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The ticking clock draws her attention up for what feels like the 50th time that day.
4:05pm. 55 minutes and she’ll be out of here. She just has to survive 55 minutes.
Scully isn’t the only one restless. The agents around her shift in their seats as the end of the work day gets nearer; one guy rearranges his legs three times in one minute, someone coughs, someone farts to which Scully crunches her nose up unimpressed.
She hates this bullpen. The constant noise, the constant people; phones ringing, keyboards clacking, someone always moving. Some days she couldn’t even think properly with all the distractions, her agitation at it all worsening the closer the day got to the end.
She wants to scream.
Somebody taps her arm and it just about send her crashing, ready to throw her computer screen at their face.
It’s just Mulder.
“You mind covering for me?” He asks, standing up and putting his blazer on. Scully watches as he puts his foot on his chair, tightens the secret gun around his ankle more securely because while they technically relinquished their guns when they got grounded to the bullpen Mulder, naturally, found a way to keep one on him.
“We’ve still got 50 minutes. Where are you going?”
“Diana wants to talk to me. She’s got something to show me.”
Fire lights inside Scully’s body. A burning rage that puts her agitation to shame.
“It can’t wait until after 5?” She asks with blatant annoyance.
Mulder looks at her blankly. “Come on, it’s not like I’m doing anything important in the last 50 minutes. My phone is off so I won’t receive any calls, you’ve just gotta tell Kersh something if he asks.”
Covering for him, lying to their boss while he runs off to discuss X-Files with the bad guy. She thought they were in this together.
Crossing her arms and looking at him with disinterest she asks, “And what, exactly, do you want me to tell him while you’re with Diana?” She doesn’t stop the hatred for the woman seeping into her voice as she says her name.
Mulder doesn’t miss it either.
His hackles raised, he, too, enters a defensive mode. “Tell him the truth for all I care.”
And be responsible for potentially getting him fired, no thanks.
Scully continues to seethe. “So I have to stay here in this hellhole while you play field agent with the enemy, is that it?”
Mulder laughs incredulously. “I don’t know how many times we need to discuss this: Diana isn’t the enemy. She’s actually very valuable and if anything she’s trying to help us.”
Is that why she’s constantly smelling of cigarette smoke?
“Yeah, sure, you keep telling yourself that,” Scully says.
That’s the comment that sends Mulder over the edge. He yanks his top drawer open, reaching inside it for his badge as he says, “Don’t bother coming over tonight, Scully. I’ll probably get home too late for us to do anything.”
It hurts, a stinging pain straight through her body, striking at her heart. It’s Friday; their day, their night together. Movies and a drink and maybe something more but he’s ditching her, explicitly choosing Diana over her. Yes, it fucking hurts like nothing else could.
But Scully doesn’t want to show him that. He doesn’t deserve to see her pain. Instead, she takes that pain and stuffs it right down, buries it beneath the walls that come charging up.
“That’s fine,” she says, keeping all emotion out of her voice. “I was gonna cancel anyway. I’m too tired.”
There’s nothing more to be said. They’ve laid their differences out on the table. If Mulder wants to continue trusting Diana Fowley then he may do so but she doesn’t want to be anywhere near the danger zone when it all blows.
“Enjoy your night Scully,” is all Mulder says before he heads off through the bullpen.
She will enjoy her night. A bath, a glass of wine, maybe even a book. She doesn’t need Mulder. She doesn’t need anyone. And she most certainly does not need Diana Fucking Fowley.