Cowritten with admiralty (Ao3), admiralty_xfd (Twitter), admiralty-xfd (Tumblr)
vii. do not disturb
She was back.
It was a strange kind of back; not just back on the X-Files again after so many years, but... back. Back with Mulder again. Back together in the platonic sense of the word she'd nearly forgotten.
Mulder had asked her to marry him so many times over the years she'd lost count. At a certain point in their relationship, it occurred to her they'd been a romantic couple for longer than they hadn't, and while that old part of them would never truly leave her heart or her mind, she'd wanted to honor this new them. She'd hoped they would stick around. When she'd finally said yes in the Maldives, it was only when they were free: free of the FBI and its unrelenting vendetta against them, finally free of the darkness.
Or so she'd thought.
Things had gone from very good to bad to worse with them, and it had been nearly two years since she'd thrown in the towel completely, leaving him and their life together behind in their empty house. She'd known she would have to be the one to make a change, for Mulder had fallen into a pattern that he couldn't get out of: looking into the darkness for so long that he'd become blind to everything in the periphery, even her.
He wasn't built to give up. But she wasn't built to be in the periphery.
She couldn't live with Mulder anymore, not after all of the heartache they'd put each other through. But somehow she couldn't imagine her life without him either. And maybe that was the reason they were back now, woven together like twine that tied them to their unavoidable journey in perpetuity.
Apparently this time, their journey was leading them after a monster, and while it wasn't the highest priority in her mind, it was still her job. People were being murdered and if they could help catch a killer, they should.
Mulder tapped the bell on the desk of the woodsy lodge they were checking into in Shawan, Oregon. As they waited, Scully looked around at the kitschy decor, the taxidermied animal heads mounted on the wall, photographs of small men proudly holding up large fish.
A rather mousy looking man appeared from a back room, dabbing his forehead with a kerchief. "What do you want?"
Mulder looked around, making a show of taking in his surroundings. "Are you the manager? We'd like a couple of rooms, please."
The manager looked at Mulder, then over to Scully. "A couple? You two old-fashioned or sumthin'?"
Mulder eyed Scully, letting her take this one. "We're not old-fashioned, sir, we're FBI agents," she said with a heavy sigh, raising her badge. "I believe our Director called ahead?"
The man looked at her badge, then at her again, then at Mulder, and his expression changed from confusion to a pronounced leer more quickly than she'd ever witnessed in a man.
His leer, however, wasn't directed at her.
"My apologies, please sign in," he said sweetly as he shoved a guest book at Mulder, completely ignoring Scully. Mulder gave the man an awkward grin and she stifled a laugh, extremely amused at this turn of events.
"Is that… your personal number?" the man asked as he craned his neck to watch Mulder pen his information.
"Um." Mulder turned a shade pinker. "That's the direct line… to headquarters in Washington."
"Oh." The man looked disappointed, eyed a bottle of rubbing alcohol that sat on the counter. "Well, just around the corner. Rooms six and eight." He held out two keys. When Scully reached for one of them, the man held it back.
"He's in six." He handed Mulder one of the keys and the other one to Scully. She was so distracted by his obvious attraction to Mulder she didn't think much of it.
"Thank you," Mulder said politely, and Scully couldn't help but notice the manager watching them closely as they walked out of the lobby.
"Subtle, wasn't he?" Scully teased.
"What is it lately with me?" Mulder asked under his breath. "I'm flattered, don't get me wrong, but I'm just confused as to where the recent uptick in male appreciation is coming from."
Scully chuckled, remembering his tale of a recent proposition from another man in a storage closet. While she enjoyed watching his bemused reaction, it only further highlighted the fact that Mulder, her Mulder, was still extremely desirable. To every gender.
"You've always been an attractive man, Mulder."
His eyebrows reached new heights. "Oh, really?" He grinned and she rolled her eyes as he reached out to chivalrously take her suitcase from her. It was a nice gesture, unexpected and very un-Mulderlike. Not that he wasn't a gentleman, but he'd typically allowed her the independence he knew she'd desired.
She shrugged. "Why would I lie to you about that? Although most good-looking men only get better with age. You were bound to benefit from that kind of certitude."
He stopped. Cocked his head to the side. "And what about you, Scully?"
"What about me?"
"You're honestly going to stand there and tell me you haven't been beating handsome surgeon-types off with a stick?"
She huffed a laugh. She wasn't in any headspace to tell Mulder, her technically current husband, she'd indeed attempted to move past him with other men. She also wasn't in any headspace to tell him she'd failed spectacularly.
"Not as much as you have, apparently," was all she could muster.
"He's not really my type."
"Seems like you're his," she replied.
He shook his head. "You always were great at avoiding the question, Scully."
She bit her lip, remaining silent, intending to once again prove him right. She was used to it anyway.
Scully used her key to unlock room eight, placing her body between him and her door. For some reason she wasn't interested in letting him carry her suitcase inside.
"Thanks, I've got it from here."
He didn't push, and obeyed, setting her suitcase next to her. "Okay. Fifteen minutes? Back out front?"
"Yes, we have to be at the crime scene in thirty."
"Yeah," he said in a flat intonation. "To catch a monster." He said the word 'monster' with barely veiled derision.
She tried to decipher the look in his eyes, which wasn't quite boredom, but the same disillusionment she'd been noting ever since she saw him again outside Tad O'Malley's limousine. She didn't like it. Three eyes, two eyes, whatever their "monster" featured across its face, it was out there somewhere, killing people. They were here to catch it, and she needed Mulder's instincts and expertise. His prevailing "crisis of faith" was disconcerting, to say the least.
He had started to walk away when he seemed to notice something out of the corner of his eye. He turned back, bent over towards her suitcase and pulled out, to her horror, a leopard print bra that had been dangling out the side. Now it was her turn to change colors, chameleon style.
"Oh. Um…"
He held it out and she snatched the offending item. "Thanks."
"Don't want to lose that one," he said with a wink. "It always was one of my favorites."
And with that, he spun on his heels and headed down the corridor. She was still watching him, mouth agape, when he disappeared into his room.
She really had forgotten how much fun they'd had back in the day: solving cases, chasing monsters. It seemed like another lifetime altogether; as if they'd been two completely different people. She felt so removed from it now she found herself able to appreciate it more.
Mulder was still having a tough time admitting they were after a monster, and she found it odd that she was suddenly in a position to convince him otherwise. But she didn't like when he was this way: without hope, without that eager boyish energy she'd fallen in love with so many years ago. Through perhaps no fault of his own, he'd lost it over the years, and she couldn't do anything about it at the time but sit back and watch until she couldn't watch anymore.
He was trying, at least. He was here, and he was healthy, and he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as she was. She'd begrudgingly admitted to him how much she'd missed this, but she was fully capable of admitting it to herself.
Arriving back at the motel after conducting the latest victim's autopsy, Scully flopped her suitcase onto her bed and opened it up to retrieve her nighttime necessities. She searched through item after item for her pajamas with no success. She mentally chastised herself: it had been so long since she'd packed for an out-of-town case she'd apparently forgotten how to do it.
She considered just sleeping naked, but this wasn't the kind of establishment in which she felt completely safe to do so. Not to mention the disembodied fox head on the wall that stared at her with beady little eyes. It was disturbing, to say the least, and she shuddered.
There was only one Fox she'd ever allowed to look at her naked and he was in the room next door.
Knowing there was really only one thing to do, she threw her suit jacket over a nearby chair, grabbed her room key, and went outside, locking it. She walked the standard fifteen feet to the next door, as was customary whenever their rooms didn't adjoin, and as was also customary, she knocked three times.
Her attention was drawn to the taunting "do not disturb" tag dangling from the knob, and her head snapped up as she heard the lock turning. Mulder opened the door, an eyebrow cocked. He was wearing sweatpants and a dark gray T-shirt. "You told me to get some sleep, Scully," he said. "What, you want to join me?"
She was used to his flirting. He couldn't turn it off, he never had been able to. Ignoring his comment, she cut to the chase. "I just… forgot to pack pajamas."
Mulder shook his head. "Rookie." He held the door open, understanding her subtext as always, and while she'd expected this, she wasn't quite sure how comfortable she was in his space again.
"I don't want to bother you, really," she backpedaled, suddenly very awkward. "I can figure something out."
He held firm. "You're never a bother, Scully."
She wasn't quite sure why she was so hesitant. Things had been relatively friendly between them lately. But she was starting to realize she wasn't worried she didn't want to spend time in his motel room. She was more worried that she really, really did.
"Thanks," she said, somewhat reluctantly ducking underneath his arm, standing anxiously by the doorway. As she watched the door swing shut, the 'do not disturb' tag dangled temptingly on the knob. She felt an unexpected hot flush spurred by a memory: the instinctual impulse she'd always had to put out that sign herself whenever she and Mulder were on the other side of the door.
She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she glanced at his television, tuned to an episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show. She couldn't suppress a fond chuckle of remembrance at the domestic exploits of Rob and Laura Petrie, and when she turned around to share a look with him he was already prepared, that lopsided grin the same as it ever was.
He gestured to his suitcase, which was opened on the bed, still packed. Mulder never unpacked on cases; the possibility of some new creature or some new truth to find always precluded any desire to sit still.
Scully sifted through his clothes, an act that she found more difficult than she'd anticipated. The scent of home invaded her nostrils as she picked up his items like olfactory talismans. Inexplicably, she came across what looked like his old red speedo and held it up questioningly, an eyebrow raised.
"That's not what you think," he explained. "It's just underwear."
"Briefs? Really?" Mulder had always been a boxers kind of guy. This was an interesting development.
"What's with the third degree, Scully? First the monster, now me? Boxers or briefs?"
She huffed a silent laugh and shrugged her shoulders, dropping them back into his suitcase. "It's just surprising, that's all."
"It's the new Mulder. What can I say?"
She smiled at him, and continued searching. Finally she landed on a familiar gray and oxblood T-shirt with a tiny blink-and-you-miss-it Oxford logo emblazoned near the waist. She held it up, asking silent permission, and Mulder made a be my guest wave.
Without thinking, she pulled the shirt up to her nose and inhaled, her eyes peering over at him as he took in this sight with barely suppressed adoration.
"Definitely meant to take this one with me," she admitted. "One of my favorites."
"I doubt I'd have missed it, you little thief," he grinned. She felt a flush of embarrassment that clearly he'd noticed the other treasures she'd taken with her when she left: a bottle of his aftershave, his alien head mug, a framed newspaper clipping of them after they'd solved a difficult case. "Anyway, keep it, it's yours."
She glanced around his room, which looked pretty much like hers, except a mirror image version. There was another glaring difference.
"Nice wolf," she smiled, pointing at the furry gray creature mounted on his wall.
Mulder shrugged. "What else can you expect at the Enchanted Hunter Motor Lodge?"
She chuckled a bit. "You sure know how to pick them, I'll give you that, Mulder."
He gestured for her to have a seat on his bed, and while she thought it could be a mistake, that it could make things more difficult, she found herself sitting all the same.
"...And which enchanted creature hath this establishment bestowed upon thee?" he asked.
"A fox, if you can believe it."
"Ah," he exhaled with a small grin. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be the first time a fox watched you sleeping." He instantly drew his mouth into a thin line, perhaps regretting the words.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing." He shook his head. "Never mind."
"No, tell me," she prodded.
Mulder shrugged in that I've got nothing to lose way he had going for him lately. She'd been noticing more and more that leaving him had had an effect on his behavior she hadn't anticipated. She wondered if perhaps it was exactly what had needed to happen to jar him awake.
"I've always loved to watch you sleep, Scully."
Her heart thudded inexplicably at his intimate declaration, and although she'd known this sort of thing was bound to happen again, she'd feared it just the same. She still worked daily to convince herself that getting back together with Mulder wasn't an option anymore. She'd found a comfortable stasis of sorts; her life had been cauterizing into something that resembled normalcy again. She'd thought for nearly two years she could finally break free of the powerful hold he'd had over her for the better part of her life.
When he said things like this, she wasn't so sure she even wanted to.
"You… watched me sleep?" she asked. She couldn't help it. "When?"
He made his way over to sit next to her on the bed, tentatively. "Not to creep you out or anything, but all the time. Stakeouts. My apartment back in D.C." He looked right at her. "At home, in bed."
When he used the word home it melted her. She missed it so much; not just the space but the feel of it; the home they'd made together, as unusual as the circumstances had been. It had been so good. It was his and it was hers and it was theirs.
"And why did you do that?" she asked.
"Well… I guess when you're sleeping, I can imagine you're at peace. You look peaceful." His expression softened. "And beautiful."
She stared at him for a moment, trying to recollect all of the times she'd fallen asleep in his presence. She made a mental note to pay more attention to his own peaceful slumber if she were ever again afforded the opportunity.
He must have misconstrued her silence for disapproval, and he quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry, does that make you uncomfortable?"
"No," she said immediately, and she meant it. "Not at all. It's actually making me feel the opposite."
He smiled. "Good."
"How… far back would you engage in this particular activity, Mulder?" she asked.
"Well," he began, concentrating on some vivid memory. "Do you remember that night after Dudley? We did exposure therapy together. For your baths."
"I do remember that," she said. "It feels like another lifetime ago."
"Not to me," he said. And before she could press him on his meaning, he continued. "You were so brave. You went through with it, and then you climbed into my bed without even asking."
She felt her cheeks flush. "I think I was more afraid than I cared to let on."
"I certainly wasn't going to complain, Scully," he grinned. "Anyway, you were asleep in a matter of minutes. It was the first time I'd ever gotten to see it. I felt this surge of pride that I'd helped you somehow. You were at peace. And to be honest, it was like a drug. I was hooked."
She smiled at this information; that there were things about Mulder she would continue to learn, perhaps as long as she lived. The tenderness he'd possessed at the time to care about such a thing surprised her. The Mulder she remembered was always so hyper-focused on everything, it had seemed, but her. The knowledge that hadn't been the case at all nearly took her breath away.
"Wow, Mulder."
He shrugged. "It's pretty cheesy, I guess."
"No," she said instantly. "It's… it's really sort of… romantic."
Her mind wandered to a younger version of Mulder, watching her sleeping form, wondering how he'd felt about her when he did so. She was fully aware that they'd both engaged in more-than-friendly thoughts about the other long before they'd dared to admit it.
He turned his head to look at her and suddenly she was cognizant of the fact that they were close, very close to one another. On a bed. While on a case. Regardless of the probability of anything untoward actually occurring, they were both aware of the heat between them at this very moment.
"Be honest, Mulder," she said, trying to lighten things. "Did you sneak a peek that night? In Dudley?"
"I most certainly did not!" He laughed with mock indignation. "I was a perfect gentleman."
She grinned. "You always were, from what I recall."
"I was. Well, except on those occasions you didn't want me to be," he made sure to clarify, in a suggestive, throaty tone.
A flush of remembrance reddened her cheeks as she thought of all the times he'd behaved, quite welcomed, in a very un gentlemanlike way.
"I recall those times, too."
She felt an unexpected heat between her thighs and crossed her legs, shifting uncomfortably. She missed physical intimacy so badly; not just with another person, but specifically with Mulder. She'd known that was the case whenever she'd attempted to date other men, which wasn't frequent, and always ended badly. It was Mulder she missed, Mulder she wanted wrapped around her on the nights she only had her hand and her trusty vibrator in her bed. And it was getting harder and harder to keep her arousal under control ever since they'd begun spending all of their time together again. Having him near, seeing how much he'd taken care of himself. Smelling his heady, masculine Mulder scent. It was almost enough to push all of her rational thinking to the back of her mind.
What if…? What if, maybe, they could put all of their baggage aside for a night and simply enjoy each other the way they used to? The way it was before? Just throw caution to the wind and allow themselves some much-needed release? Maybe it could be like old times…
Old times. Back when sex was what they used to avoid talking about all of the things they really needed to.
She shook off the urge, knowing as much as she wanted him, they weren't ready to take that particular plunge. They'd only just begun rebuilding what had been broken, and she still wasn't entirely certain if they could get somewhere new, somewhere better. Mulder was still healing; not only from his dark place, but from the pain she herself had inflicted upon him when she left him behind. It wasn't ego; she'd picked up on as much from his attitude when they'd seen each other again after so long. She couldn't take advantage of him in such a vulnerable state. If it led somewhere they couldn't return from, she would never forgive herself.
"Do you remember the last time we did this?" Mulder said, interrupting her reverie.
She wasn't sure what he meant. They'd done pretty much everything together. "Did what?"
"Oregon. Sixteen years ago." He looked around the room. "The colors in here are even the same. It was the last time… well, the last time we ever shared a room while working on a case."
There were some nights she'd spent with Mulder she'd tried to forget. Moments they'd shared from their past life that, if she thought about them too hard, might swallow her whole. This particular memory jarred something loose inside of her, a feeling she'd held close to her heart for all this time. It was the night he'd told her to move on with her life, just before he'd been abducted. It had very nearly crippled her.
"I remember," she said gently, and out of complete habit she reached out and rested her hand on his thigh. "I remember all too well."
"I always felt closest to you on nights like these, Scully," he admitted. "In rooms just like this. I guess... I just felt like whatever happened in these spaces we shared when we weren't supposed to, was sacred."
She felt the same way. Out there, where the monsters lurked and they did their work, was the professional part of them. In here, when it was quiet and intimate and just the two of them, it became personal.
"I try not to think about that night," she admitted. "I know why now, but at the time it felt like you were giving up on me."
There were moments early on in their relationship, at least in their romantic relationship, when she'd still felt so far away from him. He'd held her close in that Bellefleur motel room and talked about a future that she now knew in retrospect he hadn't believed they'd get. There had been a wall between them, always a wall, built of the things they couldn't say to one another.
"That was such a strange time, Scully," he said, and she saw real pain in his eyes as he remembered. "I think I just loved you too much to hurt you again."
It was odd: now that they weren't in a relationship anymore, she didn't feel the same hesitancy to share her feelings. "I wish you would have confided in me."
He nodded, deep in thought. "I wish I'd done a lot of things differently."
She wished the same, for them both, and while it wasn't the first time Mulder had expressed his regret, it was the first time she really believed him. Here, again, in this sacred space they could call their own, she knew it was true.
"Me too."
They sat in silence for a few moments, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to see him smile again the way he used to, the way he would when some exciting discovery was within his grasp.
"Cheer up, Mulder," was all she could think to say. "There's a monster out there, you know."
"You really think so?" he asked.
"No," she answered with a smile. "But I hope so, for your sake. I don't like this new Mulder, at least not when you're all mopey."
"You didn't like the old one much, either," he pointed out.
"That's not true," she declared. "It just... got difficult to see him anymore, that's all." She reached out and laid her hand across his heart. "He's in here, somewhere, still believing in monsters. I know he is."
Mulder stared at the wall, apparently deep in thought. She was reminded of the days he'd done the same when they shared a life together; those moments when she felt like he'd lost his way, and with it, she'd lost him.
"I think when you left," he suddenly said, still staring straight ahead, "it just got hard to believe in anything anymore."
Her heart seemed to stop as she took in his words. They hadn't addressed what had torn them apart; their inability to communicate. She wanted to, but she couldn't. She still felt like the moment she left this space things would go back to the way they usually were between them. She knew her departure had affected him but never before had she realized exactly how much. Mulder without his beliefs was no Mulder at all.
The truth was, Mulder without Scully was no Mulder at all.
"I'm right here," she said, no louder than a whisper. "And even though I left, I never stopped believing in you."
She reached up to touch his jawline, turning his head to look at her. Suddenly she found herself tumbling into his hazel irises the way she had that night in Kroner, and without any thought as to what she wanted or what she was even ready for, she found herself leaning in.
He met her halfway like he always had, and their lips touched for the first time in nearly two years. It was a sweet kiss, a moment of reconnection they both needed. Like butterfly wings. She was transported back to New Year's Eve, another lifetime ago.
When she pulled away her first thought was fear, fear that perhaps she'd led him on, that maybe she was indicating she was ready for something she wasn't. But he didn't push. He just gazed at her, and his eyes softened, and although she knew it was ridiculous to think so, she felt like she'd injected a little bit of life back into Fox Mulder.
"Well," she said, her talent for not allowing a moment to overtake them as well-fed as ever, "I suppose I should get some sleep." She stood and turned to face him, hugging his shirt to her chest. "You should do the same."
He still looked a bit dazed from her kiss, his eyes half-lidded, his lips still slightly parted. There was disappointment in his expression, but although she wanted to stay, she knew she had to go. She hadn't meant to disturb the balance she thought she'd created in this new post-Mulder life.
There was no balance, not really. What she was beginning to realize was that there might never be a post-Mulder life.
"Sweet dreams, Scully," he said softly. "See you in the morning."
She headed over to the door, opening it a tad and looking back at him with her hand on the knob.
"Thanks for the shirt."
"Hope it fits," he replied.
"It won't," she assured him with meaning. "But that's what I always liked about it."
She gave him a gentle wave as she exited, pulling the door closed. The "do not disturb" tag dangled there, mocking her once again.
She went back to her quiet room, took off her clothes, and slipped Mulder's shirt over her head. As it fell down over her shoulders she was surrounded by its scent and it smelled exactly the same as she remembered. He hadn't so much as switched laundry detergents.
After her nighttime ablutions, she got into bed, burrowed beneath the covers, and turned off the light. Just before she drifted off to sleep she looked up at the wall where a fox watched her.
Somehow, this time, it felt right.