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Only the essentials.
The words repeat like a mantra in her head. She only has a few hours and a single bag. It’s not enough to contain the products of a life.
Out in the living room Doggett and Reyes are sitting beside one another in silence. At first they had helped her pack, fetching toiletries from the bathroom and carefully folding clothes, but at some point they had slipped away. They both understand she is in mourning for her own life and have left to allow her space in which to grieve.
She had thought she heard one of them leave a little while ago. She wouldn't blame them if they did. Breaking Mulder out of prison would be a suicide mission.
Fox Mulder. The man who called himself “unwanted”. The man whose friends were now risking their lives, their liberties, and their happiness to help him.
They are both surrounded by patriots.
She hopes they are not surrounded by martyrs.
There is a faint knock at the door and she turns in time to see Monica enter. In her hands is a brown paper bag.
“For the road,” the younger woman says without explanation.
Their eyes meet and Scully accepts the package without question, slipping the small item into her bag. Monica understands the stakes. She knows what has to happen. Only the essentials. If she is handing something over now, it counts.
…
They have been on the run for ten days. They have left not only New Mexico behind them but Arizona, Utah, and Wyoming too, and the exhaustion is catching up with them both. Their clean clothes are running out and their emotions are running thin.
Already they have screamed at each other in the confines of a dirty stolen car.
Already they have apologised to each other in the confines of a dirty motel bed.
They pull up at a stop light somewhere they will never remember and Scully stares out of the passenger side window at a billboard. The smiling faces of a mother and a baby stare back at her from a diaper advertisement. Scully feels their eyes on her like a stab to the heart. She gasps loud enough to startle Mulder.
“Scully?”
“Pull over.”
He doesn't question her. As soon as the lights change he drives carefully to the side of the road where it is legal to stop. They can’t afford to attract the authorities through something as simple as bad parking.
Scully is outside and at the trunk almost before the car has fully stopped. Mulder gets out and stretches before walking around to join her, watching with concern as she tears through the meagre contents of her single bag.
“Scully? What is it?”
She doesn't answer him immediately, instead tipping the contents out completely and staring at it. She starts to cry quietly.
“I forgot,” she manages.
“What did you forget?”
“William. I forgot to bring any photos of William. I left him behind.”
Mulder swallows and envelops her in his arms.
“We’ll figure it out Scully,” he assures her.
…
That night she stands at the trunk of the car, repacking the bag in the orange light of the motel parking lot. She can see the blue light of the TV flickering through the thin motel curtains and occasionally she hears Mulder laugh.
She doesn't know what he’s watching. Right now she doesn't care.
As she picks up a pair of pyjamas to put aside for the evening, she feels something inside them and unfolds the clothes to reveal the brown paper bag Monica had given her. She has no idea when she was supposed to open it but now feels as good a time as any.
She tears at the package and a small, pastel shaded book falls out. Inscribed on the cover is a single word, “Baby” and a cartoon giraffe. Scully chokes back a sob and picks it up, flicking open the cover.
The smiling faces of herself and William stare back at her. It is a photograph she had framed on her mantelpiece. Flipping through she finds more photographs.
One is of the Gunmen standing awkwardly together, Byers looking terrified and holding onto William as if he were made of porcelain.
Another photo shows her mother in the bedroom rocking chair, holding the sleeping boy and radiating love.
Another is of Mulder holding William at the hospital, so much pride in his eyes he can barely contain it.
They are the photos she had framed at home and others she had intended to place in an album.
They are all her happiest memories.
Reaching the back page, her breath is stolen a final time. There, held to the page by a piece of tape, is a small lock of golden hair. Her fingers reach out and brush it and the tears fall. Gingerly she lifts the book up to her nose and inhales. The scent is faint now but she can still smell him. Her heart contracts and she weeps openly.
The door to their motel room opens and Mulder is silhouetted by the light.
“Scully?”
She looks over at him tears still running down her cheeks, however she now smiles as well.
“I have something to show you,” she tells him with a cracked voice.
She places the photo album on top of the pyjamas and scoops them both up, closing the trunk with her free hand. As she does, she whispers a prayer of thanks to Monica.
One day she will thank her in person.
Tonight, she walks into the motel room and allows Mulder to close the door on the darkness.