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Her nice candles, once selected with care and excitement, have been tossed unceremoniously into a trash bag. An expensive bottle of bubble bath follows them down and now leaks from a crack up its ornamental glass side, dripping pink syrup over the broken wax.
Scully holds her breath and triple knots the bag tightly. A quick trip to the dumpster outside her building delivers these niceties out of her life for good, but the light scent of them still lingers when she returns to her apartment. A gag forces its way up her throat and she takes deep breaths over her kitchen sink, working hard to control her body’s reaction. The drip drip drip of the tap grounds her, and she counts each drip until the nausea passes.
Forty-three drips later, there is a knock at her door. Scully straightens and crosses the kitchen to answer it. A quick glance through the peephole fortunately only reveals Mulder, who she’s been expecting for about a half hour.
--
“I just don’t get it Mulder,” She says earlier that day while perching on the edge of her empty tub. “It’s been three weeks since-since Pfaster died. And I still can’t get in the tub.”
“I don’t know why that’s so surprising, Scully,” Mulder replies from the other end. A patient psychologist’s tone bleeds into his voice. “You experienced a severely traumatic event in your own home. An activity that you once associated with comfort and relaxation is now tied to memories of violence and fear. It’s not your fault, it’s nothing to feel ashamed over-”
“It’s not that I’m ashamed,” She interrupts him quickly. “I just miss being able to feel safe, I miss being able to settle into a bath after a long day without freaking out and dissolving into tears.” She stops speaking abruptly, unaccustomed to admitting so much to him at once.
The air over the phone is silent with the weight of her admission. Mulder paces around his small living room, troubled by the sadness in her voice. “Tell me what I can do to help, Scully. Please.”
He half expects her to brush him off, to change her tune and insist that she’s fine. Instead, Scully surprises him.
“I have an idea, but you need to be here to make it work.”
Mulder is already shoving his feet into his shoes and grabbing his car keys as he replies. “I’m on my way, tell me what you have in mind.”
--
Mulder steps into her apartment, extending an offering in a carryout cup. Scully accepts it, a small but grateful smile playing at her lips as she takes a tentative sip.
“I figured tea would be better than buying you dinner first or bringing you flowers.” Mulder shrugs, taking a swing at a joke. It’s not really funny, but she exhales through her nose in a weak laugh anyways.
“Are you sure this isn’t too much to ask?” Scully asks hesitantly as she walks into the kitchen and sits at the table. Mulder sheds his coat and shoes before following her. After sitting at the table, he covers one of her hands with one of his.
“Scully, you could ask me for anything to help you with this and I would say yes. You could ask to trade apartments with me so you could use my bathtub everyday and I’d hand it over to you without a second thought.” He squeezes her hand to accentuate his determination.
Scully smiles into the lid of her cup. “You just like my apartment because it’s bigger. And anyways, you don’t even have a bathtub.”
Mulder shrugs. “That’s irrelevant. You know what I mean.”
Scully looks up and sets her tea down so she can squeeze both of his hands. “I do know. Thank you, Mulder.”
Mulder leans forward to kiss her forehead. “No need to thank me. Now come on, I was promised a hot bath and I’m not leaving without one.”
She nods, draining the rest of her tea in a few gulps and standing. “I’m going to run the water and get ready, I’ll call you into the bathroom in a few minutes, alright?” Mulder nods and watches her walk into the bathroom and close the door behind her.
--
Scully stands naked before her bathroom mirror, feeling exposed and ridiculous. Behind her, the tub fills quickly, hot water roaring out of the tap. Over the bubbling noise, she swears that she can hear footsteps approaching her, steady and booming, growing closer and closer as Pfaster arrives to drag her into the tub and mutilate her corpse-
“Scully?” Mulder asks, swinging the door open frantically. She opens her eyes and suddenly the present world flows back to her in a tidal wave of sensations. The sound of the water filling the tub, the lingering stench of candles, her own shaking, the cold tile under her bare skin.
Her bare skin.
Scully sits crumpled next to her sink, the heels of her hands digging into her eye sockets as if trying to scrub her memories away. Despite that fact that Mulder has seen her naked many times before, she lowers her hands to cover her chest on some ingrained instinct. In an instant, Mulder is next to her, examining the expression on her face with intense worry and placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. She feels as if their roles have been reversed after learning how to assess him for injuries time and time again.
“What happened, Scully?” He asks.
She takes a few breaths through her nose before replying. “The sound of the tap just reminded me of, well it reminded me of lying in my closet and waiting for him.” She admits. Mulder stands and turns off the tap, ceasing the echoing noise in the room and easing some of her tension.
“That’ll be enough for both of us, anyways,” Mulder says while helping her up and rubbing her arms soothingly. Scully credits him for not even glancing at her breasts, especially since her nipples have become hard in the cool air of the bathroom. “Are you sure you still want to do this? You don’t have to.”
Scully glances at the tub, calmed slightly by the absence of candles and bubbles that usually adorn it. “I’m sure. I want to do this.”
Mulder nods before shedding his own shirt and undoing his belt. Soon, both of their clothes lay in a pile on the floor and they stand naked before each other. The atmosphere is (mostly) devoid of sexual arousal, but there is a feeling of intimacy and trust that blooms between them. As Scully looks up at Mulder, her goofy, protective man that has agreed to her odd request, she nearly forgets that soon she'll be submerged in the same tub she’d been meant to die in.
Nearly.
“You first.” Scully whispers, tilting her head toward the tub. Mulder nods and claps her on the shoulder before dipping his toe into the water.
“It’s a good temperature,” He says lightly while continuing to lower himself into the water. Scully’s eyes travel down his muscular back and the lines of his thighs. Her gaze takes a pit stop at the backs of his kneecaps, an area she’s fond of kissing until he squirms and giggles. Once Mulder is completely submerged from his chest down, he looks over at her encouragingly.
“Come on in, the water’s fine.” It’s an offering, not an expectation. Scully approaches the tub with trepidation and runs her hand along its porcelain edge.
“This tub was one of the things I loved most about this apartment when I first moved in,” She says. “I’d never lived anywhere with a tub quite this big, and when I was touring the place I just imagined myself taking long, luxurious baths.” She smiles at the memory of fresh-out-of-medical-school-Dana buying towels and oils for her new tub, but scowls when the memory is replaced with a vision of her own body floating lifelessly in tepid water. Mulder senses the change and takes her hand, the warmth of the water bringing her back to the present.
“Let’s get those baths back for you, shall we?”
Scully nods and steps one leg into the tub, hanging onto the side for balance. One leg in doesn’t seem so bad, so she swings the other over the side and begins to lower herself into the water and Mulder’s lap. The water level rises with the addition of her volume and settles just above the soft swell of her breasts. Her breasts. She looks down at her skin, seeing only Pfaster’s hands touching her unbidden, arranging her just so, getting off on her pretty corpse. She pants until she wheezes.
“Scu-”
“Just-give me a minute-” She forces out despite her constricting chest. Mulder nods behind her, accidentally flicking water up into her hair. She feels Mulder’s arms wrap around her from behind, watches them gently fall onto her stomach, feels the tickle as he laces his fingers together. Mulder’s touch is somehow both feather light and miraculously secure. He touches her like one might touch an old painting, with reverence and extreme caution. His touch is vastly different from that of Pfaster, who had caressed her and manhandled her like a hunter posing with a trophy deer, ready to be mounted onto the wall.
“You’re safe, you’re alright,” Mulder whispers a mantra in her ear. “Come back to me, Scully.”
She doesn’t feel like a trophy right now. She feels like she belongs entirely to herself, with Mulder’s arms encircling her as a safeguard only. She doesn’t know quite how it happens, but with a concentrated effort from them both, she calms down.
After a few minutes of silence, Scully shifts in the water, now becoming more aware of Mulder’s naked body pressed up against hers. She savors the warmth of his chest against her back, the hairs that tickle her skin and the legs that run parallel, if significantly longer, to hers.
“Thank you, Mulder.”
“No need to thank me, Scully.”
One by one, Scully’s muscles relax until she can rest her head against Mulder’s shoulder. He plants kisses in her hair as his arms move up her torso to hold her more tightly now that her panic has passed. Scully closes her eyes and soaks in the peace of the bathroom.
They remain in the tub until the water has cooled and they both sport pruney fingers and toes. Scully leans forward to pull the stopper from the drain as Mulder stands and grabs towels for them both. They dry each other off before Scully takes Mulder’s hand and pulls him toward her bed. She burrows under the crisp sheets and beckons for him to follow her under. He obliges and holds her once again, running his fingers through her damp hair until she falls asleep. Scully’s body drains entirely of stress as she drifts off, submerged in a new feeling of security.