Scully had picked up the phone and put it back down again three times now. This was ridiculous. She picked it up for the fourth time, took a deep breath, and dialled the first number on the business card she'd been worrying between her fingers for the past fifteen minutes.
It rang several times, and then Scully heard the click as it switched over to a voice mail message. "You've reached Detective Chief Inspector Stella Gibson. If this is an urgent matter…"
With a sigh, she lifted the phone away from her ear to hang up when she suddenly heard, "Hello?"
"Uh, hi. It's Dana. I didn't think you were there."
"I was just getting ready for bed. How are you? How was your flight home? Not too sick, I hope."
Scully leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. "No, it was fine." There was a rustling on the other end of the line — Stella was pulling on a robe, or maybe getting into bed. "How about you? Back to work tomorrow?"
"Yes, thank God. I'm losing my mind with all this forced domesticity." There was a long pause. "But that's not really why you called me, is it?"
"No."
There was another long lull as Stella waited patiently for Scully to speak.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking since I got home, about my life, about what I want. I'm going to talk to Mulder… even though I'm afraid of what he might say."
"Are you worried he's going to reject you or that he's going to fall to his knees and profess his undying affection?"
Scully let out a strangled groan. "God, both? I don't even know anymore."
"Dana, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you're a mess."
Scully laughed outright. "You think I don't know that? Why do you think I called you?"
"Fine, you want my advice?" Stella's voice was warm in her ear, and Scully slid down the wall into a sitting position.
"Probably not but give it to me anyway."
"Invite him over. Fuck each other stupid. See if you still like each other in the morning."
Scully snorted. "You make it sound so simple."
"Because it is. The only thing making this complicated is the fact that you're afraid to have a basic conversation about what you want."
Scully stared in the direction of her living room, bathed in the lengthening shadows of early evening.
"I know." She shifted the receiver from one ear to the other. "Thanks… for listening. It's good to hear your voice."
Stella was quiet for a moment and then said softly, "I'm glad you called."
"Me, too."
"Talk to him. Call me afterward. Let me know how it goes."
"I will."
"Take care, Dana. Good night."
"Good night."
She hung up the phone, feeling better than she had before, and stood up to go turn on the lights.
Scully pulled into her usual parking spot in the underground lot beside Mulder's car. It was no surprise that he was already here, even though it was well before seven. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd ever been in before him. She gathered her things from the passenger seat — briefcase, purse, and a small silver plastic bag with a cartoon of a cheekily grinning Scottish man on it. The words 'Up Yer Kilt' were printed below the figure in red letters. She had briefly considered wrapping Mulder's gift, but suspected that the bag would amuse him at least as much as the tie.
Heels clicking on the pavement, she made her way past the security guard and into the building. It still felt strange to not push the 'B' button in the elevator, and she ran one finger over the diagonal crack that bisected the letter after pushing the '5'. The doors opened on the bullpen, still mostly empty, but it would be teeming with people in another hour or two.
She felt a wave of disappointment to see that Mulder wasn't at his desk, although his computer was on and there was a file folder and its contents spread across the surface. She'd been looking forward to seeing him with nervous anticipation. Would he instantly pick up on the changes within her, that she'd spent the entirety of her weekend in some sort of exhaustive mid-life crisis led contemplation? She walked around his desk to place the folded silver bag on his chair, smiling at the sight of his scratchy handwriting and post-it notes stuck to all the papers.
As she came back around to tuck her purse and briefcase away beneath her desk, she noticed the stack of files on the top of her desk with yet another yellow post-it note on the top folder with 'Scully – to review… or just sign off and don't review, no one cares anyway' scrawled across it. She flipped the top one open. Kersh had evidently not let up with the grunt work while she'd been away. With a sigh, she sat down and got to work.
She'd been at it for more than hour and Mulder still hadn't appeared. Her traitorous brain helpfully supplied several scenarios about what he could be doing downstairs, across his old desk, with Diana Fowley, but she promptly crumpled those images up like a piece of wadded up newspaper. Not going there.
She took a break to stretch and go to the bathroom — she didn't even need to go, but it was a good excuse to get up and move around a little. A cup of coffee would be good right now, she decided, but, of course, the coffee maker in the break room had a sign taped to it that said it was broken. She sighed. Maybe she would finish up her current file and then walk down to the cafeteria.
Her eyes kept drifting up to the clock on the wall, watching the red second hand sweeping around and around, even though it felt like it should be much later in the morning than it actually was. Same old clock. Same old desk. Same old monotony.
But she wasn't the same.
She had spent the weekend worried about things changing, but it had already happened. No matter what the outcome between her and Mulder turned out to be, it was too late. The change had already happened, inside of her.
She wasn't the same person she'd been a week ago.
And that was it. The moment. She could see it as clearly as if someone had pushed the pause button, jabbed her in the side as hard as they could, and then hit play.
She pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out the local phone directory, flipping it open and skimming through until she reached the 'M's. She already knew the name of the place she wanted. It was a fifteen minute walk from the Hoover building and had been there for years, although she'd never really paid it much attention until about two and a half years ago, strangely enough. She wasn't sure she understood why, on a rational level, that she associated major life changes with inking a permanent reminder of it on her skin, but she supposed that this type of rebellion was at least healthier than taking up smoking again.
On some level, she could admit that she liked the pain, feeling a level of physical discomfort that mimicked what she was feeling inside, a way to control and focus those feelings onto a physical patch of skin on her body. At the time she'd gotten her first one, she'd thought it had been the forbidden thrill of defying Mulder, of being with Ed, but now she believed that the arousal she'd felt hadn't had much to do with Ed at all.
She needed that now, needed the burn of the tattoo needle working the ink deep under her epidermis, needed the rush of adrenaline and endorphins that would follow. One way or another, change was coming. A change that she was about to instigate.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
She'd met Stella, and that collision had set her on the course she was on now, hurtling towards another impact that would send her life ricocheting off in an, as yet, undetermined direction at an undetermined velocity.
She dialled the number beneath her finger, put the receiver up to her ear, and waited.
"Metamorphosis Tattoos." The woman sounded half asleep, the exact opposite of how Scully was feeling at the moment. She was buzzing with a nervous energy, like she'd been awake all night on a stake out and suddenly the perp had come into view.
"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment for a small simple design — just the outline of a shape, really. In black."
"Sure. Did you want to book a consult first, or are you already decided?"
"No, I don't need a consult. I know exactly what I want and where." She shifted the phone to her other ear as she tapped absentmindedly on the open phone book with her pen. "Listen, is there any chance you have an opening today? I work really close to you and I don't think it will take long at all. I can come in any time."
"Hang on, lemme check." Scully could hear the rustle of pages being flipped and the snap of the bubble gum between her teeth. "Do you have a particular artist in mind?"
"No. Anyone's fine."
"Well, I've got a one hour slot available with Frank at two. Would that work for you?"
"That's perfect." She'd been holding her breath. She didn't want to wait. "I'll be there."
She gave her particulars to the girl and hung up feeling elated, like she felt when there was a new intriguing case in front of her that she couldn't wait to dig into. She hummed to herself as she skimmed through the stack of papers Mulder had left on her desk while she was away, adding her initials to the bottom of each page as she finished reviewing it.
"You're in a good mood," Mulder said over her shoulder and she couldn't help a flinch of surprise, as wrapped up in her own head as she was. "Should I be worried?" He gently set a steaming mug of coffee down on the desk in front of her.
She set her pen down and leaned back in her chair. "Oh, probably." She couldn't help grinning as her eyes flicked to his chest and back up to his face. "Nice tie." He'd evidently been back at his desk when she'd gone to the bathroom and had found the present she'd left for him.
"Thank you." He shook the red tartan end at her. "A mysterious informant left it for me, and I thought it was only prudent to put it on, in case it was some sort of signal."
Scully reached for her mug, wrapping her hands around it and breathing in deeply. "Good plan. Better safe than sorry."
"My thoughts exactly." He flopped down in the desk across from hers, his gaze lingering on her as she blew on her coffee to help it cool faster.
"What?" she finally asked when he was still scrutinizing her, not even pretending to work.
"Nothing. Just nice to have you back. You're much nicer to look at than the alternative."
"Considering that the alternative is a blank wall, I'm flattered," she deadpanned.
Mulder snorted, and Scully tossed the case files she'd finished reviewing and initialling across her desk to land squarely on his. "Here you go. All ready for filing."
He slid them towards himself with a groan. "Geez, Scully, you really know how to live."
She thought of the appointment she'd just made and took a cautious sip of her coffee even though it was still hot enough to nearly burn her tongue and got back to work with a hint of a smile on her face. If Mulder noticed it, he didn't say anything.
The next two hours passed quickly, and she wasn't paying much attention to the time until Mulder was stretching his arms over his head with a mumbled half yawn and asking her where she wanted to go for lunch.
"Oh, sorry, Mulder. I can't today. I have to duck out for a quick appointment at two, so I really should just work through."
"Oh. Okay." She saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes followed quickly by one of worry, although he flicked his eyes down and pretended to adjust some papers on his desk for a moment to hide it. "Doctor?" he asked the top of his desk rather than her.
"No, nothing like that."
"Okay. Good." He looked up at her again and she could see the tension in his shoulders release. "I'll just grab something from the cafeteria then. You want anything?" He stood up and took his suit jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on.
"Sure. A salad would be great. Dressing on the side." She hesitated. He could see her thinking and he stilled, waiting. "And… a cookie. Chocolate chip. Please."
He raised an eyebrow at the unexpected request and then grinned. "Salad and a cookie. You got it."
He had taken a few steps before she heard herself unexpectedly say, "Mulder?"
"Yeah?" Her gaze caught on his brightly coloured tie as he turned back to face her.
"Do you have any plans for this Friday night?" The words came out, tumbling one after the other, and this time she just let them fall where they landed instead of biting her lip and swallowing them back down like she usually did. She had shaken up the metaphorical dice and scattered them across the table.
Mulder shrugged deprecatingly, his hands in his pockets, but his eyes had brightened. "Just the usual. Although, I think the Sci-Fi channel is re-running that Twilight Zone marathon."
"Did you want to come over for dinner and a movie? I'll cook, um, something that will hopefully be edible, or we can order in." She'd never been much of a cook, there hadn't seemed much point when she only needed to feed herself, but she could do the basics.
"Sure. That would be great. What time?"
"I don't know… six thirty?"
"I'll be there."
He flashed her a smile and then turned and began walking towards the elevators, jangling the coins in his pocket. She was sure she was just seeing things, but she thought his steps seemed a little bit lighter.
Thank you to all of you reading! And, as always, oodles of hugs a giant thank you to my awesome beta, Josie Lange!