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It started innocently enough. A few weeks after Scully was taken, Mulder was perusing his fridge in hopes of finding something to eat, but everything he had was spoiled. He shut the fridge door and sighed; he really wasn’t hungry any way. His mind was never far away from thinking about Scully, and it occurred to Mulder that if she came back today, her refrigerator would be in a similar state. Mulder stood up, suddenly horrified of the idea of a freshly returned Scully facing rotting food in her kitchen. It seemed like an insult somehow. He couldn’t find her, he couldn’t turn back time and protect her from being taken by Duane Barry, but this, cleaning out her fridge, he could do for her.
He hadn’t been back to her apartment since the night she was taken. The yellow police tape was still up, but he ripped it down so he could move throughout the apartment freely. The air smelled slightly sour and stale, as all the windows were closed and the one Duane Barry smashed was boarded up. There was glass littering the floor and furniture was knocked over, reflecting the violent struggle that took place. Mulder stopped and put his hand over his mouth, worried he might get sick. Images of Scully being brutalized ran through his head, and it took all his strength not to vomit all over her carpet.
Once he was feeling steady again, he went into the kitchen and rummaged around until he found a plastic garbage bag. He opened the fridge door and was immediately hit with the smell of rotting food. He held his breath and reached in for the skim milk, which was curdled. Leftover lasagna in a Tupperware container had a layer of mold growing on it. Her vegetable drawer was full of zucchini and broccoli that was covered with slime. He threw them all away, then found a paper towel and some cleaning spray and wiped out the crisper. Her fruit drawer was a bit better: apples were hardy, and the oranges looked okay. But the strawberries had a beard of fuzz on them, so he tossed them in the plastic bag with the rest of the spoiled food. He squinted at the expiration date on her yogurt; it was good for another month. Surely Scully will be back by then, he thought, as he put the yogurt back. When he was done, he wiped down each shelf. Besides yogurt, some fruit, and condiments, it was basically empty, not unlike his own fridge, but at least it was clean. Mulder shut the door and rifled through her cabinets in search of perishables. The half loaf of bread he found was mostly blue from mold, and the box of opened crackers smelled stale. He tossed out two partially eaten boxes of cereal and a bag of nacho chips. By the time he was done, the garbage bag was mostly full. Mulder put the bag next to the front door and turned around to regard the kitchen. He could almost see Scully making herself a cup of tea, or retrieving beer from the fridge to go with the pizza that was a requirement of their occasional movie nights. His heart seized and he felt tears sting his eyes. She should be here, he thought, puttering in her lovely Georgetown apartment, rather than…wherever she was. Mulder wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and walked to the door and grabbed the garbage bag. He looked over the apartment one last time, frowning at the residual damage from Duane Barry’s intrusion, and he knew what he needed to do next.
He couldn’t let Scully come home to a trashed apartment with memories of her terror, so a few days later he called a crime scene cleanup company that the FBI frequently used and arranged for them to come the following Saturday. He contacted a glass specialist and made an appointment on the same day to repair the smashed front window in Scully’s apartment. He hovered over the workers, pointing out things that he wanted to make sure were cleaned up, like Scully’s blood on the door frame and in other places in the apartment. After hours of activity everyone left, and Mulder sat down on Scully’s couch to gauge the results of so much hard work. The broken glass was all gone and a weak sunlight came through the newly installed window. The living room was spotless; Mulder had to admit that the cleaners did a good job. He was happy that Scully would come home to a perfectly neat house with no signs of the violence that had occurred there. She’d like that. Everything was in place and he knew he should leave, but he just couldn’t make himself go. He felt close to Scully here, and the ever present pressure on his heart lessened just a small bit. He stood up and walked over to a large bookcase where several photo albums were kept on the bottom shelf. He had seen them there before and asked Scully if he could look at them, but she just laughed and shook her head. He knew Scully was a very private person, but he couldn’t help himself. He sat down on the floor and pulled out the first photo album. It was full of pictures of her childhood, starting with some insanely cute baby photos. He couldn’t help but smile at the blue eyed, red haired tyke that stared out at him, thinking about the beautiful woman that baby grew up to be. He turned page after page and saw pictures of Scully family vacations and Christmases, birthday parties and school events. He was captivated, watching that baby grow into an adorable three year old blowing out candles on a cake, then into a sturdy third grader in her basketball uniform, to a preadolescent frowning in a snapshot of the Scully children, and finally, into a camera-shy gawky teenager. The photo album ended with a picture of her in a green lace dress accompanied by her date at the prom, a huge grin on her face. Mulder slowly outlined her image over and over again, captivated by that smile. The Scully he has known for the past two years was judicious in giving away her smiles, and he didn’t think he ever saw her as happy as she looked on her prom night. Mulder wondered when she got so serious. He vowed to make her laugh more when she came back; he wanted to give her joy to make up for whatever nightmare she was currently experiencing. He took one last look at Scully on her prom night, thinking that this beautiful young girl, so full of life, had no idea what the world had in store for her.
The light shining through the new window was fading, and Mulder’s stomach grumbled viciously. Eating had fallen by the wayside since Scully was abducted, and he couldn’t remember his last meal. He put the photo album back on the bookshelf and slowly stood up, his heart heavier than he ever remembered it being, and he let himself out of her apartment.
He only stayed away for a few days. He had no excuse to go back to her place; it was in perfect shape for her return, and he already talked to the landlord about taking over her rent payments. But the draw was just too strong. Being in her apartment made him feel like she was still around, as if she had never been taken. He walked into the living room and was pleased with how it looked. He glanced over at the bookshelf and was tempted to go through more photo albums, but his longing for her was particularly strong today, and he knew what he needed. He had to smell her again. Scully didn’t wear perfume but her body wash combined with her shampoo, in addition to something that was uniquely Scully, was a scent he couldn’t get enough of, and he was desperate for it. He walked into her bedroom and turned on the lights. He had never been in this room before, and it was exactly as he pictured it would be. There were no stray clothes on the floor or hanging over the chair, as everything was put away and the room as neat as a pin. The bed was made with almost military precision. Yes, this was Scully’s bedroom, there was no doubt. He sat down on the bed and closed his eyes, picturing Scully asleep, wearing one of her silk pajama sets he had seen her in on a few out of town cases. He lowered his face to her pillow and took a deep breath. Oh yes, he thought, closing his eyes. It smelled like Scully. He rubbed his face all over the pillow as if he could absorb her smell though his skin. He was bombarded with images of her: Scully professionally coiffed in one of her suits, passionately arguing with him. Scully sitting on his couch eating Chinese takeout. Scully in scrubs leaning over a dead body. Scully sitting by his hospital bed, holding his hand. After awhile he got up and wandered over to her closet. A strong blast of Scully-aroma accosted him as he opened the door and he breathed it in as he looked around. Her clothes were organized as neatly as her room was, with tops and blazers on one side, and pants and skirts on the other. He ran his hand over her blouses, recognizing many of them as ones she wore to the office. Mulder came across his favorite shirt of Scully’s, and he couldn’t help but to pull it off its hanger. The simple white blouse was slightly low cut and form fitting. When she wore it under a blazer it was totally professional, but when she removed her jacket in the privacy of their office, he thoroughly appreciated her female assets that the shirt advertised. He ran his fingers over the silky material and felt chagrined about all the dirty thoughts this blouse had inspired in him. She was a beautiful woman after all, and Mulder wasn’t blind, especially when she bent over wearing this top and gave him an eyeful of her bra. Mulder shook his head. Scully would be embarrassed and angry if she ever found out that he had such a reaction to something she wore to the office. He hung the top back up and browsed through the rest of her clothes. There was a predominance of black and blue, and just as Mulder was wondering why she never wore bright colors, a flash of red in the very back of the closet caught his eye. He pushed the other clothes aside and pulled out a very wrinkly red dress. But oh, what a dress it was. It was brocade, sleeveless, with a deep V neckline and a skirt that Mulder guessed didn’t reach her knees. He stared at the dress, flabbergasted. He couldn’t imagine Scully in something so sexy and revealing. He reminded himself that he didn’t know all that much about her personal life, where she went and what she did when she wasn’t with him. He ran his finger down the V of the dress and pictured Scully wearing it. The image of her curves accentuated and her blue eyes brought out by the deep red hue came to him, and he pictured himself entering a room with her on his arm, turning heads. After awhile he went to put it back where he found it and discovered a slinky black dress with a large slit up the side on another hanger. Clearly this was the section of Scully’s closet where she kept her sexy clothes. He found a few revealing tops that looked like they were meant to be worn at a club, and behind those were two miniskirts, one of them made of leather. He felt himself get aroused as he couldn’t help imagining his buttoned up partner in one of these sexy outfits. He felt like he was seeing a whole new side of her, which on the one hand made him ache for her, but on the other, he was deeply comforted by it. In their work together Scully always kept him guessing, and the discovery of her secret wardrobe made him feel like she was around, scrambling his brains and upending his expectations, like she frequently did.
When the room got dark, he reluctantly closed the closet door, taking one final deep sniff of her essence. He looked around at Scully’s inner sanctum before slowly moving to the door. Being surrounded by her scent and her clothes comforted him, but as he left her apartment, the desperate ache in his heart returned.
Mulder managed to stay away for awhile, but on the six week anniversary of her abduction, he found himself at her door again. He slipped in quietly, as if she might be inside and he risked disturbing her. He was drawn to her bedroom again, her inner sanctum, her most private space. He sat on the bed and took another sniff of her pillow, and he was so relieved to find that it still smelled like her. He wondered how long it takes for a person’s scent to disappear from their environment. If Scully didn’t come back soon, will he show up here one day only to find her bed and clothes no longer smelled like her? He couldn’t stand the thought.
He regarded her bedside table, and he wrestled with himself. Scully would kill him if she knew he was snooping like this. But each new discovery he made gave him the feeling that she was still around, revealing herself to him bit by bit in her enigmatic way. Mulder pushed his doubt aside and opened the top drawer to her side table, and he almost had a heart attack when he regarded the contents. A bottle of lube, a box of condoms, a hot pink vibrator, and a large purple dildo were the only items in the top drawer. Mulder did a double take, and then he found himself aroused. He tried to push the sexual images out of his head, he really did, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He pictured Scully in the bed he was sitting on, bringing herself to climax over and over with the pink vibrator. Or masturbating and putting the purple dildo deep inside of her. He shook his head, now certain Scully would kill him if she knew what he was doing. Reluctantly he closed the naughty drawer and opened the bottom one. This one was full of books. This is more like the Scully I’m familiar with, he thought. He picked up the first book, entitled “Best Women’s Erotica of 1994.” His mouth hung open. Scully has porn! He picked up the next book, and the next; they were all books of female erotica. Curiosity got the best of him so he leafed through a few of the stories. They were graphic but well written, and as a connoisseur of porn, he had to hand it to Scully that she had good taste. After he read a story about a woman who liked to go shoe shopping while wearing a very short miniskirt and no underwear, he reluctantly put the books back and closed the drawer. He opened the top one again and pushed the dildo aside to reach for the box of condoms. It was open and two were missing. Did Scully have a boyfriend? He didn’t think so. They talked about their exes a few times during late night drives in the middle of nowhere, and she referred to herself as single. Does she have one night stands? He couldn’t imagine it, but maybe she did. Mulder was a survivor of more hookups than he cared to think about, so why wouldn’t Scully indulge in a similar fashion. He’s seen how men look at her. She’d have no problem getting someone into bed with her, that’s for sure. Images of Scully getting fucked within an inch of her life by some faceless guy floated through his head, and he couldn’t fight the wave of jealousy that followed. He had no say in Scully’s sex life, he knew that. And all he had was an adolescent crush on her, like any sane man who worked closely with her would most certainly develop. But now he discovered Scully as a sexual being, and he knew he would never look at her the same way. After awhile he returned the condoms and shut the drawer, careful to make sure he put everything back in the exact place he found them. Scully would never forgive him if she knew he had looked through her most intimate things. He stood up and left the apartment, the drive back to his own place filled with dread of the loneliness that awaited him.
The nights were the worst. At least during the day, he had distractions to keep his mind off Scully, but when he was at his apartment with nothing but the bubbling of his fish tank to break the silence, his mind was filled with her. Some nights Mulder imagined her wearing the sexy red dress he found, reaching into her bedside table for her vibrator. He dreamed about what it would be like to take that dress off of her and do things that would require the use of the condoms she had. He always felt guilty after getting off on fantasizing about her, but he just couldn’t help it. The few minutes of pleasure were a welcome escape from the gnawing emptiness inside of him. Other nights his mind was filled with thoughts of where she might be and what could be happening to her. Horrors unfolded under his eyelids and his stomach felt sick from the images created by his overactive brain. One night he couldn’t take it any more, as sleep was alluding him as his only escape. He pulled himself off his couch, threw on a pair of jeans and sneakers, and grabbed his keys. He had no idea where he was driving to until he was pulling up in front of Scully’s apartment.
Mulder left the living room lights off and made it to the bedroom by feel. He turned on the small light next to her bed and ran his hand over the top of the side table. He could feel the dust collecting under his fingers, and it occurred to him that Scully would be able to tell he had been in here touching her things because the dust would be disturbed. He went to the closet in the hallway and after a few minutes located some Murphy’s Oil Soap and a cloth. He quickly dusted off the top of the side table and ran the rag over the front of the drawers in case he left marks. But what if she noticed the side table had been dusted but the rest of the room hadn’t been? He knew he was being paranoid but Scully was such a neatnik he wouldn’t put it past her. He brought the rag over to her dresser and quickly dusted the surface, then moved over to her desk. He noticed the top drawer wasn’t completely closed and before he could think about it he had opened it up all the way. It was full of junk, and Mulder was relieved that at least one area of her living space held the mess typical of most households. He shifted around paper clips, envelopes, post its, hair ties, nail files, mail, and other detritus, until his hand felt something soft and square. From underneath an old medical journal he pulled out a packet of Morley’s. He just stared at them in his hand. Scully smoked? No way. The pack was open and several were missing. He never remembered her smelling of smoke, not once. Maybe she was one of those rare people who can just smoke occasionally and not get addicted. But he thought back to the lectures he sat through from her about salt intake and trans fats, and he just couldn’t believe she would risk her health by smoking. He shook his head. In his exploration of her apartment, she kept unfolding like a flower.
He put the cigarettes back where he found them and shut the drawer, careful to wipe off smudges from the knobs. He opened another drawer to find it only had one item: a leather bound journal. He opened it up and saw dated entries filled with Scully’s precise handwriting. He sat down on the desk chair and opened up the first page, but he stopped himself. What he had done so far in her apartment was good old fashioned snooping, but this, reading her journal, was a step too far. As curious as he was, he couldn’t help picture the look on Scully’s face if she discovered he had read her innermost thoughts. He shook his head. He couldn’t do that to her. This was beyond sex toys and red dresses. This was the essence of her. What gave him the right to read it? He ran his fingers over the fine leather and reluctantly put the journal back in the drawer. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror if he violated her so deeply. He made a deal with himself: if Scully was ever determined to be dead, he would come back and read her journal, since the revelations within would be lost to him forever. But as long as he hoped she would come back, he wouldn’t read it. He couldn’t.
He pulled open the bottom drawer and found a bundle of letters held together by a rubber band. They were addressed by hand to Scully. The post mark showed the letters were sent five years ago, and were all from the same sender. Daniel Waterston. Curiosity overcame him, and he pulled out the top letter. In neat, precise handwriting was written:
My dear Dana,
It is with a heavy heart that I write to you. So far you haven’t responded to any of my previous letters, and you aren’t answering the phone when I call. Your cold shoulder has not yet discouraged me, though, as the letter you hold in your hand right now proves. I am determined. I wish you would contact me and let me know you are OK. I need to hear your voice, to explain a few things, and to talk you out of making the biggest mistake of your career. Please humor me for a minute, will you? I have nothing but your best interest at heart.
I know you feel guilty about what happened with Maggie. It’s not your fault that she found out, Dana. Yes, she’s very angry, but she’s my problem to worry about, not yours. I know that my relationship with her will be rough for awhile, but when she’s older, she’ll understand. She’ll see how much I love you and will forgive me. I don’t want Maggie to be the reason we are over. Or Barbara for that matter. My family is complicated, but they are not anything you should concern yourself about. I don’t want them to give you a reason to walk away. I’m begging you not to.
You and I have always tried to be honest with each other, and I feel I owe it to you to be blunt. You are an adult, Dana, but you are acting like a child. Joining the FBI is nothing more than an act of rebellion. How can you turn your back on clinical medicine? You are a gifted physician, and you had a brilliant career as a cardiologist ahead of you. To sacrifice that to go into forensic pathology is bad enough, but to join the FBI on top of that? You are blowing up your life and career to run away from me. I can barely stand to watch.
Dana, I love you, and I believe that you are meant to be with me. We could create a wonderful life together, if only you were brave enough to face the challenges inherent in our relationship. I promise you I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I am worth the effort. WE are worth the effort. You are an incredible woman, and I simply can’t imagine my life without you. So please, don’t leave. Forget the FBI and come back to me. I love you more than you will ever know.
Yours forever,
Daniel
Mulder read the letter again, then folded it back up and put it back in the envelope. He opened a couple of more letters in the stack, but they all pretty much said the same thing. This man Daniel declared his love his love over and over again and begged Scully not to join the FBI. Who was this guy? Scully never mentioned him during their late night talks where they bemoaned their exes. He clearly meant something to her, though, for her to keep his letters all these years. He put the bundle back where he found them and closed the desk drawer. He wondered about his own moral compass which allowed him to read her personal correspondence yet deemed exploring her journal a serious privacy violation.
After perusing the rest of her desk and finding nothing else interesting, Mulder went over and laid on the bed, which he was happy to discover still smelled like her. He wrapped his arms around himself and pictured her beautiful face, and before he knew it, he was asleep.
Mulder woke up to the sound of someone knocking at the door. At first he had no idea where he was, confused by the lack of cool leather under his body. As his vision cleared and he sat up, he remembered coming to Scully’s place in the middle of the night out of desperation. He ran his hands over his face and slowly got out of bed.
The knocking continued. Mulder made his way to the door and opened it a crack. A petite elderly woman stood on the other side of the door, dressed in a house coat.
“Can I help you?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as irritable as he felt.
“Is Dana back?” the woman said eagerly, trying to look around Mulder and into the apartment. “I took Fluffy out in the middle of the night to pee, that dog is going to be the death of me I swear, and I saw a light in Dana’s apartment. Please tell me she’s back.”
“Who are you?” Mulder asked.
“Who are you?” she countered. “I’m Pat Bixby, the neighbor across the hall. I’m the one who called 911 the night Dana disappeared. I heard quite a commotion and I got worried. Now is Dana back or what?”
Mulder leaned against the door frame. “No, I’m sorry Pat, Dana is still missing.”
She pursed her lips and looked him up and down. “I’ve seen you around before. You must be Dana’s boyfriend. Why are you here when she’s not?”
Mulder sighed. “That’s official FBI business.”
“Oh,” Pat said. “Part of the investigation into Dana’s abduction. I got it. You have to tell me, mister, because I have to know. I’m very fond of Dana. Is she okay? When is she coming back?” Her voice cracked a bit.
Mulder sighed. It should have occurred to him that her neighbors might see him hanging around Scully’s place and wonder. He slowly shook his head. “I don’t know if she’s okay, Pat, and I don’t know when she’s coming back.”
Pat put her hand over her heart and stared at Mulder. “I’m just worried is all. I miss her. She’s a nice girl.”
“Nicest person ever,” Mulder said. “And I miss her too.”
Scully was back. He had pictured this moment a thousand times, the second he first laid eyes on her again. He had never imagined, though, that he would find her on a ventilator in an intensive care unit, her limbs covered in a jumble of tubes and her eyes taped shut. The rage he felt when he saw her lying there was nearly overwhelming, and he couldn’t help himself from taking it out on the medical staff. Mrs. Scully just watched him with pity on her face as he was dragged out by security. He went back the next day and sat by her side, and was touched when her mother invited him into a special family meeting with her physician. When it was pointed out that she was beyond the criteria for her living will, his head spun and his stomach clenched. No, they couldn’t give up on her. They didn’t even know what’s wrong! But Melissa and Mrs. Scully had made up their minds, and despite the kind offer to join them as a family to be with Scully as she was extubated, Mulder just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sit by her bedside and watch her die, not so soon after he just got her back. He stormed out of the hospital and headed to a dive bar near his house. After his third shot of tequila, the fury in his heart morphed to sadness. Scully was probably dying at the hospital right that very moment, and there was nothing he could do about it. The world was going to lose Scully tonight.
It was after his fourth shot that something occurred to him. He was picturing her funeral, her mother dressed in black and her sister crying, and then…what happens then? Life goes on, he supposed, but he just can’t imagine the sun rising and the earth spinning or anything that was normal continuing without Dana Scully. Poor Mrs. Scully would have to pack up her daughter’s apartment, and it will be as if Scully never existed. The wave of pain at the thought of the world untouched by her presence was so strong he had to lay his head down on the bar to fight to breathe.
Pack up her apartment. He sat up straight, his brain struggling to string rational thoughts together in his inebriated state. Mrs. Scully would go to her daughter’s apartment and find… all kinds of things. Her sex toys. Her cigarettes. The stack of love letters from a man who sounded desperate and controlling. Mulder groaned. He couldn’t let Scully’s mother see those personal things. He knew for a fact that Scully would be mortified at the idea of her mother seeing her vibrator. He stood up quickly, swayed for a second until he got his bearings, then went outside in search of a cab.
It had grown colder as fall progressed, and the heat wasn’t on in Scully’s apartment. Mulder rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm up. He went to her bedroom and once again sat on her bed, breathing deeply to capture her smell. It was getting less pronounced over the three months she had been missing, and he feared that soon it would be gone forever. He pulled her pillow into his arms and buried his face in it and started to cry. This was the last time he was going to be at her apartment. He’d take away the things he knew Scully wouldn’t want her mother to see and then he had no reason to ever come back. How was he going to live without her? At that moment his life stretched out in front of him looking as blank and desperate as an arid desert scene.
As he tried to stop crying, his phone rang. He assumed it was Mrs. Scully calling to tell him Scully was gone, and he couldn’t bear to talk to her. He let the call go to voice mail. Almost immediately, the phone started to ring again. He sighed and answered it, saying nothing in greeting.
“Fox?” Mrs. Scully’s voice cut through the fog in his head. “Is that you?”
“I’m here,” he said. “Is she…gone?”
“No, that’s why I called. We took her off of the ventilator and she kept breathing! The doctor was so surprised that she can breathe on her own. He still isn’t very optimistic about her recovery, but I can’t help but take this as a good sign.”
He sat up. “Scully’s still alive? And breathing without a ventilator? How is that possible?”
“She’s tough, you know that. I know Dr. Daily tried to caution us, but I can’t help but see this as a positive thing.”
Mulder sighed. “Me too, Mrs. Scully, me too.”
“Come by tomorrow morning, Fox. I’ll see you then.” She bid Mulder farewell and hung up the phone.
Mulder put his cell away and walked around the room. He knew Scully was nowhere out of the woods yet, and her mother’s hope might be wishful thinking, but it was contagious. He couldn’t give up on Scully, he just couldn’t. He walked out of her apartment, vowing not to return unless he had to do an impromptu clean out…or until Scully herself came home.
Two weeks later, he debated with Mrs. Scully about who got to take Scully home from the hospital, and he won. Mrs. Scully smiled at him as she kissed Scully goodbye, promising to come over the following day, and telling Mulder to take good care of her daughter. The smile on his face felt foreign after three months of heartache. Scully was alive. She was going to stay alive. The nightmare of her abduction was over.
Scully was so weak that Mulder had to help her up the front stairs of her apartment building. By the time they stepped foot into her apartment, she was breathing rapidly and looked like she was going to keel over. Mulder took her by the arm and led her over to the couch, where she sunk down gratefully.
Once her breathing got under control, Scully opened her eyes and looked around the apartment. “The place looks nice,” she said to Mulder. “I barely remember Duane Barry but I’m pretty sure he did some serious damage to the living room after breaking through the front window. How does it look so good in here?”
Mulder brought her a glass of water and sat down next to her. “I didn’t want you to come home to a mess, so several weeks ago I hired cleaners and brought someone in to install a new window. I’m glad you are happy with how things look.” He placed his hand over hers.
Scully took a deep drink of the water Mulder handed her before she spoke. “That was really nice of you, Mulder. Thank you. I was worried what I was going to come home to, to be honest. I’m scared to look in my fridge. The cure for cancer might be growing in there.”
Mulder squeezed her hand and interlaced their fingers. “You will be happy to know I came over and emptied out your fridge several weeks ago. Besides some expired yogurts and withered oranges, it should be in good shape.”
Scully turned and looked at him. “You came over to my apartment just to clean out my fridge?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Mulder wanted to escape her piercing gaze, and began to play with her fingers of the hand he was holding. “Well, yea. I didn’t want you to come home to a messy apartment and a kitchen full of rotten food. You deserve better than that.”
“Mulder, when is the last time you cleaned out your own fridge? The one time I had the courage to look in there I could see food that was from than the Nixon administration.”
“Very funny. I know you have much higher standards of cleanliness than I do, Scully. I don’t care much about the condition of my apartment, but like I said, I wanted this place to be nice for you when you returned. And I never had any doubt you would return.”
Scully opened her mouth and started to speak, but her words were strangled by a huge yawn. Mulder picked up their interwoven hands and kissed her knuckles. “How about this, Scully. You lay down for a nap, and while you’re sleeping, I’ll run to the grocery store and restock the kitchen. Just give me some idea of what you would like.”
After giving an impromptu grocery list to him, which he used his eidetic memory to record, Scully got up and went into the bedroom. As Mulder was searching for his keys, he heard Scully call to him. He went to her and found her in her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Whatcha need, Scully?” he asked.
Scully frowned. “Mulder, be honest with me. Were you in my bedroom while I was gone?”
Mulder froze. To stall for time, he asked, “what makes you think that?”
“The bedspread was wrinkly, and I always smooth it out after making the bed. It looks like someone laid down here. And I’m hoping it was you because if it wasn’t, I’m really creeped out.”
Mulder knew lying wouldn’t be helpful. She’d see right through him. “Uh, yea Scully, don’t be mad at me, but I did come in here while you were gone.”
She frowned at him. “And you laid down on my bed? Why?”
He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He should have known that Scully would figure things out. He’s surprised she didn’t dust for fingerprints. He decided to stick with honesty. “Um, I came here because I missed you so much. And your bed smelled like you.”
Scully looked at him for a moment, her face inscrutable. “I see,” she said slowly. “Just promise me you didn’t snoop.”
Time to end the honesty, he thought. “No, I’d never do that, Scully,” he said with a straight face.
She yawned and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Good, because I’d have to kick your ass if you did.”
He leaned over and tucked her under the blankets, moving a stray piece of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek. “No need to kick my ass, Scully. Go to sleep, and you’ll wake up to a full fridge.”
“And I’ll wake up to you, right?” she asked, yawning again and closing her eyes.
“I’ll be here, Scully,” he said, a wave of emotion closing his throat. How many times did he dream of this scenario, Scully in her apartment, with him, safe and healthy? He watched her close her eyes and quietly walked out of her bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
He leaned against the wall in her hallway, thoughts pressing down on him from all directions. He felt guilty for lying to her, but there is no way he could tell her the truth. She would be furious if she knew all the private things of hers he saw, but he couldn’t unlearn what he now knew, that Scully was an occasional smoker, a sexual being, and the former lover of a man who couldn’t seem to let go. Mulder took those sacred things and stored them deep in his heart, offering a silent apology to the universe for violating her privacy out of loneliness and desperation. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. It felt sacred to learn secrets of the super private and buttoned up Dana Scully. It made him feel closer to her during a time when he wondered if he was ever going to see her again. After a bout of self-recrimination he pushed himself off the wall and walked to the front door. Now was a time to look forward, not to have regrets for what he did when things were so dark. He reviewed the mental grocery list as he headed down the stairs to his car. He was on a mission to restock Scully’s fridge, and he was determined to fill it to the brim. She was home.