Scully was eating him alive.
He supposed he could call her. It probably wouldn't do any good, though. She was angry. What was worse is that she had every right to be.
The things he said to her…
It was unforgiveable.
They'd fought before. Several times over the years. This fight was distinctly different. This fight wasn't about their job or their perspectives on how a case should be handled.
This was personal.
Mulder knew that he'd cut her with his words. The look on her face… he couldn't get it out of his head. She looked like he'd slapped her; something he would never ever do.
He honestly wasn't sure if this could be fixed--if they could be fixed. He sure as hell couldn't blame her if he walked into the office Monday morning and found her stuff cleared out. It would kill him, but he couldn't blame her leaving.
Mulder snorted in derision. He'd all but begged her to leave him a few times over the years, telling her how much better off she would be without him. Now that it was a possibility, the idea of it was killing him.
Had he finally done it, finally pushed her away?
Scully deserved better than him. He was a shitty boyfriend, if that's what he was before now. He was a shitty partner.
Right now, he felt like a shitty person altogether.
He thought about just last week. They'd sat in a crappy motel room; the only light came from the TV they weren't watching. They'd talked. They'd laughed.
Those kinds of nights were what he lived for. Long before they ever got together in a romantic capacity, whether they were a couple or friends with benefits.
Even the thought of the phrase left a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn't just be friends with benefits with Scully. Part of him wondered if anyone ever could without falling in love with her.
She was everything in one miniscule, firecracker package. She was intelligent. Nurturing. Caring. Beautiful. Kind. Thoughtful. Funny.
He'd been in love before, but never like this. It was all consuming. Somewhere over the years, his priorities shifted. Everything he did, he did with her in mind. Whether she wanted to believe that or not.
His quest for the truth? He needed her by his side.
His search for his sister? He needed her to hold his hand.
When he was slightly sick, she was there with soup, Tylenol, and a thermometer.
When he was upset, she was there to listen to his ranting and raving.
When he was depressed, she held him.
Mulder didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself, should this be the end of that.
He'd all but called her unfaithful, treasonous. A liar.
Scully was none of those things and he knew it.
She was trying to protect him. He knew that now; now that he'd calmed down.
It had only been a few hours since they fought and the space between their common rage instantly built up their defenses. He'd worked so damn hard to take down those bricks she put up in a wall around herself. In an instant, the wall was rebuilt.
As Mulder recalled watching her peel away in her government-issued sedan, leaving him to call a Taxi, his heart sank all over again. He'd been livid. He'd been scared. She'd been taken from him before by this cigarette smoking son of a bitch. This time, she went with him willingly; left no way for him to reach her.
He'd panicked.
Take his job. Take his quest. Take his life. Just don't take his Scully.
He sat up and put his head in his hands, letting out a heavy breath in the process. It was late. She was angry and likely to kick him to the curb, but he needed to see her. They had to work this out; his survival depended on it. On her.
She was his sanity. She was his saving grace. Mulder needed to tell her.
In record time, he was dressed and parked outside of her apartment building. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. The entire drive from his apartment to hers was a blur.
He glanced up to the window he knew belonged to her. There was a light on. She was still up and Mulder didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.
But, he came here for a reason and if he didn't do this now, he might lose her forever.
That was something he couldn't live with.
When Diana had left him, it had broken him, devastated him. If Scully left him, he was sure that it would kill him. There would never be anyone else. There couldn't be. She would always be the standard to which he held any other woman and any other woman would pale in comparison.
No, he had to do this. He wasn't going to lose her without fighting.
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of her apartment door and trying to control his breathing; keep calm.
Finally, he found the nerve to knock. She didn't answer, but he knew she was awake. He'd seen the light on.
"Scully?" he asked softly.
It took a moment, but she finally replied, "Go home, Mulder."
He let out a sigh and leaned his head on the door with a soft thud.
"Please. Let me in." He was begging. He knew that. She probably did, too. But, he was determined that if he had to sit in her hall all night like a stalker, he would. He couldn't let whatever it was that they had end like this.
"Use your key," she said after what felt like an eternity.
Mulder swallowed hard and pulled his keys from his pocket. When he opened it, he nearly plowed into her. He hadn't considered that she would be standing right there.
On instinct, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard. The kiss, however, ended all too soon. He looked at her as she pulled away. He knew that look; Scully was protecting herself.
It nearly killed him to know that she was protecting herself from him.
"I'm sorry," he softly.
"For being an asshole or for kissing me?" she retorted.
"Both," Mulder admitted, noticing the wine sitting on the table. Was she self-medicating?
"Both," she spat back, causing him to wince.
"Yeah," he replied with a sigh. She rolled her eyes, spun on her heel, and headed back toward the couch. Mulder sighed again and shut the door before following her to the couch. He didn't sit, however. Instead, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I'm sorry that I kissed you before apologizing and I'm sorry for what I said." He swallowed hard before continuing. "I didn't… I didn't react like I should have. At least, I don't think I did. I could've handled it better."
"So, why didn't you?"
That was a good question; one for which he wasn't sure he had an answer. He met her gaze. She was glowering at him. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to divert his gaze like a scolded child.
"I was scared," he confessed. "I was processing, I guess. I don't know. I don't really have a good answer for that." Mulder sat beside her on the couch, although far enough away to show his contrition.
"You would've done the same damn thing, Mulder. If he had approached you, you would have gone with him, too."
Scully was right. He was man enough to admit that. She didn't seem to understand that it was different. He would give his life for a way to get her free from Cancer Man's clutches, to get that chip out of her neck without fatal repercussions. Mulder needed to make her understand that her life was more valuable than his.
"Scully, I--," he began, but she cut him off.
"Shut up, Mulder," she snapped, taking him by surprise. "You had your say. It's my turn." His stomach dropped. This was it. She was leaving him. He just knew it. "You do the same thing. All the time. You run off, half-cocked without so much as a note."
"It's different," Mulder replied so quietly that he might as well have whispered it.
"Different," she snarled. "How is it different, Mulder? How?"
He was getting angry now, too. He needed to make her understand. "I was scared, Scully! He took you once. You went with him willingly!"
He was about to add the list of all the things that could've happened and how he wouldn't have been able to come to her rescue because he had no clue where she was considering she lied to him.
"You do not get to use that!" Scully yelled back, standing to her feet and taking him by surprise. He wasn't sure if she'd ever actually yelled at him before. He supposed, in a way, that he deserved it. Still, it had him on the defensive. "Do you honestly think that I don't worry about you every time you run off without any hint of where you're going? At least, I called! I sent you the tapes--." He opened his mouth to interject that he didn't receive any tapes--practically leaping from his spot on the couch, but she cut him off before he could say anything. "Yes, I know, you didn't get them, but I sent them. How many times have you done something like that?"
Mulder knew that she had a point. He had a habit of not telling her about his adventures. Did she not realize, though, that he did it to protect her? He was starting to feel sick.
"Just go home, Mulder," she scoffed.
"I was already at home." It was a lame comeback, he knew, but it was all he had. He'd been at home. He'd commiserated. He'd realized that she should've been there with him and wasn't. They didn't spend many nights apart anymore. Her only response was to roll her eyes and return to her spot on the couch. "Don't… don't do that."
"What?" she spat back.
"Act like I don't care." He sat on the couch again. "This is killing me, Scully. I don't know how make it stop." The tears burned in his eyes and she finally met his gaze.
"Make what stop?" Scully asked quietly.
Finally, she seemed to be realizing that he wasn't full of shit. This was pure torture for him.
"Whatever this feeling is. I don't like it."
They sat in silence for several long seconds before she quietly said, "You wouldn't even acknowledge that I was there when the Gunmen were looking at that disc. You wouldn't even look at me."
Mulder shut his eyes tightly for a moment. She was right. He couldn't look at her. If he had, he was going to say something that he'd regret and he couldn't risk it. He wasn't about to ruin this.
"This," she said, causing him to realize that he'd confessed that aloud.
"Yes, this," he replied, the anger started to come to the surface again. Why was it so hard for her to understand that she was the only thing he cared about anymore? "Us."
"What 'us', Mulder?" Scully demanded, knocking the wind out of him with a single phrase. He felt his hands start to shake. "You do everything on your own, on your own terms and you don't give a damn about how it affects me until something bad happens. You run off all the time without any regard for what I go through when I can't reach you." Suddenly, his mouth went dry. She was leaving him. He fought the tears with everything he had in him. "You've said it before that this is your fight, so why should I even--." Her breath caught and he saw a tear roll down her cheek.
She wasn't going to let him see her cry. That was something rare anymore. When Scully cried, Mulder held her. That was the way of things. That was how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be there to comfort her; not hurt her.
But, he'd hurt her. He'd hurt her badly, he realized. And, it felt worse than anything he'd ever felt before.
He hated himself for it.
Desperate to end his misery, to stop prolonging the inevitable, he asked, "Are you breaking up with me?" Before he lost his nerve, he began to add, "Because, if you are, I--." He felt a tear slip from his eyes and hoped to whatever was out there that she didn't see it. He exhaled a shaky breath in an attempt to compose himself.
Scully let out a sigh and said, "Mulder, I'm not… I can't…" There was an uncertainty to her voice that threatened to shatter him into a million tiny pieces. Finally, she continued, "What are we, Mulder? Are we partners or-or friends or together? I don't know anymore."
He wanted to tell her that he'd been hers for longer than he cared to admit. He wanted to tell her that he assumed he was her boyfriend. He wanted to tell her that he'd begun to dream about a life together.
But, he didn't. Instead, he replied a shaky, "I, uh, guess that's up to you." He swallowed and added, "Just do me a favor. If you're breaking up with me, then leave. Leave the X-Files because I cannot see you every day, feeling how I feel, and knowing what I lost. It would kill me," he confessed. "I can't it."
Tears were flowing down her cheeks now and he wanted so badly to wipe them away. But, something told him that it wasn't his place anymore. Before he would let her see his own tears, what she was doing to him, he rose from his seat and headed toward the door.
No. If this was it, if she was leaving, he was going to lay it all on the line. She was going to know exactly what she was walking away from.
Mulder spun around to face her, getting angry now. More at himself than at her, if he was being honest with himself.
"You know why I was so upset?" He demanded. "It wasn't so much that you went with him and lied to me about it--although, yes, that did hurt. I realized two things while you were gone. I realized that I didn't know what fear really felt like--pure, abject fear--until I couldn't find or get ahold of you. And, two, I realized that I never told you that I love you." He paused, realizing that he actually had told her a long time ago and recalling her reaction. "Well, I guess, I actually did tell you but you just rolled your eyes." He scoffed at his own stupidity. "I guess, I should've taken the hint."
"You were high as a kite," she deadpanned.
"I wasn't, actually. But, even if I was, it doesn't mean that I didn't mean it." Mulder let out a defeated sigh. "I guess I thought that you felt the same."
"Damn it, Mulder!" She snapped, nearly breaking her wine glass as she slammed it on the table and rose to face him. "If you haven't figured it out by now, that's on you."
Anger won the battle for the emotions tearing through him and he snapped back, "Figured what out, Scully? I don't know where we stand! All I know is how I feel! I go crazy when you're not around--you're like fucking drug!" He fought to keep himself under control as he continued, "You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I'm going to sleep. Movie night is my favorite night of the week because you're with me, eating nasty popcorn--I'm sorry, but it tastes like salty cardboard without the butter. You always end up with your head on my shoulder and I don't want to breathe because I'm afraid that I might mess it up and it'll be the last time. I just--." He stopped himself, forcing himself to take a breath before he passed out.
Scully stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh and moving toward him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her face in his chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
For those precious few seconds everything felt right; he could breathe. When she pulled away, he waited for his world to fall apart.
She didn't say anything, though. Just looked at him with fresh tears in her eyes.
It was up to him to break the stalemate.
"I need to know where you stand because I know where I'm at. I'm in love with you and if you're not--."
"I love you, too," she interjected so quietly that he wasn't sure he heard properly.
"You do?" His heart was suddenly thudding in his chest. Scully nodded in response and a small smile tugged at his lips. In a split second, reality set in. Just because they were in love with each other didn't mean they could survive this. He forced himself to ask, "Are we going to be okay?"
"I don't know, Mulder," she sighed in response. "We have a lot to talk about."
He could work with that.
"So, let's talk."
"Not tonight. I'm exhausted."
And, drunk, he added mentally. He nodded in response, respecting her wishes.
"I'm ready when you are. Okay?" He pulled her back into his arms. She went willingly. "Just say when." He felt her nod into his chest. They stayed that way for a minute or two before he broke the silence. "Hey, Sully?"
"Hmm?" she replied, not moving from his embrace.
"I think we just survived our first fight."
"We fight all the time."
"I meant as a couple," he replied, testing out the word; defining them.
Instead of the protest he half-expected, she chuckled into his chest and said, "You're an idiot."
Mulder smiled. "Yeah, but I'm your idiot."
"Mm," she agreed.
He let out a breath and she pulled back. He studied her for the quickest of seconds before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and pressing a kiss to her lips. It was a soft kiss, a short one, but it held so much promise. Mulder could only hope it conveyed to her what he'd intended for it to convey.
"Get some sleep," he said softly, his hands still resting on her waist. "Call me when your hangover is over." She frowned adorably and he couldn't help but to laugh. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Okay," she replied, sounding every bit as exhausted as he felt. This fight and the surrounding situation had taken a lot out of him and seemed to drain her just as much. The alcohol probably hadn't helped matters in her case. "Mulder."
He turned around, facing her again. "Yeah?"
"You don't have to, but you can stay if you want."
Yes. Yes, he did want.
"Are you sure?" She nodded. Playfully, he added, "I'm not really sure how to handle Hungover Scully."
"Give her water and aspirin," she retorted and he chuckled. She let out a breath. "It's up to you but, either way, lock the door. I'm going to bed."
With that, she headed toward her bedroom.
Mulder locked the door and toed off his shoes, arranging them neatly by the coatrack. He grabbed the mostly empty bottle of wine and Scully's glass and took them to the kitchen. After washing the glass, he corked the bottle and placed it in the fridge before shutting off the lights and joining her in her room.
She was already curled up under the comforter when he got there. He stripped down so that he was only in his boxers and t-shirt before climbing bed beside her and spooning himself against her back. She nestled into him and exhaled a heavy breath.
Neither of them said a word and Scully was sound asleep not long after.
Mulder, for his part, was awake awhile. The reality of how close he'd come to never having a moment like this again, never again falling asleep beside the woman he loved, never holding her in his arms again, hit him like a Mack truck. He never wanted to feel that way again and he was determined to make damn sure that he didn't.