Early in the morning, Mulder quietly pushed open the door to Scully's motel room, immediately taken aback by the faint but unmistakable smell of disinfectant and vomit lingering in the air. His eyes swept across the room, and he was further surprised by the uncharacteristic disarray—wrappers from junk food scattered on the nightstand, empty bottles of soda lining the floor, and Scully's clothes haphazardly tossed over a chair.

The room was a stark contrast to Scully's usual meticulousness, a clear reflection of the toll the past night had taken on her. His gaze moved to the bed, where she lay on her stomach, not even under the covers, too exhausted to make it that far when she finally returned to the motel. Her hair was disheveled, and the tension in her shoulders was still visible even in sleep.

Mulder stepped in, careful not to disturb her, his heart heavy with concern. The smell and the mess painted a picture of just how much she'd gone through. He knew the events of the previous day had been brutal, but seeing this made it more real. Scully was usually so composed, so in control, but even she had her limits.

He stood quietly at the foot of the bed, watching her for a moment, contemplating whether to wake her or let her rest.

Mulder hesitated for a moment before gently shaking Scully's shoulder to wake her. "Scully... we need to head back to D.C."

Scully stirred, her eyes slowly blinking open, disoriented from exhaustion. As she groggily sat up in bed, Mulder's gaze shifted, realizing she was only wearing her undergarments. Flustered, he immediately turned around, reaching for the motel robe hanging nearby. Without looking at her, he handed it over, trying to preserve her privacy.

"Here," he muttered, awkwardly holding the robe out to her. "You might want to cover up."

Scully, still half-asleep, took the robe, but the gesture stung a little. She couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at Mulder's immediate discomfort, even though she knew he meant well. She wrapped the robe around herself slowly, still feeling the heaviness of the previous day's events weighing on her body and mind.

"What time did you get back?" Mulder asked, his voice soft but filled with concern. "I was up really late in case you needed anything."

Scully paused, the exhaustion in her voice evident as she replied, "The fire chief dropped me off here. I think it was almost 5."

Mulder turned slightly, just enough to catch her expression, noting the fatigue still etched into her face. "You should've called. I could've helped."

"I didn't want to bother you," she replied, her voice tight, still feeling the sting from how quickly he had reacted to cover her up.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken things between them pressing down as heavily as the chaos they had just endured. Mulder's eyes softened, realizing how worn out she was—not just physically, but emotionally too.

"I'm glad you made it back safely," he said, a little more gently this time, his back still turned to give her space.

Scully sighed, pulling the robe tighter around herself. "Me too."

Mulder shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension but pressing forward. "Diana and I were going to grab breakfast before leaving. We could get you up to date on what we found yesterday."

Scully, still sitting on the edge of the bed, looked at him with tired eyes. "Mulder, I wasn't really involved in the case," she said, her voice firm but laced with exhaustion. "And I'm really tired. I think I'll just try to get some more rest before we leave."

Mulder opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of her words hit him. It was only then that he realized how much he had left her out, once again prioritizing the case—and Diana—over Scully. His stomach tightened with guilt.

He stood there awkwardly for a moment, running a hand through his hair. "I... I didn't mean to ditch you like that."

Scully offered a tired, noncommittal shrug. "It's fine. You were busy."

Mulder could hear the hurt beneath her calm words. He felt the growing distance between them and knew he had been the cause. Trying to make up for it, he shifted, attempting a softer tone. "Do you want me to bring you something back from the diner? Coffee? Anything?"

Scully looked at him, her expression softening just slightly. She appreciated the gesture, even though she knew it wouldn't fix the larger issue. Still, she shook her head, too exhausted to think about food. "No, thanks. Just… let me know when we're leaving."

Mulder hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Actually, I was about to ask you—when we're heading out, we're driving back."

Scully blinked, her tiredness giving way to mild confusion. "Driving? I thought we were flying."

"We drove in, didn't we?" Mulder shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Seemed practical."

"Driving in was fine because we had to stop several times for interviews." Scully's brow furrowed as realization set in. "Mulder, that's a six-hour drive back. Lovely," she said, her voice laced with frustration.

Mulder shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, well… Diana doesn't really like flying, so…"

Scully stared at him, her irritation evident. "Diana doesn't like flying?"

"Yeah, she, uh… prefers driving even for longer trips."

Scully exhaled sharply, pulling the comforter closer around her. "So, we're driving six hours because Diana doesn't like flying?" Her voice was thick with annoyance, but she didn't move to get up.

Mulder raised his hands defensively, sensing her frustration. "Look, I know it's not ideal, but it's just the way it worked out."

Scully shook her head, unimpressed, and lay back down, pulling the comforter over herself. "Great. Just perfect," she muttered, her voice muffled as she turned away, settling into the bed again. "Let me know when we're leaving."

Mulder sighed, watching her for a moment, knowing better than to push it further. He could feel her frustration, but there wasn't much he could do now. "I will," he said softly, retreating toward the door, his mind still weighing the tension between them.

When Mulder and Fowley returned to the motel, they found Scully sitting on the steps, her bags already packed and set neatly beside her. She was dressed in jeans, a simple sweater, and sneakers, her casual attire contrasting sharply with Fowley's more formal outfit.

"Wow, casual," Fowley commented with a faint smirk as she glanced over Scully's appearance.

Before Scully could respond, Mulder spoke up. "We're driving back to D.C. There's no need to be in a suit." As if realizing his own discomfort, he reached up and loosened his tie, subconsciously mirroring Scully's casualness.

Fowley raised an eyebrow, her tone light but still carrying an undercurrent of judgment. "If you say so," she replied, giving Scully another once-over before turning back toward the car.

Scully remained silent, watching Mulder as he fidgeted with his tie. There was an awkward tension in the air, but she kept her thoughts to herself, standing up and grabbing her bags. She was ready to put this trip behind her.

Scully adjusted her bag as she glanced at Mulder and Fowley. "The fire chief called; I have to turn in the gear they lent me," she stated matter-of-factly.

Mulder nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. "We know. You didn't answer your phone, so he tried the sheriff, who called me."

Scully pursed her lips, not wanting to get into the details. "I also need to sign a few more papers at the hospital."

Fowley raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Couldn't you sign them last night?"

Scully shot her a look, keeping her tone calm. "Discharge papers are traditionally signed the morning the patient gets discharged. So, no."

Trying to diffuse the tension, Mulder interjected, "The fire station is on the way to the hospital. We can drop the gear off there, and we need to get through the next town to go to D.C. anyway. So, all good."

Scully sighed but nodded, appreciating Mulder's attempt to keep things moving. "Alright, let's get it done." She hefted her bag over her shoulder, ready to head out.

As Mulder helped Scully load her things into the car, he handed her a coffee and a paper bag. "I got you a coffee and a banana-chocolate muffin. It seemed like something you might enjoy. I also got you your usual banana-bran," he said, his tone hopeful.

Scully glanced at the treats, her expression cool and distant. "That is a lot of muffin," she replied, trying to mask her weariness.

Mulder's earnestness shone through as he shrugged slightly. "I think you've earned it. The sheriff was singing your praises this morning on the phone. You really did an incredible job."

She felt a flicker of warmth at his words, but she kept her demeanor steady. "Thanks, Mulder. But I'm really not that hungry right now."

He studied her for a moment, concern etched on his face. "Scully, you need to eat something. You've had a long night."

"Fine," she relented, finally taking the muffin from him and forcing a small smile. "I'll eat it later."

Mulder smiled back, relieved. "That's all I ask." He closed the trunk, and they both climbed into the car, ready to head out on the road back to D.C.