Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 23rd, 1994

Scully had laid awake all night since Mulder had put the phone down on her the night before. Despite his protestation that he wouldn't give up because the truth was still out there, something in his voice had given her pause. He had sounded so eerily calm as he told her that they were being reassigned, that his whole life's work was being pulled out from under him. She found it unnerving, especially so soon after the death of Deep Throat.

As four am rolled closer to five, she knew that she wouldn't be sleeping anymore, and lying in bed any longer would just be an exercise in frustration. Instead, she got up and wandered to the kitchen. Initially, she planned to make herself some good, strong coffee to try and shake away the cobwebs of the previous night, but as she stood and stared at the coffee pot on the counter, another idea popped into her head. Instead, fifteen minutes later she was dressed and heading out of her apartment.

---

The knock startled him and Mulder's fingers moved unbidden toward his weapon on the shelf nearby, but something about the gentility of it made him think twice. Instead, he got up from the couch and padded softly to his front door, peering through the peephole and finding himself genuinely surprised at who was standing there.

"Scully?" he asked as he pulled the door open to reveal his partner. Well, since the previous night, his former partner the voice in his head amended.

"I couldn't sleep," she told him, her eyes extolling the truth of the statement, "I hoped I might catch you before you went out for a run."

"You're lucky. I wasn't really in the mood for one this morning," he replied, stepping back to welcome her inside.

"I can't imagine why," she quipped back, examining his face as he turned toward her after closing the door. "Did you get any sleep at all last night, Mulder?"

"Does dozing fitfully during the commercial breaks on the Triple-X channel count?" he asked. She didn't dignify his response with an answer. Instead, she walked into his kitchen and began making coffee and rummaging for something for them to eat, eventually settling on bowls of Cheerios and half an apple each. Mulder was silent throughout, just watching her move around his space with quiet confidence. Scully had rarely visited his apartment before. The last time he could recall was when they had returned from their "nice trip to the forest". She had still been ill, although thankfully past the worst of it. Mulder had invited her over so they could talk it out - on the surface at least, deep down though, he had simply wanted to keep an eye on her. She had looked so deathly ill lying in the containment facility in Winthrop. He hoped he never had to see her that close to death again.

Scully finished making their breakfast and passed him the bowl of cereal and apple slices, along with a cup of strong black coffee. Together they sat on the couch and ate in near silence until, after a few minutes, Scully spoke up.

"So are we going to talk about this?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"What the hell's going on Mulder?"

"I told you last night. They're shutting us down, we're being reassigned to other units. They said something about putting me on electronic surveillance, I think I heard them mention Quantico in relation to you, but by then I'd mentally checked out."

"On what grounds?"

"They don't need grounds, Scully. These men, they can act with impunity because who's going to stop them?"

"Us," Scully snapped back, "we are, Mulder. I'm not going to give up on this. On you. I can't claim to understand everything I saw on the cases I worked with you, but that's just it Mulder. I saw things, unbelievable things. I want to know what the hell is going on out there and I'm not going to find that out by standing in an autopsy bay at Quantico!"

Mulder was grinning at her now and she stopped to stare at him.

"What?" she asked.

"I think I just watched that coffee kick in in real-time," he replied, still fixing her with that lopsided grin she had grown to love. She stared back at him for several long moments, then felt a grin of her own spread across her face.

"Shut up, Mulder."

He laughed and reached over, placing his hand on her knee.

"Thank you for coming over," he said.

"I was worried about you."

"You don't have to be."

"You sounded so defeated last night. So calm. It scared me."

"I know. I was in a bad place last night, but I'm better this morning, I swear."

"What changed?"

He looked at her.

"You turned up at my door and showed me that I wouldn't have to fight this alone."

Chapter Text

January 22nd, 1995

Scully had known that something was up with Mulder from the moment he walked into the office that morning. His usual sarcasm and wit were entirely missing and his enthusiasm for whatever bizarre stories lay within the files on his desk was lacking. He responded to most of her questions with single-word answers and - the sign that worried her the most - he actually took off for a long lunch break, returning nearly two hours later having been, or so he claimed, for a walk.

By the time that the end of the workday was approaching, Scully's concerns had grown to unignorable levels, but she still couldn't put her finger on what was wrong. Their previous case - a bunch of devil worshippers running a PTA in New Hampshire - hadn't been one that especially seemed to affect him, certainly not enough to cause a response like this, and she wasn't sure how to approach things except by being direct.

"Mulder?" she began cautiously as he started gathering his things to leave, surprising her again as it was only just 5 pm.

"Hmm?" he mumbled back, obviously searching his desk for something.

"What's wrong?"

He stopped completely still and looked back at her.

"What?"

"I said what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied with a too-casual shrug, "I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow and saw the mask slip ever so slightly from his face.

"It's... it's really nothing," he said quietly, but she couldn't tell his heart wasn't in the lie.

"I know you, Mulder," she replied with a soft smile. "I knew you weren't you from the minute you walked in this morning. If you don't want to share then that's fine, but don't try to pretend there's nothing going on because we both know there is."

She watched as Mulder sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. After a few moments, he looked back at her and there was something of his usual cheeky smile on his face.

"Remind me which one of us is the psychologist?" he said, making her smile. She watched him take a deep breath before he met her eyes. "Today would have been Samantha's birthday," he told her, and Scully felt a guilty stab to her heart for having forgotten. Before she could say anything, he was carrying on. "All I've been able to think about is how tonight, after work, I should have been heading over to see her. Instead, I'm… here" he gestured around the room, "here with no more leads than I had the first day I started searching for her. She's missed so much and I've missed those same things too in a different way." He dropped his head back into his hands.

Scully got up and walked over to him, pausing to ruffle his hair gently. She gave him a minute to compose himself.

"I have an idea," she said quietly. "Would you mind if I came by your apartment in an hour?"

He looked up and Scully thought she could see his eyes were wet. He nodded at her but didn't say anything.

"Come on agent, let's move out," she said, hoping she sounded encouraging. She heard him chuckle and he stood. "I'll switch everything off and lock up, you just head out." He looked as if he might argue but instead, obviously chose to let it slide with a weak smile before he made for the door. "I'll see you soon," she called after him, receiving only a half-hearted wave as he disappeared around the corner.

---

Just over an hour later, Scully stood at Mulder's door with a grocery bag in her arms. She'd been home to change, pulling on jeans and her old University of Maryland sweater, then stopped off to pick up a few items before making her way over. When Mulder opened the door, he took her in with a look that spoke of both confusion and amusement.

"That's a different look for you," he commented when she walked past him and deposited the paper bag in his kitchen.

"I'm channeling my college years," she told him, "well some parts of them anyway." That earned her a quirk of his eyebrows but she chose not to elaborate, it was best to leave him guessing sometimes. "Now, please tell me you own a skillet?"

Mulder edged into the small kitchen beside her and produced the pan from a nearby cupboard.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"You," she told him, producing two beer bottles from the grocery bag and handing them to him, "are locating a bottle opener and staying out of my way. I, on the other hand," she began pulling out bread and cheese from the bag, "am making Dana Scully's famous grilled cheese for us both. I was famous across campus for these." She pulled out another beer bottle and placed it off to the side in view of them both. "Tonight we're going to have some beers for Samantha and celebrate the years you've missed with her, beginning with college."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder process her words and a smile make its way onto his face.

"I'll be back in a moment," he informed her, putting down his beer beside the one he had opened for her and disappearing. She heard noises from the other room as she concentrated on adding just the right amount of the three kinds of cheese she was using onto the bread. A minute later and he reappeared wearing a slightly small Oxford University sweater of his own.

---

A little later, they sat finishing off the final crumbs of their sandwiches and drinking down the last dregs of their beers, Samantha's own bottle was now opened and sat the coffee table in front of them. Mulder had taken his first bite of the grilled cheese and Scully had watched as his eyes practically rolled back into his head.

"How did you make this?" he asked, staring at the ordinary ingredients still sitting out on his counter, "and more importantly, why have you never made one for me before?"

She had laughed awkwardly through her own mouthful of the sandwich before whispering conspiratorially that her recipe was a secret and she would have to kill him if she told him. They sat in companionable silence after that until all the food was gone.

"I can't remember the last time I made one of those," she admitted once they had both finished. "Good to know they taste just as good when I'm not drunk or stoned." She grabbed his empty plate from his hand and swept into the kitchen before his brain had a chance to process her words. "Now," she called, cutting off any opportunity for him to respond, although a look back told her she'd finally managed to stun him into silence, "grab Sam's bottle and your keys and follow me."

She watched as he complied, his jaw working silently as he caught up with her at the door.

"Did you just admit to taking drugs at college Agent Scully?" he asked as she waited outside his door while he locked it.

"What's good enough for our president is good enough for me."

He shot her a look and she grinned before heading off down the corridor. She led him outside to the small patch of grass with a single tree to the side that qualified as a shared yard for his building and they stood beside the tree together. It was dark out but the moon shone brightly above them. Scully took the beer bottle from his hand.

"Samantha," she said before taking a swig and handing it to him.

"Samantha," he repeated, his voice catching ever so slightly before he too took a drink. Scully placed her hand over his on the bottle and together, they poured out the remaining liquid onto the ground, watching it soak into the soil. Scully stayed quiet, letting Mulder process the moment until he finally looked up at her.

"Come on, it's cold out here," he said, leading her back inside.

When they again entered his apartment, Scully moved to start clearing up the kitchen but Mulder reached out to place his hand on her arm and stop her.

"I'll do that."

"It's fine I.."

"No. Let me. I.. I..," she watched him struggle to find the right words before he settled on, "thank you."

She smiled back, "anytime."

Chapter Text

November 16th, 1997

Mulder smiled so widely when Scully opened the door that he briefly wondered if he looked like a serial killer. If he did, however, Scully was either too polite or too distracted to comment. As she led him into her apartment, Mulder couldn't help but stare at her. He couldn't believe how quickly she was recovering. Just days before she had seemingly been on her deathbed as the cancer that had invaded her body spread and stole away her strength. Today, however, she looked healthier than ever. Her face had lost its gaunt, near skeletal appearance, her hair had bounced back to its usual glossy perfection, she had gained weight, and even her muscles seemed to have regained their previous definition. It was uncanny. Part of him didn't like it, this too-fast recovery that increased his suspicions about the chip Scully had implanted beneath her skin. But when he saw the improvement in her health, both physical and mental, how could he argue against it?

"Sit down" Scully was telling him as his brain reached the end of its internal monologue, waving her hand at her dinner table, "lunch will be ready soon."

"You know I still don't like this?" Mulder said to her back as he took off his coat and laid it on the back of a chair, "it's too soon. I should be cooking for you, not the other way around."

Scully looked back over her shoulder and shot him a silencing look. She carried on for a few moments, then turned around fully, holding two plates.

"First of all," she began, carrying them over and placing Mulder's down in front of him a little more forcefully than entirely necessary so that her hand almost hit the water glass on the table, "it's only a sandwich and chips. I've hardly been on my feet for hours slaving over pots and pans."

"Still.."

"Second of all," she continued, cutting him off before biting into her sandwich while maintaining eye contact as if daring him to say a single word. "Second of all, what am I supposed to do? Sit around all day every day twiddling my thumbs? Take up embroidery? Skinner won't even let me back in the office until we've been to that stupid team-building seminar next week. I'm going stir crazy already and besides…" she trailed off and suddenly became very interested in her sandwich.

"Besides what?" Mulder prompted gently, taking his own bite to give her time to reply.

"Besides," she mumbled, "I finally have my appetite back and I suppose... I suppose I wanted to prove it to myself. Prove that I'm not an invalid. I hate feeling weak, Mulder. You know that better than anyone."

"You don't have to prove anything to me, Scully."

"I know."

"I will admit though, it's good to see you eating again."

Scully smiled and took another huge bite of her sandwich, prompting Mulder to recall the time just a few weeks ago when he'd watched her struggle to make her way through a small pot of chocolate pudding. He'd done a remarkable job of putting on a brave face that day, even if he did say so himself, but when he'd left her hospital room, he'd broken down into silent tears on a bench in the hallway. Watching her now, crunching her way through an obnoxiously large pile of chips and wolfing down huge bites of a sandwich stacked so tall he was amazed she could fit it all into her tiny mouth, filled him with unimaginable joy.

"You know, Scully?" he continued, watching her raise her eyebrows instead of trying to talk through another mouthful. "This seminar Skinner has us attending? It's at a convention center I've been to before for a conference. There's an incredible steak and barbecue restaurant a few miles down the road, family-owned, absolutely enormous portions. I ate there every night. It was that good. I'm gonna take you there after we're finished up stacking furniture or whatever nonsense they have us doing at these things."

"Normally Mulder, I'd say something about eating healthily and limiting my red meat intake," Scully replied with a wicked grin, "but after the year I've had, I'm gonna take you up on that offer and I'm going to make your credit card regret it."

Mulder grinned back at her and held up his drink.

"To healthy appetites and mandatory team-building seminars," he declared.

Scully laughed and held up her own glass to toast with him.

Chapter Text

October 13th 1998

"Your wish is my command," Mulder said with a smile and a flourish as he held out the box of powdered sugar.

"You're a lifesaver."

Scully took the box and stepped back to allow Mulder to step inside her apartment. He shrugged off his coat and laid it over the back of a chair as he watched Scully disappear into her kitchen.

"Smells good," he called out, walking around the table. On the counter, he spotted the two sponge cakes Scully had spent the afternoon baking, nearby she had already opened the sugar and was tipping it into a mixing bowl.

"Don't touch anything," she replied, somehow knowing without looking that Mulder's fingers were straying to poke the top of one cake. He quickly withdrew it, leaning back against the counter instead to watch Scully mix the powdered sugar into the whipped butter, add drops of flavor and color, then begin slathering it onto the sponges and stacking them together.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Only 5.30 pm, we don't need to be there for another hour."

"Good, because I think it's gonna take that long to salvage this."

She stepped back to reveal the cake. To Mulder's eyes, it looked great, if perhaps a little messy.

"He's gonna love it."

"It's a mess."

"When do you think anyone last baked Langly a birthday cake, Scully?" Mulder asked. "Or made him anything that didn't involve a microwave or hitting two on the speed dial for Kung Pao Chicken? He'll love it."

"I hope so."

Reaching into a nearby paper bag, Scully pulled out two candles shaped like the numbers 3 and 0.

"I think I'll stick these on top when we get there," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

"I'm rather disappointed that you're not covering the top of it with 30 separate candles instead."

Scully looked over at him and grinned.

"Have you ever smelled the air at the Gunmen's place?" she asked. "The whole place is a fire hazard, I wanted to minimize the number of naked flames."

Mulder grinned back and watched Scully rinsing out the bowl she had just used.

"I do have one question," he mumbled. Scully looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Why does Langly get a cake and I don't? It's my birthday today too in case you forgot?"

Scully grabbed a towel and dried her hands.

"Well, first of all, Langly is turning 30 which is a landmark birthday. 37 is not. But as it happens," she smiled, before walking over to a cupboard and pulling it open, "there's another reason I ran out of powdered sugar."

Mulder heard a clicking sound and after a few moments, she turned around and Mulder saw she was holding a pair of cupcakes, one with a lit candle stuck in the top.

"Happy birthday Mulder," she said with a smile, handing the lit cupcake over to him. Mulder accepted it, completely surprised for once, then grinned and blew out the candle.

"What did you wish for?" Scully asked.

"You should know I can't tell you that Scully, then it wouldn't come true."

Scully grinned back and took a bite out of her cupcake as Mulder pulled out his candle and did the same.

"Damn Scully, this is good! I'm gonna insist you bake me a cake for all my birthdays in the future."

"Well there's plenty more to get through tonight," Scully replied through her last mouthful, indicating Langly's own cake sitting on the counter. "Speaking of which, we need to leave soon so I need to get dressed."

She disappeared into her bedroom and Mulder took the opportunity to wash up the remaining dishes and leave them out to dry. When she returned and spotted what he'd done, Mulder saw an expression he didn't quite recognize flit across her face for a moment. She seemed about to say something but appeared to change her mind at the last second, instead mumbling a simple thanks. Unsure of how to respond himself, Mulder just smiled awkwardly back.

"I'll carry this out to the car so you can lock up," he said, walking to pick up the cake.

"Thanks for offering to drive us both."

"Not a problem, you can hold onto the cake that way. I should warn you though, my car is so full of balloons I can barely see out of the rearview mirror."

"I'll hold on tight then," Scully replied, picking up a beautifully wrapped present and Mulder's coat from the table as Mulder carefully levered his fingers under the plate holding the cake, and lifted it up.

"Lead on McDuff," he said.

"You know that's not actually the line?" Scully said as he followed her out of the door, "it's actually 'Lay on, McDuff'."

"No one likes a Shakespeare expert Scully," he muttered as he followed her down the hall and out to his car.

Chapter Text

April 30th 2000

"So to what do I owe this honor?" Mulder asked once he was seated at Scully's table. The table looked different tonight. A white cloth adorned it, fresh flowers sat in a vase near the center, and what Mulder knew to be Scully's prized china - inherited from her grandmother - was out instead of her usual department store crockery.

"Seemed like the thing to do," Scully replied vaguely from the kitchen where a pair of steaks were currently sizzling madly on a skillet and making Mulder feel much hungrier than he realized he was when he arrived not that long ago. He raised an eyebrow even though she wasn't looking his way.

"Oh?"

She didn't answer, pretending to busy herself with removing the baked potatoes from the oven and plating up the rest of their food. Mulder took it upon himself to pour two glasses of wine from the bottle resting nearby as she brought their food over and placed his plate in front of him. It smelled divine.

The two of them ate in silence for a while, the only sound was the delicate clinks of silver on china. After some minutes had passed, however, Mulder couldn't resist any longer.

"No seriously, Scully," he said between mouthfuls, "what's all this about?"

She looked up at him and Mulder thought he saw guilt on her face. That and something else he couldn't place.

"I suppose I wanted to prove something to you," she admitted, making him frown.

"Prove what?"

She sighed and put down her cutlery.

"It was just… What you told me about that case in Vermont. I suppose it got to me." Mulder's frown deepened as he watched Scully pick up her cutlery again and take another bite of steak.

"The Adderly case?" he asked, watching her nod. "What about it?"

Mulder watched a number of emotions play across Scully's face as she considered her response.

"It was the way you talked about the Adderlys. The fancy meals that were their norm. The way you waxed lyrical about Ellen's cooking and how she pressed your shirt just on instinct. It made me think how... How that's something I've never given you. Normality. Domesticity. My mom was always such an amazing wife and mother, the perfect hostess. I mean, you've seen what Thanksgiving dinner looks like at her house! She never said anything to me or Melissa but she made it seem so important to look after the ones you love in that way. It's something I've never been able to give you and since we've been together more intimately I.."

She stopped and looked down at Mulder's hand that was now resting atop hers before looking up into his eyes.

"Do you really think I care about that stuff?" he asked.

"You certainly seemed to when you talked about Ellen Adderly," she replied in a small voice.

He reached further across the table and took her hands completely in his.

"Yes, the food at the Adderlys was good. Great, in fact. And yes, this meal you've made for us tonight is equally wonderful, and I appreciate that you would want to do something like this for me. For us. But Scully, I wouldn't care if you never so much as made me a cup of coffee again and I would certainly never expect you to iron my clothing for me. Being a housewife is a wonderful occupation but you don't need to try and shoehorn yourself into that mold in order to make me happy. I love you Scully. You, not some Ideal Homes, Martha Stewart version of you. Never forget that."

Scully was staring at him, her eyes slightly wet. He watched her try and think how to reply.

"You mean that?"

"Every word."

She looked down at the small amount of food remaining on his plate.

"Have you finished?"

He frowned and looked down at his plate.

"Yes, why?"

Without a word, she stood up, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him to her bedroom.

Chapter Text

April 30th 2001

"So to what do I owe this honor?"

Mulder startled at Scully's words, remembering so clearly when he had said the exact same ones to her in such similar circumstances. It felt like only weeks ago to him but to Scully, who now sat once again at her table, only seated further back to account for the growing life within her, an entire year had passed. He chose to ignore the question, hoping she would let the subject drop.

Instead, he re-focused on the meal he was cooking. He would never say anything to Scully, but he had spent the previous day researching the best dishes for pregnant women and carefully ensuring none of the ingredients would damage her or the baby. He had never known anyone close to him go through a pregnancy since his own mother, whose pregnancy with Sam he only vaguely recalled given his young age. He found the whole thing miraculous - more so given Scully's previous diagnosis and difficulties undergoing fertility treatment. No matter how many times he furtively gazed at her, he couldn't quite accept that the bump blossoming from her stomach was real.

Carefully, he stuck a skewer into the chicken for at least the third time to make sure it was thoroughly cooked and cursed himself for choosing chicken in the first place, feeling paranoid about the possibility of salmonella. It seemed fine and so he took a deep breath and began to plate it up along with the mushroom sauce and pasta. Scully, to his relief, stayed quiet and when he briefly looked over at her, he saw that she had her eyes closed and was leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying a moment's relaxation. He brought the plate to her and placed it on the table, causing her to open her eyes and look at him with that same sad smile that he had grown used to since his return from the grave. He supposed they were both miracles at this point.

"This smells amazing," Scully told him, inhaling the scent before digging in. He smiled as he took his seat and picked up his own cutlery, self-consciously rolling down his sleeves to cover the strange marks on his forearms that were yet to heal. Together, they ate in silence.

Once she had finished, Scully placed her cutlery down neatly and looked over at him.

"You never answered my question."

"What was that?" Mulder replied, trying to make it obvious from his tone that he didn't want to discuss this, but Scully was nothing if not persistent. She indicated the empty plates.

"This," she continued, "to what do I owe the honor of a fancy home-cooked meal?"

"What, a man can't cook a meal for his pregnant partner without there being an ulterior motive for it?"

"Mulder…"

He looked up and gave her an awkward smile, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Ok ok." He paused and searched for the right words. "I suppose it's like you've said a few times in the past. I just... I needed to prove I could. I feel so out of place right now, Scully. Everything shifted while I was gone and I'm not sure where I stand anymore. I wanted to feel like I was actively doing something useful and this was the only thing I could think of. Back when you were having the treatments I read that book, "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and it kept talking about the importance of good nutrition for both you and the baby so it seemed like this was something I could do for both of you."

Scully was staring at him and crying.

"Mulder, just you being here again is enough for both of us."

"But it's not enough for me."

She gave him another sad smile, then suddenly gasped and put her hand to her stomach.

"What's wrong?" Mulder asked, leaping out of his seat to stand beside her. She laughed.

"Nothing's wrong. I guess someone just likes your cooking, that's all. He started dancing about in there as soon as I swallowed the first bite."

"He?"

"Or she…"

The two of them both looked at her stomach just in time to see a ripple move across the surface below her T-shirt and sink back down just as suddenly. Mulder winced.

"Does that hurt?"

"Not even a little," she assured him, "it's more like really big butterflies." Another ripple passed across the bump and Mulder's eyes tracked it with wonder. His arm twitched involuntarily toward Scully but he caught the gesture and stopped it within an instant. It wasn't fast enough to stop Scully noticing, however. She reached forward and took his hand, lowering it onto her stomach and letting it rest there.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course."

At that moment, another ripple emerged. Mulder felt the movement pass beneath his palm and found himself gasping in amazement.

"I felt him!"

Scully smiled widely as the baby turned once again and kicked wildly right against Mulder's hand.

"He knows you're there," she said quietly, "I think he's trying to say hello."

Mulder knelt down and put his face close to Scully's stomach, never moving his hand.

"Hello in there," he said quietly. "My name is Fox."

At that moment, just below Mulder's hand, the tiny outline of another hand appeared, pushing back from the inside. Despite everything, Mulder had never felt more accepted in his whole life.