It was about dinner time when Mulder knocked on Scully's door. She opened it, standing there in her pajamas, clearly surprised by the late visit.

Mulder glanced at her outfit, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Scully looked at him with mild amusement. "If you want me to take off with you to chase aliens right now, then yes," she replied dryly, crossing her arms.

Mulder smiled, sensing a bit of warmth behind her usual sarcasm. "Can I come in?" he asked.

She paused, as if weighing her options, then stepped aside. "Sure," she said, gesturing him inside. "But I'm not changing out of my pajamas."

Mulder stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Wouldn't expect you to," he replied softly, his tone more serious now. "I just wanted to check on you. We barely got to see each other all day. I am so, so sorry for the stunt Diana pulled on you. That was really low," he said, his tone earnest. "If there is anything I can do for you, then please—"

Scully sighed, a mix of frustration and exhaustion evident in her expression. "I appreciate it, Mulder. Come in." She stepped aside, inviting him into her apartment. "Why don't you take a seat?"

He walked in and sank into the couch, the cushions sinking slightly beneath his weight. "Thanks," he replied, looking up at her. "I just wanted to see how you are doing."

"I'm managing," she said, leaning against the doorframe for a moment. "But today was tough. I didn't expect her to undermine me like that in front of Skinner... in front of you."

Mulder nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "You deserve better, Scully. I hate that she put you in that position."

Scully crossed her arms, trying to hold onto her composure. "It's not just about today. It feels like everyone's watching me, waiting for me to fall apart."

"Hey," he said softly, "you're not alone in this. I'm here. Always."

She met his gaze, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. "I know."

Mulder shifted in his seat, his expression softening. "How about we just talk? Or not talk. Whatever you need."

They sat side by side on the sofa, the silence between them growing, heavy but not uncomfortable. To Mulder, the quiet stretched on for what felt like forever. His eyes stayed on Scully, studying the tension in her posture, the faint lines of exhaustion around her eyes, the way she seemed lost in thought, so far from the sharp, collected agent he was used to seeing.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but steady. "When I decided to become a doctor, I had this idealistic vision of making a difference," she began, her eyes distant, like she was recalling a version of herself from a long time ago. "I thought I would be saving lives, healing people. I knew it would be hard, but nothing ever prepares you for certain things—like having to amputate someone's limb or telling parents their baby doesn't have a heartbeat anymore."

Mulder listened, his chest tightening as she continued.

"I could handle death," she said, almost surprising herself with how true the words sounded out loud. "It's part of life. First you live, then you die. It's that simple. And death can be explained, understood, investigated. I could handle all this. It was everything in between—those impossible choices. The space between life and death, where someone is still breathing, but you know they'll never be the same again. Leaving someone disabled for the sake of saving their life. Knowing that the life you've handed back to them isn't the same one they had before."

She took a deep breath, her fingers idly tracing the seams of the sofa. "There's nothing in medical school that teaches you how to live with those decisions afterward. You go through the motions, you do your job, but it's the quiet moments afterward that get to you. When you're alone with your thoughts, and the what-ifs start creeping in. What if I had done something differently? What if I missed something? What if I made the wrong call?"

Mulder stayed silent, feeling the weight of her words, knowing she needed to get this out. He didn't rush her, didn't try to comfort her just yet. He let her speak at her own pace, letting the honesty settle in the room.

Scully's voice softened, almost as if confessing to herself. "I almost quit during my emergency medicine rotation. It wasn't the pressure or the chaos. It was the aftermath—the quiet, when all those what-ifs hit me at once. I couldn't escape them. I started binge eating just to fill the silence, to push the thoughts away. And when that wasn't enough, I... I would make myself vomit, just to feel like I had control over something."

Mulder's heart clenched. He hadn't known. He never would have guessed. His eyes searched hers, seeing the vulnerability she rarely showed.

Scully's voice faltered, but she continued. "When I got back to the motel after everything... I fell back into that old habit. I raided the vending machine, trying to bury everything I was feeling." She paused, glancing at him. Mulder remembered the state of her motel room when he'd woken her the next morning. "I knew it was dangerous, that it could spiral. That's why I called Karen—after you went to breakfast. I just... I needed to make sure this wasn't becoming something bigger. Something that would put me or the people around me at risk."

Mulder's mind flashed back to the cruel comment Diana had made in the office, and it only made his heart sink further. He wanted to do something, say something, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn't want to make this moment about anyone else.

Instead, he followed his instinct. Slowly, without hesitation, he reached over and pulled Scully into a hug. At first, she was stiff in his arms, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he had overstepped. But then, after a long, loud sigh, she melted into his embrace, letting her body relax against him. She shifted slightly, getting comfortable on his chest, her hand coming to rest over his heart. He instinctively took her hand in his, holding it gently.

"Do you get all the help you need?" he asked softly, his voice quiet in her ear. "Is there anything I can do to help you through this?"

Scully hesitated for a long moment, her hand still resting on his chest, before she slowly pushed herself off of him, just enough to meet his gaze. Her voice was small, almost shy, as she said, "I haven't eaten since yesterday. Just those few crumbs from the muffin."

Mulder looked at her, worry crossing his features.

"I'm afraid to..." she started, then paused, biting her lip. "Would you...?"

Mulder, understanding, gently finished her thought. "... have dinner with you?"

Scully nodded slightly, and Mulder smiled softly. "Absolutely."

Without another word, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen, leaving her sitting on the sofa. After a few minutes of quiet preparation, he returned with a plate in hand. "I know it doesn't look like much," he said, sitting beside her and placing the plate between them. "But it's a sandwich my mom used to make me when I was a boy. Whenever I needed comfort."

Scully looked at the simple sandwich, then back at Mulder, feeling something warm and comforting settle in her chest. She took the plate, her fingers brushing his briefly, and took a small bite. It was simple, but it was enough. It was exactly what she needed.

And for the first time in a while, she felt like maybe she wasn't alone in this.

After they had eaten, the quiet between them was more comfortable. Scully felt a little more grounded, the weight on her chest slightly lighter. Mulder, sensing the shift, decided it was time to ask the question that had been lingering in his mind all day.

"So," he began, breaking the silence carefully, "how's the case with Doggett and Reyes going? You didn't say much earlier."

Scully leaned back against the couch, her fingers still idly toying with the edge of the plate. "It's... interesting," she admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "Nothing so far stands out as anything paranormal or out of the ordinary. Just a straightforward investigation, at least on the forensic side. But I do have to say, I'm enjoying working with them more than I expected."

Mulder raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Doggett's very no-nonsense, by-the-book, but he's thorough. He reminds me of how I was when we first started working together."

Mulder couldn't help but smirk at that. "I can see that."

"And Reyes," Scully continued, her tone softening, "she's... different. She's open to all kinds of possibilities, but it's her energy, her approach. She's intuitive in a way that's hard to explain."

Mulder noticed the change in her expression as she talked about Reyes, a look he hadn't seen in a while, one that carried a subtle mix of fondness and nostalgia.

Scully hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her next words carefully. "Reyes... she reminds me a lot of Melissa."

Mulder's expression softened instantly. He knew how much Scully's late sister, Melissa, had meant to her. He leaned forward, sensing there was more behind her words.

"Melissa was always open to things beyond the rational, beyond what we could explain. She trusted her instincts more than her head. Reyes has that same kind of... presence." Scully paused, her voice quiet. "It's both comforting and hard at the same time. I didn't realize how much I missed having someone like that around."

Mulder nodded, understanding. He reached out, resting his hand lightly on hers, offering silent support. He could see how much this was affecting her, in ways she probably hadn't fully acknowledged yet.

Scully gave him a small, grateful smile before continuing. "It's strange. Working with her feels almost like having a piece of Melissa back. But at the same time, it's a reminder that she's gone."

Mulder squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "I think Melissa would be proud of you. Proud of how you've handled everything."

Scully nodded, her eyes misting slightly but not letting the tears fall. "Yeah... I hope so."

The two of them sat there in the quiet once more, the unspoken bond between them stronger than words could convey. They had both been through so much, together and apart, but moments like this reminded them why they continued to trust each other, lean on each other, even when everything else felt uncertain.

After a while, Mulder broke the silence again. "So... Reyes and whale songs, huh?"

Scully laughed softly, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "Yeah, apparently she's got a collection. Doggett looks like he's barely tolerating it."

Mulder chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds like quite the pair."

"They are," Scully agreed. "But in a way that works. They balance each other out. Maybe that's why I like working with them." She glanced at Mulder, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Mulder grinned back, the warmth of their shared connection palpable. "So, there are a lot like us."

As the evening wore on, Mulder found it increasingly hard to hold back the question that had been nagging at him. He glanced at Scully, her posture tense but her expression calm. The memory of their kiss played in his mind, along with the pain in her eyes that night. He had to ask.

"Are we ever going to talk about the other night?" he said softly, breaking the silence.

Scully's face fell slightly, her expression shifting to something more guarded. "You need to forget about the other night, Mulder."

Mulder frowned, the weight of her words landing harder than he expected. "Forget about it?" he repeated, disbelief in his voice. "I can't. Scully, we kissed. That must have meant something."

Scully averted her gaze, her body language stiff. "I just can't be that person for you," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Mulder blinked, her words hitting him harder than before. "Why not?" he asked gently, leaning in. "Why do you think you can't be that person for me?"

Scully hesitated, her eyes briefly flicking up to meet his before looking away again. "It's just… complicated," she said, her voice faltering slightly, as though she was struggling to find the right words. "There are things… parts of me I don't want to burden anyone with."

Mulder's heart sank as he watched her hesitate. The way she avoided his gaze, the reluctance in her tone—it stirred something deep in him. His mind began to race, connecting the dots, recalling the vulnerability she had shown that night. The way she had cried, the way she had blamed herself.

He didn't want to believe it, but the thought crept in, unbidden. Had she encountered some form of trauma? Had something happened to her, something she hadn't told him?

His voice softened even more as he asked, "Scully, did something happen? Something you haven't talked about?"

Her reaction was subtle but unmistakable. She stiffened ever so slightly, her eyes darting away again as she shifted uncomfortably. "It's not… it's nothing you need to worry about," she replied, but there was a tremor in her voice now, a hint of the pain she was trying to keep hidden.

Mulder's concern deepened, and his mind whirled with possibilities, his heart aching at the thought of her going through something so painful alone. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he also knew how fiercely she guarded her privacy.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "About anything."

Scully swallowed hard, her eyes still focused on some distant point, not meeting his. "I know," she whispered, but the wall she had built between them remained intact.

Mulder didn't push further, but the thought lingered in his mind—an uneasy, gnawing feeling that whatever had happened to her was too painful, too raw for her to share. And as much as he wanted to help, he couldn't force her to open up until she was ready.

They sat in silence again, but this time, the air between them was thick with unspoken emotions. Mulder's heart ached for her, for whatever pain she was carrying, and the helplessness of not being able to fix it twisted inside him.

"I just want you to know," he said finally, his voice quiet but firm, "I'm here, whenever you're ready. For whatever you need."

Scully nodded slightly, but the distance between them felt heavier than ever.

For now, all Mulder could do was wait, and hope that one day, she would let him in.