Dark storm clouds rolled across the California sky. Scully stared out the car window, her head back against the seat rest. She sighed. Of course. Of fucking course. How fitting that San Diego would get one of their scant days of rainfall on a day Scully felt at her lowest.
She and Mulder had just wrapped a case in Arcadia Falls – a painstakingly planned community whose HOA rules were brutally enforced by a monster made of garbage. A tulpa. Whatever. The case didn't even matter. The way Mulder conducted himself on the case, however, had Scully seeing red.
Perhaps she had been naive, in retrospect, to hope that their undercover assignment, posing as a husband and wife, would spark some deeper conversations. With the prospect of spending several days together uninterrupted, she thought maybe – just maybe – he would address the elephant in the room. Diana. Not even Diana herself, but Mulder's unwavering allegiance to her. Mulder had dismissed Scully's concerns about Diana without a second thought. She felt tossed aside. Like an afterthought.
When he accused her of making it personal, during their confrontation in the Gunmen's apartment, she flashed back to Kansas when they shared a bed. She had finally admitted to herself that she was in love with him. She remembered how her heart melted when he nuzzled her hand in his sleep. The moment was pure, simple. Facing off with him over Diana so soon after that beautiful moment felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Wake up, Dana. She felt so tragically stupid for ever thinking he loved her in return.
Scully's wish for reconciliation had gone unanswered. Instead, Mulder treated their undercover marriage like a joke. While in the presence of others – witnesses, suspects – he purposely tried to embarrass her. Whether it was claiming she believed in the magical properties of crystals or calling her an over-the-top term of endearment, he pushed every button he could. On top of it, he couldn't keep his hands off of her. In another context, she might welcome it, but he was performing for an audience. With their relationship already strained, she didn't appreciate being the butt of his jokes.
As they drove to the San Diego airport, the heavy blue clouds followed them on their journey, threatening rain but not letting it fall. Not yet. Mulder listened to a classic rock radio station at low volume, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel.
"You're quiet," Mulder observed.
What was there to say? "Just have nothing to say, I guess," she replied, her eyes not leaving the grass whooshing past them.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine," she lied.
Mulder let out an exasperated exhale.
"What?" she prompted, turning toward him.
"You've been like this the whole time we've been here."
"Like what exactly?"
"Like you have a bug up your ass or something."
Her eyes widened at his boldness. "Excuse me?"
"It's not even this case. I don't think I've seen you crack a smile in a month."
"Meanwhile, you treated this case – and our undercover assignment – like it was a joke to you. You tried to embarrass me in front of our suspects."
"That's what you're mad about? That some middle-aged suburbanites we're never going to see again think you're a New Ager?"
"What I'm mad about is not being treated with respect." She turned back to face the window and crossed her arms, hoping to end the conversation. An enclosed car was not the place to hash out their differences. She had no escape.
"It wasn't serious. If you just lightened up, we could have had a little fun with it. Haven't you heard of the concept of yes and-ing in improv?"
Was he incapable of listening? Was he allergic to giving even the slightest consideration to her feelings?
She muttered to the window, "If you want someone to go along with everything you say, you know where to find her."
The car jerked as Mulder sharply pulled the car over to the side of the road. He decelerated quickly, the tires hitting the gravel on the side of the freeway and sending pebbles flying everywhere.
"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed.
As soon as the car came to a stop, Mulder shifted the car into park and opened the car door.
"Mulder –"
He didn't listen and proceeded to walk around to the passenger side of the car. Without stopping at her window or acknowledging her at all, he started walking away from the car. Scully unbuckled her seatbelt frantically and opened the car door, catapulting herself from the seat.
"Mulder!" she called after him, walking quickly to try to catch up to him.
When her voice reached him, he stopped walking, putting his hands on his hips. Without turning around, he stood stiff straight, stretched to his full height, like a rigid skyscraper.
"What is it going to take for you to let go of her?" he asked, still not facing her.
Scully licked her lips. "Mulder, get back in the car."
He whipped around, his eyes pinning her in place. "No, I am not getting back in the car until we resolve this. I am sick of going round and round about her. Is she why you've been acting like I'm a plague you don't want to catch?"
Scully broke his gaze and looked at the road, at the cars whirring past. Her flight or fight instinct was kicking in, and flight was winning. Turns out that she didn't like being on the receiving end of a confrontation.
"Talk to me, Scully."
"I don't want to talk about this."
At that, Mulder turned around and started walking in the other direction.
"Mulder –"
"Scully," he called over his shoulder, "I'm not getting back in the car until you talk to me."
Scully trotted behind him, trying to keep pace. "Mulder, stop!"
He kept walking.
"Fine!" she yelled. "Fine, I'll talk."
Mulder abruptly stopped walking and she almost ran right into his back. She caught herself before colliding with him and took a few steps back. He turned around. His jaw was clenched, every muscle of his face tense. He nodded, signaling for her to start talking.
A knot formed in her chest, all the emotions collecting inside her and coagulating together. She took a few deep breaths, contemplating how to even scratch the surface of all the emotions she had been feeling since Diana turned their relationship upside down.
Mulder waited patiently, and she knew he would stand there forever if he had to. The clouds finally delivered on their promise, a few droplets of rain breaking free.
As even and measured as she could muster, she said. "I'm not mad at her. I am only mad at you."
Mulder's eyebrow raised, surprised. "Because I didn't . . . get all up in arms about her data collecting?"
"Because you didn't listen to me. Because you didn't take me seriously. Because you treat her word as gospel and mine as conjecture."
Mulder shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable. Rain started to fall, pitter-pattering on their heads. Scully looked up at the sky, but Mulder's gaze didn't waver. His feet were glued to the ground.
"Mulder, I thought you and I trusted each other above all else. We may not agree on everything, but I've never given you a reason to doubt my loyalty to the X-Files. And to you. I thought I had earned the benefit of the doubt."
He bit his lip, nodding. "Keep going," he said softly.
Her brow furrowed. "What? What do you mean?"
"I want you to let me have it. Get it out. All of it. Tell me everything you've been holding back."
The rain came down a bit harder. His olive green sweater had splotches of dark spots where it was absorbing the rainwater. She contemplated suggesting they go back to the car, that it was crazy to stand by the side of the road and argue in the rain. Truth be told, she didn't want to let this opportunity pass her by. She had been holding on to so many pent-up emotions, that she could swear she was getting an ulcer. This was her moment to expel those demons, cleanse herself of them. He was giving her permission. It was now or maybe never.
"You didn't have my back!" The words leaped out of her, louder than she intended. Harsher than she intended. The white noise of the rain emboldened her to raise her voice to be heard above the din. "How many times have I stuck my neck out for you?! I have always shown up for you. I have always had your back. Even when I thought you were wrong. Even when I thought you were nuts."
Mulder's hair was damp, drooping from the weight of the rain. He nodded gravely, letting her words wash over him without judgment.
"When she's around, you make me feel invisible!" Yelling at him felt cathartic. Somehow he knew she needed this, to get all this off her chest. Her heart thrummed with adrenaline and she was out of breath.
Tears threatened to fall but she wouldn't let them. "You made me feel like I don't matter," she concluded, her voice growing softer, decrescendoing, "like I'm nothing to you."
He closed his eyes for a moment. Regret immediately pulled at her heart. Had she been too rough on him? Even though she was furious at him, she still loved him. She didn't want to hurt him, regardless of what he had done. When he opened his eyes, his expression was unexpectedly soft and vulnerable.
"Are you finished?" he asked. He didn't say it with any anger, only acceptance.
She nodded. Coming down from the high of releasing her anger, she became more aware of her body. Her clothing was damp and clinging to her, and the ground beneath her was becoming mushy.
"I want to try to explain something to you," he said. "Something I should have explained a long time ago."
He put his hands on his hips and swayed back and forth. Whatever he was about to say was hard for him. "There was a time when I trusted Diana the way I trust you now. I trusted her with everything. With every part of me."
She knew what that meant. They were lovers. Unlike her and Mulder. He had trusted her with his heart. He had loved her.
He went on, "She believed in me. She cared about me when no one else did. Do you know how many people I've had in my life who actually gave a shit about me?"
Scully's heart sank. As mad as she was, her heart broke at his words. She knew he didn't have many relationships, romantic or otherwise. His relationships with his parents had always been shaky. He lost his sister at a young age. He didn't have many friends. As far as she knew, he didn't have many girlfriends either. The X-Files made him a pariah at the FBI, segregating him from the majority of other agents. He led a lonely life.
"I guess I want to believe that someone I trusted that much wouldn't betray me. And if she could betray me, then who's to say . . ."
He trailed off. He didn't need to finish the sentence. She understood exactly how he was extrapolating that thought to its natural conclusion. If it could happen with Diana, who's to say it wouldn't happen to them?
The rain fell harder still, pelting their faces, the sound becoming a dull roar. They ignored it, completely absorbed in their conversation.
"I was mad too," he admitted. "I was mad at you."
"Why?"
"After everything we've been through, I didn't think I should have to prove my loyalty to you. I didn't think it was fair that you were framing it as a choice – that I had to choose between you."
She considered this. Once, she asked her mother what was the secret to her parents' successful marriage. One of the things she said was: When we have fights, we always try to remember it's the two of us against the problem, not the two of us against each other. Maybe that was where she went wrong. Maybe if she had told him the way she did today – expressed her true feelings – all of this could have been avoided. She decided not to refute what he was saying. She decided to give him room to say everything he needed to say, the way he did for her.
He continued, "I thought, what more do I have to do to prove my loyalty to you?! Take a bullet for you? Go to the ends of the earth of you? Kill for you? Because I think you know I'm more than willing to do those things and more."
These were facts she knew. She had let Diana's presence cloud what she knew to be true.
He swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm so sorry, Scully. For everything."
She exhaled, her shoulder finally releasing its tension. Deep down, a sincere apology is what she had craved. She needed that validation. That acknowledgment.
Then his eyebrows lifted like he suddenly remembered something he meant to say all along. "You are the most important person to me, Scully. You are my priority. You do matter to me. When we're apart, you're like my phantom fucking limb."
Her face crumpled and she broke eye contact, unable to handle the naked emotion pouring out of him. Despite the chill from the rain, his words had wrapped her in warmth. Inside, she felt viscous, melty.
"Look at me, Scully."
She didn't want to look at him. A small part of her still felt hardened from his betrayal, like a scab threatening to break off and start bleeding all over again. And she didn't want to bleed anymore in front of him.
"Scully –"
He took a tentative step forward and used his fingers to pick a clump of wet hair and move it out of her face. She cast her gaze up at him. His eyes were full of regret, desperately pleading with her.
All it took was for her to tip forward slightly and she was in his arms. He wrapped one arm around her back and another around her shoulder, burying his hand in her wet hair. His sweater was soaked, to the point where her falling against him made a small squishing noise. Neither of them cared. He hugged her so tight, so fiercely, she could feel how sorry he was oozing from every pore. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged back, burying her nose under his neck.
In the back of her mind, it still irked her how it took getting to a breaking point for him to apologize. But, at the same time, she was the same brand of stubborn. She hadn't brought up the issue either. Both of them had done what they did best – bury it. Bury the emotions until it threatened to eat them alive.
The hand in her hair massaged her scalp. She breathed deeply, letting herself indulge in the sensation. His arms were heavy around her in a way that made her feel secure, protected. They stood there together, embracing, for a long time. He made no signs of stopping or moving away. He was letting her decide when to pull away.
Finally, she let go, and his arms fell away. With the intensity of their emotions subsiding, it hit her how ridiculous it was that they were standing in the pouring rain, letting their clothes get soaking wet. They had a plane to catch in a few hours, and they had been standing on the side of the freeway yelling at each other like lunatics.
She cracked a smile first. She looked all around them – at the cars whooshing by, at the damp grass beneath her feet, up in the sky at the dark clouds surrounding them. Immediately catching on, Mulder smiled. The situation was completely absurd.
In her mind, she traveled back to their first case in Bellefleur, Oregon. The cemetery in the rain. The memory was permanently tattooed on her brain. It was the first time they solved a mystery together – bouncing theories back and forth over the sound of the rain. It was their first moment of mutual revelation. They laughed together, joyful from the fact that they had cracked the case.
Scully laughed.
"What?" Mulder asked, smiling.
"It's nothing."
"Tell me."
"This rain. Do you remember –"
"Of course I do," he said thoughtfully, "I'll never forget that day."
She laughed again, full-bodied and free – the way she had done in the cemetery. He chuckled too, remembering. He smiled with his entire face, his eyes sparkling. His eyes ran over her face like a caress.
"What the hell are we doing out here, Scully?"
She shook her head and shrugged, smiling ruefully.
Seriously, he said, "I want to go home, Scully."
The intensity in his eyes told her he didn't just mean Washington D.C. He wanted to go back to the way they were, working together in harmony. He wanted to be back on the same page, back in her good graces.
Earnestly, she spoke the truth in her heart, "I want to go home too."
They locked eyes meaningfully, finally understanding each other. Mulder smiled wide and nodded toward the car, indicating they should go. They started to trudge back to the car together. He walked up behind her and put his arm around her shoulder. It stayed there as they walked back to the car. She liked how it felt. When they were undercover and he kept putting his arm around her, all she had wanted to do was wiggle away. It wasn't genuine then, it was performative. Putting on a show for their suspects and witnesses. With how she had been feeling about their partnership, it had felt like an unwelcome, burdensome weight. A representation of all the negative emotions she had been carrying around since Diana. Now, all she could feel was lightness. She wanted his arm there, holding her.
As they approached the minivan, the rain began to lighten up. The sun peeked through the clouds. She wondered, bemused, if maybe Holman's influence of the weather had rubbed off on her somehow.
They broke apart and Mulder walked to the driver's side. With a smile, he said, as if reading her mind, "Maybe Holman's been watching over us."
She opened the car door, smirking. "That's crazy, Mulder."
