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Silently, Scully stares down at the broken glass littering her bedroom floor. In her peripheral, she sees Mulder straighten from his hunched position over her and then feels him sit down next to her on the bed. He reaches for her hand and she lets him have it, sighing softly because she is just too tired to protest. And, though she won’t admit it to herself, she wants something to hold on to; no, not just something, someone. Him. He looks at her like he’s trying to read her mind and she closes her eyes.
“Do you want to get cleaned up before we get out of here?” Mulder asks
“I’d rather just leave,” she says. She runs the knuckle of her index finger across the space between her upper lip and nose, checking for remnants of dried blood. Though she’d refused treatment by the EMTs that showed up at her apartment, they’d left her with a cold, damp cloth that she’d used to dab at the itchy, flaking crust of blood irritating her skin while she answered questions for the police. Her nose still itches.
They’re still sitting together in silence a few minutes later. She finally looks at him and allows the exhaustion she feels to show through in her gaze. Mulder nods and slips away from her, heading to the closet for her overnight bag. He packs for her while she assesses the mess Donnie Pfaster left behind with tired eyes.
*******
“I’m fine, Mulder,” Scully whispered, afraid to look up and meet his eyes. She twisted her hands, trying to help him get the bindings off her wrists a little faster, but it only made the pull a little tighter and the cloth burned her skin.
Mulder finally freed her hands and touched the underside of her chin with the tips of his fingers. She trembled, unable to stop herself. Her resolve broke and her face crumbled. She hid herself in the safety of Mulder’s arms, overwhelmed with emotion, a combination of relief and fear and anger that she’d never experienced before.
At some point, Mulder stopped whispering ‘you’re all right, it’s okay,’ in her ear and stopped petting her head and stopped rubbing her back in long, soft strokes. She stopped clutching him so tightly and stopped crying against his chest. It could have been minutes later, or it could have been hours, she wasn’t sure.
“Scully,” Mulder murmured in her ear. “They need to ask you a few questions. And then we can get out of here.”
Scully pulled away from him then, her eyes on the floor, embarrassed to have broken down in front of him, let alone in his arms. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and crossed the room to meet Agent Bocks. She made her statement about the facts of her ordeal as calmly and dispassionately as she could. She wanted to be the professional she knew she was. She wanted them all to stop looking at her like a victim, especially Mulder. As soon as she was told she was free to go, she was out the door without a backwards glance, Mulder at her heels to usher her to the rental car, his hand hovering closely over the small of her back.
*******
“Mulder,” Scully says, her face turned to the passenger side window, watching his muted, blurry reflection in the glass.
“Yeah?” Mulder inclines his chin towards her, but keeps his eyes on the road.
“Is this a losing battle?”
“Is what a losing battle?”
Scully rubs her lips together, flinching when her dry upper lip pulls at the split in her lower lip. She tastes the copper tang of fresh blood on her tongue and she licks it away. “We fight evil every day,” she says quietly, still speaking to the window. “Only to uncover more evil where one ends. There’s no way to stop it, is there?”
Mulder slows the car to a stop at a red light. “We can certainly try, can’t we?” he answers, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter and shifting in his seat before he looks over at the back of Scully’s head. “You’re not evil, Scully.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“If I could only be sure of one thing in my life, it would be that there never has been and never will be, an ounce of evil within you.”
Scully slides her eyes to the side, staring at the green traffic light. Mulder hasn’t moved his foot from the brake. She flicks her eyes back to the side mirror, checking for other cars on the road. The light turns yellow and then red again. She rolls her head towards him and they stare at each other.
“Where are we going?” Scully asks.
“Where would you like to go?”
“Your apartment.”
Mulder flips the indicator down and Scully closes her eyes, rolling her head back to face the window as she listens to the steady clicking of the turn signal.
******
When they reached the motel, Mulder had his seatbelt off almost before the car was even parked and the engine was off. “Hang on,” he said, before moving quickly from the driver’s side and around the car to Scully’s door.
Scully wearily unlatched her seatbelt and took the hand Mulder offered to help her out of the car. With his body blocking most of the exit between her seat and the door, she really wasn’t afforded much choice of refusal and decided to accept the chivalry without comment. He guided her past the rear passenger door and opened that as well.
“I rescued your...” Mulder paused and braced a hand against the hood of the car, bending his head forward. The muscle in his jaw protruded sharply as he gritted his teeth.
“Mulder?”
“I have your bags,” Mulder said, straightening and then pulling her suitcase out from the back seat, along with her purse.
“Oh.” Scully nodded, reaching for them. “Thank you.”
“I got it.”
Mulder held the bags back from Scully’s reach and then waved her forward towards his room. He dug into his pocket for the key and let her inside. The doors to their connecting rooms were open, just as they’d been left before Scully had left to go back to DC. He moved into Scully’s room and put her things on the bed while Scully turned on the lamp on the nightstand.
“I’ll call for a flight in the morning,” Mulder said. “I’ll try for something in the afternoon so we can have some time.”
“The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”
“You probably want to get cleaned up.”
The thought of the bathtub on the other side of the wall made Scully blanche. She felt her cheeks grow cold and the sudden fear knocked her back a step. She sucked in a quick breath of air and then held it.
“How about something to eat?” Mulder asked. “I can run out to that diner we passed. The 24-hour one.”
Slowly, Scully shook her head. She was a little hungry, but she didn’t like the thought of Mulder leaving. The sensible thing to do would be scrub away the blood and sweat and tears and go to bed.
“I think I’ll…take a shower,” Scully said.
“All right then.” Mulder paused at the connecting door and then turned back towards her. “I’ll just be on the other side of this door if you need me.”
Scully stared at Mulder for a few moments too long. She wanted to reply that she did need him, but she wasn’t quite sure what it even was that she needed him to do. Instead, she ducked her head and picked up her bag to bring into the bathroom. Mulder only pulled the door half-way closed when he left.
******
“Can I get you anything?” Mulder asks, holding the door open for Scully to enter his apartment.
Scully shakes her head, hoisting the small duffel bag she has cradled in her arms a little higher. After Mulder locks the door and slides the chain into place, he takes the bag from Scully’s arms and pulls it over his shoulder. He tugs at one of the sleeves of her overcoat and she slips it off, silently handing it over to him to hang on the coat rack. She’s still in the blood-stained, flannel pajamas she once thought so comfortable and perfect. She thinks that if Mulder packed one of the other identical sets for her that he was likely to find in her drawers, that she would have to steal something of his to wear. It isn’t likely that she’ll be sleeping in flannel again in the near future, if ever.
“Pizza?” Mulder asks, and Scully blinks out of her reverie. “Chinese? Meatball sub?”
“Maybe later. I think I’d like to get cleaned up now.”
“Of course.” Mulder turns and heads to the bathroom and Scully follows. He drops her bag on the floor and opens a cupboard to grab a few towels. He holds them to his nose before he hands them over to Scully, smiling sheepishly. “I’m pretty sure these are clean.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
“Yell if you need anything,” Mulder says before shutting her inside the tiny bathroom.
Scully hugs the towels to her chest and stares at herself in the mirror over the sink.
*****
Mulder tapped lightly on the connecting door to Scully’s room, merely as a way of announcing his return. He’d heard the shower turn off at least ten minutes prior and he was anxious to assure himself that Scully was doing okay before he left her alone for the night.
Scully was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring vacantly at the wall. She looked to be in some sort of exhausted trance, swaying ever so slightly, eyes drooping. Her hair was pulled back from her neck in a pony-tail, dry and unwashed. The motel issued robe dwarfed her small frame, too long in the arms and too loose across her chest. The small medical kit she traveled with was open beside her on the bed.
“Scully?” Mulder asked.
Scully’s eyes opened wide and her shoulders jerked. She looked up at Mulder, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, pulling her robe closed a little tighter.
“Sorry. I knocked.”
“Did you need something?”
Mulder crossed the room and pulled the chair next to the dresser over to the foot of the bed. He sat down in front of her and she shifted back away from him. She had a tube of antibiotic cream resting in her lap that looked untouched. Looking up at her face, Mulder knew she must not have tended to her wounds yet. There was a puffy, red ring around the scrape on her chin and it looked as though the shower may have caused a bit of fresh bleeding.
“Here,” Mulder said, picking up the tube in her lap. “Let me help.”
“I don’t need you to do that, Mulder,” Scully answered, snatching the ointment away from him. She panicked at the thought of Mulder seeing more of the bruises and scrapes from her altercation.
Mulder bowed his head and sighed. For a few moments he stayed like that, hands curled into light fists, pressed into the mattress on either side of Scully’s legs. Finally, he looked up at her, his lips pursed in what was either a tight smile or a pained grimace, Scully couldn’t tell.
“I know you don’t need me to,” Mulder said. “I know. You are the single most capable person I know, Scully. And you don’t need me at all. But, some things aren’t about capability. Some things…maybe it’s something I need.”
“Something you need?” Scully’s brows came together in confusion.
Mulder bowed his head again, speaking to Scully’s knees. “You don’t know what it was like,” he said. “When you were gone. And then to relive that nightmare, even for a second.”
Scully opened her mouth, but had no response. When Mulder raised his head again, she wordlessly handed him back the ointment, trying not to let her reluctance come through in her eyes, but her hand was shaking and she quickly dropped it down to her lap.
*****
Mulder crosses his arms tightly across his chest and stares up at the ceiling from his couch. He listens to the water run through the pipes in the wall as Scully showers, his mind wandering back five years in the past to the first time Scully had been freed from Pfaster’s clutches. He hates what that bastard did to Scully. He wishes that he had been the one to pull the trigger and he wishes he had done it five years ago. Scully might feel remorse for her role in Pfaster’s death, but he would not have the same issue. He would be glad.
Suddenly the apartment is quiet. He strains his ears to hear something more than silence. He hears the door to the bathroom open and he lifts his chin slightly to see over the arm of the couch. He waits, scanning the wall for her shadow.
“Mulder?” Scully calls, her voice low and soft.
“Yeah?” Mulder answers.
“Can you come in here?”
*****
Mulder started with her chin. With an oversized dollop of cream on his index finger, he dabbed at the angry red scrape. Scully tilted her head back a little to give him better access and stared at a spot on the wall above his head. Every now and then she chanced a glance down at his face, but he was focused on his task.
After Mulder finished cautiously rubbing the ointment on her chin, he gave the same treatment to the abrasion on her cheek, using his thumb and rubbing lightly with slow circles around then wound and then over it.
“Where else?” Mulder asked.
Scully slid the sleeve of her robe up and bent her arm, pointing her scraped elbow at Mulder. He tended to it with less hesitancy than he’d treated her face, but just as gently. When he finished, he straightened Scully’s arm for her and adjusted the sleeve
“Other side?” Mulder asked, moving the sleeve up on her other arm before she even nodded in agreement. “Do you have a Band-Aid?”
“Why?”
“This one is still bleeding a little.”
Scully pulled her medical kit into her lap while Mulder nursed her elbow. She opened up a small box of Band-Aids one-handed and shook one free from the pile. Mulder peeled open the packaging and then moved Scully’s arm into a different angle before he fastened the Band-Aid in place.
“Where else?” Mulder asked.
After a few beats of hesitation, Scully moved the flap of her robe to the side, exposing one of her knees. It was by far the worst of her injuries, she knew. Not only was the skin scraped viciously, both knees and shins seemed to suffer the worst of the bruising when she’d fallen down the stairs.
Mulder locked his jaw in an attempt to control his anger. He hoped Pfaster would soon get his comeuppance, not just for what he did to Scully, but for all his victims. At least Scully was alive. She walked away with scrapes and bruises, but she was alive. Mulder rested his hand on the side of Scully’s leg and very lightly moved his thumb down her shin.
“You should ice these,” Mulder said.
“I will.” Scully nodded.
Carefully, Mulder spread a generous amount of cream onto the torn skin on Scully’s knee. Scully bit her lip. The cream was soothing, but the area throbbed and burned more than the others and she pressed her knuckles into the mattress to distract herself from the pain. Mulder felt her tense and softened his touch even more. His free hand slipped under the back of Scully’s calf to the bend behind her knee and held the weight of her leg for her so she wouldn’t have to.
When he finished, Mulder peeled back the terry-cloth flap over Scully’s other knee just enough to expose the damaged skin. Scully discretely pressed her thighs a little closer to preserve the little modesty she had left and Mulder treated her other knee much the same as the one before.
After moving her robe back into place as lightly as possible, Mulder reached for the towel that was by her hip, obviously sure he was done. Scully put a hand on his wrist, stopping him. Mulder tilted his head and Scully stared down at her lap for a few moments before twisting at the hips so she turned her side to him. She eased the robe off her shoulder and pushed the collar down low on her arm. She hadn’t realized the area was injured until her shower, when the water caused the area to sting so badly it brought tears to her eyes.
Mulder spread a line of ointment across his fingers and began a slow massage of the back of Scully’s shoulder. Scully closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. With only the tips of his fingers, Mulder moved in slow circles over the raw area. His thumb rested on the dip between her neck and clavicle, occasionally and unconsciously making the slow circles his fingers made.
Scully felt half-asleep by the time Mulder was through. He wiped his hands on the towel and threw the Band-Aid wrapper away and moved Scully’s medical kit to the dresser and pushed the chair he used back into place and Scully hadn’t moved or opened her eyes. She finally opened them when Mulder put a hand on her uninjured cheek and looked up at him with blurry vision.
“I’m going to get you some ice,” Mulder said.
Scully nodded and then Mulder opened his mouth. He closed it again giving a small shake of his head and then leaned closer to her, briefly touching his lips to her forehead. She felt the loss of him immediately as he moved away and watched him walk through the door to his own room.
“Mulder!” Scully called, louder than she intended, but still very quietly.
Mulder immediately stepped back through the door. “Scully?”
“Um…thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
*******
Mulder hovers in the doorway of his own bathroom. Scully lifts her eyes up to his in the reflection of the mirror and then turns to face him, leaning back against the sink. She’s wearing his robe and it’s at least three sizes too big for her. The sleeves are rolled up past her wrists and the tie is double-knotted.
“For old times sake?” Scully asks, holding up a small tube of ointment between her fingers.
Mulder hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to tend to Scully’s wounds, but because of her demeanor. The request is blasé, almost unfeeling, unlike her. He moves over to Scully, invading her personal space to illicit a reaction, but Scully doesn’t even flinch, just wiggles the tube between her fingers until he takes it.
“Where should I start?” Mulder asks.
Scully pushes up one of her sleeves and reveals a myriad of cuts along the pale underside of her forearm. Mulder holds her wrist as he rubs the cream over the slashes. He can feel Scully’s eyes on him the whole time, but he focuses on the task at hand. She holds out her opposite arm to him before he even finishes and he moves on.
There’s a longer, deeper cut on Scully’s left arm that he pauses over, moving as gently as he can over the puckered skin with his thumb until he’s more or less caressing her arm instead of nursing her wounds. Scully lifts her hand and strokes Mulder’s arm with her nails, breaking the trance he was in. He glances at her face and then pulls the sleeve back into place.
“What did he do to you?” Mulder asks, shaking his head.
“I crawled through glass, Mulder.”
Mulder nods and swallows.
Scully pulls the lapels of the robe apart and holds them back at the shoulders, exposing the upper part of her chest, also terribly slashed. Mulder’s cream-coated fingers glide over her collarbone and across her sternum. She imagines the attention Mulder gives to the swell of flesh just above her left breast is because he’s found her heartbeat and not because of the deep, six inch gash running across her chest.
Mulder stops suddenly and rests his hands over Scully’s fists. She stares up at him. There is sadness in his eyes that brings tears into hers. Mulder moves Scully’s robe back into place and then lets go, taking a step back, which is not what Scully wants. She reaches out, quickly snagging a belt loop with her index finger and pulls him back the step he took away, back into her personal space.
“You’re not finished,” Scully murmurs.
“I’m not?”
Scully pushes away from the sink and in that small move finds herself pressed against Mulder’s chest, very lightly, barely touching. There’s hardly enough room for her to unknot the robe, but she manages. She shrugs the robe off her shoulders, baring her back to the mirror. Her back is slashed with small cuts. Mulder pictures her rolling through glass and bites his lip to keep from gasping.
Chilled slightly, Scully shivers and the collar of the robe slips from the middle of her back to the top of her tailbone and catches on her arms. Mulder moves to bring it back up but she stops him. She rests her hands on his hips for a moment and then wraps her arms around his waist, turning her cheek to his chest.
Cautiously, Mulder touches the pads of his fingers to Scully’s back. His hand falls away and then he’s holding her head against his chest, fingers threaded in her hair. She breathes deeply and one of her hands curls against his back, nails scratching lightly through his shirt and reminding him what he’s there for. He has to use the mirror as his guide as he rubs the ointment into her skin.
“Does it hurt?” Mulder asks.
“This?” Scully answers. “This doesn’t hurt at all.”
Mulder stops, his hand coming to rest in the middle of Scully’s back. He drops his head as Scully turns her face up and her lips find the underside of his jaw before she leans her forehead against his chest. Over her shoulder, Mulder grabs a towel from a rack and wipes his hands clean. He draws the robe up from Scully’s waist and brings it back over her shoulders, rubbing the soft collar with his thumbs. Scully sighs contentedly.
“I thought about what you said, Mulder, and I think you’re right.”
Mulder raises his arm and slides his hand between his chest Scully’s forehead to feel her temperature. Scully smiles a little and lifts her face to him, the point of her chin resting in the center of his chest.
“I don’t remember pulling the trigger, Mulder, but I remember right up until the moment he fell and I saw you, thinking that I was going to die.”
“Scully…” Mulder cups Scully’s face with both hands, fingers threaded in her hair.
“I was afraid that it was revenge that made me do it. Maybe subconsciously I’ve wanted him dead for five years and this was my opportunity.”
“But?”
“Mostly I was just afraid that lightning wouldn’t strike twice. I escaped him once, I shouldn’t be so lucky to escape him twice. Yet, I did.”
“Of course you did. In the battle of good versus evil, good will always prevail. At least, that’s what I have to hope for.”
“How did you know, Mulder?”
“How did I know what?”
“That I needed you.”
Mulder shrugs once and gives a shake of his head. He rubs the shells of Scully’s ears with his thumbs until she closes her eyes and wraps her arms around him again.
The End