The day dragged on relentlessly for both Mulder and Scully, each hour stretching like an endless trial, a constant reminder of the nightmare that had ensnared them. Giving statements was agonizing enough, but reviewing the video again felt almost unbearable. With every passing minute, Scully seemed to withdraw further into herself, her face a mask of calm that Mulder recognized all too well. It was the kind of calm that concealed a brewing storm—a facade that kept her anguish hidden from the world, yet screamed for help in silence.
When their scheduled session with Karen rolled around, Scully didn't show up.
Mulder sat alone in Karen's office, the weight of Scully's absence pressing down on him like a thick fog. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the muted colors of the room amplifying his sense of isolation. Karen observed him for a moment, her expression softening with concern. "We can't force her, Mulder," she said gently. "You know how she is. Scully likes to wrestle with her demons on her own. She needs time to rationalize everything before she can begin to process it emotionally."
Mulder nodded, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his helplessness. "I know," he muttered, his voice low. "I actually don't feel like talking either. I just thought I'd be here for her."
Karen leaned back in her chair, her eyes reflecting empathy. "That's completely understandable. You've always been there for her, just as she has for you. But right now, the best thing you can do is give her the space she needs."
He turned away, his gaze drifting to the window, where the gray sky mirrored the turmoil inside him. "I just... I don't know how to help her. She's shutting me out." The words felt heavy on his tongue, laden with the frustration of helplessness.
Karen leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle yet firm. "It's hard when the person you care about doesn't let you in. But Mulder, sometimes being there isn't about what you do or say. Sometimes it's just about waiting. When she's ready, she'll know you're there."
He nodded again, but it did little to ease the tight knot in his chest. "I just wish I knew how much more she could take." His voice cracked, raw with the weight of exhaustion and fear that had become all too familiar.
Karen didn't push him further, her silence a comforting presence. "She'll come when she's ready. And when she does, you'll both need each other."
Mulder leaned back, staring blankly ahead, feeling as if he were teetering on the precipice of something he couldn't quite grasp. "I hope so," he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, filled with longing and an underlying desperation for a resolution he could not force.
Frustration had been brewing in Mulder all day, an insidious pressure that built with each passing hour. The stress of reviewing the case, Scully's growing distance, and the relentless feeling of helplessness at not being able to protect her churned inside him like a violent storm, threatening to erupt at any moment. Desperate to release some of that pent-up anger, he decided to hit the FBI pool for a swim, hoping the physical exertion would help quiet his racing thoughts. But even after countless laps, the tension clung to him, refusing to dissipate.
In the locker room afterward, he was toweling off, lost in his thoughts, when a group of agents caught his ear. At first, he barely registered their conversation, but then one comment sliced through the haze of his frustration.
"That Mulder is one lucky dude," one of them sneered, the disdain dripping from his voice. "I mean, I'd do that Scully in a heartbeat."
Mulder froze, every muscle in his body tensing at the words.
"I hear, though, she's really hard to bed. Remember back in the academy? Everyone tried to score a date with her."
Another agent's laugh pierced his simmering anger, fueling the inappropriate banter. "Yeah, she was cold as ice. But damn, with looks like that, who cares? If I were Spooky Mulder, I'd send those kidnappers a thank you letter."
Rage blurred Mulder's vision, the world narrowing down to the space between him and these ignorant fools. Everything he'd been bottling inside—the fury, the guilt, the helplessness—boiled over. Scully had endured so much, and now these idiots were reducing her to nothing more than a sexual conquest, completely oblivious to the pain she carried.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on his feet, blood pounding in his ears, drowning out any rational thought.
"So," Mulder growled, storming toward the group, his voice low and menacing, "you'd *do* Agent Scully, would you?"
The men turned, surprise flickering across their faces, but before they could react, Mulder swung, his fist connecting squarely with the jaw of the agent who had spoken. A sickening crunch echoed in the air as the agent stumbled back, blood spraying from his nose.
But Mulder's rage didn't stop there. He lunged at him, pinning him against the lockers, fists flying. His mind was consumed with the image of Scully—vulnerable, strong, yet surrounded by men who saw her as nothing more than a punchline. The idea that these idiots could joke about her pain sent him spiraling deeper into his fury.
It took two other agents to finally pry him off, but even as they restrained him, Mulder fought to break free. His fists clenched tightly, chest heaving with unspent rage, he could barely see the bloody mess he'd left behind—a man crumpled against the locker room bench, dazed and disoriented.
"What the hell, Mulder?!" one of the agents holding him yelled, but Mulder barely registered the words, his eyes blazing with fury as he locked onto the stunned faces around him.
"I'll say it again," Mulder snarled, his voice dripping with menace, "you don't *ever* talk about her like that."
The room fell silent, the weight of his threat hanging thick in the air. The agent he'd hit looked up, too shocked to respond, and the rest of the group stood frozen, realization dawning that they had crossed a line. Mulder's normally calm and controlled demeanor had shattered, leaving behind a raw, volatile energy that left them all shaken. In that moment, he was no longer just a man defending his partner; he was a force of nature, fueled by an overwhelming need to protect the woman he cared for, no matter the cost.
Scully walked into the dimly lit interview room, her gaze immediately locking onto Mulder. He sat slouched in a chair, looking disheveled and exhausted, his knuckles bruised and raw. A complex mix of regret and simmering anger twisted his features, making her heart ache for him.
"What are you doing here?" Mulder asked, surprise flickering across his face, quickly morphing into defensiveness. "I called Diana."
Scully raised an eyebrow as she took a seat across from him, her posture steady and assertive. "And she called me. I'm still your partner," she replied, her voice firm but not unkind. "Besides, she didn't want to deal with your emotional outbursts."
Mulder scoffed, the sound tinged with irritation, but he remained silent as Scully pressed on. "So, I hear you hit a fellow agent?"
Mulder shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening as the weight of the conversation settled over him like a heavy cloak. Scully leaned forward slightly, concern creeping into her expression. "Listen, given the emotional stress you're under, they'll probably let it slide if you apologize."
Immediately, Mulder shook his head, stubbornness igniting in his eyes. "To that jerk? Never. What he said was unforgivable."
Scully studied him, frustration seeping into her voice. "What could he have possibly said that sent you into such a frenzy?" Her genuine curiosity softened the edge of her question. She knew Mulder well—knew his protective streak ran deep—but this felt extreme, even for him.
Mulder looked away, the internal struggle evident on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his agitation. "He said something about you."
Scully's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening again. She let out a slow breath, trying to process the implications of his words. "Mulder, people are always going to talk. About us, about me, about everything. That doesn't give you the right to start a fight."
"It wasn't just talk," Mulder snapped, his voice low but laced with fury. "It was demeaning. Disgusting."
Scully sat back, arms crossed tightly over her chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. "And still, you need to apologize. You risk a reprimand, or worse, if you don't."
Mulder shook his head again, stubborn resolve etched on his face. "I can't. I won't apologize for defending you. Not for *that.*"
Scully looked at him, frustration blending with concern in her eyes. "I don't need you to defend me, Mulder," she said quietly but firmly. "Especially not like this."
The silence between them thickened, each heartbeat echoing the tension in the air. Mulder was still seething, visibly conflicted by her words. Finally, Scully stood up, exhaling deeply as if releasing the weight of their unspoken thoughts. "Just think about it. We both have enough to deal with without you losing your career over some careless comment."
Mulder's gaze followed her as she turned to leave, his mind a battleground of conflicting emotions. He knew she was right, but the anger still roiled inside him like a tempest. "Scully," he called after her, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
She paused at the door, glancing back at him. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for coming."
She offered him a small, sad smile, one that hinted at understanding and shared pain. "I'll always come, Mulder. But you have to meet me halfway." With that, she walked out, leaving him alone with the tumult of his thoughts, the room echoing with the silence of what was left unsaid.
As Mulder followed Scully out of the room and down the corridor, the weight of the probation and the looming deadline for his apology pressed heavily on him. He knew the consequences if he didn't comply, yet his anger still simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over once more.
Just as they approached the exit, they bumped into the agent—the very same one Mulder had struck earlier. The man smirked, confidence radiating from him like a foul stench. "Ready to apologize to me, Spooky?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. His gaze shifted to Scully, taking her in with a predatory glint that made Mulder's blood boil all over again.
Before he could stop himself, Mulder lunged forward, his fist clenching tight with the impulse to strike. Fury contorted his features, and he raised his hand, ready to deliver another blow.
But just as he moved, Scully stepped between them, arms raised in a desperate plea.
"Mulder, don't!" she warned, her voice sharp with urgency. But Mulder, still blinded by rage, hardly registered her words. His fist hovered in the air, a split-second pause that felt like an eternity, as if he might not stop.
In that moment, something broke inside Scully. She had been holding it all together—her trauma, the weight of everything that had transpired between them—and now this reckless surge of Mulder's anger threatened to spiral completely out of control. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
With a snap of raw emotion, Scully dropped to the floor, curling into herself in a defensive posture. She pulled her knees to her chest, her arms shielding her head protectively as if bracing for an impact that would never come.
Mulder froze, his hand still poised mid-strike, staring in disbelief at Scully now crumpled before him. The reality of what had just transpired hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the anger drained from his body, replaced by shock and an immediate wave of guilt.
"Scully…?" Mulder's voice cracked as he knelt beside her, his hand hovering uncertainly above her, too afraid to touch her, terrified of what he had just caused.
The agent, who had been smirking seconds ago, now stood frozen, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, clearly realizing the gravity of the situation. Without uttering another word, he turned and hurried away, leaving Mulder and Scully alone in the echoing corridor.
Mulder's throat tightened, his voice almost a whisper. "Scully, please… I would never—" He faltered, knowing words would never suffice. He had let his emotions consume him once again, and now Scully—the person he desperately wanted to protect—had been caught in the crossfire.
Scully didn't look up, her body trembling as she remained curled into herself. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her mind seemingly lost somewhere dark and far away.
Mulder's heart shattered at the sight. He slowly lowered his raised hand and sat beside her, his own head hanging in shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely audible but imbued with every ounce of regret he felt.
For a few moments, the silence was punctuated only by Scully's shaky breaths and the distant hum of the hallway. Mulder sat helplessly, watching the woman he cared about more than anything retreat further into herself, as if she were slipping away into shadows he couldn't reach.
Eventually, Scully's breathing began to steady, but she remained in her protective posture, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze. He stayed close, respecting her need for space yet refusing to leave her side.
"I'm sorry," he repeated softly, quieter now, realizing that the damage done was far deeper than any punch he could throw.
He ached to bridge the distance between them, to tell her how much she meant to him, but the weight of his failure hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of how quickly things could unravel.
Panicking and unsure of how to help Scully, Mulder rushed down the hallway, desperation propelling him forward as he searched for Reyes. He knew that if anyone could reach Scully in this fragile moment, it would be her. He found Reyes in a nearby office, breathless as he tried to articulate the chaos unfolding inside him. "Reyes… it's Scully. I—I need your help. She's not… she's not okay."
Reyes, sensing the urgency in Mulder's voice, didn't need to hear more. She was on her feet in an instant, following Mulder back down the hall, her heart racing with concern. Each hurried step felt heavy with the weight of their shared trauma as they approached the spot where Scully remained curled up on the floor, visibly trembling.
Without hesitation, Reyes practically threw herself to her knees beside Scully. "Dana!" she called softly, leaning in close, her voice infused with care and urgency. "Hey, it's me, it's Monica." The tenderness in her tone was palpable as she spoke, her hands hovering just above Scully's back, careful not to startle her with sudden contact.
Scully didn't respond initially, still trapped in the clutches of her panic, her body tight and defensive. Reyes moved closer, her voice dropping to a soothing whisper. "Dana, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe." She kept her distance just enough to allow Scully to feel in control, positioning herself so that Scully could see her face if she chose to look up.
Mulder stood off to the side, feeling utterly helpless, guilt etched across his features as he watched Reyes work to bring Scully back from the brink. The sight of Scully in such a vulnerable state twisted in his gut, a painful reminder of how quickly everything had unraveled.
"It's okay, Dana," Reyes continued, her voice unwavering in its gentleness. "Just take your time. I'm not going anywhere." She waited patiently, her presence a calming anchor amid the storm swirling around them.
After what felt like an eternity, Mulder noticed Scully's breathing begin to slow, her shoulders loosening just the slightest bit. Though she still didn't look up, the rigidity in her body started to ease. Reyes remained close, poised to catch her if she needed more support, her own strength radiating reassurance.
"Whenever you're ready, Dana," Reyes said softly, her voice never pressuring but simply offering comfort. Finally, she reached out, gently placing a hand on Scully's arm, a grounding gesture that connected Scully to the present moment.
Mulder stayed in the background, torn between the impulse to fix everything and the understanding that he needed to step back. Watching Reyes, he could see Scully responding to her presence, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. It was a fragile moment, but one he desperately clung to.
Reyes, with her quiet strength, continued to offer support, her entire focus on Scully. "I've got you, Dana," she whispered, her voice a soft lifeline in the midst of chaos. "You're not alone in this. We're right here."
With those simple words, Reyes created a sanctuary for Scully, a reminder that she was not fighting this battle by herself, that they would face whatever came next together.
Reyes and Mulder both settled beside Scully, their presence a steady anchor in the storm swirling around her. They didn't pressure her; they simply waited, offering quiet support as she navigated the tumult of her emotions. Mulder leaned slightly forward, his arms resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on Scully with concern etched across his features. Reyes kept her hand gently on Scully's arm, her touch a silent promise of comfort and safety. Together, they were both waiting—hoping—for her to find her voice, to give them any sign that she was emerging from the depths of her shock.
Finally, Scully, still visibly shaken, whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mulder… I didn't mean to." The fragility in her voice pierced through the air like a delicate glass shattering, sending shards of emotion flying.
Mulder's face softened immediately, his heart breaking at the raw vulnerability that radiated from her. "Of course not," he replied gently, leaning closer to ensure she understood the sincerity behind his words. "Scully, what's going on with you?" His tone was calm, yet a thread of deep concern ran through it, resonating with the urgency of their shared history. "Did you really think I'd hit you?"
Scully's gaze remained locked on the floor, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears that threatened to spill over. She didn't answer right away, as if the weight of his question was a heavy burden she couldn't quite bear. Her breath came in shaky gasps, and she wiped at her face with one trembling hand, fighting to regain her composure.
Reyes squeezed her arm gently, her voice a soft balm in the tense atmosphere. "Dana, whatever you're feeling, it's okay to talk about it. We're here, no matter what." Her unwavering support enveloped Scully like a warm blanket, urging her to open up.
Scully shook her head slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke. "I don't know… I don't know what's happening to me." The admission was almost a confession, laden with confusion and fear. She paused, her lip trembling as she struggled to keep herself from breaking down. "Everything feels so out of control, and I—I didn't mean to react like that."
Mulder's voice softened further, rich with compassion. "You've been through so much, Scully. No one's blaming you for how you're feeling. But please, let us in. Let us help." His words were both a plea and an invitation, a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters.
Scully looked between the two of them, her eyes shimmering with a mix of shame and gratitude. She wasn't sure where to start, the enormity of her feelings swirling inside her, but she knew she wasn't alone. That realization was a small comfort amidst the chaos enveloping her heart and mind.
"I don't know how to fix this," she admitted, her voice cracking, revealing the vulnerability she tried so hard to conceal.
"You don't have to fix it alone," Mulder said quietly, his hand hovering near her as if he longed to bridge the gap between them but respected her need for space. "We'll figure it out together." The strength in his words wrapped around her, a reassuring embrace that whispered of hope and resilience.
In that moment, the three of them formed a fragile but unbreakable bond, united in their shared pain and determination to face whatever lay ahead. Scully took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of their support bolster her resolve. She might not have all the answers, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope amidst the shadows.
In the meantime, Skinner had been informed about Mulder's explosive outburst and the chaotic scene that had unfolded with the other agent. It didn't take long for him to receive the full account, and though his patience with Mulder's impulsive behavior had often been tested, this incident crossed a line he couldn't ignore. He picked up the phone and issued a direct order for both Mulder and Scully to report to his office immediately, his tone brokering no argument.
Mulder received the message just as Reyes was helping Scully back to her feet, both still reeling from the emotional upheaval they had just endured. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his tousled hair, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Skinner wants us," he said, glancing at Scully with a mix of apprehension and guilt, a shadow of worry etched on his features.
Reyes, observing the gravity of the moment, spoke up softly, "I'll go with you if you need me to." Her offer was genuine, an instinctive desire to provide support in a time of uncertainty.
Scully shook her head, her fragile demeanor hardening into resolve. "No, thank you, Monica. I appreciate it, but this is something we need to handle ourselves." Her determination shone through the remnants of vulnerability, but her voice quavered slightly, revealing the cracks beneath her surface.
Reyes nodded, watching as they headed toward the elevator, her heart heavy with concern. She hoped Skinner wouldn't be too harsh, understanding the turmoil both agents were experiencing.
As Mulder and Scully stepped into Skinner's office, they were met by his stern expression. He didn't just look displeased; he looked downright furious, though the undercurrent of concern for both agents simmered beneath the surface.
"Close the door," Skinner commanded, and Mulder obeyed, the heavy silence that followed thick with palpable tension.
Skinner rose from behind his desk, his gaze flicking between them like a judge assessing the damage. He sighed deeply, the frustration palpable in his voice as he spoke. "Mulder, I just got word about your little 'incident' in the locker room. Care to explain why I'm hearing that you tried to hit another agent?"
Mulder shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Skinner's scrutiny bearing down on him. He struggled to meet Skinner's eyes, his throat dry. "Sir, I—"
"And Scully," Skinner interrupted, his tone softening slightly as he turned to her. "I understand you've been under a lot of stress. But both of you need to realize that this behavior is unacceptable."
Scully nodded, still shaken from everything, her eyes cast downward, avoiding the weight of his gaze.
Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose, a gesture that revealed his struggle to handle the situation delicately. "Look, I know this case is personal, and it's taking its toll on both of you."
Scully shifted in her seat, gathering her thoughts before speaking up, her voice composed yet laced with vulnerability. "I've already apologized to Mulder, sir, for my reaction earlier. It wasn't... it wasn't fair to him."
Mulder, sitting beside her, glanced her way before returning his gaze to Skinner. "She did apologize," he acknowledged, frustration simmering just below the surface. "But that outburst wasn't just a moment of panic. It looked like unresolved trauma. It keeps happening, and I don't think either of us knows how to deal with it."
Skinner leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk, his eyes moving between them with a mixture of concern and authority. He could see how deeply this was affecting both agents. "Scully," he said carefully, "Mulder has a point. This isn't just about the case at hand. Something else is at play here—something deeper."
Scully's gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers twisting together anxiously in her lap. The silence that stretched out felt heavy, charged with unspoken truths and buried emotions. She hesitated, not ready to unravel the complexity of her feelings.
Mulder's frustration mounted, his voice tense as he addressed Skinner. "What is it that I'm missing? I'm supposed to be her partner, and I feel like everyone knows something about her past that I don't. It's tearing me apart not knowing what she's dealing with." His words were raw, reflecting the turmoil within him.
Skinner looked at Scully, his expression softening with concern. He had always respected her privacy, but this situation was different. They were at a breaking point, and if she didn't open up to Mulder, he feared the worst.
"Part of the problem is that Scully is carrying this weight alone," Skinner observed, his voice measured. "If there are unresolved issues from your past impacting your work and your relationship with Mulder, it's time to consider talking to him about it. He can't help you if he doesn't understand what's going on."
Scully flinched at the suggestion, but she didn't argue. Skinner pressed on, "This isn't about exposing vulnerabilities but about trust. You've both been through a lot together, and it's crucial to keep that bond strong. Otherwise, it can lead to more incidents like what we've just seen."
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the weight of Skinner's words. He felt the pressure of the moment bearing down on him, the unspoken fears hanging in the air. "I know this isn't easy," he continued, his voice dropping slightly. "But as your superior, I'm telling you both that this is essential for your partnership and your well-being. If you don't feel like you can handle this alone, I can arrange for counseling. But you have to be willing to work together."
Scully's eyes flickered to Mulder, and for a brief moment, Skinner saw a glimmer of understanding pass between them—a fragile bridge forged in the heat of their struggles. "Just think about it," he concluded, his tone softening. "You're both valuable agents, but you need to take care of each other as well."
Scully nodded slowly, still processing the gravity of the conversation. Mulder remained silent, his expression contemplative, clearly reflecting on Skinner's words.
They exited the office, leaving Skinner to reflect on the challenges they faced. He hoped that with time, they would find their way back to each other—not just as colleagues but as partners willing to confront the darkness together. As the door clicked shut behind them, the uncertainty of their paths loomed large, but the flicker of hope remained—a reminder that they were not alone in this fight.