Chapter 6 - Moonlight

Fox Mulder was about to leave his porch and get into his car. Scully had indeed unexpectedly summoned him, asking him to rejoin her at the FBI headquarters.

Yet, he was conflicted. He stopped his movement, standing still on the porch.

The sky was cloudless except for some cirrus above the horizon, the weather warmer than expected this time of the year, and the scenery was as gorgeous as ever under the orangish light. It was the glorious hour of the sunset and he wouldn't want to decline the promising spectacle showing off for his sight.

However, Scully had texted him a mysterious message not so long ago. She wanted him at the office, but gave no explanation. They weren't currently working on a demanding case, just going through paperworks for a few days. There wasn't either a sense of urgency in her call, nor a timing to follow. It seems he could rejoin her in nine minutes or an hour and a half and both options would suit her.

So, he could stay on the porch as long as the sun was setting, lingering in that state of peaceful contemplation and expectation his mature self had recently learned to dive into so earnestly. Then, get into the car and drive to the FBI, his heart and mind full of serene desire. Or, he could let his still boyish eager heart lead the pace, and hasten him toward Scully, his whole expecting body craving her mere presence.

He had to admit, both options would suit him.

Arriving in front of their closed office door in the basement, Mulder played his usual knuckled song on the wood before entering -an ever gentle way to not startle Scully.

"Hi again," Scully said as he was stepping inside.

Mulder realized that they hadn't been separated for as long as he had felt. Only a couple of hours since the end of their daywork. Or three? No need to count, that was always too many, on these days.

"So, wassup Scully?" Mulder replied, observing Scully seated at the desk, glasses on her nose and sheets of paper scattered in front of her.

"Oh, nothing special. I've stumbled on an interesting article published in that medical journal, and... I didn't see the time passing," she said matter-of-factly.

"Happy for you."

"Thanks."

So that was it, thought Mulder. Scully would keep him guessing. He was ready to play her little game. A billion times if she wanted to.

He sat on the chair opposite her, and waited.

"Just a couple of minutes. I'm finishing writing notes," she finally added. And, after a few beats, "if you don't mind, of course… I wouldn't want to bother you, now you're here."

"Never, when you're wearing those glasses, Scully."

"Mmm, I see," she replied, without raising her sight from her notebook.

After a while -once again, no measure of time needed- Scully raised her head, took off her glasses, gathered her work and stretched her upper body.

"I'm done, Mulder. Now, I'm all yours," she claimed, staring straight in his eyes.

"Scully?" Mulder said, a grin on his face and sparkles in his eyes.

Scully stood up and grabbed her bag and coat. Then, she moved close to Mulder and took his hand, lifting him up and leading him to the door.

"Come with me, Mulder."

They got into the elevator and, surprising Mulder, Scully pressed an upper button.

As the elevator lifted up, carrying them from the basement to one of the highest levels of the FBI headquarters, Mulder's head was spinning. Spinning through time. Old memories bubbling like lava rising from underground layers.

Long ago, he had spent hours and nights up the building. Disheveled, unshaven, stinking, hungry, tired, insomniac, restless, desperate, he had traveled back and forth with the elevator. Endlessly switching from the basement office to the FBI rooftop terrace, ad infinitum searching for Scully into the X-files and into the sky, relentlessly seeking the slightest clue from obscure old cases and seeking strength and hope from the stars above him.

Had been the elevator a star-trekky transporter, he would have transferred his useless body from the basement to the top of the Skyland Mountain. Up there, he would have screamed the name of Scully so loudly that all the fucking aliens would have heard him; he would have vehemently cursed the name of Duane Barry, making the fucking remnants of his soul jump with remorse.

Instead, he had stepped on the deserted terrace of the FBI building in the middle of the night, barely noticing the remnants of unknown fellow agents who had spent convivial times during the daylight. Surely, it was better for Mulder not to see these traces, as it would have made him long even more painfully for his abducted partner.

Very often he had been disappointed up the terrace. What was he thinking? Seeing the truth through the heavens? Waiting for the starlight to send him signs? Washington D.C. was a big town, the light pollution at its maximum. No starry sky to be seen. Just the infinite lights of a city that was never completely shut down. Though, it had often felt better to be standing there than laying on his couch, better to be higher, closer to the unseen stars, even if the FBI building height was ridiculous against the Skyland Mountain peak.

He would stand, raising his head, staring above him while squeezing Scully's cross hanging around his neck, and that would be his humble act of faith.

For Mulder was lost in his painful reverie, Scully dragged him out of the elevator, before the door would close.

Knowing where Mulder's thoughts could have gone, Scully gently brushed his left cheek with the tip of a few fingers, then passed her right arm under his left one.

"Come on, Mulder," she said, moving forward along the corridor, arm in arm.

And that was all it took to make the next flow of lava fall down the inner layers of Mulder's memory. The next bubble of past suffering blew up and disappeared, without having time to hit his heart. Right now, he didn't need to relive the awful weeks of Scully's cancer. No need to feel once again the hopelessness, the uselessness, the desperateness that had invaded him when trying to face Scully's imminent death on the rooftop terrace of the FBI building.

Arriving at the door of the terrace, Scully put the flat of her left hand on her lower belly. An old reflex her body hadn't lost from the time she went up the terrace, not completely alone but with a miracle child in her womb, when she was looking there for comfort and answers about Mulder's abduction. She didn't let these thoughts resurface.

The fresher air on the roof immediately made them look for their old shared place. The scenery had changed since then, the former furniture all gone and replaced with new ones, but they were relieved to immediately recognize the spot -and that there was nobody else to be seen.

"Help me bringing this table," Mulder told Scully, pointing out a close plastic table.

They carried the light item to what had been their place for a short period of their lifetime, after Scully's illness and before Mulder's abduction. A location in a corner of the terrace that became theirs for a while, their hangout at the FBI when they became much closer partners and friends, then outrageously flirty, and finally intimate lovers. When, amid hard work and darkness, they needed to breathe fresh air the basement couldn't give them, to feel the weight of the sky upon them, and finally to trespass the limit of decency in a workplace.

That little spot they had shared had made them feel alive and fulfilled.

Mulder and Scully sat side by side on the table, and stared at the spread out city.

"I'm glad you invited me, Scully," Mulder said after a little moment of silence.

"I'm afraid it's not exactly what I thought it would be," Scully replied.

"How come? What did you expect?"

Scully glanced at her watch and shrugged.

"Surely we have to wait…" Scully finally answered.

"I can wait by your side as long as needed," Mulder said, having no clue about Scully's meaning, and still glad there could be more to enjoy.

Scully took Mulder's hand in hers, and both stayed quiet, squeezing and playing with each other's fingers.

Then -no measure of time needed- a faint glow fell upon them, wrapping and enlightening their face and body.

Mulder turned aside and raised his head.

"Wow, the moon is rising! Is that a full moon, tonight?" Mulder asked.

"Not quite, but sufficiently close to. And the weather is perfect, tonight," Scully stated.

Mulder turned back his head toward Scully's face. The moonlight was beautifying her wide smile, sending sparks in her eyes and making her hair slightly shine.

"I like that, Scully. Thanks."

Long ago, when they were hanging out on that rooftop, they had resigned themselves to the fact they wouldn't stargaze and observe a starry night as they would have wanted to. However, once, they had discovered that the moon could be there for them, that it was the only celestial object powerful enough to face the too many lights of the foolish humans.

Then, under occasional soft moonlights, they had shared a lot of philosophical thoughts, they had shared a lot of playful banters, and finally they had shared a lot of intimate gestures.

Under the shared dim moonlight, they always had felt better.

Right now, on the terrace of the FBI building, Mulder and Scully were indeed feeling better, sharing the white moonlight brightening their happiness to be side by side.

Certainly, the moon was already smiling to them, foreseeing the well-known gestures it had witnessed a long time ago.

Foreseeing the faces getting closer, the lips colliding and undulating, then the hands sneaking and stroking under the clothes, the moon fiercely and steadily rose up in the night, proudly reflecting the photons from the sun hitting its almost plain surface toward these two familiar human beings.

Not sure Mulder and Scully were realizing the effort of the moon, busy they were to simply enjoy their shared gestures, beautified by the moonlight.