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Chapter Text

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.
FBI Headquarters – Bullpen
Friday, November 27th, 1998, 3:30 pm

“Any plans for the weekend, Scully?” Mulder placed a sunflower seed between his teeth and looked at Scully questioningly. He leaned back in his desk chair, slowly bouncing backward and forward, returning Scully’s questioning glance with an innocent look.

Mulder was completely bored after spending days doing nothing but paperwork and sorting files. He knew Scully was bored too, even though she didn’t mind doing reports half as much as he did.

Scully reached for her coffee cup and sipped the hot liquid, closing her eyes in appreciation. Mulder grinned; he loved watching Scully enjoy her coffee. Mulder could tell she was frustrated by their punishment, which was exactly what was happening. They were being punished. This was also why he had started making an extra effort to get her a cup of coffee just like she wanted every morning and afternoon. She had stoically navigated his frustration with their current situation over the last few months, keeping him in line. And it hadn’t been that long ago that he had had to reassure her that she played a major role in his life. If getting the perfect coffee for her made her happy, he was all for it.

Scully opened her eyes and hummed appreciatively before looking back at him, and he gave her a knowing look. She blushed a bit but didn’t avoid his gaze, her eyes full of warmth. “Did you finish calling the letters ‘H’ and ‘I’ already, or are you planning on spending YOUR weekend catching up?” she quipped and turned back to her keyboard.

“I don’t care about any ‘E’s and ‘I’s. No one is going to follow up on this, anyway. They just want to keep us busy and off any real cases!” he said emphatically, pushing off the floor with his foot and bouncing his chair back and forth again.

“’H’ and ’I’, Mulder. Not ’E’ and ’I’. You did the ’E’s’ last week already. Remember that report I had to rewrite for you because you couldn’t help but add your opinion on why you consider this pointless?” Scully took a new file off of the pile and gave it a cursory glance before sighing.

“Aha! See? You’re just as bored by this as I am, Scully!“

She slowly rotated her shoulder and neck before turning back around to him. “I never said I wasn’t. Of course, this is pointless. None of these people ever so much as stole a chewing gum, much less organized a terrorist attack. But the more we protest, the longer they’re going to keep us assigned to this, and we’ll never get the X-Files back.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Let’s just focus on getting this over with. If we keep our feet still long enough, they might trust us with the X-Files again.” She smiled tightly, and he knew she was trying to sound confident.

He gave her a long look before sighing and turning back to his overflowing pile of folders. “I hope you’re right, and we’re not wasting our time expecting they’ll forget about us.”

He knew Scully was hoping for the same. He despised sitting around, working on senseless tasks, following up on even more useless information when he could be on the road or talking to people who had actually seen something related to the truth.

“Well, at least Kersh didn’t make you recheck your report this time. Maybe he’ll give up sooner than later,” Scully joked, looking away from her monitor for a second.

“Yeah. By the way, thanks for going over it. I doubt I’d have gotten the same reaction to my original draft. You’re a lifesaver!” Mulder gave her a half-smile and pursed his lips.

She returned his smile with one of her own before turning back to her task.

“So, about those weekend plans—” Mulder began, only to be cut off by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he said into the receiver, grimacing at Scully when he recognized the voice of Kersh’s assistant. “Yes, we’ll be right there,” he clipped before hanging up and getting up from his chair, grabbing his jacket. “We’re expected in the Deputy Director’s office asap, Agent Scully,” he parroted, not waiting for her before taking off towards the open reception area of Kersh’s office.

He could hear Scully sigh, but she followed him without comment. What now? he wondered. Nothing good ever came out of being called into their boss’s office.

Office of Deputy Director Alvin Kersh

“Have a seat, Agents,” Kersh greeted them without looking up from his note-taking. His tone was as unreadable and impersonal as ever.

Mulder glanced at Scully, but she wordlessly took one of the two seats in front of their boss's desk.

The minutes passed slowly, and Mulder counted the ticking of the analog clock hanging on the wall at the side of the office, which signaled the passing of time. Kersh was making them wait, and Mulder hated every second of it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if they were keeping him from his work, Kersh looked up and put his pen aside.

“I have a new assignment for you,” he began, giving them both a calculating look. When neither agent reacted, he slid a thick brown folder across the desk towards them. “There have been reports of some nighttime activities down at the Waterfront Resort. I want you to investigate those reports and ensure that nothing illegal is going on there.”

Mulder reached for the file and started to read the top sheet. The more he read, the angrier he got. “Nighttime activities, sir? From what I’m reading here, there have been reports of some kids staying out past their curfew down there. That’s not an actual assignment, a security guard could easily take care of this.” He angrily snapped the file shut and threw it back on the desk.

Kersh’s eyes narrowed, and his tone became even colder if that was possible. “What is an assignment and what isn’t is still something for me to decide, Agent Mulder. Are we clear on that?”

Scully quietly cleared her throat and reached for the folder. “Yes, sir. Agent Mulder and I will take care of this.” She quickly got up from her chair, placing her hand on Mulder’s arm.

Kersh nodded, his eyes still piercing Mulder’s with a cold glare. “Very well, Agent.” He took his pen back in his hand and began writing again, dismissing them wordlessly.

Mulder stood up abruptly, and for a moment he was tempted to have Kersh have it. He was so tired of being roadblocked every step of the way. A gentle squeeze of Scully’s hand on his arm kept him quiet, though, and with a last glance at their boss, he turned around and headed for the door.

FBI Headquarters – Bullpen

Mulder watched as Scully sank into her office chair, her exasperation clear. Another day, another senseless task, he thought.

Mulder frustration was close to exploding. The longer they worked under Kersh, the worse it seemed to get. Scully glanced over at him, and Mulder realized he had been morosely staring at his monitor. He started to bounce his leg, trying to get rid of some of his anger. He’d definitely have to go for a long run tonight, he mused, or his head would explode.

“Mulder, stop fidgeting!” Scully slapped her hand on his bouncing knee, forcing the offending appendage to stop moving.

Mulder sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stay still. “I just hate this, Scully. We’ve been sitting around, doing nothing, for weeks now.” He slowly moved his head from his left shoulder to his right, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles. “And now this! We both know this assignment is just to keep us sidelined. I don’t know how long I can stand waiting around! What are they even planning to do with us at this point?”

Scully nodded, her own frustration evident. “I don’t know, Mulder. I just know fidgeting is not going to change anything. What I do know, however, is that we have to play along for now, or this is going to escalate even higher up, and then we won’t ever get the chance to get the X-Files back.”

Mulder turned to face her directly. “It’s just so frustrating! We should be investigating real cases, not watching some teenagers commit the unspeakable crime of underage drinking.”

Scully gave him a sympathetic look. “I know, Mulder. And I’m just as frustrated as you are. I didn’t choose the FBI to do this kind of grind work either. I want to find the truth just as much as you do.”

Mulder didn’t reply, his eyes firmly fixed on Kersh’s reception area, where the Deputy Director had just appeared and had started laughing with his assistant. Mulder deflated once again, dropped back in his office chair, and gave Scully a pointed look. Kersh had them right where he wanted them.

Scully returned his look grimly before turning back to the folder with their assignment and started rubbing her temples.

He watched her for a few long moments before jumping up and grabbing her arm, pulling her with him. She let him drag her out of her chair, hissing, “Mulder, what are you doing?!” while taking a cursory glance around the large office space. No one was paying them any attention.

Mulder reached for his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging it on. “This assignment is going nowhere. I’m pretty sure no one has even glanced at this file in the last several weeks. Let’s get out of here, Scully.” He grabbed his keys from his desk and slipped them into his pants pockets before putting his arm on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

She gave him a long look before sighing. “Might as well,” she added, grabbing her coat and putting it on.

Mulder placed his hand against her lower back, and together they walked down the hallway towards the elevator.

Chapter Text

Washington D.C.
Scully’s apartment
Friday, November 27th, 1998, 5:30 pm

Scully unlocked her door and stepped into her silent apartment. She carefully placed her coat into the armory by the door and pulled off her shoes, slowly moving into the kitchen and filling a glass with water.

She took a sip and closed her eyes, tired after an exhausting day full of report writing and mundane phone calls. The quiet of her apartment offered a sense of comfort that made her relax and started her thoughts to drift.

Her mind replayed the day’s events, and her thoughts returned to Mulder’s question about her weekend plans. Did he mean to invite her over? Maybe another movie night? Laughing, drinking beer, joking, and sitting a bit too close. She smiled and felt the happiness of their changing relationship envelop her.

Scully moved to the living room, sinking into the soft cushions of her armchair and letting her thoughts drift to the subtle shifts in their relationship lately. Or maybe not so subtle, she thought.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d started to touch him more intimately—she hadn’t really given it much thought back then. They’d been working tirelessly long into the night on a case, and at the end of four seemingly endless weeks, the perpetrator had finally been put into custody.

Mulder and she had given each other tired smiles while trying not to fall asleep at their desks. It had been all too natural. She had wearily packed her things and walked over to him. He had still been sitting at his desk, unmoving. His red-rimmed eyes had lifted to hers, and she had just put her arm around his shoulder and drawn him in. She had quickly brushed her hands through his hair while he pressed his cheek against her stomach, humming softly.

“You should go home and get some sleep,” she had said softly to his bent head, letting the soft strands of his hair glide through her fingers. He had chuckled softly and nodded against her stomach before lifting tired eyes back up to her.

She’d smiled warmly back and made her way home, tired to the bone, but somehow feeling more at peace than the harrowing last days should’ve allowed her to be.

So when they were sent to Virginia on another case only a few days later, she hadn’t even thought about it when she did it again.

Mulder had been pacing her motel room like a caged tiger, his hands firmly planted on his hips. She had been watching him, sitting on her bed, trying to understand what he wanted her to see, when suddenly he turned to the door, ready to run after whatever he thought was out there. She had jumped up and put her hand on his forearm, where his dress shirt had been rolled up to his elbow. She had given his arm a soft squeeze, and he had immediately stopped and looked down at her.

“Don’t. It’s not going to make a difference if you run after him now. It’s just going to give him an advantage. We can look for him first thing tomorrow after we’ve got the lab results back, and we’ll find him. I’m sure.”

He had given her a long look before closing his eyes and nodding, giving in.

“Let’s get some sleep, Mulder.”

He had given her hand on his arm a quick squeeze, laughed, and left for his room.

She had slept peacefully all through the night for the first time in weeks, and the next day they had indeed arrested the man, giving Mulder the satisfaction he had been looking for.

Now, sitting alone in her apartment, going over those moments, Scully couldn’t help but wonder. They’d always touched a lot. Right from the beginning. She laughed wryly, thinking back to that very first case. She’d been lying in his bed, dressed only in her robe, listening to him tell her one of his most intimate childhood horrors while she had caressed his forearm for comfort.

No, the touches, the trust, the closeness—that had always been there. What was new, though, was that they’d started to feel a lot less friendly and a lot more romantic as of late. It didn’t help that they had nearly kissed in his hallway only a couple of months ago, she mused. And that moment was what had lingered in her mind since then—the ‘what if’ like a tantalizing promise just out of reach.

Nearly dying of cancer, after having nearly died being abducted, brought things into perspective. Life was short, and she was done waiting. She wanted what she had always wanted and what had slowly drifted out of her focus in the last few years: She wanted to make a difference in her work, and she wanted to have a personal life while doing so.

Scully took another sip from her glass and stretched out her calves, wiggling her toes. At least it’s the weekend, and I have plenty of time to set things in motion, she thought. Whatever Mulder’s intentions were earlier, she was going to find out.

If things were going as they usually did these days, Mulder would be calling her later tonight—another habit that they had intensified recently. And just like the touches and the physical contact, this one had also been there nearly from the start. Mulder’s first late-night call had also been after their first case. She’d been already in bed, Ethan snoring next to her. But she hadn’t been able to sleep. What she’d seen, what she’d heard—it all had just been too exciting. Mulder must’ve felt the same because he’d called her like it was perfectly normal to call your new coworker in the middle of the night to share your thoughts. And she hadn’t thought anything about it, either. It was just them, right from the start.

But lately, those calls have also changed. Instead of just calling after intense cases or when he was bored, Mulder had started to call her every night, like clockwork. And she’d begun to look forward to it as a nightly ritual. They’d laugh and joke and banter, and she’d fall asleep with a smile at his antics soon after.

Just like I am smiling now, sitting in my armchair home alone, she realized and snorted softly. Daydreaming wasn’t something she did, but apparently, that was also something that had changed. She wanted to believe that these changes meant something to Mulder as well, that he felt like her, that they were worth exploring.

With a shake of her head, she got up and moved towards the kitchen to put some water in the kettle. Maybe it is time to take a chance, Dana, she pep-talked herself. But first, what she needed was some tea and later a nice relaxing bath with a glass of wine, she decided.

9:30 pm

Sully thoughtfully put some cream on her face and throat and worked it into her skin. She checked herself in the mirror one final time before leaving the bathroom and walking back into her living room. She felt much more relaxed now and ready for the weekend—and Mulder’s call with whatever he had in mind.

Scully glanced at her phone, just as it began to ring, startling her, and reached for it, her heart pounding slightly.

“Hello?”

“Agent Scully, this is AD Skinner,” the familiar voice of her former boss caught her by surprise. “I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“No. No, sir. It’s fine,” she replied, straightening up unconsciously. “What can I do for you?”

“This may come as a bit of a surprise, but I’ve been approached by Section Chief Hastings. He’s got an interesting assignment, and we happened to talk about you.”

Scully blinked, not sure what to say. “An assignment, sir? Mulder and I are assigned to Director Kersh right now. Does that involve any of his cases?”

“Actually, no,” Skinner continued. “I’m calling you unofficially in this matter. He paused, and Scully waited for what else he’d have to say. Her heart was pounding. Was this finally their way back into the X-Files? By way of an opportunity, Skinner had come up with?

“Section Chief Hastings is creating a new division in the FBI’s Forensic Science Research Unit. With your background as a medical doctor, a forensic pathologist, and your investigative experience, he thought you’d be perfect for this role.” Skinner paused. “I agree.”

Scully’s thoughts were spinning. How did this new department connect to the X-Files? Were they going to be taken over? What about Spender and Fowley, who were working on the X-Files right now? Would they also be transferred? If this offer included working with Agent Fowley and Mulder as a team, she’d hand in her resignation within a month, she thought grimly.

Scully took a deep breath to settle her nerves and felt her heart slowing down. “And what would be my responsibilities, sir?”

“You would be part of a team dedicated to solving unusual cases. These cases will mostly require advanced forensic methods to uncover the truth behind some of our more exceptional cases. Some of these have been considered unsolved for years. You would be part of getting justice for the victims and closure for their families,” Skinner continued.

“What about Agent Mulder, sir? What would his role be in this department?”

There was a brief pause before the tinny sound of Skinner’s voice came back through the line. “This offer is extended specifically to you, Agent Scully. Agent Mulder will remain under Director Kersh’s supervision.”

Scully’s heart sank. This assignment was exactly what they had been looking for. A way to get back to uncovering the truth. And now Mulder wasn’t even considered. She wanted to tell Skinner how she felt about this offer at the expense of Mulder, but she couldn’t ignore the tiny voice inside her head that reminded her of what she’d been thinking of earlier. It would be a chance to finally get them back to looking for the truth, a chance to make her work matter again. And now, at this very moment, she was presented with exactly what she’d been hoping for—except for Mulder.

“Scully? Are you still there?” Skinner’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for the proposal. I’m sure you’ll understand that I’ll need some time to think about it.”

There was another pause, and she heard Skinner exhale. “I know what you’re thinking. I had the same concerns when Hastings approached me. But this offer seems genuine. This isn’t an attempt to split you up to cover the truth.”

“And yet that’s what this would mean.”

Skinner was silent. “I know. If there was any way I could get Mulder in on this offer, I’d be doing it already. Trust me, Agent Scully. But as it stands, that’s not possible. And this might be your best chance to get back on cases close to the X-Files.”

Scully didn’t reply. She felt like everything was moving in slow motion and sped up at the same time. They are trying to split us up again.

When the silence dragged on, Skinner cleared his throat. “I know you’re conflicted, Scully. But don’t hesitate to think about this. I doubt it will be long before other ‘individuals’ in the FBI will also show interest in this new role.”

“Thank you, sir,” Scully replied. “I will get back to you as soon as possible. Have a good night, sir.” She hung up without waiting for a reply and stared motionless at the phone in her hand. Her mind was spinning with conflicting thoughts, while her stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She needed to think this through. But what about Mulder? her mind reminded her. If she told Mulder about this now, he’d immediately suspect some sinister plot to keep them from the X-Files, she knew. No, she needed to get her own perspective on this first before she told Mulder, she decided. This could be their best chance to get back to working on uncovering the truth, even if it meant that they’d have to approach this unconventionally.

11:13 pm

Scully finished brushing her teeth and took a quick look around before turning off the light in the bathroom and walking into her bedroom.

She settled into bed and reached for the medical journal she’d been looking forward to reading all day when the phone rang. Mulder, she thought and was embarrassed that her heart skipped a beat in happy expectation.

“Hello?” she answered, trying to make her voice sound neutral—like she hadn’t been waiting for his call.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder’s familiar voice came through the line. She heard a noise in the background, and something fell to the floor, accompanied by Mulder’s muffled curse.

“Mulder? Are you ok?” she asked, perplexed, trying to figure out what he was doing.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” he replied distractedly. “I pushed a few books over by accident. Sorry about that. Are you already in bed? Did I catch you at a bad time? Or a good one?” he joked.

“No, not at all,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips. She loved those nightly calls more than she was ready to admit. Especially to Mulder. And she could hear his return smile through the phone.

“So, any exciting plans for the weekend?” he asked, his voice playful. “Or are you going to spend it working on another essay for one of your medical journals again?”

Scully guiltily looked at her nighttime reading material and chuckled. “I might. Or I might not. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking about going on an adventure,” Mulder replied mysteriously, adding a pause, no doubt so she could ask what he was talking about. Scully grinned.

“An adventure. And what kind of adventure are you talking about, Mulder?”

“An adventure you might find interesting yourself,” he joked. “And it would require you and me to spend the weekend investigating a fascinating phenomenon.”

Scully felt her heart speed up. So she’d been right. He did mean to ask her to spend time together. I didn’t expect the whole weekend, though! she thought and tried to ruthlessly push her excitement down. He’d mentioned a fascinating phenomenon, and that meant only one thing in Mulder’s world. An X-File.

“A fascinating phenomenon, Mulder? Fascinating for you, or me?” she asked flatly.

“Let’s just say it’s something where your scientific perspective would come in handy,” he teased, his voice warm. “But most of all, your company.” Mulder waited for a beat, and when she didn’t reply, he continued, hopefully. “So, should I pick you up tomorrow morning?”

Scully gave up on seeming disinterested and grinned. “Alright, Mulder. You got me. Pick me up tomorrow morning.”

She could hear Mulder’s happy smile through the line before she hung up the phone. Scully felt a mix of excitement and happiness, and her thoughts turned quickly to the job offer she’d received earlier. She felt guilty for not having mentioned it to Mulder yet but then dismissed the thought. She’d have plenty of time to discuss it with him when they were seeing each other tomorrow—and she’d had some time to think this through. Speaking of, tomorrow wasn’t that far away, she thought, watching the LED display of her alarm clock jump to 11:23, its red light flickering every few seconds.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel all that tired anymore and contemplated her medical journal once again. Mulder would probably be at her door before the sun was up. She smiled softly into the semi-darkness of her room, shaking her head slightly. His habits were anything but predictable. As much as he joked about being mysterious and spooky—to her, he felt more like an open book.

Well, most of the time. Sometimes she wasn’t sure what he was thinking at all. She frowned slightly and shook herself out of her reverie. Why was she once again thinking about Mulder? It was late, and he needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be busy. She determinedly closed her eyes, turned on her side, and consciously slowed her breathing, turning her face deeper into the pillow.

Chapter Text

Interstate 66
Saturday, November 28th, 1998, 7:30 am

Scully turned her face towards the car window, trying to cover a yawn. They were already outside the city, heading west. Leave it to Mulder to knock on her door at 6:30 in the morning, eyes bright and restless like a five-year-old on the way to the ballpark.

You could’ve said no, her inner voice pointed out helpfully. She smiled to herself. Not likely. She loved their little adventures nearly as much as Mulder did. Not that she’d ever admit that to him. Scully gave him a sideways glance. Mulder was humming along to the radio, chewing on a sunflower side. She watched him reach into the bag between their seats, pulling out another seed and licking the salt off of its shell. No, there were certainly worse places to be on a Saturday morning than being in a car with Mulder.

And he’d brought her her cup of coffee, of course. Perfect, like always. She took a sip of the still-hot liquid and felt the caffeine enter her bloodstream, waking her up a bit more.

Scully loved their little routines as of late. They’d always been close, but since their return from Antarctica, things have shifted. She glanced into her cup, watching the coffee swirl. Now Mulder brought her coffee each morning just how she liked it. And he never left the office without giving her shoulder a little squeeze or brushing her arm before wishing her a good evening. And of course, the calls where they now talked about more than just work. She’d told him about her Sunday lunch with her mother just a few days ago, both of them laughing about the stories her mother had told. And they’d begun to end those calls with wishes for sweet dreams, good nights, and long pauses. Scully closed her eyes against the warm rush that made her face flush and her heart race.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t following her own routines now, either. She didn’t even ask when she touched him wherever she felt like it these days. Scully was surprised he hadn’t called her out yet on constantly checking him over, brushing through his hair, feeling his back and chest, or just grabbing his arm. Picking up the phone after the first ring each night probably wasn’t secretive either, she sighed. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be an underlying agreement between them that they keep doing it—unfortunately, without talking about it.

What else is new? she wondered. Their unspoken communication was great, but sometimes she wished Mulder would also use words. And you’re talking to him about it? her inner voice questioned, and she sank deeper into her seat, taking another sip of her coffee. No, she wasn’t either. That was true. But that needed to change. She was tired of running in circles.

She leaned sideways in her seat, pressing her shoulder into the back so she could watch him fully. “So, where are we going exactly, Mulder? I believe you skipped that part on the phone last night.”

Mulder turned to her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. “Does ’Country roads, take me home’ ring any bells for you, Scully?” he grinned.

She gave him a confused look. “What does John Denver have to do with our little trip? Please don’t tell me some farmer has seen his ghost in a national forest.”

Mulder laughed and then puckered his lower lip into a pout. “No ghosts, Scully. Just some good old mystery.” He pulled out another sunflower seed from the bag and put it on the tip of his tongue. “Only two more hours, and we’ll be there. You’ll get to visit the beautiful state of West Virginia. It’ll be fun,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

Scully sighed and turned towards the vents, trying to adjust the airflow. The windshield wipers were working at a steady pace to keep the constant rain off the windshield. “I hope you’re not planning on us traipsing around in this weather, Mulder. Nothing says ’fun’ like being soaking wet.”

“Think of it as an adventure. I know you like adventures.”

She glanced at him, feeling almost giddy with their easy banter. “My idea of a fun adventure involves less rain and more heat. And maybe a nice, cozy cabin with a fireplace.”

Mulder raised an eyebrow and winked at her. “Keep talking, Agent Scully! What about the heat?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Be careful what you wish for. I might be willing to turn up the heat—and you might not be able to handle it after all,” she playfully replied, not shying away from his look.

Mulder blinked, but was the first to break eye contact, his eyes refocusing on the road. He took another sunflower seed, chewing thoughtfully. “Ever heard of the West Virginia Mothman, Scully? I plan on making his acquaintance today.”

Scully kept watching him, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say I have, Mulder. But if it’s got you fascinated, I’m not sure, it’s something I want to meet in the first place,” she quipped.

Mulder smiled at her indulgently. “Oh, you of little faith. Wait and see. We’re going to meet Mr. Murphy at ten, and he’ll show us to the clearing where he saw the Mothman.”

A clearing in the forest and a Mothman? So much for that fantasy of a weekend getaway, she sighed, leaning back in her seat. But secretly, she couldn’t suppress a smile. She loved it when Mulder got like that. His enthusiasm was utterly contagious and was one of the many things that had made the decision to stay on this weird assignment all those years ago surprisingly easy. She shook her head at herself. Mulder’s passion for the unexplainable might be charming, but one of these days it will get us killed, no doubt.

“You know, Mulder, sometimes I wonder if your mysterious creature sightings aren’t just your way of getting me alone in the middle of nowhere.”

Mulder chuckled, his eyes still on the road. “And what if you were right?”

Scully’s smile widened, and she leaned her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes. “Then I’d say you’re more of a romantic than I would have thought,” she joked lightly, but her tone held some seriousness.

Mulder glanced at her, a genuine smile on his lips. “Who knows, Scully? Maybe I am.”

Chapter Text

Falls State Park, West Virginia
Saturday, November 28th, 1998, 12:17 pm

Scully was done. Absolutely done. They’d been traipsing through the West Virginia woods in the rain for hours. Mr. Murphy, an older gentleman, had taken them to a remote clearing in what felt like the middle of the forest, pointing at a tree stump with excitement. Scully hadn’t been sure what she was supposed to see, but Mulder took it as an invitation to inspect the piece of wood thoroughly.

After that, they’d followed a trail deeper into the woods while Mr. Murphy had pointed out that he wasn’t really all that interested in meeting the famous West Virginia Mothman and had sensibly turned back.

So now the day was creeping by slowly, and Scully pulled her jacket closer around herself. Just dead ends everywhere, as far as she could tell. It was freezing cold in the forest, even though it had stopped raining before they’d set off to meet with Mulder’s source.

She was following Mulder—as always—feeling the heels of her leather shoes sink into the wet dirt. She scowled. If she had known that this would turn into a hike, she’d have chosen more appropriate footwear. But Mulder had been his mysterious self and kept that—among other important details—to himself. Of course, he was wearing his Land Rovers, she noticed with disdain. Probably water-resistant as well. She scowled. And now he was already way ahead, following his Mothman trail with long strides she just couldn’t keep up with.

“Mulder!” she called after him, and he raised his hand in acknowledgment, waving her forward without turning around.

It was a shitty day already, and the day wasn’t even halfway over. She shoved a tree branch away from her face and ducked around a hole in the muddy path. This was not what she had imagined when he’d called her last night.

You thought this would be just an excuse for looking into an intriguing, albeit harmless mystery, and then you’d get to spend time together, walking around, relaxing, and having fun, her inner voice chimed in once again. Scully brushed a strand of wet hair inside the hood of her jacket and ignored her thoughts. She gritted her teeth and accelerated her steps, trying to catch up with Mulder instead.

“Mulder! Wait!” With a weary exhalation, she watched as Mulder disappeared behind some bushes in front of her, only to hear him shout out excitedly. “Scully! Scully, come here! I found something! You have to see this.”

She wasn’t sure she even wanted to see what Mulder had found but determinedly lengthened her steps in his direction.

“Scully? Scully, where are you?” Mulder called out impatiently, his voice slightly higher than usual because of his excitement.

“I’m on my way, Mulder!” she called back, exasperated.

Scully stepped around the bushes Mulder had disappeared behind earlier and stopped. Her partner was kneeling in the mud, excitedly inspecting a brown, mushy lump lying in front of him. Yes, I definitely don’t want to see what Mulder has found. With another sigh, she joined him in front of the Mothmen droppings—or whatever Mulder thought it was—and bent closer to get a better look.

2:47 pm

They were walking in circles; Scully was sure of it. That tree with the bent branch going down into the ground instead of up? I’ve passed that one at least three times in the last hour, Scully thought grimly.

She turned her head to see whether Mulder had also come to this conclusion, but he seemed undeterred, happily looking around, trying to find further clues that the famous Virginia Mothman had been here as well. She watched as he scratched the back of his head, and hoped, he wasn’t thinking of any more surprises they could explore.

All her earlier excitement had left at this point, and what she had found charming only a few hours ago was a Mulder trait she couldn’t care less about right now. “Mulder, don’t you think that tree looks familiar?” she asked, pointing at the gnarled branch with her right hand while stretching her back out at the same time. This little adventure is going to cause me sore muscles all over my body—and not the good kind of sore, she thought grumpily.

He turned to her in surprise and looked at where she was pointing. “You think?” He contemplated the tree for a moment before turning to the left and starting walking again. “You’re probably right, Scully. Let’s try this direction, then. I can feel we’re close.”

“The only thing I’m feeling is the blisters on my feet. Come on, Mulder. There is no Mothman. Mr. Murphy probably saw a flying squirrel or a bat or something.” She stepped around another tree stump and tried not to twist her ankle in the soft piles of leaves surrounding it.

Mulder didn’t respond, his attention already back on his surroundings, eagerly walking towards more scrub to their left.

Scully shook her head and followed, her feet aching and her clammy jacket itching uncomfortably.

4:11 pm

The light was getting dimmer by the minute, and Scully looked up in the direction where the sun should be above the cloud cover. She was trying to judge how much longer they’d have before it would start to set behind the trees. Scully could already feel the temperature dropping even further. It was close to freezing now, and she shivered in her jacket, not appropriate for hiking in a late-fall forest in West Virginia. Once again, she cursed Mulder for not giving her clearer information of where they were going. But she couldn’t help but be angry at herself as well for thinking Mulder’s invitation had been mostly about enjoying the weekend with an added intriguing mystery to solve.

He could’ve at least told me to bring warmer clothes and shoes for cross-country hikes in the forest, she grumbled to herself, trying not to stumble on the muddy underground. They had found nothing, of course. No sign of a Mothman, and no evidence of any other paranormal event. Just trees, freezing weather, and mud.

Mulder stopped suddenly in front of her, and she bumped into his backpack—something Scully would’ve liked to have taken as well had she known they were going hiking.

“What now, Mulder? Why are you stopping?” she blew into her hands, trying to warm up her fingers.

Mulder slowly turned in a circle, then let out a long breath. “I think you were right earlier, Scully,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Isn’t that where we met Mr. Murphy this morning?” He pointed at a large stone, overgrown with moss, on the side of the path.

Scully didn’t reply. There wasn’t really anything to say. They both knew they were back where they had started. At least we aren’t far away from the car, Scully thought. And we won’t get lost in the dark and freezing forest.

They stumbled towards where they had left the car on the side of a small road, both exhausted and cold. The rain had started again, a steady drizzle that fit perfectly with Scully’s mood.

Chapter Text

Alpos Lodge and Inn, Davis, WV
Scully’s motel room
6:00 p.m.

Scully stepped into her motel room, the warmth a welcome relief. She pulled off her dirty shoes one by one, dropped them next to the door, and took a cursory look around the room, sighing. Beige curtains, brown carpet that she was not going to step on with naked feet, and a sand-colored comforter gave the room a very distinct 70s feeling—which was probably also the time the motel room had last been renovated. A drop of rainwater dripped down from a lock of her hair, and she reflexively closed her eyes against the cold water falling on her cheek.

With a tired sigh, she picked up her overnight bag from the floor and placed it on the bed. She was glad that all Mulder’s past misadventures had taught her to be prepared for impromptu overnight stays in cheap motel rooms and have a packed bag in the trunk of Mulder’s car.

She clumsily peeled off her wet clothes with clammy fingers and wrapped herself in a blanket, sinking onto the bed with a weary sigh. Their whole day had been one disaster after the other with nothing to show for it. Another weekend wasted to dead ends and wrong turns, she thought morosely. This was not how she had envisioned their weekend to go. But then again, with Mulder, nothing ever went as planned. She closed her eyes, and despite her grumpy mood, she felt warmth settle into her stomach. He could drive her up the wall at times, but she wouldn’t change him for the world. Even if she ended up cold and wet in a cheap motel room in the middle of nowhere, she most certainly was never bored with him.

She hoisted herself off of the bed and pulled out fresh underwear, a dry pair of pants, and a shirt before heading to the bathroom. First things first, she needed a shower. The hotter, the better.

Scully stepped into the shower and quickly pulled the shower curtain closed behind her. The steam from the hot water was rapidly filling the small stall, and she let it hit her face and shoulders with full force. She sighed in pleasure, feeling the water wash away the dirt and relaxing her shoulders from the tension and cold. She reached for her shampoo and body wash, once more glad that she came prepared for Mulder’s escapades these days, and started lathering up her hair and body.

Her thoughts slowly drifted back to yesterday and Skinner’s call. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall of the shower, closed her eyes, and turned her face into the stream. The job proposal had been on her mind on and off all day today. And it would be a chance to make a real difference, she thought. But it also meant that she would have to leave everything behind that she had been passionate about in the last few years. A brief image of Mulder’s face flashed through her mind, and she breathed deeply. But most of all, it would mean leaving Mulder and the X-Files.

She rinsed the soap quickly off her body and got out of the shower, no longer finding it particularly relaxing. At least she was warm again.

While she dried off with the scratchy towel the motel provided, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for even considering taking the offer. With a determined shake of her head, she put that thought out of her mind and quickly dressed in fresh clothes.

The thought of telling Mulder that she had decided to step away from him—from working on the X-Files again—made her heart ache.

She sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated the wall between hers and Mulder’s room. No matter how I look at it, it comes down to a choice, she thought. If she wanted to make a decision that wouldn’t leave her contemplating what-ifs for the rest of her life, she’d have to make sure that she had all the facts. And she knew she’d regret most, never knowing what there could be between them.

Life had a funny way of taking its sweet time, only to force a decision in the blink of an eye, she thought ruefully.

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. It was time to find out what Mulder had meant when he had invited her on this weekend. Was this really just about Mothmen and chasing elusive leads? Or had she been right, and he’d seen it as an opportunity to get closer? It was time to find out where he wanted them to be in the future. And most of all, WHAT he wanted them to be.

She stood up from the bed, her mind made up, and reached for her still clammy shoes next to the door. What a shame that her overnight bag didn’t offer any appropriate footwear for West Virginian November weather, she thought glumly. She probably should add a pair of hiking boots to her bag for the next time Mulder planned to surprise her with an “adventure”. She paused, her jacket only partly on, and smiled. It seemed like her mind did know what it wanted after all.

You should really tell Mulder about the job proposal, her mind supplied helpfully. Maybe there was a way for them to turn this offer into something that would get them the X-Files back. But first things first. This time, she didn’t want to make it about her leaving or staying.

For the first time since Skinner’s call, she felt giddy about making a decision, and she grinned. Either way, it was time to have a talk with Mulder, she decided.

She opened the door and headed out into the cool night air. The cold, wet wind surrounded her immediately, and she shivered. What a time to not have connecting doors, she thought ruefully. The rain had stopped, leaving the ground slippery, and the shadows from the dim lights coming from the parking lot turned the steps from her door to Mulder’s into a tricky obstacle course.

She made herself slow down to not fall and stepped in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and knocked. It was time to make a decision.

Chapter Text

Alpos Lodge and Inn, Davis, WV
Mulder’s motel room
7:00 p.m.

A rapid sequence of knocks against his motel room door made Mulder jump in his seat and turn his head towards the sound. He’d been engrossed in his notes, trying to figure out where they’d gone wrong today. There had to be an explanation why they hadn’t found the Mothman Mr. Murphy had seen. There were just too many signs that it had been near that clearing.

Another knock, followed by his name, slightly muffled. Scully, he thought and got out of his chair. The sudden movement made the room spin for a second, and he closed his eyes against the dizziness. This feels like a concussion, he thought. Better make sure that Scully doesn’t catch it, or we’re going to the hospital. He quickly moved towards the door and opened it.

“Fancy seeing you here, Scully,” he quipped while Scully was already brushing past him into his room. She had taken a shower already and changed clothes, he noticed. He gave his wet pants and shirt a rueful glance. Maybe he should’ve done that first as well, before checking his notes.

Scully turned to him and gave him the once-over. It was probably only his imagination, but for a moment it almost looked like she was checking him out. He shook his head. Scully was most likely just wondering why he was still in the dirty and wet clothes he’d been wearing all day.

He hurried over to the bathroom and got a towel to rub at his hair—and regretted it immediately when he involuntarily put pressure on the little bump at the back of his head. A glance towards Scully made sure that she didn’t see him flinch. There was no way he was going to go to the hospital tonight.

“I can’t figure out why we couldn’t find any more traces of the Mothman,” he called back into the room where Scully had picked up his notes, reading with raised eyebrows.

“My guess would be it’s because it doesn’t exist,” she replied dryly without looking up.

“I was thinking about going back first thing tomorrow morning and checking if the gunmen have any reports on sightings in the area.” He lowered the towel to look hopefully at her. “If we leave at seven, get some breakfast on the way, we could be back in D.C. by ten, eleven at the latest, and get Frohike to do his magic.”

Scully put the notes down and turned to Mulder, who was still leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom with the wet towel draped over his head, looking hopeful. “Or we could just—” she stopped in the middle of the sentence.

Mulder watched her, curious about what she was going to say next. “Just what, Scully? You want to go back into the forest and see if we have more luck without Murphy there?” He put the towel down and toed the wet shoes off his feet, carelessly kicking them into a corner of his room, then turned to Scully in surprise. “Or are you suggesting we check tonight?” He gave her a thoughtful look. “That might be a good idea, actually. Maybe that’s why we didn’t find anything today. Mothmen have historically been spotted more often in the dark.”

Scully gave him a confused look. “What? Mulder, no. That’s not what I was thinking at all.” She took a step closer, grabbing his forearm lightly. “We could just take a break. You know, relax a bit. Possibly watch a movie or something. Have some dinner?”

He chuckled. “A movie? Sure, we can do that. I think I saw a takeout menu next to the phone. We can order some pizza if you want.” He shrugged and turned towards the chipped side table with a phone on it. Sure enough, a leaf-eared, greasy takeout menu was sitting right next to it. “Why don’t you check if there’s anything on we can watch?” he said, pointing at the TV.

He bent down to pick up the brochure and winced when a sharp pain pulsed through the tender bump at the back of his head. Mulder tried to hide his reaction quickly, but sure enough, Scully, who’d been watching him the whole time, noticed.

Her eyes turned concerned as she stepped closer, and the line between her brows stood out in sharp relief. “Mulder, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

He waved her off with a dismissive hand. “Not really. Just a little bump, Scully.” He picked up the takeout menu, avoiding her gaze, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.

Scully raised her hand, trying to examine his head for any trauma. “Let me check, just to be sure. Head injuries can be dangerous. If you have a concussion, maybe we should—”

Mulder gently pushed her hand away, before her hand could reach his head. “Really, Scully, it’s nothing. I just met with a branch that didn’t want to let me through earlier. It’s just a little tender. I don’t have a concussion. Hard head, remember?” he joked, simulating giving the side of his head a few knocks with his knuckles.

Scully sighed, her arm dropping to her side. “Alright, but promise me you’ll let me know if you start feeling dizzy.”

“Indian scout’s honor,” Mulder said, raising his fingers into a boy scout salute. He turned back to the menu, trying to change the subject. “So, what kind of pizza do you want?”

Scully hesitated. “I was thinking… maybe we could use this time to relax. Take a break. We’ve been stuck in that bullpen for months now, bored out of our minds. Why not use this weekend to enjoy ourselves a bit? Have a nice dinner somewhere. Maybe watch a movie or visit a museum in D.C. when we’re back?”

Mulder looked up, a bit puzzled. “A break? But we still don’t know what Mr. Murphy saw. If we don’t stay on it now, we might never find out! Don’t you want to work on this? This is the closest we had to an X-File in weeks.”

Mulder watched as Scully’s expression changed and turned into an unreadable mask. Only her eyes were filled with an emotion that Mulder couldn’t quite place, he noticed, surprised. He felt a pang of confusion as he watched her force a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Right. You’re right, Mulder. We should stay focused on the case if we want to get more information on that Mothman.” Her voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension that made Mulder uneasy. He tried to meet her eyes again, but she was keeping her face turned away now.

She turned away slowly, her movements slightly stiff but very deliberate. She covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a yawn that looked utterly fake to Mulder. “But I think I’m going to get some rest instead, then, Mulder. If we want to be back in D.C. and at the gunmen’s before 10, I probably should turn in early.”

Mulder watched her move towards the door, utterly bewildered by her sudden departure. He instinctively reached out with his hand, moving to give her shoulder the usual squeeze, a habit that had become a ritual of comfort for him in the last few months.

But when he squeezed her shoulder, she didn’t lean into him, like she usually did, or put her hand on his, squeezing it back. Instead, she was as rigid as a board, not moving or reacting to his touch at all. It was a small but significant change that left him feeling slightly unsettled, even if he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Mulder followed her retreat towards the door with his eyes. She never turned back around.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said while walking out and closing the door softly behind her, the click reverberating in Mulder’s head far louder than it actually had been.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he replied quietly, staring at the closed door. His intuition was screaming at him that something more was going on than her being tired and wanting to get an early start. His stomach tightened. He replayed their conversation of the last ten minutes in his head, trying to pinpoint what he had missed. She wanted a break to relax from the boredom of their current mind-numbing assignment. He could sympathize with that—which was after all one of the reasons why he’d asked her to come along. He’d thought she’d enjoy a good mystery—that he’d remind her how much fun these cases could be.

Shaking his head in confusion, Mulder decided to let it rest for the night. He’d ask her tomorrow. And if she really wanted to go see a museum, maybe they could go tomorrow afternoon after all, after they’d talked to the gunmen. He shivered, remembering his now damp and clammy clothes, and headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would warm him up a bit.

But while he carefully soaped up his hair with the little motel soap, avoiding the tender area at the back of his head, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something. Something important.

Chapter Text

Alpos Lodge and Inn, Davis, WV
Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 7:33 am

The sun had just started to rise, casting a warm light over the still-damp forest around their motel. The air was still cold, though, and Scully shivered, rubbing her arms over her jacket.

She opened the passenger door, getting in, while her mind was a mile away. She felt Mulder glance at her, probably still wondering about her swift departure last night. Scully knew he had been confused by her reaction to his perfectly reasonable suggestion to follow up on their case with the gunmen. Reasonable—if you had planned this trip only for a case, that is, she thought.

They slowly left the parking lot, the gravel under their tires crunching. Scully turned her face towards the side window once again. This time it wasn’t to suppress a yawn or a smile like she had done on their way into West Virginia the day before.

The trees began to blur into a green haze as the car picked up speed, and the only sound was Mulder cracking sunflower seed shells between his teeth once in a while.

The slow hum of the car’s engine was almost hypnotic, and Scully’s thoughts drifted back to Friday night’s call—and the job offer. It was a huge compliment that she was being considered for this role. And she was very aware of that. A decade ago, she would have jumped for joy. It was everything her younger self would’ve dreamed of. And even present Dana Scully couldn’t completely ignore that she felt flattered and honored.

But there was more to the offer than just a stroke to her ego, she knew. It was a chance to get back to the reason she had joined the FBI in the first place—that she had wanted to make a difference—answer a calling that she felt was true to herself and who she was as a person. She had gone against her father’s wishes to pursue this path—even to a point where she wondered if he could ever feel proud of her again.

This job could mean all of that and more. She would be able to make a difference in the way she had intended, and she knew it was a path her father would have respected. And she would also get back to their search for the truth. Their search, not Mulder’s. That’s how she had started to think of it ever since her sister had been murdered in her place. It had become as much her search for the truth as it was Mulder’s. Mulder. How was she going to bring this up to him now? After yesterday, I know even less what I want to do.

The car hit a pothole, and she gripped the door handle when they drifted slightly to the side.

“Sorry,” Mulder said quietly, glancing at her. “I didn’t think it would be that deep.”

Scully nodded and raised her wrist to check the time. She must have been deeper in thought than she realized because it was nearly 9:30 a.m. and the forest had given way to crop fields and farmhouses scattered throughout.

Mulder glanced at her again and added, “We’re not far out anymore. Another hour at the most.” He grabbed another sunflower seed from the bag perched in the center console and bit down on it.

Scully felt her stomach grumble and realized that they hadn’t stopped for breakfast yet to not lose time. “You want to get some coffee and something to eat at the next diner we pass?” she asked casually.

Mulder nodded. “Good idea. Let’s take a break there as well, we’re making good time so far.”

Scully turned her head back to look outside the window. A break. The word brought back last night’s exchange in Mulder’s room—the way, he had been confused by her suggestion to take a break together—to spend the day doing normal things, relaxing, and enjoying each other’s company. She cringed and closed her eyes against the memory. He’s just single-minded. And frustrated, she tried to rationalize. So am I. Doing meaningless tasks for Kersh, basically being put on the sidetrack, would be frustrating for anyone. And she knew that always hitting dead ends took its toll on him as much as it did on her. Probably even more. This had been his quest since he was twelve years old. Having his work sabotaged had to irritate Mulder to no end.

She chanced a glance in his direction, studying his features in the sunlight.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been looking forward to researching this Mothman—or whatever Mulder expected to find this weekend—as well. But it isn’t just about the case, Scully thought. What about everything else? His and her definition of a normal life differed, she knew. But this felt like one step forward and two steps back—from nearly kissing in his hallway, to not even wanting to spend a day doing something other than work.

This is merely existing and not living, she sighed, resigned. Living seemed increasingly out of reach with each passing day. And time was not something she was willing to waste anymore. She’d learned that the hard way. Weekends in wet forests, chasing elusive monsters, and nights staking out abandoned warehouses in search of secret government conspiracies left little room for personal relationships outside what she had with Mulder. And he, with his single-minded focus, seemed oblivious to anything beyond their work.

Her mind flashed back to Mulder and last night and how he’d stopped her from checking his head—touching him really—for they both knew her checks for head trauma were more of a caress than an actual medical treatment. And she felt the rejection deep in her chest once again.

Mulder turned his head and gave her a lopsided smile when he noticed her looking at him before turning his eyes back to the road.

Did I completely misinterpret it all? Mulder’s a tactile person, maybe those constant touches are just his way of being close to someone he cares about. Maybe calling me every night is more about having a human connection. The realization hit her like a fist to the stomach.

What about the near-kiss? her inner voice questioned. Well, that had been a highly charged emotional moment. She’d just told him that she was going to leave. He must’ve felt like he was losing her. ‘You’ve kept me honest. You’ve made me a whole person. I owe you everything, Scully. And you owe me nothing,’ had been his words. Well, apparently that meant being his other half on the X-Files, but nothing more, she thought bitterly. Maybe he’d even regretted trying to kiss her later. That would explain why he hadn’t tried again—or at least mentioned it.

But before she could contemplate the confusing implications of a kiss that might have been, her phone buzzed, pulling her from her reverie. She glanced at the screen of her cell phone and recognized the number immediately. Skinner. Her heart raced as she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Hello?”

Mulder’s eyes flicked towards her; curiosity piqued, but he remained silent.

“Agent Scully, I wanted to follow up on our previous conversation,” Skinner said on the other end, his voice tinny over the hum of the moving car.

Scully’s grip tightened on the phone. “Can you hold on a moment?” She turned to Mulder, forcing a casual tone. “I need to take this. Would you mind pulling over?” She hesitated, then added. “It’s… personal.”

Mulder nodded, his expression unreadable. “Sure, hold on.” He pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road and turned the ignition off.

Scully stepped out of the car, walking a few paces away to ensure Mulder wouldn’t overhear, and turned around. He was sitting motionless in the driver’s seat, looking through the window at the crops to their left. She took a deep breath before putting the phone back to her ear, her mind racing with the implications of the offer.

“Sorry, sir. I’m able to talk now,” she replied, and Skinner continued. “I haven’t heard from you yet, and I’m aware this is all pretty short notice, but an opportunity like this doesn’t present itself very often. I’d like to set things in motion as quickly as possible. If you don’t want to take the role, I’ll have to find another fit that would be in line with all of our interests.”

Scully nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes, I’m aware. And I’m very flattered that I have been presented with this chance, sir—which is why I want to give it the contemplation it deserves. I will get back to you until tonight,” she replied.

“Yes, that would be great, Scully,” Skinner responds, his voice tight and Scully knew he was under as much pressure as she was.

She heard the click of the disconnecting line and put her phone back into her coat pocket, slowly moving back toward the car.

Mulder was watching her out right now, a question all over his face. She swallowed and took a deep breath. It was time to make a decision.

Chapter Text

The Apple House Restaurant
Interstate 66
Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 9:45 pm

Scully had a secret. Earlier in the car, when she had asked him to stop so she could answer her phone in private, he’d naively assumed it was her mother calling about something personal she didn’t want him to overhear. But the way she’d avoided his eyes ever since made all the alarm bells ring in his head.

It wasn’t even that she was acting more secretive—not more than usual, at least. No, those weren’t Scully’s tells; he knew. She was a private person, and he respected that she sometimes needed a while and some prompting before she’d admit that something was bothering her. What tipped him off was the opposite. Scully'd been almost compliant and agreeable for the duration of the ride back. She didn’t question his sanity, following a Mothman into the forest. She didn’t even ask how his head was doing. No, she seemed deep in thought, miles away.

He’d tried to draw her out, but no matter how many outrageous ideas he’d brought up or how many jokes he’d made, she’d only nodded, given him a polite smile, and turned back to staring out of the window.

She didn't question him or point out any flaws in his theories, and she didn’t even pretend to not be amused by his jokes.

Now, while he steered the car into the empty spot in front of a diner along the highway, he couldn't help but wonder what that call earlier had really been about.

Mulder gave her a sideways glance. Something was definitely up. She was staring out of the passenger side window and didn't move, even though he had already turned off the car.

“Earth to Scully!” he called, waving his hand in front of her face. “I didn't know you wanted to stay longer in beautiful West Virginia,” he joked.

Scully gave him a half-smile, but he could tell her heart wasn’t really in it. Without a word, she looked at the diner and got out of the car.

Mulder walked around the car, joining her with three long strides, putting his hand against her lower back, and trying to steer her towards the door. Another thing he’d been doing more since they’d returned from Antarctica. But this time her back stiffened, and she sped up, making his hand drop from her back. He watched her in confusion. “You ok, Scully?” he asked softly.

Scully turned to him with a questioning look. “I'm fine, Mulder. Don't you want to get inside? It’s raining.” He wordlessly nodded and followed her to the door, wondering what was going on.

The diner door squeaked when Mulder pulled it open, and the familiar smell of coffee, eggs, and frying sausages encompassed him immediately. He spotted an empty booth at the back of the small place and pointed to it. “Come on, take a seat over there. I’ll pre-order your coffee while you check what you want to eat.”

Scully shook her head, not looking at him, and headed straight for the counter. “It’s fine, Mulder. I’ll get my coffee,” she said. “We can look over the menu in a second.”

He watched her, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He always got her coffee now. And he knew exactly how she liked it. She’d never complained and seemed to appreciate the gesture very much. And it meant a lot to him that he could make her smile with such a small thing as getting her coffee right.

He slowly moved toward the back of the row of booths and slid onto the vinyl-covered bench, his mind racing. What was going on? He replayed the events of the past few days in his mind, looking for clues.

They’d both been angry at Kersh on Friday, but that was neither the first nor probably the last time, he sighed. And when he’d talked to her on Friday evening, she’d seemed perfectly happy joining him on his little adventure. Maybe that was it! Maybe she’s frustrated that we haven’t found any actual proof of the Mothman. Though those droppings and those broken branches in the bushes were pretty heavy clues, he mused.

But then there was the phone call—and her distant behavior, his mind helpfully supplied. He remembered how she’d stiffened up last night when he’d tried to put his arm around her or how she’d immediately retreated into her room even though they’d talked about watching a movie and getting pizza.

Scully slid onto the bench across from him, her hands wrapped around the cup of coffee. She blew on top of it and took a careful sip, her eyes avoiding his. Mulder watched her uneasily, trying to catch her eyes.

“Scully? Is everything ok?” he asked quietly.

She looked up, her expression unreadable. “I’m fine, Mulder.”

He cringed. How he hated that answer. And he also didn’t believe her. If he had learned one thing during that horrible time when they thought she hadn’t much time left, it was that ’I’m fine’ meant ’I’m hiding something major from you, and I’m in fact not fine’.

Mulder’s profiling instincts were sending him all kinds of warning signals, and he let his eyes wander over her. She was sipping her coffee, still warming her hands on the cup, and pretending to read the greasy diner menu lying on the table in front of her. But he could tell she was just looking at it, not really taking anything in, as her eyes weren’t moving. Her back was held straight, and her shoulders were as tense as a brick wall under her jacket—a jacket he noticed for the first time that was far too thin for the cold West Virginian weather in November, and he cringed. I probably should have told her to pack for a trip to the forest, he thought grimly.

He wanted to reach out, put his arm around her, and warm her up, but he was afraid she’d just push him away again. Something he never thought he’d think again after the last few weeks and Antarctica. They’d gotten so close lately that he barely had to think about whether she would welcome his touches.

A middle-aged waitress approached their table, and Mulder realized that he didn’t feel the least bit hungry. His stomach was one giant knot.

“Good morning, welcome to The Apple House. What can I do for you today?”

Scully flinched like she hadn’t expected the waitress at all. “Um. I’d like a bagel. With cream cheese, full fat if you have it. And some more coffee, please.”

“I’d just like some coffee, please,” he told the waitress without taking his eyes off Scully. The woman left, and they sat in silence, waiting for her to come back with their order. The clang of cutlery and the chatter of other customers were the only sounds around them.

They finished up quickly, Mulder mostly just watching Scully nibbling at her bagel and sipping her coffee. Within 15 minutes, they were back on the road.

Interstate 66
10:25 am

The silence was driving him crazy, and Mulder started fidgeting in his seat. Whatever was going on with Scully was giving him all kinds of ideas—none of them good.

He reached for the radio, trying to find a station that would distract him from his thoughts, but even the radio DJs seemed to have conspired against him. After flipping through several Sunday preachers and soft rock stations, he flicked the radio off with an exasperated sigh and brushed his hand through his hair. That of course reminded him of the tender bump on the back of his head, and he flinched. This weekend wasn’t turning out at all like he had imagined, he thought grumpily. He let out a frustrated growl, rearranging his seat once again.

He could feel Scully’s eyes on him and quickly turned to her, smiling at her, hoping to draw her out. She was studying his face thoughtfully, her eyes softer than they had been all morning.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I’m having a few things on my mind right now,” she said calmly. “But I promise I’ll explain later. This is about something that I have to decide, and I just need a bit of space. Can you give me that?”

Mulder nodded. “Of course, Scully. I just hope you know that you can talk to me about anything,” he gave her another glance before turning his eyes back to the road. “You know that, right?”

Scully smiled and reached over to squeeze his forearm. “I do know that, Mulder. Thank you.”

Mulder felt a weight drop off his shoulders. Maybe it has nothing at all to do with me or the Mothman. Maybe she really has to deal with something involving her family. Bill Jr. probably, he thought and frowned. Who knew what her brother was trying to talk her into now!

Scully turned her eyes back towards the windshield and looked out at the overhanging gray sky. “Mulder, would you mind taking me home instead of me coming along to the gunmen?” she asked. “I’m sure whatever they can find out about your Mothman is something you can tell me on the phone later.”

Mulder nodded, his mood falling again. “Sure, Scully. No problem.”

Chapter Text

Washington, D.C.
Scully’s apartment
Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 10:55 am

Mulder pulled into an empty spot in front of Scully’s apartment and turned to look at his partner. He could only see the back of her head since she was again staring out the side window, obviously deep in thought.

Mulder turned the key in the ignition, and the motor died; the metallic ping of the cooling motor was the only sound in the car. “Scully, we’re here,” he said softly.

She turned to him and blinked, like coming back from miles away, and looked around. “Thanks, Mulder,” she said hastily, turning to open her door.

He put a hand on her arm, and she stopped moving. He hesitated, then took a deep breath and asked despite his better judgment. Mulder knew he was pushing her, but he couldn’t just leave like that. “Scully, please. What’s going on?” he asked softly. “I know I promised to give you space, but this is driving me crazy. Is it because of that phone call from earlier?”

She exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “It’s—it’s complicated, Mulder.”

“I figured,” he replied, his voice soft but steady.

She lowered her head and began twisting her hands, which made him even more nervous. Scully didn’t tend to get stressed easily. He’d seen her walk into situations without blinking. Watching her sit here in his car, fidgeting, had him fear for the worst.

“I got a call Friday evening,” she said finally. “From Skinner.”

“Skinner?” Mulder asked, confused. “What did he want?”

“He offered me a job.” Scully stilled her hands and looked back up. “A really good one. A chance to make a real difference again, to do something meaningful,” she explained, her eyes never leaving his. “This could be a chance to get back to investigating the truth again.”

Mulder felt his heart rate pick up. “And you’re thinking about taking it,” he asked, his voice far calmer than he felt.

Scully didn’t reply.

“What about me? Don’t you think what we did on the X-Files together was meaningful?”

“You know it’s not that,” she said hurriedly, reaching out and putting her hand back on his arm. “But we aren’t on the X-Files anymore. And it’s just—” she took a deep breath, “it’s just that even if we try to work around that, do our own investigations off the book, or try to make a difference, it feels like we’re turning in circles. One step forward, two steps back. I could finally try to make progress on our work again in an official capacity. And I’m sure I could get you in as well after a while.” Her eyes were moving all over his face, and he felt like she was trying to convince him as much as herself. For the first time in weeks, he wanted to pull his arm away, to not have her touch him.

“But that’s not the only reason,” she continued. “My life is passing me by, Mulder. I’m 34 years old—and what do I have to show for it?” She laughed bitterly, and Mulder felt it like a stab to his heart. “A bit more than a year ago, I was lying in a hospital bed, thinking I had wasted my whole life. That I was going to die, having made no difference at all. All those evil men were still doing what they had been doing, experimenting on women, injecting viruses and antidotes, implanting chips, and playing god with people’s lives.” He watched as her lower lip started to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears. But she didn’t allow them to spill. No, Scully didn’t give in to tears about what had been done to her, he thought miserably.

“I even offered to put the blame on me, so my death wouldn’t be completely without meaning. Remember?” she continued, and Mulder wished he had never asked. He didn’t want to hear any of this. He didn’t want to think about those days when he thought he’d lose her. And he didn’t want to think about wasting lives and walking in circles.

Scully must’ve seen the panic in his eyes because she put her hand over his hands, and he noticed for the first time that he’d been twisting the car keys back and forth across his palm.

“And it’s not just about work. It’s also about me. About wanting to live life, to experience what I dreamed of when I was lying in that hospital bed, praying I would get another chance.” Her gaze never wavered from him, and where she’d been fidgeting earlier, she was as calm as she could be now. “I don’t want to waste any more time, Mulder. I don’t want to keep waiting for what I can’t have,” she whispered.

Mulder studied her face. All he wanted for her was to be happy and to have her know that she made so much of a difference in so many ways. All those people whose lives she had touched, the bad things she had prevented with her science, her sharp mind, all the comfort she had given with her compassion and her determination. But most of all, he wanted her to know that she had made all the difference in HIS life. Without her, he couldn’t even imagine what life would be like for him. She made him who he was—his anchor, his baseline, the reason he hadn’t given up.

The problem was, he had thought he’d made that clear a few months ago. His mind flashed back to his hallway, cradling her head against his shoulder, feeling her breath on his lips, and he closed his eyes against the pain of fearing that he might never feel that again.

Mulder could hear her breathing calmly, now that she’d said what she had meant to say, and he quickly opened his eyes. There was a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place—like she was trying to tell him something that she didn’t quite dare to say. But it was gone in an instant, and all he could see was her determination. He placed his hand over hers and turned to her fully. “Scully, you do make a difference. Every day. Not only at work but most of all in my life.”

She shook her head and turned her face away. “I don’t know, Mulder. Lately, it feels like everything is standing still,” she whispered. “Like WE are standing still.”

He squeezed her hands beneath his to get her attention, and she looked back over to him. There was the vulnerability again like she was trying to tell him something that was just out of his reach. He frowned. “Scully, you are the most important person in my life! I can’t even imagine doing this without you. I don’t even want to! Life without you—,” he sighed. “There just wouldn’t be any point.”

She looked at him, her eyes flicking all over his face, and he could see the uncertainty. All of a sudden, he felt like the most egotistical jerk. Since the summer, he’d always waited for the other shoe to drop—that she’d regret staying after all—especially after they’d been assigned to Kersh and his useless shit detail.

And he’d expected just such a call as the one from Skinner, where someone would realize what an amazing agent they had hiding away in the bullpen. And that she would finally be tired of constantly losing the things she wanted, gaining nothing in return.

Nothing but me and the chance to uncover the truth, that is, he thought morosely. But that had been his quest, from when he was 12 years old, and there really hadn’t been a choice for him. This was his destiny, the purpose of his life.

But for her? Yes, there were choices. And while she kept coming back again and again, he had always wondered when it would be too much. When that one thing would happen, that would be one bridge too far, and she’d have enough. And it seemed like she had finally gotten that offer that had made her reach this point.

Mulder closed his eyes against the pain in his heart and braced himself for what he knew he had to do. This was a choice she had to make. Staying with him and with the vague chance of getting the X-Files back had to be something she wanted—not something she felt obligated she had to do. All attempts to convince her—to talk her into it—would be wrong. Even if I thought for a minute, anyone had a chance to talk Scully into anything she didn’t want, he thought.

He opened his eyes and took both of her hands in his, looking at her earnestly. “I want you to be happy, Scully. If this job is what you need, and want, then you should take it.” He swallowed, and his throat felt like he was choking on glass shards. “But whatever you decide, please know that you are very much valued and needed in my life as well.”

He gave her a crooked smile and let go of her hands, and she looked at him for a few long moments, then slowly nodded and turned towards the door, pushing it open.

She stepped out, pausing to take another long look at him. “Thank you, Mulder.”

Mulder nodded wordlessly and watched her grab her bag from the trunk and move into her building. He didn’t leave for a long time.

Chapter Text

Washington, D.C.
Scully’s apartment
Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 11:05 am

Scully let herself into her apartment and closed the door behind her. With a weary sigh, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes.

The familiar sounds from her empty apartment surrounded her, and she listened for a few moments to the clicking of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the ticking of the old clock in her living room. Her grandmother had gifted it to her when she’d moved into her first apartment, she remembered with a smile. A time when she’d been so full of hope and ambition. She listened to the muffled sound of children laughing and shouting at each other outside on the street until she felt herself calming down. Scully straightened back up, took a deep breath, and bent down to take her shoes off.

First things first, she thought, making her way into the kitchen and filling the kettle with water before setting it on her stove. While she waited for the water to heat, she checked the messages on her answering machine and leafed through the mail she’d left on the table next to the door on Friday. The mundane chores gave her time to settle her emotions and calm her mind.

The kettle started to whistle, and she methodically prepared herself a cup of tea, before carrying it to the living room and taking a careful sip. Her mind drifted back to the last few days.

Mulder’s words in front of her apartment were playing in a loop in her head. ‘Scully, you do make a difference. Every day. Not only at work but most of all in my life.’ She took another sip and put her hands around the cup. The warmth seeped into her palms, and she inhaled the calming peppermint fragrance wafting up.

I do know that, she thought. And I also know he means it. But is that enough? her mind questioned. Enough to always run in circles? To take one step forward and two steps back? To know that we might have to keep searching for the truth on our weekends and evenings while spending our days calling farmers about their fertilizer?

She exhaled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Talking about going in circles. She was nowhere closer to deciding than she had been Friday evening. And time was running out. Hadn’t she joined the FBI six years ago because she had wanted to make a difference? And hadn’t that choice nearly led to losing the respect of her father? She had thought the X-Files were exactly where she could make that difference, and she’d decided to stay, despite it costing her her sister and her health.

And what about her own life? Would she regret staying with Mulder? Her best friend—but still just that? During family visits holding babies, in church, watching people hold hands, and listening to friends plan couple vacations?

The new role would give her more room for things like that, she mused. No assignment could have as crazy hours as their quest for the truth. A smile curled her lips, and she recalled Mulder’s excited face the day before when he’d found the deer droppings in the forest, trying to convince her it was a sign of the existence of their Mothman.

Taking the offer would mean leaving those moments behind, she thought sobering. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine a life without him, and without Mothmen—not to slog through rainy forests on Saturday afternoons and research DNA after working hours, so she wouldn’t be caught by the lab staff, questioning what she was doing.

Life would be dull, she thought, and suddenly it felt like a weight was lifting off of her shoulders. She’d have time to sit at home and read books on Saturday afternoons instead of arguing with Mulder about West Virginian folklore. And with sudden clarity, she knew she’d be bored out of her mind in this normal life. She’d always be wondering what they could’ve uncovered and what truths they might have revealed together. Mulder was right. It just wasn’t the same when they weren’t doing it together.

And even though she’d always stay in his life, and couldn’t imagine ever saying no to joining him for one of his side investigations, it wasn’t the same. She’d have to meet him outside of work or for lunch, and just the thought of not being right by his side—even if it meant accepting that they might always be just friends—made her stomach turn.

Losing him and possibly his trust and friendship and what he had come to mean to her was—unthinkable, she realized with startling clarity.

Suddenly, it all seemed so clear. She put the empty cup down on the side table and walked to the window, opening it wide and taking a deep breath of the fresh November air. A part of her mourned the cost of her decision because deep down she knew that she’d never find anyone she could feel even close to what she felt for Mulder. This decision could mean that she’d spend the rest of her days in the shadows of hidden truths and mysterious secrets. And never in the light of a home she’d share with someone she could come home to, where the darkness would not follow.

With a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed Skinner’s number. He picked up on the second ring, his ’hello’ full of guarded suspense.

“Sir, it’s Agent Scully,” she said into the receiver. Not waiting for a reply, she continued, “I’ve decided on your job proposal. I want to thank you for considering me, and I deeply appreciate that you offered this role to me. However, I have to decline. I feel like my current work is not finished yet.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line, and then she heard Skinner sigh. “I’m not really surprised, Scully,” he said after a while. “I suspected that’s what your decision would be. And I understand. Even if it might not seem like I do.” He paused, waiting for Scully to break in, but she remained silent. “Very well. I’m sure you’ve made your choice considering all the relevant factors, Scully.” He waited once more for her reaction, but when she again stayed silent, he finished the call with a quick goodbye.

Scully heard the click of the line being disconnected and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. It was done. Now she’d only have to let Mulder know. She checked her watch, wondering if Mulder had arrived at the gunmen yet and what he was up to. Probably researching Mothmen droppings, she chuckled. She couldn’t wait for their usual nighttime call to arrive to hear all about it and to let him know what her decision had been.

Her neck cramped, and she stretched it from the left to right, trying to work out a kink from having been up in knots for hours. She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes and rubbed her temples. Right now, she needed to relax and ground herself before she had any more emotionally intense conversations, she decided.

With a spring in her steps, feeling almost weightless, she made her way into the bathroom, deciding to take a bath. She’d meant to try out that new bath salt, she’d gotten recently anyway. Scully stepped in front of the mirror, looking herself in the eyes she smiled. Everything would turn out all right—even if it wasn’t going to be like she had hoped.

Chapter Text

Washington, D.C.
Scully’s apartment
Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 9:05 pm

Scully raised her arm and checked her watch for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last hour. With a sigh, she got up from the couch and turned the TV off. It was no use anyway. She’d tried reading, she’d tried cleaning, and she’d even gone through her closet, finally putting all the summer clothes in a suitcase and storing them in her basement. The movie she hadn’t been paying any attention to was just the last straw. Nothing made her stop thinking about calling Mulder.

Just call him, she thought, exasperated with herself. You dropped a bomb on him in the car earlier. You might as well call him now instead of waiting for your usual bedtime conversation.

She’d tried all day to not succumb to the temptation to pick up the phone. If she wanted to keep being in Mulder’s life, things needed to change. She’d drive herself crazy if she kept up being caught in the middle between her hopes and reality. He was her best friend, the person she wanted to find truths with and uncover lies. But she had to learn how to accept that what she felt wasn’t the way he thought about her. He needed her in his life as his touchstone—and she wanted him as her romantic partner. And if she didn’t want to end up getting hurt, she needed to get back to treating him like a friend and not like a potential lover.

The thought that they would never be what she had hoped for only a few days ago, pierced her heart, and she swallowed. I’m not a lovesick teenager. I’m going to be alright, she assured herself. They’d been friends for years, and she had loved their relationship. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be just as happy if things went back to the way they had been.

She checked her watch again and shook her head at herself. This was getting ridiculous, she was torturing herself for no reason.

With determent steps, Scully walked towards her phone and carried the portable to her living room window, looking outside. The parked cars lining the street were illuminated by the streetlamps, the wet roofs from the earlier November rain reflecting the light like sparkling stars.

For a second, she thought one of the cars looked like Mulder’s and squinted her eyes, trying to check if she could find her partner. You’re losing your mind, Dana, she thought. Stop seeing him everywhere and just call him already. You’re starting to see ghosts!

With a deep sigh, she pressed speed dial 1 and listened to the phone connect. Mulder picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice tense. She had been right, Mulder had probably been agonizing all afternoon about their conversation, and she closed her eyes against the sudden realization that she was the cause of his anguish. I should’ve called him right away, she thought guiltily.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she replied quietly, suddenly as anxious as Mulder, even though she didn’t know why.

“Hey, Scully, everything ok?” he asked immediately, and she kept her tone light.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I know this is not our usual time to call. I hope I’m not interrupting whatever you’re doing?”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting. I was just thinking about the case. You were right. The gunmen couldn’t find anything more on the sighting. It turns out Mr. Murphy is kind of known for having seen—,” he trailed off. “Phenomena.” She could hear the defeat in his voice and wished he was sitting in front of her now so she could touch him. With a shake of her head, she ruthlessly squashed that thought. This was exactly what had gotten her into trouble this weekend. He was her friend. Friends didn’t want to stroke each other’s hair, hug and hold each other, kiss, and touch each other’s bodies. With an internal sigh, she admitted to herself that she had still a long way to go before she was truly going to be in a place where she would be ok with just being Mulder’s friend.

She realized she’d been quiet for a while and focused back on Mulder’s breathing coming through the line.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said seriously. Mulder grunted in acknowledgment, both knowing that there wasn’t much to say about the case anymore.

“So, what have you been up to? Did you have a good rest of the day?” he asked tightly, fishing for any information he could about what she was going to do. She heard a crack through the line and realized that he was eating sunflower seeds.

“Not much, did some chores, did a bit of reading. Pretty uneventful.”

“Did the medical journals have any new interesting mutants?” he joked, and she felt warmth spread through her, happy that he knew her this well.

“Nothing that would be considered an X-File, I’m afraid,” she joked back, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. It was going to be alright, she decided.

The crack of another sunflower seed being snapped open came through the line, and she smiled.

“I made a decision, Mulder,” she said calmly, reminding herself why she had called. “I’m not going to take the job offer.”

Mulder didn’t reply, and she felt the urge to fill the silence with an explanation. “I thought about it and tried to imagine what it would be like. And I realized that I couldn't even imagine it.”

She gripped the phone tighter, feeling her sweaty hand slip on the receiver, uncomfortable to be this open about her feelings. “And I thought about everything we’ve experienced, Mulder. All the things I still want to find, the questions I want answers to.” She took a deep breath and soldiered on. “We’ve got things to get done, Mulder. And I don’t want to do it without you either—not even temporarily,” she finished quietly.

There was a long pause, and finally, she could hear Mulder let out a long breath. “I’m glad, Scully,” he said earnestly, and Scully closed her eyes.

“Well, I’ll let you go then, Mulder,” she breathed, the relief making her nearly dizzy. She waited a moment for his reply, but when it didn’t come, she added a soft ’Good night’ and hung up the phone.

Scully placed the receiver back in its place on the side table and made her way into her bathroom, preparing to get ready for bed. She was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the last few days.

Scully was just brushing her teeth and pulling the jar with her nighttime cream from her cabinet, a headband holding her hair back when a soft knock sounded on her front door, and she turned in surprise.

She hardly got unexpected visitors. At least not the ones that knocked, she thought wryly. The only one who ever dropped by this late was—Mulder. Of course. But how could that be? She’d been on the phone with him only ten minutes ago. There was no way he could’ve driven over here in that short amount of time.

She hurried over to the door, and after a brief check through her door viewer, she pulled it open. “Mulder?”

Mulder pushed past her without looking at her, and she closed the door behind him, turning around in surprise. “How did you get here so fast? Did something happen?”

“I was sitting in my car when you called, trying to get up the nerve to come up here,” he explained, starting to pace her living room. She leaned back against the doorjamb, watching him, her brow furrowed.

He suddenly stopped and turned to her, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Why, Scully?” he asked. “I don’t understand. Why did you even have to make a choice?” He pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. “I just don’t get it. You’ve been the one who’s told me that we shouldn’t give up. That we would get the X-Files back if we played our cards right. And Skinner makes one job offer, and you’re doubting everything?” He looked at her with wide, questioning eyes, and she turned her own eyes to the floor.

How could she explain to him that it wasn’t just about that? She did believe they’d get the X-Files back, but she had felt like that was no longer enough. Not anymore. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling for the right words. How could she explain that she had tricked herself into believing she could have it all this weekend—that she had wanted what Dana dreamed of when she was sitting alone on her sofa on lonely Saturday nights? But that was completely on her. How could he have known? “I don’t know, Mulder. I guess—I guess I just felt—like I wanted something else.”

Mulder watched her wordlessly for a moment. “I thought I had made it clear. Back in my hallway a few months ago,” he began, and her eyes flew up to his. “Not just your importance to the X-Files—but also to me. Personally.” His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, and she could see his anguish. “I thought you felt it too.”

Scully’s eyes searched his face for what he was talking about. Of course, she remembered the hallway and everything that nearly happened there. How could she forget? “Felt what too?”

“Oh, come on, Scully. If I remember correctly, you wanted that kiss just as much as I did. Because if you didn’t, let me tell you, you were sure sending mixed signals!” He put his hands on his hips, his body language a clear challenge.

“Yes, Mulder. Yes, I wanted to kiss you. But what does that have to do with this? Why are you here?”

“I just want to understand! How can you even think about walking away from this, from us after everything—after what I told you—” His voice trailed off, and for a moment Scully could see the young boy he must’ve been. His eyes were huge and sad, and despite his confrontational words, she could still hear the vulnerability in his voice.

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his chest, looking up at him. “I wanted that kiss very much, Mulder. But I just don’t understand you sometimes.”

He leaned closer, almost as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t miss a word of what she was saying, and that gave her the courage to go on. “Why did you invite me to come along to West Virginia this weekend?”

“Because the gunmen had found Mr. Murphy’s message on an internet site and his memories of the Mothman seemed accurate,” he explained slowly, clearly still not getting where she was going with this.

Scully nodded, her thoughts confirmed. He’d never intended anything personal to happen during the weekend.

Mulder was still watching her, his eyes darting between hers. But he kept silent, so she tried a different route to make him understand. “Mulder, why did you brush me off last night, when I came over to your motel room?” She searched his face, trying to see the truth in his reaction. But Mulder looked utterly confused.

“Brush you off? What do you mean?”

“When I came over to your room, Mulder, when I asked you if you wanted to take a break, spend time together, go out to dinner, maybe go to the movies?” She realized her voice had started to get an edge to it and took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was not Mulder’s fault, she reminded herself. Just because she had thought he’d finally made a move to turn their almost kiss into a getaway weekend with hopefully a real kiss or two, didn’t mean that’s what had been on his mind.

Mulder’s eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Because I thought we could maybe spend some time together, looking for that Mothman. Reconnect. Remember how much fun we had when we were investigating these cases? How you’d call me crazy—and then go on a boat with me anyway to find Big Blue?” he smiled sadly. “I wanted to see you smile, and have some fun for a change, instead of all the shit details we’re stuck with every day now.” He placed his palm against the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, almost tenderly. “Remember when we were in that cemetery in Bellefleur, Oregon? Our first case? The way you were shaking from the cold and the rain, your lips were blue. And yet you were so excited,” he smiled affectionately at her. “And your laugh. Despite it all, you laughed like you were the happiest person on the planet.” Mulder shook his head and took a deep breath. “Something changed for me that day, Scully. I knew I never wanted to ever do this alone again—and I wanted to have that this weekend. I didn’t want it to end, keep investigating until we were laughing about this case like we did back then.”

He let his arm drop and took a step back. “I guess that’s why I asked you if you wanted to come along. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you. Make you smile, do something exciting together, and maybe even show you a Mothman.”

Scully snorted, and Mulder laughed, reaching over and taking her hand in his. “That’s what I don’t get. You seemed to look forward to the weekend as much as I did. But then something changed. And it seems to be about—,” he paused, looking at her uncertainly, “not being in the mood for pizza?”

Scully just shook her head, squeezed his hand, and pulled him over to her sofa. They sat down together, never letting go of each other’s hands. “It’s not about pizza, Mulder. I guess we didn’t have such different ideas about the weekend after all. I wanted to spend time with you as well. And that Mothman did sound interesting—at least until it started to rain, and I was freezing—in the wrong clothes,” she explained, and Mulder looked chagrined.

“I should’ve told you that you would need hiking gear, shouldn’t I have?” He grimaced, and Scully nodded but didn’t reply. That wasn’t the point she wanted to make, though. “Why didn’t you want me to touch you?” she asked quietly, and Mulder’s brows drew in confusion.

“Didn’t want you—. Scully, what are you talking about?” He grabbed her other hand as well and pulled her closer, their faces only inches apart. “I don’t understand. And I really, really want to. When did I say I did not want you to touch me?”

“When I wanted to see if you’d gotten hurt. You moved away from me so fast, you’d think I’d burned you.” She bent her head down, ashamed of her neediness. She felt like a child, getting rejected over wanting a hug.

Mulder let go of her hand and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face back to his. “Scully look at me.” When her eyes met his, she could feel them fill with tears, and she swallowed, trying not to let them spill over. This whole emotional roller coaster of a weekend was catching up with her at that moment. “There is never any time when I would not want you to touch me. Trust me on that,” Mulder said earnestly. “The reason I moved away was because I did hit my head pretty hard in the forest, and I didn’t want you to make me go to a hospital to get checked for a concussion.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Scully stared at him in disbelief. “Mulder—,” she started, but he put his finger against her lips to silence her and then bent his head down. “Scully, would you mind checking my head? I think I hit it pretty hard yesterday,” he said quietly, but his voice trembled slightly.

Scully stared at him until a slow smile broke out over her face. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kneeled next to him on the sofa, tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the bump. She gave the back of his neck a little scratch while she was at it, and he raised his face to her, only inches away. Scully let her hands glide to his face, cradling it between her palms. “Your head seems to be fine, Mulder. Although—,” she whispered, but before she could finish whatever she had meant to say, he leaned in and softly covered her lips with his.

With a moan, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Mulder didn’t waste any time and lifted her off the couch and into his lap. She felt her heart thunder in her ears and straddled his legs, gripping his hair with both of her hands. He moaned into her mouth and pressed her hips closer to his, jerking against her. This was what she had been hoping for all weekend. It’s still the weekend, her mind filled in helpfully, and she ruthlessly squashed the thought down, far too busy trying to get another moan like the one before out of Mulder.

She felt his hand sneaking under her sweater, stroking up her back, and a wave of heat coursed through him. Scully pulled back slightly, trying to catch her breath while Mulder reached out to pull her in for another kiss, but she put her hand against his chest, softly stopping him from moving in again.

“That’s why, Mulder. That’s what I thought I could never have.” She gave him a soft kiss on his upper lip and followed it with a nibble on his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if I could keep going day after day, knowing that you didn’t feel for me what I feel for you.”

Mulder leaned his forehead against Scully’s. “You’ll never have to wonder about that again, Scully. Not as long as I’m alive.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she could feel his smile against her lips. Before he could deepen the kiss again, she got off of his lap and held out her hand to him. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, Mulder? I feel like we’ve done enough talking.”

Mulder didn’t need to be told twice.

Chapter Text

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.
FBI Headquarters—Bullpen
Thursday, December 3rd, 1998, 10:30 am

Mulder leaned back in his office chair and watched Scully typing away at her report. He pursed his lips and lightly tapped his pen against his chin.

Scully reached over to her right without looking and took the cup he’d placed there a few minutes ago. The coffee was still steaming, and he watched her take a careful sip before she closed her eyes and hummed.

The familiar sight made him smile. If someone had told him a few months ago how happy it would make him to see his partner drink coffee, he’d have opened an X-File on them.

“Mulder, what on earth?” Scully’s coffee appreciation had not been long-lived, and she was staring at her monitor with a disapproving look. “You can’t be serious!”

Mulder grinned. He knew exactly what she had been reading and had waited for her to come across his thinly veiled sarcastic interpretation of their recent interview with a 16-year-old boy. The kid had admitted to hanging out at the Waterfront Resort with some of his friends in the evenings, after sneaking out of his bedroom window with a few cans of his dad’s beer.

‘During our investigation into the highly alarming activities reported at the Waterfront Resort after dark, we conducted an extensive cross-examination with the prime suspect, one Peter Bergtrade, male, 16 years. Mr. Bergtrade bravely, albeit shakily, confessed to the heinous act of having snuck out of his bedroom window late that evening to attend a prearranged meeting with three of his classmates at the Waterfront Resort. He also admitted to the offense of appropriating a supply of his father’s beer. After careful consideration, Agent Scully and I concluded that Mr. Bergtrade contributed heavily to the reported nighttime activities. After confessing to his horrible crimes, Mr. Bergtrade was handed into the custody of his legal guardians under the strict directive to not attend any more gatherings of the kind,’ Scully read monotonously from the screen.

She turned around in her chair, staring at him.

Mulder’s grin widened. “Yes? Anything wrong, Scully? Do you think Kersh will approve of our investigation?”

He watched her open her mouth and close it again with a snap, then she wordlessly turned back around and started typing furiously, muttering under her breath.

Mulder chuckled and turned back to his desk. They might not have the X-Files back yet, but they had each other. And until then, he’d make sure that they’d have interesting cases to investigate to get to the truth. For the first time in months, he felt calmness settling over him. Last weekend had turned out very differently than he could've expected in his wildest dreams. He felt his lips pulling up into a smile. All of a sudden, the future didn’t seem bleak at all. No, he was looking forward to what it would bring. For them. Together.

His eyes dropped to the envelope lying next to his keyboard for probably the 10th time today. Why am I making such a big deal out of this? he thought, shaking his head at his jittery nerves. This is Scully, he reminded himself.

Without turning around, he asked casually, “Any plans for the weekend, Scully?”

Scully was silent behind him, but he could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head. “Well, I was thinking about reading an article or two in the new edition of my medical journal that arrived yesterday. Maybe I’ll even find time to fold some laundry,” she replied playfully, and Mulder felt his shoulders relax.

He grabbed the envelope, turned around, and moved his chair closer to hers, bending his head close so the other agents in the bullpen wouldn’t be able to overhear them. “As wonderful as that sounds, I was wondering whether I could inspire you to join me on another thrilling adventure.”

He handed her the envelope, which she took, a question in her eyes. “Another adventure, Mulder? What is this? And do I have to pack hiking boots? This time, please tell me. My shoes are still drying from last weekend.” She carefully opened the envelope, pulled out a small pamphlet with a two-story building at the sea on the cover, and started to read, her brow furrowing. “Mulder, what is this?”

“It’s a haunted bed and breakfast, Scully,” he explained, and Scully snorted. Undeterred, he continued. “It’s called Aida’s Victoriana Inn, and apparently a former guest died there in the 19th century. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to pay his bill before departing this life, so he’s wandering the Inn, trying to leave money for the owner.”

“Well, an honest ghost, one has to love them,” she quipped. She looked up from the pamphlet and glanced around to make sure they were still not being watched, before giving him a look. “A haunted bed and breakfast, Mulder? Really?”

“It’s also considered cozy and romantic,” he added and winked.

To his utter delight, she started to blush and ducked her head. But not before he could see her trying to suppress a beaming smile. “So what do you say, Scully? Want to spend the weekend with me, investigating polite ghosts at the sea? We could leave tomorrow afternoon, right after finishing our exciting day of work.”

Scully looked back up, not concealing her smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “You always keep me guessing, Mulder.”

He reached over and curled his hand around her neck, pulling her in, his lips curling into a soft smile. “That’s the plan, Scully. That’s the plan. I’ll always make our lives interesting.”

The End.