It dawned on Mulder that although the circumstances were unusual, they still wound up doing their typical Friday night routine. Only this time, instead of meeting at his place after work, he had to escort his traumatized partner away from a crime scene. If comfort in familiarity was what she needed right now, he was more than happy to provide it for her.

He felt out of his element when it came to comforting people, even moreso when it was Scully. After Samantha was taken, he'd received enough condolences and hollow empathy to last a lifetime. He knew all the thoughtful platitudes by heart, but none of them even began to express how desperately he wished he could take away all her hurt. Whereas Scully was skilled in the art of healing, his body ached with the need to do something. He wanted to present her with a tangible solution — an offering that would prove to her that all was right again. It bothered him to see Scully suffering, and in his earnest desire to solve her problems, he feared he was rushing her through the pain without letting her come to terms with it.

With a resigned sigh, he eased himself down in front of his entertainment system to choose a movie. He could still hear the gentle sounds of Scully moving around the shower while he scanned the options set out before him. For the past few months, as her visits to his apartment became more frequent, he'd been trying to collect movies she'd either mentioned liking or that he thought she might like. Unfortunately, he'd been focusing on her predilection towards horror movies, and now it felt like most of the movies he had to offer might not be ideal for cheering her up.

He dug behind The Exorcist and set Halloween off to the side before eventually seeing a tape stuffed in the corner. Pulling out the VHS tape, he was met with the image of a little girl holding an umbrella while standing next to some weird cartoon monster. He'd acquired it a few years ago after Scully had to leave work because of a particularly bad nosebleed. A young woman working at the video store said he looked upset, and he'd confessed that a close friend of his was sick. Then the clerk recommended him this movie, and she was so proud that he didn't have the heart to turn it down.

It looked like something that might air on Toonami, and when he turned the tape over in his hands, he noted it was only rated G, so likely wouldn't have anything too unsettling for Scully's emotional state. Figuring now would be as good of a time as any, he used his nail to tear open the saran wrap covering, checked to make sure there wasn't any untoward tape already in the VCR, and popped in the cassette.

A sharp knock on his front door startled him before he realized it was just their dinner. He grabbed his wallet, paid the delivery boy, and made his way toward the living room with the food and drinks in his hands. As he rounded the corner, he nearly ran into a towel-clad Scully. The shock of seeing her materialize out of nowhere while nearly naked caused him to jump in surprise, incentivizing Scully to come to his aid with the takeout.

"Thanks. Sorry, I didn't think to lay out any clothes for you," he apologized while trying to hand her the drink cups without touching too much wet skin. They walked into the living room to discard the food on the table while Mulder tried to avoid staring at all of the dewy Scullyskin currently showing.

"I figured you'd be okay with letting me borrow your clothes, but I didn't want to go through your things without asking," she explained, nervously brushing her damp hair back.

"Mi casa es tu casa ," he dismissed playfully. Scully shot him an indulgent grin before walking back towards his room, leaving a faint scent of his body wash in her wake.

By the time he'd set everything out, the advertisements were almost over and he could hear the soft sound of Scully's bare feet padding down the hallway to join him again. "Smells good," she remarked.

Mulder glanced over at her and saw she'd chosen to wear his old tattered Oxford sweatshirt. He didn't say anything, but he knew he'd just worn that last week when they were working on case reports together at her place. With this new investigation, he hadn't had any time to catch up on laundry, and he was pretty positive he'd thrown that sweatshirt in the corner of the room. She had to have picked it off his floor instead of grabbing something from a drawer, and while it struck him as odd, he didn't want to tease her and accidentally embarrass her.

While he was moving to sit back down, Scully approached him with outstretched hands. "Can you help me?"

The shirt was a dress on her and it made him chuckle to see how much the sleeves draped over her fists. Grabbing the ends of the sleeves, he folded them over a few times until they were cuffed at her wrists. "Very chic," he remarked, rubbing the delicate skin of her wrist once before letting her go.

A rosy blush spread across her cheeks and she ducked her head down in the obvious hopes he didn't see. He couldn't help but let his gaze trail behind her while she got settled in. Overall, she seemed less stiff than she had earlier, and he hoped the shower had eased some of her tension away. While he was taking a visual inventory of her mannerisms, he couldn't help but focus on little aspects of her that he usually wasn't privy to, like the expanse of her bare thighs as she tucked her feet underneath her, or the gentle sway of her breasts, unrestricted beneath the cotton of his sweatshirt.

Mulder knew it really wasn't the time, but he was a warm-blooded man after all. Seeing the woman he adored wearing his clothes sent a bolt of masculine pride straight through his body. The mere sight of her in his clothes, smelling like him, while seeking his comfort evoked an overwhelming sense of territoriality — like he just wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her worries away, and-

Woah there.

He'd let his imagination wander a little too far, and he had to hunch over after sitting down in the hopes it would hide the burgeoning tent in his pants.

"What movie did you pick?" Scully asked, drawing him out of his reverie. If she was aware of the lewd thoughts he'd just been having, she wasn't letting on.

"Oh, uh," he crouched down and picked up the clamshell case near his feet. "My Neighbor Totoro," he answered, lifting the cover so she could see it.

Her face lit up and pride blossomed in his chest as if her smile was a reward for a job well done. "I saw that at Blockbuster! It looked adorable," she beamed. Then a curious smirk played at the corners of her lips and she cocked her head to the side. "What made you buy it? It doesn't seem to be the normal genre for your collection," she teased.

He smiled in response to her joke and glanced down at the case. "Uh," he paused, not wanting to admit a teenager recommended it to him because he was sad she was dying. "I was curious what this thing was," he rambled, pointing at the gray thing on the cover.

"Wouldn't that be Totoro?"

Mulder feigned shock with a playful gasp. "Spoilers!"

"Just a guess," Scully chuckled, raising her hand in mock defense.

They watched the movie in relative silence as they ate their food, making an occasional comment about something being cute or if the animation was pretty. It was quickly becoming clear to him why the girl thought he might like it, the movie was clearly made with the intention of helping kids understand and grapple with the discomfort that comes with waiting for a loved one to get better when it wasn't a guarantee. He was glad he was watching it now with Scully healthy by his side instead of back then. If he'd watched this when things were bad, he'd probably crying just as hard as the little girl on screen was.

As the movie played, it seemed like Scully's spirits were lifting and she looked less morose. Even so, every now and then he'd catch her looking at him. Mulder didn't know how long her attention had been directed at him, but each time she'd just smile and look back at the screen. It was an improvement from how she was acting in the car, but it was still clear there was something on her mind. He knew he'd still have to ask her about what happened in the warehouse before tomorrow, but he was glad they had this small respite. For the time being, it seemed like they were both content enjoying each other's company.

Mulder was pretty sure his theory was confirmed when he turned to look at her again and caught her holding the collar of the sweatshirt to her face, pressing the fabric against her lips as she inhaled the scent. It reminded him of how he used to treat his childhood blanket, and he wondered if there was any correlation as to why she might've chosen that to wear.

Apparently, the sweatshirt alone wasn't enough. After an hour in, Scully maneuvered herself so she was laying down on the couch with her back on the armrest and her feet on his lap. Aside from a soft "Is this okay?" from her and a gentle reassurance that it was from him, they said nothing more about the gesture of intimacy. Mulder tested the waters by grabbing onto one foot, and he was pleasantly surprised when she allowed him to give her an amateur foot rub. Her feet were so petite, just like the rest of her, and it amazed him how they were still so soft and pretty after running all over America in heels.

"I'm pretty sure that's how Melissa thought I acted," she commented after a period of silence.

Despite owning the VHS for a few years, he'd never actually read the plot overview on the back, so he didn't know it centered around sisters. He was worried that it might make her sad, but he was relieved to see a lot of the antics of the sisters seemed to have the opposite impact.

"I'm pretty sure that's how Sam did act a lot of the time," he replied with a sentimental smile.

"Did she follow you around a lot?" It was rare that they talked about Samantha like this — not as a sacrificial lamb in a conspiracy, not as a missing kid, but as Samantha Mulder, his little sister. He had a feeling Scully was more curious than she let on because anytime a situation arose where she felt like she could ask about Sam in a manner that wouldn't make him sad, she'd always take it.

"Yeah, I used to think she just wanted to be in my business all the time to annoy me, but looking back, she was just a little girl who thought her big brother was cool. I think she might've been the only person to ever hold that opinion of me," he chuckled.

"Even when you were dressed up like Spock?" Scully teased lightheartedly.

He laughed at the memory and shook his head, "No, no. I think she hurled a few 'dorks' at me while we were trick or treating, but she was still always right under my feet anywhere I went. She'd drive me insane."

"Hmm?" she prodded, nudging his thigh with her foot when he was silent for a while.

"I haven't talked about her like that in years," he mused. "I guess with missing people or those who have passed, we always highlight their best traits so others consider them worth finding or worth missing. For years, when I have to talk about her, I find myself rehashing stories about how she was so effortlessly funny or how she was the smartest kid in her class." With a sentimental chuckle, he turned to Scully and added, "I haven't thought about how she always copied everything I did or how she'd wail on me while playing Punch Buggy during road trips since she knew I wouldn't hit her back."

"I find myself doing that with Melissa sometimes too," she mused, playing with the aglets on the sweatshirt strings. "I always think to myself that I wish I could call her and ask for her advice, but I seem to always ignore the fact that Melissa would give the absolute worst advice and I'd never end up taking it anyway."

Having met both of the Scully sisters, he didn't imagine they shared opinions very often, and the thought of Scully having a sisterly squabble and getting as exasperated with someone else as she would with him brought a smile to his lips. "I guess grieving the traits that would annoy us on top of those we adored just emphasizes how much we truly loved them."

She was silent and he glanced over to see her eyes were glassy and she'd turned her focus to the screen towards the two sisters in a joyous embrace. He moved his hand and gently squeezed her ankle in silent comfort. Maybe he'd hit a nerve from what happened earlier. Perhaps her worst fear was losing more of her family. In just a few years, the loving family of six had dropped down to four. It would make sense that another loss would have this effect.

Luckily, the movie ended on a happy and hopeful note, and by the time the credits were rolling, Scully's forlorn face had returned to a neutral expression. As much as he wished he could stay here forever, his legs were falling asleep and he'd had to pee for the last hour. When he shifted slightly, Scully readjusted herself so she was sitting upright on the couch cushion. "That was a really good movie," she said through a yawn.

He had to stile the urge to yawn from watching her as he stood up. "It was cute. I'll have to see if my sources find any sightings of a friendly, large forest-dweller for us to investigate."

"Sounds like a clever way to disguise your bigfoot cases," she teased, her voice echoing in the hallway as he made his way to the bathroom.

It only took him a couple of minutes, but when he walked back out into the living room, Scully had moved from the sofa and was now crouched down in front of the fish tank. The blue glow of the aquarium across her face made her look ethereal, and he found himself watching her with the same rapt attention she was giving the fish.

Mulder wasn't sure what happened while he'd been away, but there was a miasmic energy in the air that Scully couldn't seem to escape. She looked sad. He was sure there are a thousand eloquent descriptions that could explain how she appeared right now: morose, downtrodden, sullen. Any would work, but there was something so pureand childlike about her features. Sad was the only word that felt truly fitting.

This wasn't an expression she wore often in their office. He imagined he was seeing a version of Scully that not many were privy to. It was such a stark difference, that he wasn't sure if he should be flattered that he was allowed to see behind the curtain, or worried that she was too far gone even to try to hide it.

"What're their names?" she suddenly asked, knowing he was there without looking his way.

"The big one is Elvis," he admitted, smirking alongside her chuff of laughter. "The tiny white one is Presley"

"Is the gold one The King?" she teased.

"Hey, that's good," he beamed. "I didn't think of that."

"So what's its name?"

"Her name's Cher. I bought her as a pair with Sonny, but he died."

"Did he go skiing too?" she murmured, hearing an exhalation of amusement from him. Scully raised her hand up to the glass, moving her finger as if she was stroking the golden scales to comfort the widowed mollie. "Have you always had fish?"

"No, my mother would never allow a fish tank in the house. She said they were too loud."

"What made you get them?" Her sudden interest in his aquarium caught him off guard, and he wondered where the intrigue came from.

"It's nice having something to come home to. Living beings that look forward to seeing me at the end of the day, even if they're just using me for food," he admitted. If he wanted honesty from her, he knew he needed to offer up some vulnerability of his own, but he'd never admitted that out loud before. Sometimes being alone with his thoughts was just too much, and his fish were great company and effective white noise.

He started when Scully's warm fingers curled around his own, squeezing lightly. "Are you lonely?" she asked in a soft voice.

It wasn't ill-intended, but he could hear the sorrow in her voice and it made him wince to think she pitied him. He knew Scully just wanted him to be happy, but sometimes he didn't know if that was possible and it made him feel like he was letting her down. But he couldn't lie.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Sometimes."

"Me too," she confessed.

Mulder turned to look at her and noticed her making circles in the dust on his bookshelf with her fingertip. It struck him that it hadn't been pity in her tone, but empathy. Over the years, he'd met dozens of her friends and former classmates, she told him stories about her larger-than-life family and extended relatives, and he'd witnessed countless people over the years get swept away by her innate charm.

How could the best person he'd ever met feel lonely?

"You do?" he asked. It probably wasn't the most tactful reply he could've come up with, but the thought that the woman he loved felt the same emptiness he did made his chest hurt.

The room was still lively from their earlier activities: the takeout was still half-eaten on the coffee table, a local advertisement was playing in the background after the tape ejected itself, and the couch was probably still warm from the hours they'd spent nestled against it. Yet, in this moment he felt like they were outsiders to all of it. He felt small and secluded, like it was just him and Scully feigning off a world that made them feel like they weren't allowed to enjoy what it had to offer.

"Sometimes," she replied, mirroring his answer.

He'd resigned himself to loneliness a long time ago. For him, the moments of fulfillment and joy he got from being in Scully's presence were more than he ever expected, and if they were all he was going to get, he still considered it a blessing. But to think Scully felt that empty was unacceptable to him.

"But you have your family, friends," he offered. "Scully, you have so many people in your life who care about you. You don't deserve to feel lonely."

She met his gaze and her stare felt piercing. "Why does it sound like you think you do?"

His eyes darted back to the fish, unable to meet her stare. "I'm just used to it."

"You shouldn't be," she whispered, nudging him gently with her shoulder.

Mulder smiled softly and moved his palm so that it was resting in between her shoulder blades. "Neither should you, Scully. No matter what, I'll always be here," he reassured, rubbing her back. "Promise me if you ever feel that way, you'll call me."

Then, much to his surprise, she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face against his sternum. He reciprocated the embrace and pressed his face into the top of her hair, amused at how he could still smell her underneath the products of his she'd used. Raising one of his hands, he cupped the back of her skull possessively. He wasn't sure how she'd been hurt tonight, but he was glad to know that she trusted him with her pain — at least physically if not verbally. Then again, that seemed to be their m.o.

Pulling away, he noticed she'd been crying and he felt another stab to his chest. He brought his hands from her back to cup her face while she did nothing to hide her emotions. "I'm sorry," he murmured, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe her tears away.

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. "For what?"

"I'm not doing a good job of making you feel better tonight," he admitted with chagrin.

She shook her head in his hands, the smooth skin of her cheek rubbing against his palms. "That's not true," she murmured, her voice cracking as she tried to talk through her sadness. Her hands came to rest on his wrists as she leaned into his touch. "This was exactly what I needed."

Mulder watched as she tried to resist the urge to yawn, only to bow her face down as she succumbed to the urge. "It looks like sleep is what you need now," he teased.

"What time to we have to report back?" she asked.

Mulder pulled his hands away to wipe his face. "Well," he paused, uncertain of how to broach the subject. "Skinner called earlier."

"What did he say?" she replied without affect.

"It seems like, based on what the other… what the victims said, it appears he somehow manifests people's worst fears. Skinner says it doesn't make sense and he wants to see us early tomorrow for insight," he answered, trying unsuccessfully to gauge her face for any reaction.

"Okay," she nodded before making her way down the hall.

"Scully-"

"Do you have a spare toothbrush?" she asked, cutting him off.

"Under the sink," he sighed, accepting the very clear signal that she wasn't going to talk about what happened yet.

The sound of the door closing punctuated the sentiment, much to his disappointment. He listened to her messing around in the bathroom again while he cleaned up the living room and started preparing the couch.

As he made his way to the linen closet, Scully opened the bathroom door next to him. "What're you doing?" she asked.

"Getting the couch set up," he replied, taking down a spare navajo blanket.

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

There was a hint of disappointment in her voice that urged him to look down towards her. Without the aid of her heels, he could only see the crown of her downturned head. "I meant for me," he clarified. "I want you to take the bed."

She murmured something, but it was so soft he didn't catch any of it.

"What did you say, Scully?"

"I want—I mean, Will you stay with me?" she asked softly, fiddling with the cuffs of the sweatshirt.

"In the bed?" he asked, immediately wanting to slap himself for asking such a dumb question.

"Yes," she whispered, struggling to meet his eye.

"Of course," he replied, setting the blankets back in the closet. "Whatever you need, Scully," he promised softly.

It felt surreal following her into his bedroom, and even moreso watching her slide underneath the sheets alongside him. This wasn't the first time they'd shared a bed, but it was the first time they did so without clinging to their respective edges. As soon as his back was against the mattress, he felt Scully's small hand slide under the covers in search of his own. She grazed his hip before following the expanse of his arm down to his offered palm.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need an extra pillow or anything?" he asked.

"I'm comfortable. Thank you, Mulder," she answered sleepily. The adrenaline of the day seemed to catch up to Scully because she was fast asleep within a few minutes of laying down, leaving Mulder alone with his worry.

He didn't feel any closer to finding out what happened to her, but having her safe in his bed at least made him feel a little better. Even though it was in his nature to lay awake and fixate, he knew he would be more useful to Scully if he got some rest. Deciding to take advantage of having her so close, he turned onto his side and watched the steady rise and fall of her breath. He tried keeping time with his own breathing, and for the first time he could remember, sleep came easy to him.