Work Text:
“O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.”
— “The Sick Rose,” William Blake
Dana Scully entered her apartment and practically slammed the door behind her. She was “making it personal”? Fuck him. He made it personal when he dragged her down this rabbit hole with him. He made it personal when he refused to hear her out about something this important. He made it personal when he allowed the shift from partners and co-workers to friends, to best friends, to…whatever they were now.
“Nothing,” a snide comment in the back of her head told her. “You’re nothing. You work together.”
Scully wanted to shove the thought back down to the recesses of her brain. Instead, it only served to further enrage her. She slammed her purse and keys down on the counter. She told herself to get a grip, despite the fact that she was white knuckling the edge of the counter.
“Bastard,” Scully spat to the empty apartment and pushed off of the counter.
What she needed was copious amounts of alcohol and a hot bath. Maybe, that would ease her tension. It was a long shot, though. Scully wasn’t fool enough to think it would solve all of her problems. Really, she just wanted to relax enough so she didn’t have to think about Mulder and Diana and the bullshit quarantine and Cassandra Spender and all of the other bullshit she’d been dealing with the last several days.
Truth be told, what she had hoped would happen is that they would go to one of their apartments, order food, and watch a movie. She’d hoped that Mulder would drape his arm around her and she could cuddle into his chest. It was the way things had been going lately. That is, until Diana Fowley entered the picture. As much as Scully hated to admit it, she missed those small moments; the moments in which she could believe that they were actually semi-normal people who just happened to have a weird job; the moments in which she could believe that they were heading toward something.
But she had been wrong.
Making it personal.
So, she was still thinking about that little conversation and yeah, maybe, she was making it personal. Personal was all she had. Between her sister, his sister, his father, what happened to her, him… Yeah, maybe she did make it personal but personal was all that was left. Without that, what the hell was she still doing there?
Despite what happened at El Rico, Mulder clearly didn’t want her there. The asshole kept taking Diana’s side, jumping when she said to jump and leaving Scully by the wayside. Maybe, she’d been misreading his affections all along. Maybe, he was looking for a friends-with-benefits situation and not what Scully had thought they were developing, something lasting.
Honestly, she didn’t know which hurt worse.
Scully berated herself for allowing this to fester, for continuing to go along with it. The painful truth was that Mulder didn’t want her. If he did, things would be unfolding much differently. Maybe, he did want her at one time. Perhaps, Diana Fowley’s return had sparked the change and he was pursuing that relationship instead. As much as it hurt to admit, Scully could understand it. The Gunmen had told her about Mulder’s previous relationship with Diana, after all.
In retrospect, that was when she should have abandoned ship. If she had, maybe their friendship could be salvaged. At the very least, their partnership could be saved. Scully could smile and be cordial if she had to do so. That wasn’t to say that it wouldn’t hurt like hell at first; it absolutely would.
That was the moment it hit her. The time had come to throw in towel. If she fell on her proverbial sword, at least it was a dignified departure. She could move on with her life and Mulder would be free to pursue whatever interests he deemed worthy.
Scully was no fool. She knew damn well that it would hurt. Not just hurt but hurt like hell. For as much as she hated to admit, she could either hide from the pain or close the door and heal from it. If this was as good as it was going to get, she had to get out now.
It hurt to admit that it hurt to stay and that she might just be okay, in the end, if this tie was severed. So, why couldn’t she just pick up the phone and say it? Dana Scully had never been a quitter. She ran and hid; a tactical retreat, she told herself, but she didn’t quit.
As much as Scully hated to admit it, maybe Diana knew him better. Maybe, she understood him better than Scully could. She was there when Mulder discovered the X Files. She believed in the things that Mulder believed. Scully did not. Truth be told, Scully didn’t know if she ever could believe those things. But she believed in Mulder.
Or, maybe, she only thought she did. Despite that she considered Mulder to be her best friend, there were times when Scully was very aware that she hardly knew him. Scully thought that they belonged to each other but Diana’s power over Mulder told Scully just how wrong she had been.
Maybe, love just wasn’t enough. For a man who seemed to crave it, maybe Mulder simply didn’t want that. Scully had given all she could. Now, it was time to call checkmate.
With a defeated sigh, she grabbed the cordless phone from the cradle. All or nothing, she told herself. There she stood, though, with the phone in her hand and telling herself that she couldn’t believe it was all going to end with a telephone call. Would he hang up on her? Would he show up to her apartment?
Scully didn’t want that. If all they were ever going to be was friends, this needed to be done face-to-face. She needed to see his reaction. A tear fell onto the phone and she slammed it back on the cradle.
She needed to get a grip. They weren’t breaking up. You had to be in a relationship to break up. But she’d hit a wall in her heart and she was tired of watching it all fall apart. Every step forward left them three steps behind and Scully couldn’t do it anymore.
Scully told herself that she was better than this. But, oh God, how it hurt just to think about following through with it. She had to decide if it was worth the pain. With Diana in the picture, the answer to that question was no. She couldn’t watch him be happier with someone else, someone who was more compatible with him.
Scully had her reasons for not trusting Diana. She would never be convinced that the woman wasn’t there to hinder what Mulder was working for. The timing was too suspect. Yet, he wouldn’t hear it.
Trust no one.
It was a tragically ironic notion when Scully was included in that. He’d told her before that she was the only person he trusted. That, Scully determined, had been a lie; a lie that he, most likely, told himself. It seemed like he trusted everyone but her. If Mulder could trust Diana Fowley over her, she had to get out and never look back.
Scully was only vaguely aware of what was happening when she pulled into a parking spot outside of Mulder’s building and killed the engine. If she could change this, she would do it in a heartbeat. But she couldn’t. Her presence in Mulder’s life only served to complicate everything.
Why did this be the lesson that taught her that? Why Diana, of all people?
Scully thought about the last time she was in Mulder’s arms. She’d give anything to be there again, to have him comfort her like that. His arms weren’t her place anymore and that hurt so badly.
She could still back out, she told herself. It was only one step to turn around and drive home. The quandary was agonizing. Scully had debated the subject for the last hour and, yet, there she sat, in her car, at Mulder’s apartment. She couldn’t help but to wonder what she would find if she went upstairs.
Would he be up there? Would he be alone?
Admittedly, Scully hadn’t considered the possibility that Mulder would have company. If Diana was in that apartment, Scully might just vomit in front of both of them. The last thing she needed was for that woman to see her in an emotionally compromised state.
Scully had been too emotionally compromised for years and that little tidbit was just dawning on her. Go figure. Still, Scully needed to know. What did Mulder want from her? Was it all or nothing? She was every bit as entitled to her answers as Mulder was to his.
It took every bit of internal strength that Scully possessed to get out of the car and into the building. But she did it.
The elevator ride seemed to both drag on forever and go entirely too fast. Maybe, she should go back down the first floor and take the stairs just to give herself more time to think. With a sigh, however, she stepped out of the elevator. No, if she was going to do this, she had to do it.
Hopefully, this wouldn’t result in a fight. That was the last thing she needed when she didn’t have the emotional fortitude to not break down in front of Mulder and whoever was in his apartment with him. The closer she drew to apartment 42, the sicker Scully felt.
Finally, she was in front of his door. She stared at the number on it for a moment. This could potentially be the last time she was here. Was she ready for that?
It didn’t matter. If she walked away from him tonight, she would hand over her key, ask him to return hers, and they could be coworkers from here on out. It had to be that way because Mulder simply could not occupy the space in her heart that she’d somehow reserved for him alone. She couldn’t handle that.
What would that life be like, she wondered. A life without Mulder in it? Scully couldn’t even remember what that felt like. If she was being honest with herself, she sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. Even if it was entirely possible.
Either way, everything changed. Now.
With a shaky breath she lifted her fist and knocked on the door. When Mulder didn’t answer, she knocked again.
No answer.
Exhaling another shaky breath, she used her key.
The apartment was empty, she realized. Scully had two choices: she could wait for him to return, hopefully alone. Or she could leave and carry on like this wasn’t killing her inside. With a sigh, she chose the former and sat down on the couch.
With a sigh, Mulder made his way into the elevator. The last few days had been illuminating to say the least. Everything he’d worked so hard to achieve, everything he had fought so hard for…it meant nothing. Ironically enough. And, Mulder had gained and lost an unlikely ally in this futile fight.
Mulder had thought long and hard about Scully saying she wouldn’t bet against him. She’d defended him before A.D.s Kersh and Skinner, before Agent Spender. Spender had implored Kersh to give them back the X Files. Mulder wanted to say that he’d seen that coming, but he hadn’t. Spender had done him a solid, done them a solid.
Before he could talk to Scully, she was already gone. Instead of coming straight home, Mulder had gone to a bar. He’d only had a couple of drinks before last call. He should have followed her home, though; forced her to talk to him. Scully hadn’t so much as made eye contact with him in that meeting or after. Mulder wasn’t dumb; he knew why. He’d hurt her.
He hated that feeling but Scully refused to see reason. Diana Fowley wasn’t a threat to them, despite what Scully seemed to think. She was on their side, on his side. And they had the X Files back. So, why couldn’t she—?
Mulder stopped dead in his tracks when he entered his apartment. He could feel her presence. Scully had been by and he hadn’t been home. It was an interesting turn of events given that she’d barely spoken to him since the night at El Rico Air Force Base. He knew there was a chasm between them right now.
He walked further into the apartment to find Scully curled up at one end of his couch, sound asleep, with her head against the back and her mouth barely open. Mulder had taken to watching her sleep. She was beautiful with her guard down. Tonight, though, her guard was up, even in sleep. Mulder even knew the reason for that.
It didn’t make it sting any less.
Right now, Scully was closed off to him. His best friend, his partner, the woman he adored and no matter what he said or did, Mulder couldn’t reach her; not when she didn’t want to be reached. What he needed to do was figure out a way to get them back on track. They already had the X Files back. So, what now?
Mulder sat beside her on the couch and watched her for a moment. Scully didn’t stir. He missed her. It was as simple as that. Even when she was right next to him in their office, she was still so far away from him. Mulder just wanted everything to go back to the way it was.
He supposed he could get them a new case. He could get them out of town where they only company they could keep would be each other’s. At least, that might put them back to talking about any topic not directly related to their case. But, if that was so, then why was she there?
Gently, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Mulder hadn’t meant for it to wake her.
Honest.
Scully opened her eyes slowly to find Mulder’s staring back at her. She hadn’t realized how emotionally drained she was. Not until now anyway. The way he was looking at her…
Suddenly, everything came rushing back. Scully sat up and cleared her throat, looking around for any sign of Diana as her heart pounded in her chest. Luckily, he seemed to be alone.
“Scully, what are you doing here?” Mulder asked softly, without a hint of malice in his voice. The caution was there, sure.
“I, um, I wanted to talk to you about something.” She checked her watch. It was after three o’clock in the morning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You must have been pretty tired,” he replied with a smile. It was a sad smile that broke her heart even more.
“I guess,” Scully responded, hoping that no emotion came through in her voice. “I should go.”
“Or…” Mulder countered, causing Scully to pause putting her shoes back on.
“Or?”
“Or we could talk about whatever was on your mind. I mean, you did come all the way here.”
Scully heaved a sigh. “Mulder, it’s late. You look like you’re about to pass out. I know I’m exhausted, too. We can talk about it another time.”
Mulder wanted to press, to push, to find out exactly why Scully had been there, passed out on his couch; clearly waiting for him to come home. She wanted to talk so why couldn’t they talk? Get it all out in the open?
The look on her face was enough to tell Mulder that if he pressed this issue, he might just lose her. That was something he couldn’t risk. Even though he’d caught her looking around the apartment to see if he was alone. He’d ask about that later.
Right now, he just needed to fix things.
Scully rose from her spot on the couch without Mulder noticing.
She was halfway to the door when he’d called her name.
“Another time, Mulder,” she said without facing him. It wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t continue walking, though. He took the opportunity to move to her.
“Scully,” he said again, gently. Mulder silently pleaded with her to stay but couldn’t bring himself to vocalize the request.
“Not tonight, Mulder,” Scully responded. She took a step toward the door but he stopped her again.
“When?”
It was childish, he knew that, but he also knew that he couldn’t let her walk out the door like this. If he did, he might never get her back. If their future was anything like the past few days had been, Mulder didn’t think he could bear it.
“I don’t know,” Scully replied so quietly that Mulder almost didn’t hear her. This time, she did turn around. Her eyes were full of unshed tears. His stung, too.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Mulder found the nerve to speak again.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Scully’s lips tightened in that way that made Mulder’s stomach twist.
“I don’t know,” she confessed and Mulder felt his stomach clench even tighter.
Diana hung over them like a dark cloud. Mulder trusted her, his best friend didn’t. He and Scully had been building toward something, Mulder thought. Diana might have ruined that. He couldn’t fathom why, but the pain on Scully’s face—the pain he’d caused—was enough to make him regret the last several days.
He should’ve listened instead of dismissing her concerns. Why couldn’t he have just listened? Diana wasn’t the enemy, Mulder knew that. But Scully didn’t know Diana. In fact, Scully had taken Diana’s presence as a personal threat.
But he didn’t see that protective nature in her eyes, the protective nature he was used to seeing when someone encroached on their territory. Instead, he saw defeat. Hurt.
Scully wasn’t just offended by Diana’s presence in Mulder’s life, she was pained by it. Mulder, for his part, couldn’t figure out how to reconcile this; not even in his own mind.
On the one hand, it baffled him. Diana had been there since the beginning…right up until she’d left without so much as a goodbye. She’d ripped his heart open and left it behind.
In a way, Scully was tearing his heart up, too. If she left…
No. He couldn’t go there. Scully wouldn’t leave him, leave them. Would she?
So, instead of saying anything, Mulder nodded sadly and watched as Scully walked out the door.
He wasn’t just in the proverbial doghouse. They were truly broken this time. He needed to put them back together. He just didn’t know how.
Mulder watched from his window as Scully made her way to her vehicle. He watched as she wiped her eyes. Not only had he hurt her, he’d made her cry. She should be running to his arms right now but, instead, she was pulling away from him and that hurt more than Mulder thought it could.
He stood and watched as she drove away, wishing to whatever was out there that he could fix this.
Scully sunk into the couch, the tears falling freely now. Why couldn’t she say what she’d gone over there to say? Why did it have to hurt this much? Why couldn’t Mulder see what this was doing to them, to her?
The more Scully thought about it, the harder she cried.
He’d given her the opening she’d wanted. Theoretically. If he hadn’t looked at her with that longing look he’d mastered, she might have been able to spill her guts, get it out in the open; lay her cards on the table. But when it came right down to it, Scully couldn’t ask him to choose. Even if she could have asked, how was that fair?
In all reality, Mulder had a life before Scully had walked into that basement office of his. Somewhere along the way, she should have considered this—especially given how often his past seemed to catch up with them. It went beyond his sister. Mulder had had relationships long before theirs, if that’s what it could be called. Even at that, why was theirs the one he was okay with sacrificing?
That’s what she should have asked him when she was in his apartment, when he was staring at her and silently begging her to say something—anything. Scully couldn’t explain why she hesitated. Sure, she could blame him all she wanted but, this time, it was on her. She’d had the chance and she didn’t take it.
Part of it was the fear that Diana would walk in. Part of it was the fear that Mulder would make a glib remark like he always did. Part of it was that Scully honestly wasn’t sure he would try to stop her from leaving.
She wouldn’t leave the X Files, not unless he wanted her to do so. Truth be told, part of her wanted him to ask her to go. It would certainly make this a hell of a lot easier. If he asked, she wouldn’t have to feel guilty. She could walk away, salvage her career; maybe even change careers.
Scully wept harder at the thought.
No, she wouldn’t be satisfied with that. No matter what career she built, what life she built, it wouldn’t be the same without Fox Mulder in it.
Perhaps, she mused, this was the reason the FBI frowned on its agents becoming romantically entangled. Maybe this was why it should be a formal rule. Maybe—.
A knock at the door tore her from her reverie.
It was Mulder. She didn’t have to answer it to know that. She could feel it.
Pretty damn scientific, Scully, she scolded herself silently.
“Scully?” He said quietly from the hall as she approached the door.
Scully opened the door against her better judgment. Mulder looked as haggard as she felt. They stared at each other silently for a moment before his hand went to her face and his thumb brushed away her tears. She’d almost turned away when he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Wrong. This was all wrong. He shouldn’t be the one comforting her when this was his fault in the first place.
“I know,” he said softly. “I know.”
Scully didn’t know if he sensed her line of thinking or if she’d said the words aloud. Not that it mattered. There they were in an embrace and, for all she knew, it was going to be their last. Even Scully had to admit that she didn’t want it to be. Mulder’s arms had become her safest place.
When they separated, Mulder kissed her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear, one arm remaining around her waist.
“What do I do, Scully?” he asked, desperation present in his wavering voice.
Her eyes stung anew at his inquiry and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she shook her head.
Mulder pulled her back to his chest and Scully held onto him for dear life.
“Scully, tell me how to fix this,” he whispered, his voice choking on the weight of his own inner turmoil if she had to guess.
“I don’t know,” Scully replied into his shirt. “I don’t know if you can fix it, Mulder.”
They stood in a silent embrace for a moment, his shirt soaking up her tears. When they separated the second time, Mulder released her. He stared at her with his own eyes red and glossy. Gently, he cupped her cheek and slowly moved to kiss the corner of her mouth.
Before pulling away, he whispered, “I’m gonna fix this.”
Scully wanted to argue again that she didn’t know if this could be fixed but, instead, she said nothing.
“I promise,” he added before turning around to leave, shutting the door softly behind him.
“I hope you can,” she whispered to the empty apartment.
Scully didn’t know how long she stood in the living room, staring at the door. Eventually, though, she went to bed, sinking into the cool sheets underneath the soft comforter. The last thought she recalled before sleep overtook her was the irony of the blanket being called a comforter when the only comforter she wanted had walked out the door, a solemn but shaky vow on his lips and her own knowledge that, one way or another, things wouldn’t be same anymore.