Author Note:
This is my first time uploading any fan fiction and certainly the first time I've written X-Files variety. I don't own the characters, just borrowing them to have some fun.
Some of my timeline is a little different and completely derail season 6. Definitely more on the AU prospective with some cannon things thrown in. Enjoy.
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As I lie in bed, tears streaming down my cheeks from eyes that were red raw from all the grief, I wipe my nose and wish I could call him. For five years, I had worked alongside him, grew to know him, cherish our working partnership…but there was more.
I'd tried to date others. I'd tried to not fall for the man that could irrevocably break my heart but whether it was just all of the trauma of the past few months, losing a child I'd barely got to know, I needed him more than ever. Too many times, I have prayed, urged my heart to not love him but dammit… My heart is almost as stubborn as my head.
Showing him my vulnerability was something I hardly ever conceded in doing but with closeness comes risks and this might have to be one of those chance moments. I stare into the darkness… Wondering how I can possibly move forward through all of this. Without him, I know it would be impossible. Yet, I also know, he wants to be there. It has always been me keeping him at arms length. But now, as a shuddering sigh escapes my tired lungs, I don't know if I even want to anymore.
Rolling onto my back, blowing my nose again and wiping my eyes, the mascara certainly gone, I take a deep breath and swing my legs over the side of my bed. Standing in front of the mirror, eyes blood shot and puffy, nose red, I look about as attractive as a squishy tomato. I was an attractive woman and that's not me being arrogant. I'd been told by both men and women. I was no beauty queen but pleasant to look at. My slender figure, toned with muscles necessary in my job, hair neatly styled and skin as pale as a red head aught to be. My five three frame and brilliant blue eyes were everything in contrast to him.
Outwardly, he was every American dream male. Tall, athletic, boyish good looks but his social etiquette left a lot to be desired. Socially awkward, extremely stubborn and single minded… yet he had a heart of gold and compassion for all that is good in the world. But there was a darkness to him. A troubled childhood, grief beyond measure and a mind so great, most people would struggle to follow his bizarre theories. He was one of the best but he never was showy about it.
I often wondered when the moment had occurred when I had started to fall in love with him.
There was attraction from the beginning. As I've said, his attraction is undeniable. And we shouldn't work. Most of the time regarding work, we disagree on a regular basis. But we somehow have one of the best partnerships in the bureau. Although the type of cases we deal with are bizarre and impossible to resolve, we have a rather high solution rate. And that has a lot to do with our individual and collective skill sets.
Working so intimately with someone in a high risk job like ours will inevitably bring you close. A bond you share when put in dangerous situations is well documented. But to hope to send it to the next level is almost unthinkable. Partnership relationships are discouraged but not outlawed in our work. If he was my senior agent, it would be different but Mulder and I are of the same rank. It is the fear of losing what we have that drives the inability to move across that line. Not bureaucracy.
Like any sane woman, I have the regular worries of:
"Will this ruin our friendship?"
"Will he treat me differently if we become romantically involved?"
And the killer,
"What if he doesn't feel the same about me?"
That latter one still rings in my ears as I open my bedroom door and head to the darkened kitchen for some water.
Turning on the tap, I hear the elevator ping in the silence of the evening. My heart stops. Has he come? Does he know I need him? But a giggle from a neighbour returning with a date from a night out sends my stomach plummeting and my heart rate within its normal range. I have to stop fixating on a hope that is not even a possibility but an improbability at best.
Placing my glass in the dish washer, hugging myself, I steady my breath and head to bed to try and sleep. There is no use fantasising over something that could never be.
Fox Mulder could never see me that way.
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Slamming The Front Door, I Head Into The Darkened Apartment And Stare At The Answering Machine, Hoping For A Blinking Light To Let Me Know There's A Message Waiting. I So Want To Be There For Her. I Need To Be There For Her. But I Have To Wait For Her To Call For Me. ,
No one should have to go through the things she has in recent years. And part of me feels responsible for it all.
If she and I had never become partners, she'd have gone on creating a successful career for herself and not have to have dealt with the fear and emotional strains she's done in the past five years. Sighing, that sickening knot in my stomach, reminding me of all the horrors she's been subjected to, I throw my jacket onto the couch and switch on the TV.
Opening a beer and diving into a pizza, I wonder again what she is doing and if she's OK. But she's normal. Beautiful and normal. She has friends, I remind myself. I have acquaintances who are either as out there as me and put up with my crap or have use of being connected to me and vice versa. Her life has glimpses of normality. Friends birthdays, god children's school things, family dinners. I have gaming Saturday afternoons and pizza but on the whole, I'm a loner.
I knew there was something about her that first day she walked into my basement office and told me she'd been assigned. I also knew, she'd been sent to spy on me. But somehow, over the years, through cases strange and often frightening, she's opposed my ideas and theories but she's always had my back. Her sweet nature along with her brilliance as a doctor, her constant questioning of me is damn right appealing. And her physical appearance often is the subject of wet dreams.
But I have nothing to offer her. She deserves everything. The white picket fence, a dog and a couple of kids. But even I know, that will never be my life.
Opening another beer, I debate calling her. But in reality, it'd be a drunken call. I'm a renounced light weight. Leaning back on the couch, taking a deep swig, I get lost in the mindless entertainment for once on the TV.
How many evenings have I sat here, thinking of her slender frame curled up beside me? The attraction is more than physical though. Her quick wit, her ability to argue effectively against my single minded theories does everything to send shivers up my spine in the only way true connection can.
While she was fighting her cancer, I felt inadequate and helpless… wanting to end it all to save her from any further hurt. But now, the protection I need to bestow upon her is fierce and palpable. Leaning back into the hard leather, I try to get lost in the show on TV but my mind constantly goes back to her.
She'd stood in the office today, telling me how I was wrong, yet again and was ignoring the scientific facts, yet all I could do was watch her lips.
"Snap out of it," I berate myself in the quiet, empty apartment. I needed to push this back and forget any notion of romantic attachment to Dana Scully. Platonic would have to work. I was almost sure of that.
What else could it be? She was smart, beautiful and deserved the world. Not to mention, she just didn't want me. I was her annoying partner who stole her weekends and evenings, times with family and friends. At best, I was an annoyance. But seeing her, cradling Emily, a three year old, born of her genetic material, dying from cruel experiments done to her… I saw a future I wanted with her. No one else. Even previous relationships, even sexual and romantic ones had never come close to what I had with her. She was my other half. I had to stop being selfish and let her go. The adoption petition had made me see her in the future. A child clinging to her, Viking for her attention and she would bestow it. I had to remember, the X-files was my world, not entirely hers. She wanted more from life than just the truth.
Clicking off the television, I stretch and get up to shower and sleep. Friendship was what she wanted and needed and that was what I would give, despite wanting much more. I could never ask that from her. I wouldn't risk doing so.
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