Title: The Quiet Things

Author: Aeschylus

Rating: PG13

Spoilers: Emily episodes and Fowely stuff

Summary: Diana Fowely enters their lives. Scully faces her anguish of Emily's death and turns to other means of dealing with her pain.

Disclaimer: Nothing X Files is mine.

Feedback: yes please

Author's Notes: If you have seen the movie Thirteen a certain scene may be similar to a scene in my story. I wrote this before I saw the movie.

XXXXXXX

After that night at the hotel, things were tenser between the two of them. The case wasn't an X-file and they returned to the confining space of the basement office.

She wore a light long sleeved shirt to work that day to hide her old cut and her few small new ones she added to the other arm the previous night after having another dream. This one was about her abduction.

She shuddered at the memory of it. It was painfully real.

She had, however, gained her appetite some. She ate a salad and then cut up an orange and nibbled at the slices as she surfed the Internet.

She could tell he was pleased and that angered her but she showed no sign of it. She glanced at her watch and stood up to leave for her meeting with Skinner. She had to hand in her field report along with the autopsy findings from the case.

She entered his office, file in hand.

"Agent Scully," he greeted her from his desk.

She took a seat and crossed her legs, glancing around the room as he finished putting a stack of papers away. When he was finished he folded his hands on the desk and looked at her.

"So the autopsy showed nothing more than natural causes?" he asked.

She reached over to hand him the file, her shirt lifting slightly to reveal a portion of a few smaller cuts on her wrist. He froze to stare at her arm and then as quickly as she pulled her arm back, he looked at her in alarm.

"How did you get those cuts?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

She opened her mouth a few times to speak, frozen in the disbelief that she was so careless.

"Gardening," she finally said, staring defiantly into his eyes.

"Gardening."

"Yes, my mother's garden. The rose bushes."

He nodded and turned his attention to the file. She sat awkwardly, praying he wouldn't keep her much longer.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he said, "I see that she didn't present the same toxins as the other victims."

"That's right," she replied, clearing her throat.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He then sighed and said, "Agent Scully, Mulder has come to me about something."

Her heart almost stopped. Her mouth went dry and she slouched back in her chair, waiting for some humiliating speech about her eating habits.

When she didn't say anything he continued; "I think it would be in your best interest to take some time off. He seems concerned that you are under too much stress lately and that you may benefit from some time to yourself."

Anger flashed in her eyes when she looked up at him. She gritted her teeth and said, "I'm fine sir."

He nodded and then said, "If you need time, by all means, take it. You just seem…a little worn down lately."

"Between the work, the decisions, and the relentless search for the truth…yeah I guess you could say I'm a little worn down," she spat. She then lowered her head, realizing she went too far.

She took a deep breath to find her calm and stated, "I'm fine,"

She stood and said, "Will that be all?"

He inclined his head as she rose to her feet and simply nodded, watching her walk quickly out of the room.

XXXXXXX

"What in the HELL did you say to Skinner!"

Mulder jumped, dropping his bag of sunflower seeds. The only sound in the room was her heavy breathing and the sound of the seeds scattering on the floor.

She walked furiously over to his desk, her small frame looming over him. He reached to take her hand but she snatched it away before he could touch her.

"What did you say Mulder?" she asked, a little calmer.

He looked away to say, "I just feel that you need some time away from the office."

"What RIGHT do you have!"

He looked at her, into those cold blue eyes and he said in an even tone, "Or maybe I felt that you needed some time away from me."

"I think it's the other way around Mulder," she said softly, looking away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, leaning forward.

"I don't want to get into this with you right now," she said, turning away to walk to her desk.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, challenging her.

She stopped in her tracks, her shoulder's visibly stiffening. She turned slowly back to him and his face fell when he saw tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm afraid that I have lost everything for something that doesn't matter anymore."

She saw the sadness in his eyes and for a twisted moment she was happy to see him in so much pain.

His mouth trembled open, then shut it again. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he finally choked out.

"Me too," she said sadly. And she meant it.

XXXXXXX

Jealousy, she thought, pursing her lips. It was, in a way, the opposite of love.

Reaching into her pocket she fingered the pack of cigarettes that she had yet to touch.

She was sitting on a bench outside the FBI building, near the rear entrance. She knew she needed to calm down and clear her mind before facing Mulder in that suffocating room again.

She pulled the cigarettes out and packed them quickly against her leg. She looked around nervously before she pulled a cigarette out and placed it between her lips. It was like she was a teenager all over again; scared that her father would catch her in the act.

"Need a light?"

She jumped a foot it felt like and she whirled her head around to locate the source of the unmistakable voice.

Mulder towered over her, hands on hips, lips pursed. She sun blared behind him, casting a blinding glow around his tall and lean body.

She felt the blood rush to her face and she turned back away from him. She reached into her pocket for her lighter, choosing to ignore him.

When she pulled the lighter out, the box of cigarettes fell to the ground. Before she could react Mulder made his way to the front of her and stooped to sweep the box off the ground.

He held it out and read, "Morely…lights."

Her fingers shook as she lit her cigarette. Taking in a small drag she felt her lungs clench in protest of the sudden invader. She willed herself to suppress a cough as she exhaled the smoke.

He sat on the bench and dropped the pack onto her lap.

"Well, not my particularly favorite brand but at least you have your head screwed on straight," he paused, "you got lights."

"You know Mulder, if it bothers you then leave."

She felt him shrug and she took another long drag, feeling a sudden wave of relaxation. She had forgotten how tranquil a simple cigarette could make you feel. She almost immediately got a buzz and enjoyed the lightheaded sensation it gave her.

She felt Mulder shift on the bench and she snapped her face to his when she saw that he had reached to remove a cigarette from her pack.

He put it in his mouth and she watched it bounce on his full lower lip as he asked her for a light. She handed him the lighter and watched him take an extremely long drag. He handed her the lighter as he exhaled.

Scully wasn't quite sure how to take the situation. He was either trying to get under her skin or he was pulling some metaphorical stint by telling, or showing her rather, that she wasn't alone. After a final drag, she put her cigarette out in the cement ashtray next to the bench.

She turned her gaze to the cigarette that perched in between his fingers.

"I know you are going through something right now. It's probably a dark place you are in. But I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you sink so low that you hurt yourself. But I know as good as anybody that the only person who can save you…is you," he stood and handed his unfinished cigarette to her and walked away.

She stared at it, the paper wrinkling slowly down, leaving a pointy nub of fiery ash.