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Scully shifted Mulder’s half-empty duffel bag to her other shoulder and turned the key, the lock sliding away like the sound of a guillotine. Mulder slipped by her, not bothering to take the bag from her. She tried to ignore the pang of annoyance that flared within her as he brushed past. The bag wasn’t heavy, but the fact that he didn’t take it from her, had allowed her to carry it up from the car, irked her. He’d been so solicitous of her before…before. From the outset of their partnership, Mulder had treated her as an equal, had trusted her to hold her own as an agent and as his partner, but his rigid New England-bred gallantry had always managed to shine through in small, charming ways. She was so used to him holding the door open for her, guiding her gently with a hand rooted to the small of her back, hoisting both of their bags from the baggage carousel, that for him not to perform this small act of chivalry stung her more deeply than she cared to admit. Just last week he was dead and buried, she silently chastised herself. She could carry his damn bag for him for once. The baby kicked at her ribs, and she grimaced. Mulder didn’t notice.
Watching Mulder walk through his living room, the planes and angles of his body at once so familiar and so unexpected, she swallowed past her irritation, convincing herself that her frustration was just a surge of hormonal irrationality. She strode past him and set his bag down just inside his bedroom door. The smell of Pine-Sol hung cloyingly in the air, and the dark wood of his furniture glowed in the mid-afternoon sun that shone through the open blinds, a few dust motes swirling in the wake of his careful inventory.
“Must feel good to be home,” she said softly, when his silence was suddenly too much.
“Mmm,” he hummed noncommittally, spinning in a slow circle, his eyes raking over his earthly possessions. “Something looks different.” He still hadn’t met her eyes.
Scully chuffed, willing herself not to cry, and squeezed her eyes shut as tears pricked them. It’s exactly the same, Mulder, she thought. It’s exactly the same as when you walked out that door six months ago. Your suits are still hanging in the closet. The same stupid movie we were too busy making love to be watching is still in the VCR. Your rent is paid through the end of this year. Your credit cards are still sending you statements, despite zero balances, because I paid them off and couldn’t bring myself to cancel them. Your wallet is still sitting on the coffee table, for God’s sake. I didn’t give up on you. Can’t you see that? “It’s clean,” she said instead.
“Ah…that’s it.” He walked over to the fish tank and peered in. “Missing a molly.”
She felt her heart start to hammer. “Yeah. She wasn’t as lucky as you.” Sensing her mounting despair, the baby shifted within her. Scully studied him intently as he turned towards her, finally, and perched nonchalantly on the edge of his desk. He folded his arms, looking at her expectantly, his eyes sweeping over her quickly from head to toe, pausing for a split-second on her stomach before he looked down at the ground again.
He hadn’t touched her once since he’d finally wrenched himself unsteadily from his hospital bed with the help of the occupational therapist. After he’d been discharged from the hospital, he’d visibly flinched and pulled his hand away from hers when she’d tried to interlace their fingers as they walked out to the car. He’d barely strung more than three words together during the five-hour drive back from North Carolina, except to remark that the Thai place on 14th Street was gone, and then again to vehemently and vocally resist her gentle prodding to stop by one of his favorite old delis for a Rueben and an iced tea for lunch.
He hadn’t said one word about the baby, studiously avoiding her midsection when he did actually look at her. She wondered briefly if he hadn’t done the math. Surely, he knew…he must know.
“Mulder,” she started, using a tone she hoped would resonate someplace deep within him. “I don’t know if you’ll ever understand what it was like. First learning of your abduction.” She paused. “And then searching for you for months, and finding you dead. And now to have you back-” Scully took several shaky breaths through her nose, hating how trembling and weak she sounded. She looked up at Mulder, hoping he would hear the desperation in her voice, but he was staring at something in the middle distance over her shoulder, his eyes glazed over. Part of her carefully constructed façade started to crumble when he didn’t react to the raw emotion seeping out of her. He knew her…didn’t he? The old Mulder would have known just by the tremor in her voice that tears were threatening to overtake her, would have tilted her chin up with one finger to search her face. The old Mulder would have sensed just how close to the edge of oblivion she was. This Mulder wouldn’t even look at her, and the longer it took for him to say something, anything, to acknowledge her pain, the more frantic she was becoming to find some small part of him that she recognized.
“Well, you act like you’re surprised.” He wasn’t able to keep the toxic trace of venom out of his voice, but he had the good grace to try to cover it with a forced chuckle. More cracks splintered inside her. His eyes slid to meet hers briefly when she didn’t laugh along with him before he looked away. Scully bit her lip and mentally began cataloguing the symptoms she’d been trying to ignore that were painting a more vivid picture of post-traumatic stress disorder.
“I prayed a lot,” she said as her eyes welled. “And my prayers have been answered.”
Mulder jutted his chin pointedly and let his eyes dart again to her stomach. “In more ways than one.”
She took a shaky breath. “Yeah…”
“I’m happy for you,” he said hollowly. “I think I know…how much this means to you.”
She almost fainted at the small glimmer of hope. Finally. Finally they were going to address the 15,000 pound elephant in the room. Or, in this case, the two pound 14 ounce baby growing in her uterus. She drew in another breath, steadying herself to say the words she’d been rehearsing since she’d first learned of her pregnancy, the words she’d prayed she’d get to say to him one day. “Mulder-“
“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. Scully stopped short. “I don’t mean to be cold or ungrateful. I just,” he paused, pursing his lips. “I have no idea where I fit in. I, uh, I’m just having a little trouble processing,” he paused again, gesturing hopelessly around the room, “everything.” With a sigh of defeat, he cast his eyes down at his feet once more.
Not now, her mind whispered. He’s not ready for this right now.
The part of her that had hoped that he’d be ecstatic for her, for them, for their family…the same part of her that had rejoiced when he’d agreed to be her sperm donor for the failed IVF treatments…the part of her that had thanked God every day for the child that continued to grow within her that was theirs together, in spite of everything…started to wither.
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll let you get settled then.”
He nodded and chewed on his lower lip.
“There’s, uh…there’s food in the fridge,” Scully said, gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I kind of got some of everyth-”
Her cell phone trilled loudly from her jacket pocket, cutting her off. Mulder startled, jumping up from the desk, fists clenched, and stared at her warily as she pulled her phone out, pressing a button to silence it. His breathing came in rapid, ragged gasps. Her brow furrowed as she walked slowly towards him, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
“It’s okay, Mulder. It was just my cell phone,” she soothed.
“I know,” he replied quickly. “I know.”
Scully reached out to him, but when he backed away and shook his head slightly, her hand dropped to her side. He recoiled even further into himself until she stopped a foot or two in front of him. Scully swallowed hard, trying not to cry. Her Mulder wouldn’t have hesitated to gather her into himself and wrap his arms around her. This Mulder shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and still couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.
“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, but when he pushed past her and disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him, she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself.
+++++++++++++++++
After getting him settled back in his apartment, she’d been trying her damnedest to give Mulder space, praying that time would be the balm he needed to readjust and return to the realm of the living. She checked in on him every day, stopping by in the mornings before work, goading him into taking a brief walk up and down his block. Sometimes he agreed to accompany her with something like his usual bashful good nature, other days he’d only open the door a crack and refuse to let her in, insisting he’d just had a rough night and needed to get a few more hours of sleep.
Against her better judgment and insistence that he wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with any news relating to Kersh’s plans for the future of the X-Files, Skinner had barged into Mulder’s apartment, intent on telling Mulder everything about the meeting he’d just had with Doggett and Kersh. Scully demanded to be there, hoping her presence would soften the blow. Mulder, who was sunk into the far corner of his leather sofa, arms crossed and hair rakishly disheveled, lit up at the mention of the X-Files, and for the first time since he’d regained consciousness in the hospital and seen Scully’s face, he appeared animated. But as Skinner continued reporting on their meeting, Mulder seemed to sink deeper into the sofa the further they waded into the discussion. A dark cloud was forming over him, his mood quickly deteriorating, despite everyone’s efforts to remain optimistic.
“Kersh wants to put me behind a desk? That is not what Kersh wants,” Mulder sulked.
“No, I think Kersh wants you to quit, Mulder,” Scully said gently.
“It’s more than that,” Skinner said. “He wants to punish you, to hurt you.”
Mulder nodded at him. “And you, by putting you in this position. And Agent Scully, for not giving up on me.” His eyes flicked over to meet hers, and Scully bowed her head under the sudden intensity of his gaze. “The truth is, this is a bullet that was fired about eight years ago. It’s a magic bullet that’s been going round and round and round, and right now it seems poised to hit me right in the back of the head.”
Scully stared at him. “Well, I think the question is, Mulder, are we going to sit here and let this happen?”
Mulder turned slightly, facing her completely. She had his total, complete attention now, and the weight of his scrutiny felt stifling suddenly. “Scully, you’re going to give birth in a couple months. You can talk as tough as you like, but you know and I know and they know that in a little while you’re going to have more important things to worry about than whether or not the X-Files remain open.” Scully’s hand ghosted over her belly, her breath hitching. The baby squirmed inside of her, bumping up against her open palm.
“They’re not closing the X-Files. Kersh aims to keep them open with Agent Doggett running them,” Skinner supplied. Shit, Scully thought, wincing at the mention of John’s name. Mulder, ever the interrogator, took in her reaction to Skinner’s pronouncement and pounced.
“Agent who?” Mulder demanded, looking up at Skinner. The AD wilted under Mulder’s fervid stare, so his eyes slid back to Scully’s. She cleared her throat.
“I’ve had a partner for the last several months. He was assigned to help me find you.” Something akin to jealousy washed over Mulder’s face briefly before it disappeared beneath a wry grin.
“Mission accomplished. Does he know what he’s doing at all, this guy?”
“About the paranormal? Not much,” Skinner acknowledged, ducking his head.
“I see. Then maybe the question is not who fired this magic bullet, but whether or not it was a lone gunman.” Mulder’s words were leveled directly at her, and for once, he had no trouble meeting her eyes. Something inside Scully hardened and calcified. She lifted her chin and met his stare head-on.
“Agent Doggett is above reproach, Mulder. He’s being maneuvered, just like you.”
Mulder’s hazel eyes flashed. “Well, good. At least he’s maneuverable.” He launched himself suddenly from the couch, almost flying towards his bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she asked his back, knowing the discussion about John Doggett was far, far from over.
“I’m going to get dressed. For the first time I feel like getting back to work,” he yelled over his shoulder from his bedroom.
Scully and Skinner exchanged a look. Skinner gestured for her to come closer and lowered his voice. “He has not been reinstated yet, Scully. His involvement in this case would be bad news for everybody involved, and most of all for him. The last thing we need to do right now is give Kersh more ammunition against him.”
Scully nodded and sighed wearily. “I know. I’ll see if I can talk him out of whatever he’s planning,” she said, and she looked up at Skinner. “But you know how he gets. Used to get.” She laughed bitterly and squeezed her eyes shut. “Sometimes I’m not even sure if the man in that room is still my Mulder,” she whispered, her voice wavering.
Skinner’s jaw clenched. He put his arm roughly around her shoulder and drew her in to an awkward embrace, her girth and Skinner’s own gruffness making the gesture seem clumsy, but not lacking in any warmth. “Go easy on him, Dana. This is a lot for him to handle.”
Scully nodded again, blinking back tears. Skinner held her gaze another moment or two, then signed and turned to leave, gently requesting that she call him if she needed anything.
She pressed the front door closed behind Skinner and stood silent for a few seconds, listening to the familiar sounds of Mulder dressing for work.
“You and Walter seem to have gotten pretty chummy,” he called from his bathroom, the faucet turning on and off periodically. She could hear the raspy scratch of a razor scraping across his skin in between the splashes.
She turned on heel and stalked into his bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with one shoulder. She fixed his reflection with a hard stare. “Mulder, have you been drinking?”
“Drinking? What makes you say that?”
“You just seem a little…manic, is all.”
Mulder smiled mirthlessly and shrugged. “I may have added a shot or two of whiskey to my coffee this morning. You’d be surprised how drunk you can get after abstaining from alcohol for six months. It was a forced abstinence, but, you know…”
Scully tensed as he turned towards her suddenly and gestured at her belly.
“Actually, you wouldn’t know much about abstinence, would you, Scully?”
She reeled back as though he’d slapped her, her mouth dropping open. “Excuse me?”
Mulder advanced on her, his pupils dilating slightly. “Since we’re talking about your new partner, you might as well tell me now, Scully, before I have to hear it from somebody else.”
“Tell you what, Mulder?”
“Who the father is. My money was on Walter, since he’s wanted to get into your pants since the day you walked into his office, but now I’m starting to rethink my wager. This Agent Doggett you’re so gung-ho about is looking like the more likely candidate. If he’s so ‘above reproach’, as you say, I’d like to know if that’s not the only thing he’s found himself ‘above’ in the last six months.”
Scully closed her eyes and willed herself to take deep, cleansing breaths. “Mulder, I’m going to stop you right there. I know we have a lot to talk about, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but I’ve been trying not to overwhelm you. If you have something you want to ask me, please wait until after I’ve had a chance to expla-“
Mulder smiled again, but there wasn’t an ounce of happiness behind it. “Explain what, Scully? How much you’ve missed me? No, that can’t be it. You obviously had no trouble finding someone to, uh, comfort you, did you? Meanwhile, I was abducted, experimented on, returned in a state so near to death that my partner,” he gestured wildly at her, “who is a forensic pathologist, by the way, literally buried me without conducting an autopsy to confirm a cause of death. Now I can see why she seemed that she was so eager to put me behind her without asking any questions. ‘So long, farewell, it’s been really nice, but I’ve got better things to do with my time than try to figure out what actually happened to you, Mulder.’ Like, oh, I don’t know, jumping into bed with the new guy they assigned to take my place on the X-Files, my life’s work, I might add.” Mulder was pacing back and forth in front of her like a caged animal, his voice gaining an octave or two as he ranted. Scully’s eyes narrowed, her jaw setting as she watched him, and her face took on a frighteningly calm kind of poise. “Not that I ever doubted your ability to eventually get over me, Scully, but Christ, it took seven years for me to finally get you into bed and it apparently took this new guy all of seven minutes.”
When she didn’t respond, Mulder advanced on her, towering over her, and leaned into her space, his voice lowering. “Listen, Scully, given your reputation, I was actually surprised it took me that long to get you on your back. Especially after our first case together.”
“And what reputation would that be, Mulder?” Her eyes had darkened from a clear sky blue to the ominous blue-purple of midnight, but her voice was dangerously steady.
“Well, I’d already heard about Jack Willis before you were assigned to me. Very ballsy of you to fuck your instructor, by the way. So I wasn’t really expecting you to be as frigid you were for so long. But then, after you told me about the inimitable Dr. Waterston I figured, ya know, with all those daddy issues you’ve obviously got swirling around in that pretty little brain of yours, Skinner’s bald head would probably remind you just enough of Ahab that you’d have no trouble walking into his office in those sexy little fuck-me heels you’re so fond of and letting him screw the pain of losing me away,” Mulder sneered. “So how old is this John Doggett? He must be damn near retirement, given your track record. I hope he’s got a solid 401(k) set up, since your little bundle of joy is probably going to be graduating from high school around the same time he’s ready to kick the bucket.”
The baby kicked her ribs. Hard. Right about the same time that something inside of Scully broke.
“Get out,” she whispered.
Mulder actually looked stunned, and he searched her face as though trying to find a chink in her armor.
“Excuse me? You seem to have forgotten, Scully, this is my apartment.”
“Not anymore it’s not. Your landlord was trying to lease the place as soon as you disappeared, Mulder. Who do you think signed a new lease after your funeral and paid your rent through the end of this year? The mail delivered here may still have your name on it, but this apartment is mine.”
Mulder’s eyes went opaque for just a moment, allowing Scully to see a flash of torment behind them before they clouded over again. He turned back to the sink to wipe the remaining flicks of shaving cream from his face. “I guess I should thank you, then. But honestly, Scully, I’d be happy to get the hell out of this apartment. There are too many, uh…memories here,” Mulder cleared his throat. “And I can’t stand to be here alone anymore,” he whispered hoarsely. His reflection looked up at her to find her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“Mulder, did you ever ask yourself why your apartment still looks so lived in?” she asked softly. He shook his head slowly. Scully uncrossed her arms and entered the bathroom, moving behind him slightly so that her reflection was staring intently at his in the mirror.
“You know,” she began, “after I found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t able to tell the baby’s father right away. I wanted to…more than anything in the world. But I couldn’t. So the first thing I did was come here. And I pulled out the last shirt you’d worn from your hamper and curled up in your bed with it. I couldn’t fall asleep unless I was surrounded by the smell of you. I tried taking your pillow home with me and sleeping with that, but it just…it wasn’t the same. I wasn’t…I didn’t feel home, Mulder.”
Mulder’s eyes shifted from hers down to her belly and back up again before he closed them tightly. “Scully…please. I have to know. If you’ve moved on, that’s fine. I guess I’m going to have to live with that. But if that baby is somebody else’s, Scully…”
He swallowed hard and turned slowly towards her. He lifted his eyes and this time, his gaze was steady. Unwavering.
Scully lifted a hand to touch his face, waiting for him to flinch. He didn’t. She rested her other hand on the roundest part of her belly and took a deep breath.
“Mulder…it’s yours.”