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Mulder let out a breath and glanced around Scully’s apartment, surveying the damage and mentally working out the details of setting everything right again. He could, at the very least, do that much for her and no force of Heaven, Hell, or Earth could stop him. He’d enlist the Gunmen to help, he decided. They’d do it.
For her.
He caught sight of her, still wrapped in the blanket he’d placed around her shoulders when he’d held her for those few, precious minutes before reporting the incident.
“Excuse me,” Mulder said to the officer.
“Yeah, sure,” the office said but Mulder was already headed toward the door behind which Scully had retreated; behind which she was hiding.
Cautiously, he entered her sanctuary and shut the door behind him.
“If you want to pack some things, we can get out of here,” he said softly.
Mulder wasn’t trying to rush her.
Honest.
All he knew was that he needed to get her out of there; get her somewhere safe.
“Yeah,” she sighed. He watched her as she pulled her Bible out of a drawer by the window. The helpless look she threw his way broke his heart.
“You can’t judge yourself,” Mulder told her as he made his way to her, intending to take her in his arms. He knew her well enough to know that was exactly what she was doing.
“Maybe, I don’t have to,” she replied, defeated, as she sat on the edge of her bed.
“The Bible allows for vengeance.”
“But, law doesn’t,” Scully retorted.
He was trying to be helpful. And, apparently, failing. Miserably.
Mulder leaned toward her, propping himself up on the mattress.
“The way I see it,” he began, changing tactics, “he didn’t give you a choice and my report will reflect that…in case you’re worried.” Setting aside the fact that they were romantically involved, it was self-defense. He’d fight to the death on that. To drive home his point, he added, “Donnie Pfaster would’ve surely killed again if given the chance.”
“He was evil, Mulder. I’m sure about that; without a doubt. But, there’s one thing I’m not sure of.”
“What’s that?” He asked.
“Who was at work in me…or what…what made me…what made me pull the trigger?”
He wanted to tell her that common sense influenced her; that it was fight or flight; that it was her instinct to protect herself.
Instead, he asked, “You mean if it was God?”
“I mean, what if it wasn’t?”
Mulder couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He understood Scully’s internal conflict, but he couldn’t believe it. How could she possibly believe that she was anything but good?
What if it wasn’t?
The woman had barely survived Donnie Pfaster’s clutches. Twice. Something that no other victim had done.
No, Mulder did not understand.
Donnie Pfaster, at best, was a demon; at worst, he was Satan himself—if Mulder could convince himself to believe in such a thing. And, Scully? God, Scully embodied everything that was good.
“Don’t do that,” he blurted softly. She looked up at him, meeting his steady gaze with her unsteady one.
“What?” She whispered.
“Scully…” he began gently, dropping to his knees in front of her, resting his arms on either side of her on the bed. “There is nothing evil about you. Do you understand me? Nothing.”
The look in her eyes damn near killed him. She wasn’t convinced. Scully glanced down to the Bible that was still in her hands.
Gently, Mulder took it in one hand and set it on the floor beside him. He placed his hand on her thigh. “Listen to me,” he pressed again, trying to keep his voice as soft and soothing as possible, “you are the kindest…smartest…most amazing person I’ve ever met. Don’t…don’t drag yourself down like that.”
His heart broke when she looked away sadly and he let out a breath. Mulder squeezed her knee and rose from the floor. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, careful to avoid the part that had been split in her struggle with Pfaster, and quietly said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Scully looked to Mulder as he passed the exit that would take them to his apartment. He had a firm grip on the steering wheel and his jaw flexed wildly, seeming to highlight the fact that he’d been silent since they left her apartment. It made her wonder exactly where his head was and, subsequently, if he’d intended to miss the exit.
“Mulder?” He snapped back to reality and cast a glance at her before returning his eyes to the road. “You missed the exit.”
“No, I didn’t,” he replied simply, leaving her dumbfounded for a few seconds.
“Where are we going?”
“Maryland.”
“Maryl-.” Realization hit her before she could finish the word. Scully felt her eyes narrow as she said in a low tone, “Mulder…”
“I’m taking you to your mother’s,” he said, like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Mulder, no,” she whined. “Come on. Let's just go—.”
“Scully, please, just…just humor me on this. Please?”
It was his tone that gave her pause more than the request itself. It was a desperate plea laced with concern and helplessness. Scully didn’t hear that tone very often.
She didn’t reply, conceding silently to his plan despite the fact that she didn’t want her mother to see her like this. She didn’t want the inevitable questions or the looks. Scully was already aware that she looked like hell and, if she was being honest, she was exhausted and just wanted to take a nice, relaxing bubble bath before going to sleep.
No.
No bath.
Scully forced away the thought. She just wanted to sleep. She wanted to fall asleep in the arms of the man she loved.
Mulder took Scully’s bag in one hand and placed his free hand on the small of her back as they made their way to Maggie Scully’s front door. They’d barely reached it when the door opened. He held his breath, half-expecting Scully to let it all out. Not that he wanted her to cry – God, he didn’t want that. But, she needed to get it out, to react. As it was, she’d all but shut down entirely.
To his surprise, Scully allowed her mother to pull her in to a tight hug without shedding a tear. Mulder wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
He knew she was in a questioning sort of state—and, he hated it for her. Did God or Satan make her pull the trigger? That’s what she was asking herself, although Mulder couldn’t fathom why. She’d done the right thing, saving countless lives in the process.
Mulder wished he could make her see that. Or, maybe, she did see that and it wasn’t comforting.
Honestly, he didn’t know which was worse.
He didn’t like that she was questioning her faith. While he certainly didn’t share it by any stretch of the imagination, it was something that, both, he loved about her and frustrated him to no end. She could believe in God but not one of his theories; those always required veritable proof. Yet, Scully’s faith was part of what made her Scully. Mulder wouldn’t change that for anything. So, to find her questioning it was disconcerting. And, Mulder hated the dissonance.
Anger swelled in him. Anger at Pfaster for, not only the physical abuse she took at his hands but the psychological and spiritual abuse as well. Anger at himself for not being there in the first place. Anger that her meticulously clean and comfortable home—her sanctuary—was invaded and torn apart.
Tonight, she should have gone home, had a glass of wine, wound down in her beloved tub with her relaxing candles and pleasant smelling bubbles. She should have read a book or an article. She should have gone to sleep and had a peaceful dream about whatever it was Scully dreamt about.
Instead, she’d gone home to a waking nightmare.
At some point, in the midst of his thoughts, he must’ve missed someone talking to him because Scully said his name in that concerned tone of hers and he found both of the Scully women staring at him.
“Hmm?” He asked.
Maggie Scully ushered them into the house before anyone had a chance to say anything else, throwing an “are you hungry?” their way as she did so.
“I’m fine,” Scully replied.
“Me, too,” Mulder added. He couldn’t stomach food right now if he tried.
“I’ll make tea then,” Maggie said, not giving them a chance to object. “I’ve made up your room,” she continued.
“Thanks, Mom,” Scully replied, reaching to take her bag from Mulder. For a moment, he hesitated, but the look she shot his way left little room for argument. Exhaling a breath, he relinquished the bag and watched as she ascended the stairs.
He felt Maggie’s eyes on him, but desperately did not want to meet her gaze. Mulder knew damn well that he’d spill his guts if she asked for details—not that he wouldn’t hate himself for it later; that was, after all, Scully’s speech.
Luckily, she didn’t ask for details. Only how Scully was really doing. Mulder sighed and ran a hand across his forehead.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “She hasn’t said much about it and I…”
After a brief moment, Maggie finished for him, “don’t want to push.”
Mulder nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re a good man, Fox,” she said softly, pulling him into a brief hug before disappearing into the kitchen.
Mulder let out a sigh.
Yeah, he was a good man; good enough that he let the woman he loved go home alone without so much as considering that the asshole that tried to kill her might, in fact, try to kill her again. Yep. He was a quite a catch.
After a moment, he proceeded up the stairs after Scully. Part of him wasn’t surprised to find her sitting quietly on the bed. She was staring at the rug with an intense gaze but everything about her told him that she was a million miles away.
“Hey,” he said softly. She jerked her head to face him. “Sorry…I didn’t…” he exhaled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was just thinking,” she replied with a sigh of her own.
“About Pfaster?” Mulder asked, sitting beside her on the bed, not at all sure what to with his hands. He kept them clasped together between his knees as he leaned forward, suddenly staring at the rug himself.
“No,” she replied hardly above a whisper.
They say in silence for a bit before she spoke up again.
“Mulder, why did you bring me here?” His gaze met hers. “We could’ve just gone to you place or to a hotel.”
Despite her soft, curious tone, something about the way she asked demanded nothing less than the truth.
He exhaled. “I wanted to bring you someplace where you felt safe,” he confessed sheepishly.
Scully stared at him—dumbfounded, if he had to guess.
“You don’t think I feel safe with you?”
It was her tone that shook him. He wanted to ask her why she would feel safe with him when all he did was put her in situations to get hurt in one way or another. He wanted to tell her that she was better off as far away from him as possible.
But, they’d had that argument. Several times. Every time, Scully stubbornly stayed by his side, telling him that if she didn’t want to be there then she would’ve left a long time ago.
For as much as he loved the woman, it never made him feel any better.
It took a moment for Mulder to realize that her finger was on his chin, guiding him to look at her. When his eyes met hers, he saw confusion—possibly a hint of concern—and pure love.
“I don’t trust anyone but you,” she said quietly, firmly. Mulder swallowed hard. "I feel safest with you."
He could only nod in response. His throat felt tight and his eyes stung from her confession.
This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be comforting him. This was about her.
Mulder let out a sigh and rested his hand behind her on the bed.
“Do you know why I came over tonight?” Scully only stared at him in response. “I missed you,” he said simply. “I got into bed and happened to look over at your side and you weren’t there.” He shrugged shyly. “I missed you.” He exhaled again before continuing. “I tried to call you, just to hear your voice and tell you goodnight and that I love you and I got your machine. I figured you were…” he swallowed hard, not wanting to force her brain back to the atrocity that took place just a couple of hours ago.
“What?” She prompted.
“I figured you were in the bath or already asleep.”
She stiffened beside him at the mention of the tub.
God, he wanted to get that peace back for her. He would, he vowed silently.
“I don’t know what it was—missing you and just needing to see you or something else, but I got dressed and came over.”
“You think waking up in the morning with you in my bed wouldn’t have been somewhat alarming at first?” She joked, causing him to chuckle.
“Well, I was going for romantic, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
Scully pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder and placing a hand on his thigh. Mulder, in turn, wrapped both arms around her, determined not to relinquish his hold any time soon; to keep her safe in his arms.
Maggie stopped at the open door, not at all surprised to see Dana’s head on Fox’s shoulder nor his arms holding her tightly to himself.
She was about to knock on the frame to let them know the tea was ready when he heaved a sigh and said, “I know that it doesn’t feel like it right now, but…honey, you did the right thing.”
Maggie’s eyes stung, tears building at the scene playing out before her. Fox Mulder was completely, hopelessly in love with her daughter and, if it wasn't apparent before, what she was witnessing was proof of that.
“We’ll never know how many lives you saved tonight,” he continued softly.
“I just…” Dana began.
When she didn’t finish her thought, Fox softly said, “I know.” He sighed again. “I know. That’s partly why I brought you here. Your faith is part of you, Scully. I hate that he caused you to question that.”
Maggie had absolutely no idea what they were talking about—and, she didn’t want to know—but, suddenly, she felt like she an intruder on what was otherwise a very private moment. Although hesitant to interrupt, she knocked softly on the frame. Fox faced her slowly and Dana lifted her head to look at her.
“Sorry to interrupt—,” she began.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Dana replied.
“I wanted to let you know that the tea is ready whenever you are.”
“Thank you,” Fox said for them. Maggie nodded and proceeded back downstairs.
Scully stayed put for a couple more minutes before withdrawing from his embrace.
“We should probably go downstairs,” she sighed, rising from the bed.
Mulder nodded. She began to walk away from him, but instinct took over and he caught her by the hand. Scully looked back at him, confused.
He rose from the bed and closed the gap without letting go of her hand.
“I love you,” he said, softly.
She reached up to press a chaste kiss to his lips and said, “I love you, too.”
Mulder stole another kiss before allowing her to lead him back downstairs.
The air in the kitchen was heavy, apprehensive even, as they sipped their tea in near silence. Maggie would ask the occasional question that didn’t pertain to the events of the evening; things like: did they see this or that on the news or did they hear about this or that.
Every time, Mulder would cast a glance to Scully. Much like he found her upstairs, she was a million miles away.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she announced quietly when her mother briefly left the kitchen.
Mulder nodded and said, “I’m going to get going.”
Scully’s brow furrowed in response. “You’re leaving?”
Not anymore, he wanted to say. Instead, he settled on, “I have my work cut out for me tomorrow and I’m sure your mom wants to spend some time alone with you.”
“Stay,” Scully whispered.
Between the look in her eyes and the shyness of her whisper, Mulder could deny her nothing. After a moment, he nodded his concession.
“I’ll be on the couch,” he replied, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“Mulder…”
He grinned. “It’s your mom’s house, Scully. I’m trying to be respectful.”
A small smile quirked on her lips and he couldn't help to steal a quick kiss.
"I won't be long," she said quietly.
“Take your time.”
Mulder watched as Scully disappeared up the stairs. When she was out of sight, he heaved a sigh and sat back down.
“Fox.”
He looked up to see a look on Maggie Scully’s face that he’d never seen; one he didn’t know how to decipher. Although her tone was kind, it was firm.
This was going to be a serious conversation, one that Scully wasn’t meant to hear.
Mulder waited patiently as Maggie returned to her seat and looked him in the eye before asking, “Will Dana be okay?”
He swallowed and said, “Eventually.”
“Are you okay?” She asked, unexpectedly.
For a moment, he couldn’t answer. He hadn’t really thought about it. His focus had been on Scully.
“I should’ve come over sooner,” he said quietly; ruefully. “I never should’ve—.” The stinging in his eyes distracted him from the pounding in his chest. “We almost—.” Mulder forced down a sob as the reality of the evening played out in his mind. He took a deep breath and said, “We could’ve lost her tonight.”
Maggie’s eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t fall. The same couldn’t be said for him.
“But, we didn’t,” she replied, covering his hand with her own.
Mulder wanted to tell her the severity of what had happened, how Donnie Pfaster had damn near finished the job he’d started years ago. But, he refrained.
Scully wasn’t sure what woke her. The last thing she remembered, Mulder was lying next to her, holding her securely, and talking about absolutely nothing at all. He’d been trying to keep her mind off of what happened, she assumed, and she loved him for it. When she realized that she was alone in the bed, she rolled over and placed her hand in the space that had been previously occupied by her partner. The comforter was rumpled from where he’d been lying, but it was cold. He’d been up for awhile.
Quietly, she made her way downstairs.
When Scully got to the living room, she found Mulder sitting on the couch, his gaze transfixed on the television screen.
“Hey,” she said, rounding the edge of the couch as he looked up at her.
“Hey,” he replied.
Scully sat beside him, leaning against him as he draped an arm over the top the couch.
“What are you watching?” she asked, glancing at the TV before returning her gaze to him.
Mulder chuckled and replied, “I have no idea.”
At some point, Scully had snuggled into him and draped an arm over his abdomen. One arm held her close while his free hand absently played with hers.
The credits rolled up the screen but neither of them moved.
“Mulder?” She asked when the credits gave way to a commercial break.
“Hmm?”
Scully lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him and said, “Thank you.”
He cocked his head slightly and asked, “For what?”
“Everything. For being here.”
Mulder smiled slightly before pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling impossibly closer to his firm frame. She relaxed into him as another movie started on the screen.
Maggie peeked through the open door of Dana’s room, only half-surprised to find it vacant. She assumed that her daughter had gone downstairs to talk to her “partner.” Not that they were fooling anyone. If she’d harbored any doubts as to the nature of their relationship, last night would’ve made her a believer.
But, Maggie wasn’t going to push. Whatever had happened that led Fox to call her last night and, subsequently, bring Dana over, it wasn’t the right situation for such questions.
When she got to the living room to check on them, the television was still on—the only light illuminating the room. She couldn’t see Fox, although she assumed that he’d finally fallen asleep. Maggie wasn’t at all surprised when he’d decided to stay. As shaken as both kids were—no matter how hard Fox had tried to hide it—she knew it would’ve taken an undeniable act of God to pry him from her daughter.
That was why she wasn’t, at all, surprised to find the two of them spooned tightly together on the couch in the glow of the television. Fox held Dana tightly as though he was afraid to let her go.
The protective nature Fox Mulder exuded when it came to her daughter never ceased to amaze Maggie. She knew that it, sometimes, annoyed Dana. She could recall being annoyed by Bill in the early years of their marriage for nearly the same thing. Although, she didn’t think it was possible for a person to be more hopelessly devoted to another the way Fox was to her daughter.
Bill would’ve been pleased by their daughter’s choice of men. Not at first, maybe. Likely, her husband would’ve been put off to Fox upon first meeting—first few meetings, perhaps. After Dana had gone missing, though, he likely would’ve bought a ring for Fox, given his blessing, and begged him to marry their daughter.
Maggie smirked at the thought.
If only Bill could’ve seen them tonight. If only he could’ve seen how Dana relied on Fox and he on her. If only he could’ve seen how Fox broke down at the thought of losing her. Bill would’ve loved the fact that Fox brought her home after whatever it was that had happened tonight.
Fox Mulder was a good man, she mused, and Dana was lucky to have found him.
Maggie observed them for a moment or two longer before grabbing the blanket from the chair. Fox stirred as she draped the blanket over them, lifting his head as though ready to pounce if anyone was even thinking about touching Dana.
“It’s only me,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
He nodded sleepily and laid his head back down, tucking in face into the back of Dana’s neck. He was out again almost instantly.
Maggie dropped a soft kiss to each of their heads before deciding to forego another cup of tea and heading back upstairs.
Dana was going to be okay, she was sure of that. Fox might take longer but, eventually, he would be okay, too. In the meantime, they had each other and that was enough.