This story takes place during season seven, beginning with the final scenes of "En Ami" (the episode when Scully takes her road trip with CSM) and wraps up with the final scene of "all things". These originally aired over the period of 3 weeks with one episode (Chimera) in between. I am going with the assumption that the air dates don't reflect actual dates in the episodes as "Millennium" (which ends just after midnight on January 1st, 2000) aired on November 28, 1999. I do also reference other episodes from earlier in season seven, but only use dialogue excerpts from these three.
I was inspired by the performances of Gillian and David, the emotion each portrayed as the Lone Gunmen are attempting to retrieve the information on the disk at the end of "En Ami". I thought it would be interesting to approach the same scene with a few small changes to their circumstances.
It is told strictly from Mulder's point of view, in the present tense. "En Ami" and "all things" are largely focused on Scully so I hope this brings a bit of a new perspective.
The X-files and their stories and characters do not belong to me. No harm is intended with this work of fiction. No money has been earned and no infringement intended. Please don't sue.
Feedback, as always, is encouraged and welcomed. And now, on with the show…
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Alexandria, Mulder's apartment, soon after Scully returns from her travels with CSM:
He can't look at her. Now that the worry is gone, he is filled with anger, fading briefly, passing in waves with hurt filling the space between the crests of rage.
How could she have gone off with him?
With everything they knew, she had trusted that son-of-a-bitch. Risking everything while keeping him in the dark.
He can feel her eyes on him but can't turn to her. He doesn't want to look at her - to let her glimpse the feelings roiling through him. He can't let her make him feel better. He isn't ready to let go of the pain.
"There's nothing on this."
"It's empty"
"Completely.'
Great. Of course, the fucking disk is blank.
Until this moment, he hadn't realized that some part of him hoped that he had been wrong. That it hadn't all been for naught.
"No, it can't be. It can't be. It's got to be on there." Her words grow more frantic. "I'll show you. I'll take you to his office."
He climbs into the car with her, still not looking at her, staring out the window and letting her drive for once and without comment.
The offices are empty as well. This time, he isn't at all surprised by the vacant building that greets them.
"Don't you see, Scully, he used you. You saw what you needed to see to make you believe."
He can't remain silent any longer. He still can't believe that she had put her life in the hands of that chain-smoking bastard. She looks so crestfallen.
"Mulder, I looked into his eyes. I swear what he told me was true."
"He did it all for himself… to get the science on that disk. His sincerity was a mask, Scully. The man's motives never changed." He took a breath before continuing: "But you, Scully, why did you do it? You risked everything. You know he can't be trusted. You had to know he was going to screw you over."
At least she has the decency to look guilty before trying to justify her actions.
"He looked sincere. There was something in his eyes that made me trust him. Something about his manner that led me to believe him. I did it for you. For us."
"For us?" She left him, refused to talk to him while risking her life and the life of their baby and she's trying to say she did it for him, for them. Does she not know that if he lost her, it would be the end of him? "Scully, if something happened to you…"
She looks over as his voice breaks on the emotions rolling through him. He still can't meet her eyes. He knows if he does, he will start to forgive her and he isn't ready to give up his anger.
"Mulder…"
He walks out of the empty room, returning to the car, hearing the click of her heels following behind. He opens the passenger door and holds it open, waiting for her to take her usual seat. In the brief glance he had allowed himself, he had taken in the exhaustion she had been hiding.
Maybe she's not hiding it. Maybe he just didn't let himself see it.
She slumps into the passenger seat, and he closes the door before heading around the car and sliding into the driver's seat. He thinks about driving to Scully's apartment since she hadn't been home for days, but she falls asleep a few minutes into the drive, and he changes his mind.
I still don't have a key to her place.
The thought renews some of the anger and hurt and he holds onto it as he drives to his apartment. Scully mumbles when he tries to wake her but remains asleep. His anger fades as he takes in her sleeping visage, its angles softened with her slumber. He picks her up, cradling her as she nuzzles against his shoulder. He carries her up to his apartment, awkwardly supporting her legs while fumbling with his keys in the door. He manages not to drop either and soon enough, he is laying her in his bed, tucking the blankets around her after removing some of her clothes. He closes up the apartment for the night and climbs into bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Finally, he lets loose the churn of emotions and his tears fall freely.
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FBI Headquarters, Basement Office, the following day:
"Where do you want to go for lunch?" he asks the silent woman seated on the other side of the room.
They still aren't really talking, and he still feels angry, but as much as he wants to hold on to his anger, he also wants to let it go. He wants to erase the weekend, Scully's betrayal, his hurt and his worry. He wishes he could just disappear the whole experience, send it into the Bermuda Triangle where it belongs.
"Uh, sorry, Mulder, I have a doctor's appointment. I'm just going to eat something while I drive over."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, I uh… it's just a routine appointment."
Why does it sound like she's hiding something? Or is she just pushing me away?
He hates feeling this way, this imbalance in their relationship. She had been the one to initiate the change, to give in to the desire that had been an undercurrent of their partnership since the day they had met.
She insisted she watch over him after the injuries he sustained at the start of the Millennium. Insisted that he sleep in his bed, while she took the couch, only to come to him in the middle of the night. He had initiated their kiss, but she was the one who took their relationship to the next level.
From that night, she's called the shots. She decides when they spend the night together and when they don't. He knows it's his fault. He lets her. Happy to have any piece of her she's willing to offer. Always ready to accept her terms. Never once unavailable or unwilling.
And then, a miracle happens, granted to them with the end of a nightmare. A possibility that they never considered possible or took precautions against. He still isn't sure what led her to take the test the day after she shot Pfaster. But she did, sitting next to him on his couch, holding his hand while they counted down the minutes before they could check the stick sitting on the edge of the sink in his bathroom. It felt like such a normal moment and when he closes his eyes, he can easily pull up the image of her breaking into a smile as she looks up from the stick in her hand.
He felt that something had changed in that moment, but he realizes now that it was still on her terms. She had shared that moment with him, but she hadn't shared her suspicion until she walked out of the pharmacy with the little brown bag in her hand after asking him to stop on their way to his apartment.
She rises from her chair, gathers her purse, and leaves the office before he can come up with a reason for him to come along and suddenly, he is shoved back to his despair from the days she was away.
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Georgetown, Scully's apartment, later that evening:
Scully takes the rest of the afternoon off but calls to assure him that all is well, and she just wants some rest. He finds himself rushing out of the office, stopping only to pick up dinner, sure that she hasn't eaten much else. He is surprised to find her awake when he arrives, answering the door as soon as he knocks.
I still don't have a key to her place.
She takes the bag from him, unloading it on the kitchen counter, pulling out plates for the two of them. He stands behind her, wanting to bend and brush a kiss on her cheek but still feeling out of place after her weekend excursion and her blow off earlier that day. He takes a plate and starts loading it with pasta instead. Surprisingly, Scully brings her own plate to the kitchen table rather than bringing it to the living room where they normally eat. He follows her lead and joins her. The pair eat in silence for several minutes.
"I have a follow up visit tomorrow for an ultrasound," she says, bringing their awkward silence to an end.
Something is wrong.
He wants to question her and wants to reassure her, but in the end, he just places his fork on his plate, resting both of his hands on the table and meets her searching gaze.
"It's just a precaution," she assures, as though she can read the worry in his eyes. "After everything I went through, my doctor thinks doing an early ultrasound will help ensure all is well."
"Everything you went through?" The surge of anger pulled forth with the reminder of her betrayal is clear in his voice, even to his own ears.
I have no idea what you went through. What are you hiding from me?
"Mulder, I…"
"You mean, the insane risks you took with your life and the life of our child?"
"Look, Mulder, I can't undo the past. I wish like hell that I could. I made a mistake and I regret it and I hate that I have nothing to show for it except worry that I jeopardized everything…"
Tears well in her eyes and he feels terrible, wishing for the life of him that he could take her pain away, even as some part of his own pain is relieved by hers. As though the evidence of her fear and regret is somehow evidence of her love for him.
She has never said that she loved him.
"Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't know he hurt you. You didn't tell me."
"No, he didn't, well at least, I don't think he did, but I'm not sure." She looks down at her lap and he is suddenly filled with dread for what she is going to say next. "I passed out in the car. He said I just fell asleep, but I'm not sure. I asked my doctor to run blood work to check for any toxins."
"Why would he drug you if you went with him willingly?"
Why did you go with him willingly?
"I don't know, but…" She looks at her lap again and he wonders what he is missing. "I woke up alone in a hotel room. I don't remember getting out of the car or into the room… or out of my clothes."
Out of your what?
His mind screams and his stomach flips and he seriously thinks he is about to revisit the pasta no longer on his plate. He is going to kill that cigarette smoking bastard with his bare hands.
He slides quickly back from the table and stalks out of the kitchen.
"Mulder…"
Her voice follows him, and he knows she has left the kitchen too, but he can't make himself turn and face her. He imagines yellow fingers caressing milky white skin and he grips the small table next to the door. He wants to pick it up and throw it. Smash his fists into the wall. Throw himself and everything around him.
He can't do it. This isn't his place. It's hers and he doesn't even have a fucking key.
He pulls something from deep inside and releases his death grip on her table, straightening and turning to find her standing just a few feet behind him. Her arms are wrapped around her middle, and she looks so broken. He closes the distance between them in an instant.
What the fuck did he do to you?
She is crying against his chest, and he feels like such an ass. How could he have been so wrapped up in his own anger and hurt that never once did he question how she was feeling? That once he saw she was whole and safe and sitting on his living room couch, he never thought to question if there were injuries he couldn't see.
No wonder she still hasn't given me a key.
Her tears continue and he moves them to the couch, cradling her on his lap as he tries to tamp down his emotions so he can help her deal with her own. Eventually, her tears stop, and she is sitting quietly in his arms, gripping the front of his shirt while he strokes her back.
She straightens and pushes away slightly. Her cheeks are blotchy and tear-stained, but her eyes are clear. She slips from his lap and moves to the armchair. He misses her warmth almost immediately.
"Mulder, I had the doctor examine me…" Scully looks down at her hands, twisting in her lap. "There's no evidence of penetration. And when I woke up, I didn't feel…"
Penetration.
God, he hadn't gone there, yet. He had only imagined hands on her body. Scully is still talking but he can't hear her words, can't see her face. His eyes are closed and all he can see is a stranger's hands caressing her skin.
Her fingers brush his cheek, and he realizes they have brushed away a tear he let escape.
"I really don't think anything happened. I would have left that morning if I thought it had. I could have left, but I stayed because I wanted to get the answers I had come for."
He opens his eyes to find an earnestness in her gaze that is uncommon. He is the one always asking her to believe him. He is the one always asking her to trust him.
"I didn't get them in the end. I know. I hate myself for all of it. For taking the risks, for keeping you in the dark. I'm only telling you now because I don't want to keep anything from you, ever again."
It's the closest she's come to saying she loves him.
"Please don't let this come between us."
He pulls her back to his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly, pressing a kiss against her temple. They fall asleep briefly, wrapped in each other's arms, cramped on the couch while their dinner grows cold in the kitchen. He leaves when they wake instead of spending the night. He hadn't brought a change of clothes and Scully needs her sleep and he knows he won't be sleeping – that it might be weeks before he does again. She has given new fodder for his nightmares when he had just found closure for the night terrors of his past.
She follows him to the door, and he tries to ignore the questions he can read in her eyes. She wants him to stay even if she doesn't say the words aloud. This is the first time he has refused her. He doesn't want her to think it's for the wrong reasons. He just needs to be alone.
"I love you."
His voice is soft but carries in the quiet night. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face before bending to kiss her. It's the first time he has truly kissed her since she came back. He wants to pick her up and carry her to bed, but then a flash of nicotine-stained hands pushes the need aside and he ends the kiss, pressing another on her forehead before straightening completely.
He leaves her apartment and the door locks behind him.
Maybe tomorrow she will give him a key.
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To be continued…
Feedback is welcomed. Thoughts on the tense, the POV, the situation and circumstances – all are appreciated. Thank you for reading and (hopefully) reviewing. SS.