Thanks to everyone who's reading this :) the second part is basically a collection of missing scenes from the revival... scenes that could have happened but that we didn't see.
Enjoy :)
Part II
Scully accepts to work with him again, when Skinner calls, and her hearts beats just a little faster as she watches Mulder step out of a black car. She tells him she's happy to see him, and it's the truth. He looks remarkably good.
A part of him wants to hug her, or kiss her cheek, but he decides against it. She never came back to him, she left him without ever turning back. It means she's happy they're not together anymore, and he needs to keep respecting that, even though he might be seeing her more often now.
They might be working together, but this, he tells himself, changes nothing.
She can't help remembering why she's left him when, a couple of nights later, she visits him at their old house to talk to him. He's on fire, rambling on about some mysterious truth, thinking he's finally this close to finding the missing piece of his puzzle, but she knows better. She knows all of this is dangerous for him, she remembers how it ended the last time. It's just a cycle he'll never break, she thinks as she walks away from him.
She can't help remembering why she fell in love with him in the first place when she discovers her own DNA is altered and not completely human, and she knows he's the only one who can understand her, and the only one she'd turn to.
He tells her he put William behind, that he moved on, but it's nothing but a lie. He thinks of his son almost every day of his life, that cute little baby he never really got to know. He envies her, because at least she spent a few months with him, while he was hiding somewhere too far away from them.
What kept him going, during that period of his life, was the thought of his family back in that apartment in Georgetown. He would dream about the day he would hug them again, and the life they would have together once the danger was gone. He never told Scully, but he was ready to give up his work, his life mission, for them, to be a father.
When he found out William wasn't his son anymore, that he would never see his baby again, the whole world crashed onto him, and there was no way he could ever truly move on from that.
He still thinks about him, but she doesn't know, just like he doesn't know how much her choice of giving him up still deeply affects her.
Each in their own house, they hold a picture in their hand, and they grieve, separately, alone, imagining all the things they could have done with him. They wish they could at least grieve together, like they used to do, but neither of them picks up the phone.
She knocks at his motel door one night. They're in the middle of nowhere, chasing a monster or maybe an animal, and she completely forgot to pack her nightwear.
"Scully? Is everything alright?" he asks, as he opens the door and unexpectedly sees her.
"Yes, I, uhm… Can I borrow a t-shirt or something? I left my PJs at home."
His lips curl into a mocking smirk. "I can't recall you ever forgetting anything before."
"Mulder, do you have a spare t-shirt or not?"
He nods, trying to repress a giggle. To be honest, he only has one t-shirt he was planning to sleep in, but he gladly gives it to her. He has no problem sleeping naked, and he loves her in his clothes too much. Maybe, if he's lucky, he might even catch a glimpse of her in it.
He hands her an old t-shirt, half grey and half red. She thanks him quickly before walking back to her room.
He does catch a glimpse of her sleeping , but he's too creeped out to actually enjoy the view. He doesn't want to wake her up just yet, so once he's spoken to the hotel clerk, he goes back to his room and tries to get some sleep himself.
However, the excitement is high and he's on fire again, and all he wants is to share with her what he just learned.
It's not even 6 am when he decides he's done tossing and turning in his sheets, and it's time to go wake her up too.
The first time he knocks on her door, she vaguely hears the sound but doesn't even wake up, so he knocks again, louder. She's awake now, but thinks he'll just go away if she keeps ignoring him.
"Scully, it's me!" he shouts, his hand still rhythmically hitting her door.
She groans as she finally finds the willpower to get up and let him in, still in a state between sleep and awake.
"What is it, Mulder?" she yawns, laying back in bed with a hand on her forehead. She's not 35 anymore, waking up in the middle of a REM phase is not as easy as it used to be.
He has the files in his hands and he starts talking about what he discovered hours earlier, about his chat with the hotel clerk. He's so focused on remembering all the details that it takes a while for him to even realise she's drifted off to sleep, and is now snoring softly.
He smiles, warmly this time, thinking back of all the times he's seen her like this before, peacefully asleep in his clothes. She's still as cute as she always was, and he has to fight hard against his own instinct not to just snuggle up against her and pick up the conversation in an hour or two.
"Scully," he whispers gently, unsuccessfully trying to wake her up.
He sits on the edge of the bed next to her, softly stroking her cheek with the back of his forefinger. She grunts, and her nose twitches, but she doesn't wake up.
He giggles, shaking his head. Now that her mind is not really FBI level alert anymore, she can be really hard to wake up sometimes. He remembers the time in which she used to wake up at the minimum sound.
He slowly runs his finger down her nose, and playfully sticks the tip of his pad up her nostril. That does the trick.
"Mulder!" she snaps, suddenly awake.
He's still giggling. This was one of the methods he would use to wake her up when they were together, maybe when she fell asleep in the middle of a movie he liked and he wanted to irritate her. So he would stick his pads up her nose. Or some other times he would kiss her auricle, loudly, so that she would feel the smooch noise right in her head.
When she wanted to annoy him, she would tickle his feet, or his ribcage, or his armpits, or anywhere really.
"Scully, it's important, I need you to be awake," he jokes.
She sighs as she sits up on the bed, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Her bare legs are slightly spread, revealing her white panties between. She doesn't seem to mind. "Alright, I'm awake, I'm awake. What were you saying?"
He stands up and starts pacing up and down the room again, repeating what he said earlier.
"So what?" she asks at some point.
He stops for a second and stares at her. Then, he throws on her bed the files he was still holding in his hands. "It's a monster, Scully, plain and simple…"
He knocks at her apartment door, after the case is over. She called him about an hour earlier, saying she has something to tell him. So for the first time in almost three years, he drives to her place in Washington. He's never been there before, the very few times they met while they were apart it was always at their old house.
She's already wearing her pyjamas and a robe when she lets him in with a grin on her face. He looks around, studying the room, before landing his eyes on her again.
"What did you want to tell me?" he asks.
Her grin grows even wider. "I've got news! I, uhm…"
They're interrupted by a bark, and a sound of paws hitting the floor. A little white dog with brown ears is running towards them, and Scully immediately picks him up.
"…I got a dog!" she announces to an incredulous Mulder.
His jaw pops open. She mentioned the fact that she missed having a dog earlier that day, but he had no idea she was actually planning to get one. "You what?"
"I got a dog!" she repeats cheerfully, "I told you I missed having one."
At this point, all he can do is smile. Whatever manages to make her happy is a good idea.
"Hi there buddy," he says, scratching the dog's head and letting him lick his fingers. Then he turns to Scully again, "you stole him, didn't you?"
His heart swells as she laughs softly, nodding. Even after all this time, it's still his favourite sound in the world.
"What's his name?" he asks.
"I still have to name him actually, I wanted your advice."
She sits on the couch, the dog still in her arms, and he sits next to her, focusing on the fact that she just said she wants his advice on how to name her dog. As if she believed it's theirs, or could be. He shakes his head slightly, dismissing that thought.
"Well, uhm," he starts, looking at the pup and trying to figure out a good name, "do you know what he was called at the shelter?"
She looks down at her new pet shaking her head. "I have no idea, and somehow I can't come up with anything that isn't the usual boring dog name."
Mulder doesn't even think about it too much, he says the first name that comes to his mind. "What about Daggoo?"
Scully wants to ask what kind of name that is and where he heard it, but the dog immediately starts wiggling his tail, and he climbs out of her arms and into Mulder's lap.
"He seems to like it," she comments, giggling while she watches Mulder getting his chin licked, "he's definitely a Daggoo."
They play with Daggoo for a while, talking and laughing together in a way they haven't done in years. Before Mulder leaves, she offers to show him around a little, since he's never been there before. He likes her apartment, it's not very big but it's perfect for one person and one dog, he says. Then, he notices she has a picture of them on her nightstand, they took it during their holiday at the Bahamas in 2008, in one of the very few occasions in which they actually left their hotel room.
"You still have our picture," he can't help whispering, nodding with his head at the frame.
"Of course I do."
She looks at him. He has a longing gaze in his eyes, that of a man who still hasn't fallen out of love, and probably never will. He always though it was just him, he thought she moved on from them months before she actually left him. But now, in her new apartment, in her new life, she still has a picture of them, and he wonders whether it's always been there, or if she put it back in these last few weeks.
Not that he cares. The only thing that truly matters to him is that the picture is there, now, in the same day she requested his advice to name her new pet.
He looks at her eyes, at the edges of her mouth curled up in a loving smile. He's going to close the distance between them and envelop her in his arms, but before he can move, she turns around and walks back to the living room.
He doesn't try it again. He wants her to be the one who sets the pace between them. And wherever she leads, he will follow.
She absently stares for a moment at the lake in front of her, the black urn with her mother in her hands. The clouds in the sky are so grey and thick that they make 10 in the morning look like 5 in the evening, but maybe it's the perfect weather for a funeral, Scully thinks.
Mulder walks closer to her and gently rubs her back.
"They're waiting for you," he whispers.
The ashes of Maggie Scully are buried next to her husband Bill and daughter Melissa in a traditional Catholic ritual on a rainy Thursday morning, among tears and prayers of her children, grandchildren, and friends. Much to everyone's surprise, Charlie shows up too, to say goodbye one last time to his estranged mother.
There's a reception afterwards, where everyone shares the happiest memories they have of Maggie, reassuring the closest family that she's still alive in their hearts and she always will be. Mulder even talks to Bill. They never liked each other, but time and age and sad circumstances taught them both they could belong to the same family, and act accordingly.
"Thank you for staying with Dana at the hospital," Bill tells him.
It's late afternoon when people start leaving, and Scully and her brother are left grieving alone. They hug in silence in their mother's old bedroom. As years went by, they drifted apart from each other, but in moments like this, she realises he's family and they love each other in their own way.
"Do you want to stay here with Bill?" Mulder asks her later on.
She thinks about it for a second, then she shakes her head. "No… I-I want to go home."
They came here with his car, so after she says goodbye to her brother, his wife and kids, Mulder drives her back to her apartment. She spends the whole journey staring at the raindrops on the windows, while the voice on the radio talks about the perfect gift for Valentine's day.
He pulls in in front of her building.
"Thanks for the lift," she whispers, staring at her hands on her lap. She wishes she could ask him to stay, to hold her all night like he used to after such terrible days. She looks forward to this day to be over. She buried her mother, while finding herself unable to stop thinking about William.
He senses her misery and her hesitation, and he slowly rests his hand on hers.
"Do you want me to come in?" he asks softly.
She wishes she had the strength to tell him that she doesn't need company, that she's going to be fine, but the words that form in her mouth are very different.
"I can't ask you to… I have no right," she says.
"You're not asking me. I asked you," he replies, but she firmly shakes her head.
"I can't."
She decides the only thing she can do is leave, so she unfastens her seatbelt and opens the car door. He calls her name, pulling at her arm before she can step out, and she falls back onto the seat, tears pricking her eyes.
"You stayed with me the night my mother passed away," he reminds her.
She sighs, her teeth playing with her lower lip.
"The last time you needed me I dumped you and never turned back," she whispers, trying to keep calm, but as soon as the words leave her mouth it's evident that her voice is betraying her, "you've stayed with me the whole day already, and the day my mother died… I can't ask you anything else."
He's slow in his movements, so very slow, as he leans towards her and tentatively tries to cradle her in his arms. She resists at first, but it's been a long day and her defences crumble like a house made of straw during a storm. As the first tears spill from her eyes, she leans her head on his shoulder and feels his arms wrap around her, as much as possible considered the position.
"It took two people to break up our relationship, Scully," he whispers against her head, "if it'd been me in your position, you would have wanted me to do the same."
Maybe one day they'll talk about it, they'll talk about his and her mistakes, possibly after making love, but right now, all he wants is to stay with her and comfort her. All he wants is her to understand that although she broke his heart, he could never resent her for her decision to leave him. He knows it wasn't an easy one. On some level, he even admires the courage it took her to walk away from him after twenty years. He just loves her that much.
"Let's get inside," he whispers.
He doesn't know what exactly made her change her mind, but he feels her nod slightly against his shoulder.
"Thank you," her feeble voice says.
He parks the car and they head to her apartment together.
"We can order a pizza and watch a movie," she suggests tentatively, while she searches her keys in her bag.
He presses a quick kiss on top of her head. "Sounds good to me."
The first thing she does is greet Daggoo. She hired a dog-sitter to feed him and walk him a couple of hours a day, but judging by the way he wiggles his tail every time she crosses the threshold, he misses her a lot. She always makes sure she finds some time to pet him or play with him in the evenings, or whenever she can.
Then she tells Mulder to make himself at home, while she changes into more comfortable clothes. She's back some time later wearing her pyjama pants and a slightly oversized sweater.
His hearth swells at the intimacy of the scene, something that used to be so familiar and that he never thought he would witness again.
She sits with him on the couch and grabs her phone to order their pizza. Pepperoni and mushrooms, her head repeats, as she allows herself to smile for a second.
"Usually they deliver very quickly on weeknights," she says once the order is complete.
Then she leans down, almost automatically, like she always does after a long day. Her head and shoulders land on the pillow on the armrest, and her legs on his lap. It feels so natural to her that she doesn't even realise it at first, it's like her body has its own will and has suddenly forgot Mulder is not her partner anymore.
She hates herself a little, because she doesn't even care. Right now she lacks the strength to act any differently, to act as if this weren't the man she's loved for more than twenty years. Her decision to leave him had nothing to do with lack of feelings, she tells herself, and hopes he knows that too.
He shifts just a little, so that he's now sitting facing her, with his shoulder against the backside.
She smiles at him, as to thank him for not giving up on her, even though she may deserve it.
He smiles back, as to assure her that he's glad he can help her.
He takes off her socks and wraps his hands around her left foot, making her sighs just a little when his thumbs start rubbing her arch in slow circles, applying more pressure where he knows she likes it.
"You don't have to," she tries to protest, immediately rolling her eyes at herself for sounding vaguely desperate for him to continue.
"You'll have your chance to repay me later," he jokes. She lifts the corner of her mouth, while he keeps working on her foot.
Silence falls between them for a few seconds. He watches the expression on her face, her eyes closed, the curve of her mouth a flat line. It's like ten years haven't passed at all.
"Do you remember? We used to do this all the time," she says.
"Pizza and Netflix is the new pizza and Blockbuster," he jokes again, and the slightest hint of a smirk appears on her face.
"Do you remember our Star Wars marathon?"
"I could never forget it."
As he switches foot, they both smile remembering the good times in their relationship. The Star Wars marathon dates back to 2005, the Sunday before the third episode was released. They watched all the five movies one after the other, with short breaks just to eat something or go to the toilet. Then, the following Friday they drove to the local cinema to watch the latest episode.
"Have you seen the new one already?" she asks, her eyelids fluttering open.
"No… all the streaming links I find have a terrible quality," he replies, "have you?"
She shakes her head. "Same."
Neither of them mentions the fact that they didn't go see it in the theatre because they had no one who would go with them.
"Do you remember that time you were pregnant and you made me drive almost one hour and a half to the only cinema that still had The Emperor's New Groove?"
It was his attempt to make her smile again, but as soon as he pronounces the last words, he can see her eyes cloud up, and he realises he picked a bad example.
"It was worth it, though, great movie," she says, but the hint of light-heartedness they just shared has disappeared. Her eyes look up to the ceiling, as his fingers keep moving on her foot.
He's afraid to tell her anything, afraid to say one more wrong thing. He knows she's thinking of William again, like she's been doing all day.
"Do you think he's okay?" she asks after a few seconds, her voice no more than a whisper.
He immediately knows who she's talking about.
"I don't know," he hesitates, "I hope so."
Out of habit, he places a feather-light kiss beneath her toes. Although she smiles for a second, he can see her eyes are getting moist.
"I can't stop thinking about him, Mulder," she says. Her voice is broken now. He takes her hand and pulls it lightly towards him.
"Come here," he says.
She follows, immediately, without asking, she sits up and buries her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
"I've been dreaming about him a lot," he admits softly, against her head.
She looks up at him, her teary blue eyes breaking his heart. "You said you moved on."
"I tried."
She sits with her head against his shoulder now, her knees tucked up against her chest, his arm around her keeping her close.
"I dream about him too," she says.
They tell each other about their dreams, and about the nightmares too. The silver lining in that moment, for both of them, is that the other is there to share the pain. Whether Scully likes it or not, there's only one person in this world who is able to understand the deep, excruciating void she carries inside, and that is Mulder. He too has a piece of his heart that is growing up and walking around somewhere way too far from them.
Sharing their pain, briefly talking about their lost son, somehow makes them both a little lighter, just like it used to be.
"Maybe we'll see him again someday," he whispers, after kissing her forehead. He doesn't really believe it. He wants to, but he doesn't. In those moments after a nightmare, he's not even sure he wants to at all.
"Yeah, maybe we will," she agrees. She stopped believing that years ago, or maybe she never truly did.
Mulder knows that in this particular day he needs to be the strong one, so he decides to try and cheer her up, even just for a few seconds. He quickly kicks away his shoes and socks and lifts his legs up on the couch, onto Scully's lap.
"My turn," he says, and the right corner of her mouth curls up, imperceptibly. That day, even the smallest smile means the world to him.
She rubs his feet softly for a couple of minutes, trying to avoid tickling him, unsuccessfully, as usual. They even giggle when Daggoo notices that Mulder's shoes are left unattended, and seizes the moment to chew on them.
They watch a movie afterwards, eating their pizza. They both want something that doesn't require a lot of attention, and eventually they pick Love Actually. They snuggle up together under a big blanket, while Daggoo is already sleeping in his basket.
It doesn't really matter which movie they're watching, since they both fall asleep halfway through it. Her head leans on his shoulder, and his head is on top of hers.
She's the first one to wake up with the final song, while he keeps sleeping soundly. When the movie's over, she turns off the TV and just takes a moment to gaze at his peaceful features and to enjoy his light snoring, that used to be the main soundtrack of her nights.
She still loves him so much, she thinks while her hands work to loosen his tie, and she drapes the blanket gently over him.
She smiles to herself. That's how it started, the very first time they made love. She fell asleep and he covered her up so that she would be warm. The rest is history.
That night she knows there will be no love-making, and it's an awareness that somehow saddens her. She wishes she could feel his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his warmth surrounding her and making her feel loved.
She doesn't even know if he would want that, if he would still want her in that sense.
She walks to her bedroom, careful not to make too much noise, and switches off the lights after glancing at him one last time.
However, no matter how hard she tries, she keeps tossing and turning in her sheets, unable to fall asleep, too many thoughts crowding her mind. She's awake when, some time later, she hears him tiptoe into her room and kneel down at the side of the bed. She chooses not to open her eyes and just pretend she's asleep. It's easier, she tells herself, than having to face him and tell him he should go home, when all she wants is him to stay.
She feels his hand brush her hair, softly, almost imperceptibly.
"You really think I don't know when you're asleep?" he whispers suddenly, and her eyes flutter open.
In spite of the darkness she can see his sweet gaze, silently asking her what he's supposed to do, while his hand doesn't stop the soothing movement on her hair.
Once again, she just can't bring herself to say no.
"Get in."
She hears the familiar rustle of his clothes, she knows it by heart. He removes his tie, he unbuttons his shirt, he unzips his pants.
"It's freezing in here," he mutters, sliding under the duvet.
She watches him, in his boxers and a white t-shirt, as he lies on his side, his hands patting the empty spot next to his chest, silently asking her to be his little spoon.
She doesn't move, she just turns her head on the pillow towards him.
"We used to be friends," she whispers in the dark.
He gives her a quizzical look. "We still are."
"No, I mean… I used to think we could tell each other everything."
"We can."
She bites her lip. "Then why did we stop talking? What happened?"
To this, he doesn't know the answer.
Sighing, she finally shifts closer and spoons against his warm chest. He nuzzles her hair, inhaling her smell, wishing it could be again a part of his nights.
"Maybe there's a way to find us again," he whispers against her head, his arm wrapping around her waist. His hands travels lower, lifting the edge of her pyjama top and sneaking under it.
She cracks a smile as his fingers trace slow circles on her belly, exactly the way she used to like it.
"Still good?" he asks.
"Still good."
Soon slumber makes her eyelids heavier.
The temperature is warm to be a winter day, they hold hands on the path to their house.
She thinks they really are finding a common language again.
Before having time to change her mind, she closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around his body.
He's never wanted to kiss her this much, not even the first time they kissed. He feels he might die if he doesn't press his lips against hers immediately, but he has to refrain himself. She's in his arms, her head leans against his chest, he's terrified that any action could scare her away.
She's the one who broke up with him, his mind repeats, she's the one who has to take the first step, if and when she wants to.
So they just hug tightly, his chin resting on top of her head.
He invites her inside for a hot tea, noticing how she looks around the house, in her eyes something that looks like nostalgia.
They drink their beverage, talking. He finally tells her he has Facebook, and she laughs because his name is "Trust Noone" and his profile picture is ET. Then, he mocks her because his Candy Crush Saga record is way higher than hers.
He invites her to dance in the living room, after opening Spotify and setting a romantic playlist as background. They snicker when the soft, slow music is regularly interrupted by the ad breaks.
Not that it matters.
They just enjoy each other's body and warmth, song after song, moving together, neither of them counting the minutes. He lets his lips slide to her cheek, planting a kiss there, and then on the tip of her nose, planting another, in a silent request. He needs to kiss her. He lets his nose brush on hers as he slowly tilts his head to reach her lips, almost groaning with disappointment when she takes a step back.
"Mulder…" she whispers, meeting his eyes, "I can't."
He nods, biting his lip to repress another sigh. "Okay. I'm sorry."
He's already kicking his own ass for ruining everything, and expects her to walk away at any moment now, but she's not moving.
Instead, she speaks again.
"Let's go on a date," she says, almost in one breath.
He looks at her as if she's just said aliens exist.
"What?"
"I want to take you out on a date," she repeats calmly, "tomorrow night."
He almost laughs as he tells her they never really went on a date before, and she says that's her point. He wants to ask her, at first, the reason behind this decision, but he knows already. It's her rational side taking time to understand what she truly wants.
"So?" she asks.
He grins, widely. Of course he wants to go on a date with her.
"Pick me up at 8," she says.
They flirt more than usual in the office the following day, but at the same time they openly discuss their date. He asks her what he should wear, they bicker about the restaurant, only to decide they'll go to the movies.
That evening they sit in the darkness of the local cinema watching Deadpool surrounded mainly by people half their age, but they don't really care. When their hands brush in the popcorn basket, they feel half their age too.
He drives her home afterwards, hoping this time to steal a kiss, but when he leans over, she turns her face so that his lips land on her cheek.
"I need some more time," she admits.
He sighs, but his lips are curled up. He will give her all the time she needs, just like he did the first time they got together.
He leans over again and peppers kisses all over her face, on her cheeks, nose, forehead, everywhere she lets him, tasting her as much as possible. It's not quite the same as actually kissing her, but he knows it will do.
When he leans back, a sweet loving smile has appeared on her mouth. It would be so easy, she thinks, to just let go now, to invite him upstairs, and see where the night takes them.
Instead, she takes his face in her hands, leaning her forehead against his, softly nuzzling his nose, her eyes fixed on his, finding there a mixture of love and passion, and maybe just a hint of amusement.
Then suddenly her lips are on his, brushing lightly in a quick peck that is already over before he can realise it happened.
"The world didn't end," she whispers, finding his eyes again.
He gives her a confused look. "What…?"
"It's what you told me after you first kissed me," she replies, "now you're supposed to say 'no it di'-"
She can't finish her sentence that the loud rumble of a thunder interrupts her, followed by a sudden heavy rain.
He shrugs, glancing around the car, then back at her. "You called it."
Another thunder.
"Yeah," she agrees, "I should have never kissed you."
They smirk, and then they say goodnight without kissing again.
The next day is a Friday, it's still cold and rainy, and he brings her coffee and a donut as he greets her in the morning.
She has a surprise for him too, but waits until the end of the working day to show him.
Right before they leave in the evening, she hands him a business card. His eyes grow wider as he reads it, before looking at her again.
"A psychotherapist?" he asks, his voice betraying his confusion, "you think I need therapy?"
Much to his surprise, she shakes her head. "We do."
He immediately understands what she means.
"It's something we should have done years ago," she continues, "Dr Mills used to be a consultant at the hospital, she's really good, she's going to help us talk about our problems… our past, our job… all the times we risked our lives…"
"…William…" he adds.
"…William," she agrees, "I think therapy is something we need to do before… Before everything else."
He nods.
Although he's made up his mind already, she tells him she's going to visit Bill for the weekend, sort out their mother's belongings and decide what to do with them, so she'll see Mulder again on Monday. He'll have time to think if her solution works for him too.
They hug and kiss goodbye on the cheek, before she walks away.
"Scully, wait," he calls her, "this fact that we're doing couples therapy, does it mean that… you know…?"
Her smile is filled with love. "Yes, that's what it means."
Then, she walks out of the door. Both are already looking forward to seeing each other again next week.
However, when Scully steps into their office on Monday morning, Mulder's nowhere to be seen. His laptop sits open on top of his desk.