A/N: This may be my favorite chapter so far. I don't know why.
His feet pounded on the sidewalk as he completed his second mile. One thing he loved about Montana was the wide open spaces. He could breathe out here, a luxury he never thought about until it was offered to him. Everything seemed a little simpler when there wasn't a huge building for miles around. He made fun of farming communities, snorted with derision at their slower way of life, but he firmly believed that living out here, just like that, would extend his life by many years. Less stress. Maybe he would retire here.
Retiring made him think of Scully. He'd fallen asleep in her room the night before last, and had managed to sleep through the night. He hadn't even moved in the whole seven hours; neither had she. He woke up comfortable, rested and happy, feelings he hadn't had in that combination since he was a kid. He knew though, that making a habit out of sleeping next to each other could become detrimental, not to mention add more to their codependency. So last night he had made sure to stay in his own room. Scully didn't mention it, but he could tell that she would have liked him to stay with her again.
They would never do this at home; maybe they could make that a rule. Whenever they were out of town, it was allowed. But once they went home, they would have to separate.
No, it was better to just avoid the whole thing. They had way too much to deal with anyway, and adding sleeping together (in the most literal translation of that phrase) would just be too much. He could love her and care for her and be her best friend, but until the conspiracies of the world were put to rest, and their stupid walls were torn down, the simpler things were, the better.
Mile three.
Of course, he would somehow have to justify the forehead kisses and the quick hand holds, and his undeniable desire to tuck her hair behind her ear. He was pretty good at stretching the truth, or twisting it to make it acceptable, so he was sure he could come up with something that they would both be comfortable with.
He began his fourth mile, heading back towards the hotel. They had a lot of work to do today. The autopsy pictures had come in from the first victim, and Scully had spent much of yesterday looking them over. Around lunch time, she had requested the reports from all the other victims as well. He didn't know how she could sit there at a desk and look at autopsy pictures while eating a plate of spaghetti, but it didn't surprise him that she could.
He had watched her from across the room for a long time, under the guise of looking over reports of his own. She had taken off her jacket, revealing a light blue sleeveless blouse underneath. She had her knee drawn up to her chest, and rested her chin on it every so often as she scanned the reports. Her glasses went on as she read and came off when she looked at the pictures. She chewed on her bottom lip absent-mindedly, used her pen to push her hair away from her face, all the while being oblivious to his observations.
He loved that.
He slowed his running as he got closer to the hotel, and was walking by the time he got there. Eight miles wasn't a bad way to start the morning. Not bad at all. He found that running even a mile or two started the day off better, and he didn't get as antsy later. He tried to get at least a quick jog in before meetings and evaluations. It kept him from jumping up and screaming foul, which kept Scully happy and Skinner's head from exploding. It was a win-win-win situation.
He showered and changed clothes quickly, then walked to the diner next door and picked up some breakfast. Scully was a bear in the mornings and the best way to turn her back into herself was with coffee and a pastry. A Danish was the best way to go, but a blueberry muffin would do the trick too. He smiled to himself as he thought about it. He knew her way too well.
He pushed their adjoining door open slowly, without knocking. The lights were still off, and he was surprised she was still in bed. Either she hadn't slept well and was trying to get in a few extra minutes, or she had slept so hard, her internal alarm had been silenced.
"Hey Scully," he whispered, setting breakfast down on the table.
There was no response from the direction of the bed, and he opened the shades on the window.
"Come on Scully, time to get up," he said, turning around to face her.
The bed was empty.
He stood there for a moment, wondering where she had gone. The bathroom door stood wide open; she wasn't in there. She didn't go for a run like he had- she preferred hers at night, as they helped her to sleep. There wasn't a note anywhere, and that's when he started to worry. It wasn't like her to take off without leaving a note. He circled the room, looking for anything that was out of place, or different from how it had been the night before. Everything looked in order. Her suitcase was in the same place, her clothes for the day were draped over the back of a chair, even her toothbrush hadn't moved. He was completing his second revolution around the room when he noticed that her door leading outside wasn't closed all the way. No light was coming through, but it wasn't latched. He turned on the light and looked closely at the door. He had made sure the door was locked when he left her last night. He always made sure.
He opened the door slowly, paying close attention to how it sounded, trying to get his subconscious to remind him if he had heard that sound in the night. He bowed his head in concentration, and that's when he noticed the small red stain on the light carpet. He started to feel dizzy as he realized what was going on.
Scully was not here.
She hadn't wanted to leave.
Someone had taken her.
She was hurt.
And it had all happened as he slept right next door.