Summary:

Fox Mulder didn't have to listen to the message left on his answer machine to know something was wrong.

In fact, something was wrong, very wrong.

Author Notes:

I recommend watching S7E7 before reading.

Trigger warning:

Donnie Pfaster is a big enough trigger on his own, however there is slight mention of physical abuse.

Dear Reader,

Trust your intuition. It's probably right.


He was perplexed.

Mulder sat down on the edge of the bed with his toothbrush in his mouth, contemplating over the events that took place in their recent case. But he was mostly thinking about how the case affected Scully. He was glad when they agreed to hand it over to the local authorities, he didn't like the obvious turmoil, for good reason, this case caused her. He had tried to convince her to let him go at it alone, that it was too much for her. But Scully being Scully, wouldn't have it.

She slept the entire plane ride home and he hadn't talked to her since he dropped her off at her apartment. Now as he sat alone in his apartment, he had a pestering feeling something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He decided to call her after he set his alarm clock radio for his usual morning wake up time. He pressed the alarm set button, scrolling through the red numbers until they illuminated 5:00 am. Music played through the alarm clock,

Don't look any further .. Day-o day-o, mombajee ai-o,

That song. That was the song Scully kept hearing throughout the case. This case, something was off.

He tried calling her, C'mon Scully, answer. No answer.

He laid in his bed staring at the ceiling, thinking again. Of course he had moments like this all the time. Call it what you want; a gut feeling, a hunch, spooky intuition. But this was different, it felt eerie, almost sinister. It was a nagging prompt from somewhere deeper, something he couldn't ignore, something more frightening.

Scully. That song.

He needed to check on her.

Why didn't she answer her phone?

The urge to see her only intensified and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep especially since she hadn't answered her phone. He just wanted to make sure everything was okay, get rid of this feeling he couldn't quite label. He needed to visually lay his eyes on Scully; it would be the only solution.

He shot out of bed and put his shoes on. His living room was dark but he could see the flashing light of his answer machine illuminating into the void. He walked over grabbing his coat off the sofa and his gun and holster from the desk. He pressed the playback button on the answer machine,

"Agent Mulder, Marshal Joe Daddo in Marion. Just talked to a call girl who ID'd Donnie Pfaster as an attacker..."

Before the message finished, He rushed out of his apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

Scully.

He drew his gun while he was in the hallway of Scully's complex, his gut still nagging at him, something is very wrong. He stood outside her apartment and stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the sound of music coming from her apartment. He could hear that song again,

Don't look any further, don't look any further

Tonight, tonight, we're gonna taste a little, paradise…

He would use his key to gain entrance into her apartment and when he stepped inside he saw him, Donnie Pfaster, in Scully's living room.

Don't look any further.

"Hands up!" He shouted. "I got you…you son of a bitch!"

Don't look any further.

But no, something went wrong. The lights flickered from behind. Shots fired and the sound of several shell casings hit the floor.

Scully.

His heart hurt. A deep ache from the knowledge that if he hadn't arrived when he did…..

He didn't want to think about the "what if's" right now, he would save that for later, when it was just him alone, with his thoughts.

He had made it just in time, but not before Pfaster was able to physically rough her up. On her body, cuts and bruises were clearly visible, but it was the unseen that worried him the most. The emotional wounds that had been inflicted on her; he couldn't bear the thought of it. He excused himself from the officers and made his way to her bedroom.

Scully sat on her bed, peering out the window. His first instinct was to hold her, but this wasn't the time and place. He needed to get her out of her apartment. He needed to bring her to his place and keep her safe.

He reassured her, "The way I see it, you had no choice, and my report will reflect that. In case you're worried."

He helped her pack. They packed enough for several nights. On the ride to his apartment, silence filled the car. He knew she needed space and she would let him know when she was ready to talk.

When they arrived to his apartment, Scully sat on his couch,

"Mulder, I want to go to bed."

She walked into his bedroom and took a t-shirt from his top drawer and disappeared into the bathroom.

While she was getting ready for bed, he double checked the lock on the front door to his apartment and took his gun with him to the bedroom. He undressed and changed into a pair of pajama bottoms, placing his gun on his nightstand once he was done. He would sleep with his gun close by tonight and sleep with Scully close by too.

Scully emerged from the bathroom wearing his borrowed t-shirt. He scooted over in the bed, holding the comforter and top sheet open for her, beckoning for her to enter. Without hesitation she crawled into the empty space and into his arms where she fit perfectly. He would wrap her in his body creating a cocoon of safety and warmth.

They had done this several times before, in various shapes and forms. It was a ritual between partners but always something more, an unspoken bond that had been cemented in time from the moment they shook hands in the basement office seven years ago. It was so much more now.

"Scully, I should have gotten there sooner." He choked on the words, already beginning his traditional internal self-loathing. His thoughts circling in his head,

He didn't get there in time.

He should have known Pfaster would go after the one that got away.

He's a fucking profiler for god's sake!

It would be classic behavior for a serial killer.

How did he miss it?

Breaking him from his thoughts Scully pressed her body deeper into him, he didn't think she could get any closer, but she did. She pulled his arm in tighter around her,

"Mulder, I can feel your heart racing, I know what you're thinking. Stop. I knew you would come and you did."

He responded by hugging her tighter, inhaling the scent of her into every fiber of his being. Minutes passed and he could feel her breathing change to a slow even rhythm. Her once rigid body slowly relaxed and melted against him. She was warm and soft, and he knew there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to protect her, to save her. Once he was certain she was asleep he began to relax and he allowed himself to succumb to his body's plea for rest.

Drifting.

Drifting.

Scully's voice. "Mulder, my sweetheart, thank you."