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Scully’s pungent smell may be worrisome for his nose, but it’s not why Mulder keeps shooting concerned glances at his partner after her fall down the trash chute. It’s the way she walks. 20 years of having her walk beside him, towards him, and away from him, but this is new. She’s limping. As much as she’s trying to pretend she’s fine and trying to disguise it by moving slowly, Mulder isn’t blind – even if his eyesight is no longer what it used to be.
“Stop staring at me, Mulder,” she says. “Please.”
“You’re not fine,” he says.
“I’m just a bit sore.”
“You should get checked out at a hospital. I can drive you.”
“No,” she says, picking up speed to prove her point to him. “Look, I’m fine. I just need to walk it off.” He loves her stubbornness. Once, she told him that she fell in love with him because he was stubborn. Well. That was the pot calling the kettle black. No one is as stubborn as his Scully. Any other day, he finds it cute. When she refuses to budge because she knows how things should be done, he admires it. But when she’s hurt, hobbling away from him, holding her side and grimacing, just so she can appear invincible, he can’t accept it.
“Scully,” he says gently, taking her arm. She stops walking but avoids his eyes. “You can’t outhobble me, you know.” His words have the desired effect and she chuckles, only to wince a moment later.
“And you can’t just make words up.”
“Watch me. Where does it hurt?” He asks. “And please be honest,” he adds, searching her face.
“My back,” she admits in a whisper. “My hip, too.”
“That’s it,” Mulder says. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Mulder, wait. It’s not that bad,” she says and he’s ready to protest when she stops him with a hand on his chest. “I don’t need to go to a hospital. Take me home.”
“Home,” he repeats slowly as if he’s just learned the word.
“Yes, home,” she says, taking his hand into hers. They hobble to the car together.
Just like he suspected, Scully falls asleep on the drive home. For just a moment he considers driving to the hospital anyway, just to have her checked out. He can’t help but worry about her. Now, or ever. But he values her trust too much to disrespect her wishes like that. He will be by her side, her best friend, her partner, and her substitute doctor all in one. If anything changes, if her condition worsens, he will drive her to the hospital, no matter what it is. He glances over at her, smiling softly. How long has he wanted to hear her say these words? Take me home. He wishes it hadn’t been because of her fall, but these days he takes whatever he can get. And after all, he gets to bring her home, where she belongs.
“Scully,” Mulder murmurs, gently touching her hand. “We’re here.”
“Home already?” She opens one eye to squint at him and his heart soars when she gives him a droopy smile. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” he replies with a quick laugh. “Want me to carry you?” She seems to consider it, but then she shakes her head.
“Just help me out.”
This, he figures, might just be a taste of their future when they’re old and frail. Well, older and even more fragile. They need twice as long to cover the distance from the car to their house, taking baby steps. Mulder is half carrying Scully, his arm around her waist, but making sure he’s not putting pressure on her sore hip.
“You sure you don’t want me to carry you?”
“I’m sure, Mulder,” she says through gritted teeth. “I can do this.” In the end, they do it together. Step by step and always in sync, they make it inside the house.
“You made it,” Mulder says, kissing her cheek.
“I might need your help with the stairs,” she laments.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
They both know they’d get upstairs faster if only she’d let him carry her. But she refuses. Instead, she grips his hand tightly, his knuckles turning white, and does it herself. Five minutes later they take the last step and Scully leans heavily against him.
“Bed,” he says, leading her into the bedroom.
“I can’t go to bed like this,” she says, following him on slow feet.
“You can wear an old shirt of mine. You haven’t stolen all of them yet.” He winks at her.
“I mean….” She looks up at him, almost shy. “I fell into ten years worth of trash. I need a shower.”
“No way,” he says. “You barely made it up the stairs. I’m not letting you into the shower, no matter what you smell like.” Her face falls. “But I have an idea.”
Mulder helps her undress, having done it hundreds of times. They don’t speak as she rests her hands on his shoulder so he can take off her pants and underwear. He’s meticulous in his work and Scully lets him do it, following his movements like a marionette.
“Oh Scully,” he says when he sees colorful bruises growing on her beautiful skin. He runs a finger over one that's purple and deep before he kisses it gently.
“Mulder, I stink.”
“No, you don’t.” She raises her eyebrows, giving him a skeptical look. “Fine, you do. But not for long.” Mulder wets a washcloth and puts some of her shower gel on it that she left and that he never had the heart to throw away. He keeps his touches light and delicate as he runs the cloth over her skin, wanting to be thorough but gentle.
“Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she assures him.
By the time he’s done, she’s leaning heavily against the wall with half-lidded eyes, her skin peppered with goosebumps. He’d feel self-conscious about her falling asleep while he’s touching her, but instead, he’s honored. No matter what they are or aren’t at the moment, she trusts him enough to let him take care of her.
Together they get her into an old pair of boxer shorts and one of his shirts. Scully takes a deep breath, a smile playing around her lips.
“What?” Mulder asks her, carefully leading her back into the bedroom.
“Smells like you,” she says. “Smells good.”
“Get into bed,” he says, his voice full of emotion. She crawls in, claiming her side of the bed. Mulder tucks her in and presses a kiss to her forehead. Just as he’s about to get up, she grabs his arm.
“Where are you going?” She asks him.
“The couch,” he says.
“Stay here, please.”
He stares at her, mulling over her words, wondering why she’s doing it now. After their tryst a couple of months ago, he had hope. So much hope. Only to have it crushed again. They keep coming back to this moment, to toeing the line, always falling back on the safe side, where they don’t share a bed or a home.
“I’m not high on painkillers, Mulder,” she says as if reading his mind. “Or in any way compromised. I just want you here with me. If that’s… if that’s what you want to, too.”
“More than anything else in the world, Scully.”
“Then take off your clothes and get into bed.”
“You’re bossy,” he says with a grin, undressing quickly.
“I thought you knew that,” she replies with a yawn. Her eyes are closed when he gets in next to her, but she scoots closer to him like she used to do back when things were different. He barely dares to breathe, worried he might hurt her, worried she might change her mind.
“I missed you so much,” he whispers into the dark, convinced she’s already asleep.
“I missed you more.”
And they sleep.