Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was only her second case on the X-Files, and Scully had already experienced more adrenaline rushes than during her entire ER rotation in med school. After holding a secret military operative at gunpoint, taking him hostage in order to rescue Mulder from the air force base, and then rushing back to the motel to quickly pack before catching the next flight out of Idaho, Scully should have been exhausted. Instead, she was wide awake and wired. Her heart rate was still elevated and her body felt like a vibrating coil. She couldn’t imagine going to sleep at this point, even though it was after midnight.

Once Scully picked up her car from long-term parking, she ended up at a 24 hour diner, sipping burnt coffee and picking at a turkey club sandwich. Her mind kept whirring over the details of their last case: the lights in the sky, Captain Budahas’s miraculous (but suspicious) return, Mulder’s memory loss. How in the world was she going to write a report for Skinner? Could they even pretend that they had remotely closed this case? She couldn’t even explain what happened to herself, yet alone to her superior.

There was only one person who could help her make sense of her jumbled thoughts and before she knew it, Scully was knocking at Mulder’s door. A few seconds later, he answered, looking a little disheveled but awake.

“Shit, did I wake you?” she asked, genuinely forgetting that it was two in the morning, when most people should be sleeping.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Mulder responded, stepping aside to let her in.

“Really?” she asked. “You need rest, Mulder. You were given a potent sedative and your body needs to filter it out.”

He waved off her concern and Scully suspected that him ignoring her medical advice was going to become a routine for them.

They made their way to his living room and Scully realized that she had never been to his apartment before. It was cluttered, but clean, and actually nicely decorated for a single man.

“You can sit down,” Mulder directed, pointing at a worn leather couch. “Do you want some tea? It’s steeping right now.”

“Tea?” Scully asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I grew fond of it when I attended Oxford,” he said while pouring the contents of a steaming kettle into two mugs.

Mulder brought them over to her and sat right next to her, his shoulder gently bumping hers as he settled into the couch.

He blew on the mug and then glanced up at her. “How do you know where I live?” he asked.

Scully’s cheeks reddened; she was hoping he wouldn’t notice or find her actions inappropriate. “It was, uh, it was in your personnel file. I wrote down your address after you called me at home after the last case. I figured I may need it at some point.”

Mulder smiled. “Just trying to see if you’ve been spying on me.”

Scully rolled her eyes.“This is the first time I’ve been to your place...” she paused, before adding with a sly grin, “While you’ve been home at least.”

Mulder laughed, which made Scully feel a slight flutter in her belly. He had a nice laugh, one that you didn’t mind hearing after a long day at work.

They both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, until Scully decided to pick Mulder’s brain a little.

“Is this how most of the cases are?”

“Ending with my memory being wiped? God, I hope not,” Mulder joked.

“No, I mean, are most of the cases unresolved? I feel like we have more questions now than when we first arrived in Idaho.”

Mulder took a minute before answering, seeming to be deep in thought. “A lot of the cases are like this because we’re dealing with unexplained phenomena. You start out with a set of questions and may have new ones by the end, but you’ll find that there are some answers in between. Most cases aren’t one hundred percent resolved, but if we’re helping people, especially vulnerable people who have been ignored, then that’s what’s important. And I have been able to solve some cases, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he added at the end.

“Oh, I know that, Mr. Monty Props,” Scully quipped.

“So you know about that too? I really am an open book.”

They both laughed this time.

Mulder continued, “Is that why you’re still driving around at two in the morning? Are you worried about the ambiguity of this work?”

Her brain had been buzzing when she arrived at Mulder’s place, but now she felt calmer. Hearing Mulder talk about the work and understanding his motivations for working on the X-Files made her feel confident that she could help him. That she was the right person for the job.

“No, I mean… maybe a little. The more I think about it, the more I’m excited for it, actually. For the challenge. I think it will be rewarding to sift through the ambiguous and unexplained. As you just said, I like the idea of helping those who no one will listen to,” Scully responded.

“In that case, welcome aboard,” Mulder said while clinking his mug with hers.

“So why are you still awake?” Scully asked, changing the subject.

“Well, I have chronic insomnia. So I never really sleep that much.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, it’s been this way since Samantha disappeared.

Scully was surprised to hear that he had been suffering for that long. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mulder. I’m going to assume you’ve tried all the sleep aids on the market?”

“You would be correct: most of the medications and even therapy, hypnosis, et cetera. I’m just used to it at this point..”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I read anything in a medical journal regarding sleep. There’s always new research so there may be something that will work for you in the future,” Scully stated through a yawn. Her eyelids were becoming heavy and she was tempted to close them all the way and rest her eyes for a bit. In a short period of time, Scully had gone from over-stimulated to drowsy, which she attributed to their conversation. She was amazed by how effortlessly Mulder was able to put her at ease.

Scully put the mug on the coffee table and turned to her partner, “Well, I better go before I fall asleep on your couch,” she said, starting to rise.

Mulder looked at her incredulously. “You should stay here. It’s not safe for you to drive when you’re so tired.”

“Mulder, that’s a very nice offer but I’ve bothered you enough tonight.”

He grasped her wrist before she could step toward the door. “Scully, I insist. I would feel terrible if something happened to you.”

Scully looked down at him seated on the couch, his expression was so open and earnest. This was the type of thing she should avoid, if she wanted to maintain professional boundaries. But for some reason, Scully felt like not following the rules quite so rigidly. Even though she had only known Mulder a short time, she felt a connection with him, one that was developing into real trust.

“Alright,” she relented, sitting back down on the couch. “But only for a nap. Then I’ll be fine to drive home,” she promised, though her eyes were already closing as she leaned against one of the throw pillows.

“Can you wake me in an hour?” she asked, opening her eyes and sitting up to make sure Mulder agreed.

“Sure, Scully,” Mulder chuckled, and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over her.

She sat up again. “Wait, you need to rest too. Let me just call a cab to drive me home.”

Mulder put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back into a reclining position.

“I’ll be okay. Go to sleep, Scully,” he whispered.

She drifted off to the hypnotic gurgling of the fishtank and soft typing of a keyboard.

Chapter Text

Mulder startled awake with a gasp. His head was pounding and his vision blurred, but those symptoms were nothing compared to the painful tingling of his extremities. Mulder was lying on a metallic floor with just an emergency blanket pillowed under his head. A figure - a woman - moved closer and held out a cup.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

The woman gripped the back of his neck and helped him sit up enough so he could swallow the cool liquid without choking. It would have been nice if the drink was warmer, but it soothed his dry throat nonetheless.

When his blurred vision finally cleared, Mulder could see that it wasn’t just any woman, it was his partner. The memories of the past 36 hours began rushing back: Scully’s anaphylactic shock, the gunshot wound to his head, and a race across the world to save her.

“Scully,” he croaked, his voice still weak along with the rest of his body.

“Mulder,” she stated simply and smiled tentatively at him. Her face was pale under the bright red frostbite on her cheeks. Combined with her wet titan hair clinging to her skin, she could have been a siren, if the water of Antarctica was liquid instead of frozen.

Mulder sat up quickly, filled with relief that they were both alive and apparently safe. They were in the sno-cat he “borrowed” from the scientific research facility, which was his first stop on arrival to the continent. The only light inside came from a portable lantern, but the heater was pumping out hot air, which brought the indoor temperature to a more habitable degree than outside. Though the heater had its work cut out for it, as high winds whipped across the metal frame, sending bursts of cold air through the parts of the sno-cat that had poor seal. The storm must have started after they made it to the vehicle.

“How did we get here? How long have I been out?” Mulder asked. The last thing he actually remembered was the alien spaceship, the one that Scully somehow missed.

“I’m not sure exactly,” she whispered, her eyes wide and incredulous. “I think we helped each other get here, because I only remember parts of the journey. But you were unconscious only about twenty minutes. You passed out as soon as we climbed inside.”

Mulder marveled at whatever forces allowed two very sick and injured people to miraculously survive such harsh conditions and very low odds. Even though they weren’t out of the woods (or ice) yet, the fact that they made it this far made Mulder extraordinarily more optimistic than any person in their situation should be.

Scully was still thinking practically though. “Mulder, were you shot?” she asked, pointing to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing his temples. “Right after you passed out in my hallway. I’m okay, though,” he added after seeing her shocked expression. Luckily the bullet had only grazed him, but it did leave him with a nasty headache that was returning in full force.

“How are you doing?” he squinted at her. It was hard to do any type of assessment in the low light of the lantern.

“I’m fine,” she responded. “Just weak.”

“Here, you should drink some of this too,” Mulder said, holding out the cup.

She shook her head and turned away. “I already tried, but I threw it up. I don’t have the energy for more vomiting.”

Some of Mulder’s optimism began to slip away. He gave her the vaccine but who knew what kind of side effects it had? Who knew that it even worked in the first place?

To make matters worse, Scully began coughing, large gasps that wracked her whole frame.

When she finished, she was out of breath. Okay, time to get out of here, he thought, moving to the driver’s seat of the sno-cat.

“Mulder, we can’t go anywhere until the storm lets up. There is basically no visibility right now.”

“Scully, I don’t know if there is time to wait,” he responded, concerned about both the gas and Scully’s declining state.

She crawled over to the seat and grasped his arm. “Please, Mulder. If we get lost and run out of gas, then we’re really screwed. We have enough gas to keep the heater going for a few more hours before we have to make our way to the research facility.”

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, surprised that she was so knowledgeable about the sno-cat's limitations. It was a wonder she was even alive, let alone thinking clearly.

“While you were asleep, I looked at the maps and did some fuel calculations,” Scully said in between coughs.

Mulder stared at her, a big grin on his face. She really was incredible. They were both definitely suffering from hypothermia, not to mention Mulder’s gunshot wound and Scully’s exposure to an unknown alien virus, but somehow they were going to make it out alive. He had a good feeling about it.

“How many more hours exactly?” he questioned.

Scully checked the clock on the dashboard. “Two hours and forty-six minutes.”

Mulder smiled again. “Why don’t you try to sleep and I’ll watch to see if the storm lets up?” He also wanted to monitor her condition without her realizing it.

Scully disagreed. “Unfortunately, I think we need to stay awake. You most certainly have a concussion and we’re both experiencing hypothermia. The last thing you want to do is fall asleep.”

Mulder conceded, “Okay, well then you need to at least keep warm. You should sit in front of the heater so that your hair will dry.”

“Mulder, I don’t want to take up all the heat,” she argued back, still concerned more for his well-being than her own.

He gently guided her so that she was seated on the floor, her head level with the air vent from the dashboard. “I insist. I’m going to need you to navigate later, so I can’t have you turning into a popsicle.”

Surprisingly Scully didn’t argue any further. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the hot air envelop her. Mulder pulled the zipper of her oversized jacket all the way to the collar, moving the hood so that her hair could dry. He grasped her hands and brought them to his mouth to blow warm air onto them, trying to speed up the process.

“Mulder?” she asked, eyes still closed.

“Yes, Scully?”

“Can you sing so I don’t fall asleep?”

“Ouch, my singing can’t be that bad!” he joked.

“No, you have a nice voice. I just need something to concentrate on to stay awake,” she explained.

Mulder thought back to another cold night spent out in the wilderness, cuddled with Scully to keep warm. He watched the icy storm rage outside but felt hopeful anyway. They were together - and alive. That’s all Mulder could ask for.

He began to sing.