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The sky was dark and cloudy outside the window of her living room. It was a lazy Saturday evening, the first Scully had in a while. After their last case, Mulder and she had to maintain a low profile for a bit, and that meant long Saturdays that she could spend in her bathtub and in the company of a good book.
The first drops of rain started to insistently tap on the window glass. Scully was sitting on the comfy couch in the middle of her living room, curled up in the blanket. The old polaroid was hold tight between her hands.
She didn't expect to find that, when she decided to read an old book that she forgot to have, and that was spending his time piling dust in the back of her bookshelf. She really didn't expect that, when she decided to sit on the couch with a warm tea, that she placed on the little table near the couch. She didn't expect the polaroid to gently fall out of the book. She didn't even remember having this photo or even taking it, but that was of no importance now.
There she was now, looking at the old picture. And the eyes of a young Melissa were intensely looking back at her.
A lonely tear left a wet path on Scully's cheeks. The young Melissa was looking directly to the camera lens, and her eyes were big, as they always had been.
Scully missed her so much it became difficult for her to breathe. Now that her killer had been caught, the anger and guilt that she felt at the beginning left place to an everlasting and sharp sadness. It was like she had the time, now, to really elaborate the death of her sister. She was dead. The simplicity of the reality overwhelmed her all together, like a swollen river, like oceans waves during a storm, like a high-speed train heading straight to her. Without stopping.
Mercilessly.
She didn't expect this, when she decided to read an old book, but here she was now.
The raindrops were banging against the window now and the noise echoed in the silence of the house. The thunderstorm mirrored her internal turmoil, the kind of turmoil that is too intense and severe to be expressed through simple tears. Tears that would have brought nothing but a total loss of control that Scully could not allow herself to have right now. When Melissa died, Scully knew that that kind of loss would be too much to bear for her. So, she did what she does best: Scully pushed her feelings deep in her soul, once more. She locked them in the hidden and forgotten part of her being, where she knew they would have been quiet and in silence.
For now, at least.
She put back the polaroid where she had found it, then closed the book and put it carefully in the back of her bookshelf.
She breathed, her shaking hand took the by then cold tea from the little table and put it in the kitchen sink.
The rain was tapping hard on the glass of the window and the thunders started to rumble.
She was the tough one. She couldn’t lose control. She wouldn't. She said to herself while standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do next. She couldn't go to bed, nor lay down on the couch. She knew well that she would lose it that way.
She looked at the phone and took it in her hand and dialed his number before her brain could process the action.
“Mulder.” His soft voice had the same effect of a tranquilizer. Scully felt herself already more balanced.
“Hello?” Mulder’s tone became annoyed.
Scully cleared her voice. “Hey Mulder,” her voice was trembling “it’s me, Scully.”
“Oh, hi. Is everything ok?” She could sense his concern through the telephone receiver.
“Hm, Yes…yes. I just…” she just what? Panicked over her dead sister and needed to hear his voice? Well, of course she couldn’t tell him that.
Silence. That made her panic even more.
“Scully,” his voice was so sweet.
“I just dialed the wrong number Mulder, I’m sorry,” shit, she felt so stupid. “I just wanted to call my mom but made your number. It’s a stupid mistake, sorry.” She rushed her apologies and pretense and hung up.
Shit.
Now she felt really depressed.
Why couldn’t she open herself up with Mulder? He was her best friend. They had been through some very horrible things and they had survived them, together. So, why couldn’t she be honest with him and herself and admit that she needed him? That she needed him to comfort her? Just for one night. For one fucking night.
Soon the sadness left place to a deep anger. Anger that Scully was aiming exclusively at herself. Scully’s breath started to accelerate, she soon felt like she was drowning. She didn’t realize she was crying until she opened her mouth to try to catch more air and control her breath and felt the hot salty taste of tears. Scully curled herself up on the couch, her legs were pressed between her arms; she was trying to calm herself.
After 10 or 15 minutes her breath was back normal and she had stopped crying, although the words Ice and Queen were whirling in her mind, reverberating with such violence and urgency that Scully barely heard the soft knock on her door.
When Scully opened her door two dark, worried, hazels eyes were examining her close.
Scully sighed. He was there, of course he was there.
He was always there for her.
“Mulder.” She whispered. He offered her a soft smile before watching Scully dash between his arms. She was too sad and too tired to fight against her personal barriers.
She took Mulder by surprise, but he welcomed her gladly in what she thought was a safe place, a safe harbor. Her safe harbor.
Scully didn’t even cry, she had already run out of tears.
She just needed a friendly face who would reassure her and who would tell her that all was going to be good, that she would survive the pain, the loss, and that one day she would be able to look an old picture of Missy without her heart breaking in thousands little pieces. Maybe she would be able to look at an old picture and with a mournful smile she would let her thoughts wander through the old gardens of memory.
She wanted this. Just this.
But how could she tell all of this to Mulder? How could she tell him all of that if she didn’t even have the strength to pull ahead of him long enough to let him in her apartment?
“It’s all gonna be good Scully, you’ll see” Mulder whispered in her ear. “Whatever reason you’re upset, we are going to fix it. Together. As usual.” His voice was soft and a little broken, as if he was sharing the pain with her.
And maybe he was.
Maybe he went to her apartment so he could take some her pain and burdens and alleviate some of the incredible pression the loss of her sister was causing on her heart.
Scully sighed heavy. He was her rock, she didn’t’ know how they became so close, but right now all she wanted was his Mulder, who was gently caressing her hair. Scully pulled away just enough to watch him in the eyes. His hands were still around her and he had no intention of letting her go.
Scully’s stare was intense and electric. Her eyes were wet and puffy from the crying.
She pressed her lips and smiled at him. A trembling smile that she forced herself to make. She was so grateful to him. Grateful for going to her tonight. Grateful for everything they’d shared and for everything they’d made together.
There were many things she wanted to tell him that night. “Thank you”, was the only one she had been able to say.