Title: Any Other Day
Author: ML
Spoilers: JTS and William
Rating: Adults only
Classification: Vignette
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. I mean no infringement, and I’m making no money.
Summary: Aren’t you tired of it? To be shown something, a little piece of something, only to have it snatched away again? To know that it will never truly be yours?
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Any Other Day
by ML
Scully had stopped looking at the newspaper. She avoided going to stores, not that she felt much like shopping anyway. Even the grocery store was dangerous. The aisles were loaded with flowers and candy and exhortations to Remember Mom on Her Special Day.
It wasn’t a special day for Scully. She’d been a mother for less than a year, and her own mother wanted nothing to do with her.
Maybe she could live on cereal and take out food until after Mother’s Day.
It’s just another day, she told herself. It means nothing. If I could just stop thinking about it.
She had a card for her mom, of course. She’d bought it at the same time she found a “for Grandma” card for William to give to her. The Mother’s Day card was duly sent to San Diego, where Maggie was spending a few weeks. She’d left not long after Scully told her about William, and didn’t say when she’d be returning. It was a relief, in a way. Scully had a hard time being with Maggie Scully right now. She suspected her mom was having the same trouble with her.
The “For Grandma” card was tucked away in a box in her closet. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. She kept it with a lock of hair, a stuffed toy, and a tiny pair of socks. Mementos of a life she was never meant to have.
This time last year, she’d actually entertained a few dreams, a few illusions. Not particularly about Mother’s Day, but what it would be like to be a mother. For a brief time, she put all practical worries aside. She thought about weekend mornings in bed, William snuggled between Mulder and her, cooing and giggling in the sunshine streaming through the windows. She thought about trips to the park, just the three of them.
Her dreams had been modest. She hadn’t fantasized about a big house, or a perfect family. She was all too familiar with the realities of her life. She’d just wanted a little time once in a while, some intervals of peace and happiness between the dangers and crises of her haunted life.
All told, she’d had a handful of moments prior to and just after William’s birth, strung out over a few weeks, ending in a day’s idyll before reality inevitably and permanently set in. The day Mulder had left she knew that any chance of a normal life had disappeared with him.
Life had been hard since then, but she’d still had hope. Then Mulder went missing entirely, just seemed to drop off the radar. Her only tenuous contact with him had been through the Gunmen; now they were gone.
And now William was gone, too.
Scully felt completely, entirely alone. Skinner seemed distant since William’s birth and Mulder’s disappearance. The friendship and concern of Monica Reyes and John Doggett couldn’t possibly make up for what she’d lost in the past year. Lately, they seemed to be avoiding her. She couldn’t blame them. Everything she’d touched in the past year had turned to shit, and she was dangerous to be around.
Even her mother had abandoned her, and who could blame her? Scully had given up her child, and her mother would never understand it, even if Scully sat her down and told her everything that had happened in the past nine years. It was too little, too late, and Maggie Scully’s patience and understanding had finally reached its limits.
Scully didn’t want to think about that conversation any more. She hadn’t expected comfort; she hadn’t even expected sympathy. She thought her mother might rage and scream and cry, and she could forget her own grief in ministering to her mother’s.
What Scully hadn’t expected was the cold acceptance of her news and her mother’s refusal to listen to her reasons or her fears. Maggie Scully’s reaction added another layer of ice to her already frozen heart.
Whatever her mother could have said to her, it would have been better than silence. Scully hadn’t expected understanding, but she hoped for a little forgiveness. Just enough to feel that some warmth, somewhere, existed in her world. That someone could forgive her. She could feel no forgiveness for herself.
I’m a complete failure, Scully thought. I couldn’t help Mulder, I couldn’t help the Gunmen, and I couldn’t keep William from harm.
She spent long hours at work. Her apartment wasn’t the haven it once was. Between the memories of Jeffrey Spender’s visit that signaled the beginning of the end, and William’s baby things, she hated going home. She needed to get rid of the crib and the clothes and the toys, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She just put everything in the back bedroom and kept the door shut.
It didn’t help. Every room held memories of either William or Mulder. The fish tank. Mulder’s little Buddha statue. The couch where she and Mulder so often sat, and where their reconciliation finally began, before William was born. William’s toys, a stray sock found clinging to one of her shirts in the dryer, a rattle under her bed.
The Gunmen, sitting at the dining room table, reluctantly helping Mulder break in to a restricted facility. Tending to Mulder’s wounds after yet another break-in. Mulder’s luggage, piled haphazardly in the living room. All gone now.
Sleep brought no respite. She dreamed too much. Even the happy dreams were disturbing; she thought about them too much during the day, yearning for their return. She almost welcomed the nightmares. They were at least familiar, and not always so far removed from her reality.
Most nights, she was the last person in the Forensic Pathology lab, finishing up lecture notes, grading tests, re-writing a report. Anything to delay the drive home to the empty apartment that still echoed with the sounds of a baby she knew she’d never see again.
“Agent Scully.” The familiar voice startled her; it was out of context and it took her a moment to realize who was calling to her. For a moment she thought she heard Section Chief Blevins. She heard voices all the time now, it seemed. She wasn’t sure if they were waking dreams or if she was going crazy.
She looked up to see Assistant Director Skinner standing in the doorway of her office.
“Sir,” she said tonelessly. It didn’t occur to her to ask why he was there. She assumed it was bad news. It nearly always was, even if on the surface it appeared to be good.
“What are you doing here so late?” he asked. His tone was as gruff as always, but he seemed concerned.
“I had some things to finish up,” she said.
“May I sit down?”
She nodded toward the only other chair in the office.
“I tried calling you at home,” Skinner said.
“What about?” Scully asked. She thought, just tell me, don’t bother with the social niceties. What is it now? Mulder’s been found dead? My mom? William?
“I just wanted to know how you are,” Skinner said. “How you’re holding up.”
“I’m fine,” Scully said, not bothering to look up at him.
Mulder would never let her get away with saying that. He’d be on that word like white on rice, but Skinner let it pass.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he persisted.
Scully shook her head, but relented and looked up. “Not a thing,” she said. “There’s nothing to be done.” She looked down at her papers again. “Thanks for asking.”
Skinner just sat for a while. She kept on with her work, but she could feel his eyes on her. I just wish he’d go, she thought. I know he means well, but there really is nothing he can do.
At length, Skinner did stand. “Are you staying much longer?”
“I just need to finish these few things,” Scully said. “But it might take a while.” She wouldn’t come right out and ask him to leave, but she hoped he’d take the hint.
After a few more moments of silence, he did. “I’ll say good night then, Agent Scully.” Skinner rose from the chair. Don’t stay too late.”
“No, Sir,” Scully said automatically, hardly hearing him. “Good night, Sir.”
It was close to midnight when Scully got home. She fed the fish, took off her shoes, and curled up on the couch to wait out the night.
x-x-x-x
One day was very much like another, each running into the next, day after day, week after week. Weekends only meant that she had the offices to herself for a longer period of time. It was comforting, being the only one living among the dead. So often, she felt like she was the dead one, walking among the living, unnoticed.
She volunteered to be on call over the Mother’s Day weekend and spent it in her office. Later, she drove to a deserted stretch of road and allowed herself to cry until she was lightheaded, her face hot and puffy, her throat raw.
x-x-x-x
A week later, Scully got a call from Kimberly. “Agent Scully, Assistant Director Skinner would like to see you in his office at your earliest convenience.”
Scully hadn’t seen or talked to Skinner since his visit to her office a few weeks before. She figured he must have promised to keep an eye on her, and he was fulfilling his duty as far as she would let him. It didn’t matter. He could watch over her all he wanted, and it wouldn’t change anything. Still, she dutifully went to the Hoover Building after class, canceling her afternoon office hours.
Kimberly ushered her right in when she arrived. She wondered what was so urgent. Skinner was at his desk, holding a large manila envelope in his hands.
“Agent Scully, I received this for you yesterday. I think it might be of some interest to the case you’ve been working on.”
What case? Had Doggett volunteered her for something again? Mystified, Scully took the envelope from Skinner. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to open it, Agent Scully. It’s addressed to you, not me,” Skinner said. His intercom buzzed. Kimberly said something Scully couldn’t catch on the other end. Skinner said, “I’ll be right there,” and excused himself from the office.
Apparently alone, Scully glanced around the room to be sure. There were no shadowy men smoking in the corner, though she couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t some sort of surveillance.
She tore open the flap and a smaller white envelope fell out. There was nothing else in it.
The small envelope was blank but there was something inside. Should I open it? she thought. Imagine being felled by some biotoxin, after all I’ve seen and done. And in Skinner’s office, too.
It was a Mother’s Day card. This seemed unbelievably cruel, but not surprising. Their enemies sometimes had a sick sense of humor. As she opened the card, a picture fell out.
It was William, no doubt about that. But she couldn’t tell who was holding him; the man’s back was to the camera, and she couldn’t see his face. The photo had the grainy quality of something blown up from a long-range shot.
William looked healthy and happy. It must have been a recent photo; she was surprised at how much bigger he’d gotten in the weeks since she’d given him up.
She looked at the back of the picture, and inside both envelopes for any clue of who’d sent the picture and why. She sat staring at the picture until she heard Skinner’s voice in the outer office. She shoved everything back in the envelope with trembling fingers before Skinner opened the door. She tried to compose herself. She couldn’t allow herself to think about what the picture meant.
“I have your 302, Agent Scully,” Skinner said. “Your ticket will be at the American Airlines counter. Your flight leaves in about two hours, so you’d better get home and get your bag.”
“What is my assignment? What has it got to do with this?” She held the envelope in her hand, willing it not to shake.
“You’ll receive instructions when you get there,” Skinner said. “Now get going.” His tone invited no more questions, brooked no argument.
Scully rose, taking the envelope with her.
x-x-x-x
At home, Scully barely had time to think, and wouldn’t allow herself to hope. She packed automatically, her actions honed by years of practice.
She paused at the box in the top of her closet. She opened it and looked at its contents briefly: a stuffed toy, a tiny tee shirt. A packet of little reminders of her past life. Did she really want to hope? Did she really want to go through with this?
What if it was just another red herring? Was Skinner being led, the way Doggett had been? It had been on the tip of Scully’s tongue to argue with Skinner, to ask him to leave well enough alone, to refuse to go.
But she couldn’t. There was still enough life and hope left in her that she couldn’t say no. Even if it meant failure once again. She would keep trying to believe until her last breath. She owed herself that. She owed it to William, and to Mulder.
x-x-x-x
There was no packet waiting for her at the airline counter, just a ticket. Her destination was Salt Lake City, Utah, with a stopover in Denver, Colorado. Maybe this was a transfer, and Skinner neglected to tell her that. Scully called Skinner on her cell as she strode down the terminal.
“Assistant Director Skinner asked me to let you know that he would Fed Ex the file to you with the information you need,” Kimberly said. “It should get there about the same time you do.”
“May I speak to the Assistant Director?” Scully asked as she approached the gate.
“I’m sorry, Agent Scully, but he’s just gone into a meeting with the Deputy Director and cannot be disturbed.”
“Very well.” Scully thumbed off the phone as she arrived at the gate. What was this case, and what did it have to do with the picture in the envelope?
She had the envelope with her but she wouldn’t open it on the plane or anywhere in public. The flight to Denver gave her a long time to think without much result. She tried to imagine Mulder arguing counter-point in her head. She’d tried to do that before, when he was missing. She’d tried to be him, with little success. Now she struggled again, trying to see things the way Mulder might see them, to make the leap of intuition, of faith, of hope.
When her flight landed, Scully discovered that the last flight for Salt Lake City had been canceled, and she would have to re-schedule for the following day. The earliest flights were already booked; she put herself on standby but booked the noon flight.
Once again, Scully tried to call Skinner. There was no answer on his private line, and it was well past office hours. She left a message explaining the layover, and reserved a room at the airport hotel.
At check in, the desk clerk said, “I have a delivery for you, Ms. Scully. It arrived this afternoon.” He handed over a Fed Ex package with her room key.
Odd, thought Scully. How could he know that I would have to stay the night in Denver? Had he called ahead to the airport? Why?
As soon as she got upstairs, Scully opened the packet. Inside was the key to a rental car, and a map with the route marked out in red.
According to the map, she was to drive north to Wyoming. And she was to do it that evening.
“This is a short side trip,” the accompanying note said. “You can investigate this lead and be back in Denver in time to catch your flight.”
Were these instructions really from Skinner? Was all this talk about a case just double-talk to cover up the real reason he’d sent her here? What was in Wyoming that she was supposed to investigate? She pushed down the thought that it had something to do with William.
She had no idea where William was taken when she gave him up; it seemed safer not to know. More than anything else, more than her own safety, Scully wanted William to be safe and happy.
She took the picture out again and studied it. He looked healthy, and happy; his blue eyes looked straight at the camera over the shoulder of the man who held him. A man who could be Mulder, or not; she couldn’t see enough of him to be sure.
She tried Skinner once more with no success. She decided not to mention the packet or the questions she had about it. It wasn’t a lack of trust in Skinner, but a fear of being overheard that stopped her.
Time was moving on while she sat there, indecisive. If it had to do with William, she had to go, whatever the consequences. She put on her coat, got her purse and gun, and went down to find the car. The car was in the hotel parking lot, an anonymous Lariat rental car in a sea of rental cars. She got in and searched the glove box but there were no further clues. After a moment, she started the car and backed out of the parking place.
She kept watchful for anything unusual, anything alarming or out of place. She took the precautions almost automatically, without really believing they’d do much good. This was too much like the journey that she’d taken to meet the mysterious super soldier. The only thing missing so far was the change of clothes.
The Colorado-Wyoming border wasn’t that far from Denver. Once she got away from the city and outlying sprawl, the landscape was open and traffic was light. The directions were easy enough to follow. There weren’t that many roads off of the main one. But it was now well past sunset and she drove cautiously. She knew that this was the dangerous time; a car with its headlights off would be virtually invisible.
What would she do if this was a trap? She was alone out here, no backup within hundreds of miles. It wasn’t that she distrusted Skinner; far from it. But if he was being played, this could be it for her.
She couldn’t bring herself to care. Life without hope was no life at all, and she felt she’d been left with nothing to hope for. But it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t go down fighting. She checked her gun in the seat beside her.
After a while, Scully could see a slight glow of civilization in the distance. It must be Cheyenne; there were few other towns in this corner of Wyoming, according to her map. She turned onto a secondary road, heading east, away from the lights. After a while she pulled off the road, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. She listened intently, surveying the low hills and the road before and behind her.
Almost silence. The sound of the wind, bringing with it a distant train whistle, the sound of a dog or a — a coyote, maybe? — barking. No headlights at any distance, no sound of any other vehicle on this road. The lights of Cheyenne were still some way to the northwest of her, and she could see nothing but the outlines of low hills and a few trees here and there, in between. Anything else was hidden from view.
She got back in the car and drove a little further, topping a rise and stopping the car again.
It was now completely dark. She turned off her headlights and got out of the car again. This was a darkness she seldom experienced at home; no streetlights, no headlights to lessen it. She looked up at the stars, remembering the last time she’d seen them so clearly, in Montana. She’d thought about Mulder’s soul that night, residing in the starlight, maybe with Samantha.
Skinner had tried to give her hope then. It had ended badly, but that wasn’t his fault. She felt sorry for Skinner, so many times either the bearer of bad news or at least the witness to it. She felt the tears running down her cheeks as she remembered, the stars before her blurring and running together. What the hell was she doing here? Damn Skinner for doing this; for giving her hope, for making her think that there could still be a happy ending somewhere.
She angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned back to the car. As she did so, she caught a distant light, low on the horizon, out of the corner of her eye. She watched it for a while. It held steady, not getting any closer. She hadn’t noticed it before, but perhaps it had been hidden from view.
She got out her flashlight and checked her map. It appeared to be the direction she was heading for, her own star to follow. She got in and started the car, driving slowly toward her future, whatever it might contain.
The light appeared and disappeared as Scully followed the curves of the road through and around the hills and valleys. But it stayed steady, and as she got closer, she felt her heart beat more strongly, either with fear or anticipation; perhaps both. Probably both.
She turned off the paved road and onto a gravel one, the sound gratingly loud to her ears. She pulled the car over one last time, turning it to face toward the main road, and walked the rest of the distance along the side of the drive, trying not to make any more noise.
It was very quiet, except for the sound of the wind rustling through the grass and the trees. She strained to listen for any other sound that might be masked by the wind. Nothing. Not even any dogs barking.
She came to the end of the road, widening into a yard in front of what looked like a small, rustic cabin. There was a porch along the front of the cabin, and one light shone from the front window. Scully stood watching, waiting, wondering if she should go knock on the door or just turn around and go back.
The decision was taken out of her hands as the front door opened. Light streamed out of it, silhouetting a man. His hands were by his sides, and he raised them slightly.
Scully approached cautiously, her hand fumbling for her gun and holding it down at her side, ready to react.
“You gonna shoot me, coppa?” came the much longed-for voice. The man stepped down from the porch and the light from the window caught the side of his face now, illuminating it.
“Mulder,” she whispered in disbelief.
“Hey, Scully,” he said, as if he’d seen her just the day before. “Come on in.”
The light dazzled her momentarily and Scully stood just inside the doorway, adjusting to it. Mulder stood behind and to one side, close enough that she could feel his warmth. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d gotten until then.
It was a small cabin, as rustic inside as it was outside, but cozy. A fire burned in a woodstove, and a couple of oil lamps were lit.
“I’m glad you came, Scully,” Mulder said. “Though I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.”
Scully turned to look at him fully for the first time. His hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, and he had a day’s growth of beard. He looked fit, though thin. He was leaner and harder looking than she remembered, and his face looked weathered. Nobody had ever looked so good to her.
Still, she didn’t move toward him. She couldn’t seem to speak. She whispered, “Mulder,” again, unable to continue.
“I think you can put that down now, Scully, unless you’re planning to shoot me again,” Mulder said, gesturing to her gun but making no move to touch her.
It was a gesture of trust, and she knew she had to do it. Did she really believe this was Mulder? Of course she did. She wanted to. She had to. After a moment, she put her gun back in its holster at her back.
Mulder made no comment, and didn’t urge her to take the holster off.
They stood looking at each other, neither wanting to make the first move. Then Mulder smiled.
“Can you stay awhile, Scully?” he asked. “I can’t offer you much in the way of hospitality, but I have something I want to show you.” He gestured toward the only place to sit in the room, a seedy-looking couch. There was a table of sorts in front of it, made from some sort of large wooden cable spool.
Scully sat. Mulder rummaged around in a backpack and pulled out an envelope. He sat beside her and spilled the contents out on the table.
Several pictures of William were arrayed before her. All appeared to have been taken at a distance, and outside. William sitting beneath a clothesline with sheets blowing behind him. William in the arms of a man or a woman, always with their backs to the camera. William sleeping in the sun in a playpen, his rump stuck up in the air and his thumb in his mouth. His hair looked darker in the pictures. Scully wondered if his eyes were still baby blue-gray, or if they’d started to turn hazel.
“Where?” she asked. “Where did you get these? Have you seen him?”
“I can’t tell you where, but they’re from someone I trust. I haven’t seen him except in pictures. I didn’t want to risk exposing him, or me. But he’s safe, Scully. As safe as he can be.”
“I want to see him,” Scully said, and she was surprised to hear her own voice, harsh and demanding.
“We can’t, Scully. It’s not safe.”
“Then why did you do this?” Scully asked sharply. “Why did you show me something I’m not allowed to have?”
Mulder’s face fell. “I wanted to give you some reassurance, Scully. And I’ve missed you so much. I wanted to see for myself how you were. I thought you’d want it, too.”
“I don’t want to be given something that’s just going to be taken away again,” Scully said, pulling away from Mulder. “It’s cruel.” She left the couch and the cabin. It would be better to leave now, before she said something unforgivable, or before she broke down completely.
Mulder followed her. “Scully,” he started to say.
She turned on him, pushing him away and turning her back to him. “Aren’t you tired of it too, Mulder? To be shown something, a little piece of something, only to have it snatched away again? To know that it will never truly be yours?”
“Of course I’m tired of it, Scully,” he said. “What do you think?”
“Then why? Why do this to yourself? To me? What good has it done?”
“Because I can’t quit, Scully. Because I have to keep hoping. Isn’t that better than the alternative?”
It was as though he voiced her earlier thoughts. In the blink of an eye, she thought of Mulder on his own, feeling the same way she had. She wondered how he’d heard about William, and what he’d felt. She began to sob quietly, hugging herself in the cold empty night.
“Hey,” Mulder’s voice brushed against her ear like a warm breath. She felt his arms come around her, pulling her back against him.
Scully turned in his arms. “What happens now?” she whispered against his chest. She was almost afraid to touch him, afraid he’d vanish. She was surprised to realize that she felt both anger and desire at his touch.
“Let’s go back inside,” Mulder said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“How much?” Scully looked up at him. “How much time?”
“A couple of hours, anyway. Unless you want to leave now.” Mulder’s face was shadowed as they turned toward the cabin.
“What if I don’t want to go back at all?” Scully said, very quietly. Mulder’s back was to her, and he showed no sign of having heard her.
She allowed him to lead her back inside and seat her on the sofa again. “Do you want some tea, or something to eat?” he asked. “I’ve gotten pretty good at rustic cuisine.”
“No electricity, Mulder?” Scully asked, looking around. She realized that all the lights were oil lamps. There were a few modern additions but only the kind that would serve to keep the cabin habitable in harsh conditions, no frills.
“No wiring, not even a generator, Scully. Who’d have thought I’d become so self-sufficient? Didn’t you say once that I’d couldn’t survive without a cell phone?”
“Well, at least it’s better kept than the Peacock house,” Scully said, wrinkling her nose at the memory. “Have you been here all along?”
Something in Mulder’s face shut down. “No, I’ve moved around a good bit,” was all he said.
“How did Skinner know where to find you?” Scully asked.
“He didn’t. He had no idea where he was sending you.” Mulder went into the other room and Scully heard a rhythmic metallic squeaking for a few moments, and the sound of water. He came back into the main room with a kettle that he set on the wood stove, stirring up the coals inside.
“So the ticket, and the instructions, and the Fed Ex package…”
“…all arranged by me,” Mulder said. “I’ve been in touch with Skinner, off and on, since that thing at the quarry. It was too dangerous to get in touch with you directly.”
“That means…” Scully couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“That I know about the guys, yes. And what you’ve been going through,” Mulder said. “I’m sorry, Scully. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I’d never have left.” He sat next to Scully and turned sideways to look at her. “You know, I always thought you’d do better without me that I’d do without you.”
“I haven’t done very well at all,” Scully said quietly. “I need you just as much as you need me.”
Mulder reached out and stroked her cheek with his finger. “I’m so sorry, Scully,” he said, and he opened his arms to her. She pressed herself against him, hiding her face in his shoulder, letting the sobs break over her. She felt Mulder’s hands on her back, rubbing softly up and down, as if he comforted a child.
They sat that way for a long time, Mulder murmuring softly in her ear, placing soft kisses on her cheek. She felt as if she could stay there forever, just being held by him, not having to go on and face the future.
The hissing sound of water boiling brought them back to the present. Mulder pulled away from her, slowly, reluctantly, and poured the hot water into mugs, rummaging around for tea bags in one of his packs.
He sat down next to Scully again but the spell was broken. Scully held her mug in both hands, though it was hot enough to be painful.
“You’ll have to go pretty soon, Scully,” Mulder said, not looking at her. “Unless you want to sleep here and go in the morning. I can’t say the accommodations are very comfortable, but…”
“Take me with you when you go,” Scully said suddenly. “Please. I don’t want to go back home alone.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Scully,” Mulder said. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“Why not?”
“We haven’t planned for this. It’s too dangerous. I’m not sure you should come with me. You don’t know what I’ve had to face.”
“Maybe it’s better not to have a plan. Maybe it’s best to just disappear. Look what planning has done for us so far, Mulder. Months have passed since you had to go, and you’re still in hiding, we’re still apart.
“And I had to give up William. I know, we `planned’ for that eventuality, too, but I hoped it would never come true.” Scully could feel the tears starting, and she forced herself to remain calm. Tears were manipulative, and she wanted to remain as logical about this as she could be. “I want to go with you when you go, Mulder. Even if it means hiding for the rest of our lives.”
Mulder did turn to look at her now, and she could see the pain in his eyes. “I can’t ask you to do that, Scully. Think about what you’re saying. What you’re giving up. You might never get to see your family again, you’ll be in danger all the time–”
“You should know, Mulder, that my mother hasn’t wanted to have much to do with me since I gave William up,” Scully told him. “And when haven’t we been in danger? Both of us? At least we could watch each other’s backs.”
“It won’t be for long this time,” Mulder said, but his voice lacked conviction. “I promise you. I’ll either be back soon, or you’ll be able to come to me, for good.”
“And William?” Scully asked.
She hadn’t wanted to bring William up again, not yet. She hoped that somehow Mulder had come up with a way for them to get him back, and that he was waiting to be sure of her before he did so.
“I don’t think we could have him with us, Scully. How could we?” He was silent for a moment. “Is that why you want to come with me? Because you think we could have William with us?”
“No, of course not,” she said, but she knew that it was partially true.
“I don’t think we should talk about this right now, Scully,” he said.
“Now is all the time we have, Mulder. I’ve thought so many times about quitting the FBI, going to look for you, and lately, I have so much less to lose. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You never have, Scully,” Mulder said softly. “I’m always with you. I’ll always be with you, no matter what.”
Scully felt the tears start. “I want to believe that, Mulder,” she said. “Please help me believe.”
“Believe me, Scully,” Mulder said. He turned to her now and hugged her close and hard. He pressed his lips to her forehead and trailed them down her cheek. “Believe,” he whispered against her mouth.
Scully closed her eyes and let herself be swept into Mulder’s kiss. Please don’t let this be goodbye again, she thought. I can’t bear another goodbye.
Mulder broke the kiss but he continued to hold her and she took great comfort in it. “Maybe we should get some sleep, see how things look in the morning,” he said. “You can have the couch.”
“What about you?” Scully asked.
“I’ve been sleeping on the floor,” Mulder said. “I’m used to it. Besides, the couch is too short for me.”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” Scully said. “All my things are at the hotel.”
“I’m sure I can dig up something,” Mulder said. He got up and pulled a tee shirt and some pajama bottoms out of one of his bags. “I’m sure they’re a little large, but they’ll do. I can warm up some more water for washing, but I’m afraid the facilities are out back.”
This is what life on the run could be like, Scully thought to herself. Who knows what living conditions they might endure? This might be primitive, but what if they had to *really* rough it? He was right, it would be no kind of life for William.
“Scully?” Mulder was asking her a question. “Take the lantern, and it’s out back just about a hundred yards from the back door. Give me your car keys and I’ll move your car to someplace less conspicuous.”
By the time Mulder came back, Scully had been out and back, and had changed into her borrowed nightclothes. She felt awkward. She huddled on the couch, her feet tucked up under her, blanket around her shoulders. She listened for Mulder coming in the back door, heard him pause in the kitchen to wash, presumably, judging from the sounds.
He came back into the main room and she watched him spread out his sleeping bag and some blankets in front of the stove. He worked silently, not even looking at Scully, though she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She thought about the last time they’d shared a room, the night before he left. She’d been sitting on the bed, nursing William, watching him move around her bedroom. He seemed unwilling to stop moving, unable to face what they had to face.
They’d held each other close that night, but neither of them slept much. He’d gotten up with her when William cried, and stood beside her as she bent over him. When she picked William up, he was right there, his arms wrapped around the two of them, swaying with them where they stood. She’d been lightheaded with grief and fatigue, and it had felt like the room was spinning. She knew when it stopped, her world would fly apart.
She never thought they’d be separated by choice, even a choice necessitated by someone else.
Now, Mulder blew out all but one lamp and stripped down to his tee shirt and boxers, still behaving as if Scully wasn’t in the room with him. When he’d settled himself on his makeshift bed, he looked up at Scully again.
She was still huddled under the blanket and she couldn’t suppress a shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No,” she shook her head, biting her bottom lip. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if she could sleep with him, as much as she wanted the comfort of his nearness.
“Come here, Scully,” he said quietly, not commanding but not asking, either, leaving it entirely up to her.
She went. Mulder held the blanket up and she crawled next to him. As soon as she lay down, Mulder put his arm around her, pulling her back against his chest, his arm across her middle. “Better?” he whispered.
Scully nodded, feeling his lips against her hair. She let herself relax against him. She lay quietly against him. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. The arm draped over her moved a little higher, his hand seeking hers. Their fingers twined together, and she felt his lips on her cheek.
She thought of yet another goodbye, the last night they spent together in Oregon before he was taken. It was another night when they cuddled close, unwilling to discuss the subject Mulder had brought up, separated by their individual fears. She had felt too ill, and Mulder too worried, to do more than hold each other.
If this was going to be goodbye again, at least this time it would be a proper goodbye. She would see to it.
Scully turned in Mulder’s embrace and kissed him on the lips, taking her time over him, nibbling and pulling at his lower lip until he opened up and kissed her back, meeting her hunger with his own.
“Make love to me, Mulder,” she whispered. She felt his jolt of surprise and he pulled away a little, holding her face between his two hands and looking at her closely in the dimness, as if gauging her sincerity.
“Yes,” she said, answering the unasked question. “Please.”
Mulder bent to kiss her again, his lips warm and moist already from her touch. She felt his tongue smooth over her lips, teasing and tasting until she beckoned him further in. She lay back on the blanket, her head cradled in the crook of his arm as his other hand moved underneath her tee shirt, circling her skin just below her breasts.
He undressed her slowly, almost reverently, taking time to kiss and reacquaint himself with her body as he did so. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of his hands on her bare skin. She gasped when he touched her breasts for the first time.
Mulder stopped, an anxious expression on his face. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”
Scully nodded, biting her lips. Her reaction had been unguarded and unexpected. She was more sensitive than she realized.
After a moment, Mulder kissed her on the mouth, and slowly worked his way from there down her throat and to her shoulder, collarbone, and the upper slope of her breast. He kissed each breast tenderly, touching them only with his mouth, letting his hand stroke softly down her arm and her side instead.
She was trembling with anticipation when she finally felt his mouth close gently around one nipple. She gasped again, and arched into him, unable to stay still.
This time when he stopped, he smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Okay?” he asked gently.
“Okay,” she smiled back.
He went back to his gentle caresses and Scully closed her eyes again, letting the sensations wash over her. It was like a dream, like too many dreams where Mulder made love to her. The only way to make it real was to reciprocate.
She stopped him again, but his puzzlement turned immediately to understanding as she grasped the hem of his tee shirt and pulled it over his head. Now she could let her hands roam over his warm and golden body, listening to his breathing change cadence as she found remembered sensitive spots.
There was no more speaking. They allowed their mouths to speak through action instead, and the only sounds now were inarticulate whispers and sighs. Still facing each other, Mulder ran his hand down Scully’s leg and pulled it over his flank. She moved herself closer to him, reaching down to guide him into her. The position seemed strange but somehow appropriate for them. They might do things the hard way, but they did them together. Side by side.
They held onto each other and slowly arched together and apart, together and apart, kissing and nuzzling. It was as soft and slow and gentle as Mulder had been before. Scully relished every moment, pressing tightly against him, holding him close to her before allowing him to slide away again.
Though they didn’t speak, words formed a rhythm in Scully’s head. This can’t be goodbye, she told herself, it can’t. It can’t. It can’t.
Finally Mulder pulled Scully completely on top of him and gripped her close as he began to lose control, and the change in position was enough to make her lose it, too. She collapsed on his chest as he shuddered and pulsed and finally was still.
It was a few moments before she realized Mulder was saying something, stroking her hair gently. She raised her head and looked up at him.
“Love you,” he whispered. “Missed you so much, Scully.”
She kissed his chest. “You too, Mulder. More than I could ever tell you.”
x-x-x-x
Light streamed in the uncurtained windows when Scully woke up. Mulder was sitting cross-legged next to her, holding a mug of coffee.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he said. “Sleep well?”
She sat up and reached out her hand to caress his cheek. “Better than I have for a long time.”
“There are those who say strenuous exercise before bed is not a good idea,” Mulder said. “I’m not one of them.” He gave her a leering look that reminded her of days gone by.
Then, she remembered where she was and what lay ahead.
She sipped the coffee Mulder handed her. It was strong and bitter.
“This is it, Scully,” he said. “The point of no return. You’ve got to leave soon to get back in time to check out and catch your flight, if you’re going.”
“I’m not, Mulder,” she said. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll take what comes, as long as it’s with you.”
“You sure?” He asked. “Even without William?”
“Are you telling me that there’s no hope, Mulder? That we’ll never get him back?”
Mulder looked torn. “I — no, Scully. I just don’t want you to have expectations of something that might not happen.”
“Mulder, yesterday I woke up completely alone. Today, I woke up with you. I had no expectation of that happening. In my book, that’s cause for hope. Maybe together we have more hope than apart.”
“I like the way you think, Agent Scully,” Mulder said.
“You said it yourself yesterday, Mulder. We have to keep hoping. It’s better than the alternative.”
“I just want you to be clear,” Mulder said. “We’re going to have to disappear completely. No getting in touch with your mom to let her know you’re okay, no going back to DC or even to Denver to get anything you’ve left behind.”
“Everything I’ve left behind is replaceable,” Scully said. “But you’re not.”
Mulder smiled. “The feeling’s mutual, Scully. Anyway, I’m not entirely without resources. We can get you whatever you need in the way of clothing and necessities. Though I kind of like what you’re wearing right now.” He leaned closer and kissed her, and it was different from any kiss they’d shared before. This was a kiss of welcome, of promise, of a future shared.
“You better get dressed,” he murmured against her mouth. “Or we might have to stay here a while longer.”
Mulder had thoughtfully left her some hot water and she washed as best she could while he packed up his bags and cleaned up any evidence of their habitation.
Scully looked outside and saw that Mulder had brought around an old pickup with a camper shell on the back.
“What are we going to do about the rental car?” Scully asked.
“I hid it in the barn last night, and I don’t think anyone will find it for some time,” Mulder said. “This place doesn’t get used much, and even if it is found, I don’t think they’ll be able to trace it back to you. It was rented under another name entirely. I don’t think anyone will know you’re missing until you don’t show up back in DC in a day or two.”
“How is that possible?” Scully said.
“We got you checked out of the hotel, and onto your flight. For all intents and purposes, you disappeared after you landed in Salt Lake City.”
“Mulder…” Scully began to understand something.
Mulder tried to give her an innocent look but she wasn’t buying it.
“You planned for me to disappear all along, didn’t you?”
He looked a little sheepish. “Well, it was one scenario we talked about. But I wanted it to be your decision.”
“So you let me argue with you, and practically seduce you, when you intended this all along?”
“Plausible deniability, Scully. I could always say you seduced me into agreeing, if that’s what you’re asking.” He paused, and when Scully didn’t reply, he added, “That *is* what you’re asking, isn’t it?”
Scully gave Mulder a very small smile. “I think it’s a moot point, Mulder. And who’s `we,’ by the way? You and Skinner?”
Mulder just smiled. “Are you ready? We have a lot of ground to cover today. Here, put this on.” He handed her a worn denim jacket. “That’ll do until we can get you some different clothes.”
Scully turned back and looked at the little cabin as she got into the truck cab. For such an insignificant place, it now held a good deal of meaning for her. Not everyone could point to a time or place where they could say, “Here is where my life changed.” Scully could count several such events in her lifetime, and she could scroll them like a slide show. The analogy made her smile a little; the first time she met Mulder was one such time and place, and almost the first thing he did was give her a slide show. Little did she know at the time what that day portended for them both.
“Scully, you ready?” Mulder called from inside the truck. “Burnin’ daylight.”
No turning back, Mulder had said to her that morning. She’d well and truly burned her bridges this time.
“I’m ready, Mulder,” Scully said, and as she had since she’d met him, she followed Mulder into the unknown.
end.
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5/26/02