Work Text:
She froze silently in the evening air. Just above freezing, but enough to numb her lips and redden her cheeks. Not once had she hesitated to enter the building before, but tonight was a different animal. Skittish like a scared deer, complete with staring into the light that shone from the familiar window into the street below, transfixed and still. The masking tape “X” was illuminated by the desk lamp, pointed in her direction and piercing her vision. She wondered what the message was regarding this time. Whatever it was, it was not for her. Not for Dana Scully.
Scully was alone, and that fact was beginning to turn into a heavy weight. Mulder's apartment window had a secret message to tell a secret informant, name unknown. But, he – her partner – kept her in the dark about certain things. Seeing that this evening was possibly the straw that broke the camel's back, she found herself here. She had not planned to be miserable tonight; she was alone as usual. Finding herself walking to her car and driving to her partner's place for no particular reason, the numb, sleepwalk-like trance she found herself in was replaced by disappointment and borderline tears. Once more left out of his quest of the week with selfish determination.
After all we've been through...you are still determined to go it alone.
Her legs had a mind of their own, seemingly, as she found herself moving inside, toward the elevator. The doors parted on his floor, and she knocked on apartment 42, her knuckle dry from the cold air. She winced slightly and dabbed the single tear welling up. No crying in front of him – not this time.
Mulder whipped open the door, his face quickly shifting from frustration to concern as he recognized his visitor.
“Scully, what's up? It's late,” he said with mild concern. His voice was tired.
She sighed. “I don't know. I couldn't sleep. Found myself driving my car, and here I am.”
He tried to read her face, her intent, but couldn't see past her usual walls. Her white shirt cuff had a hint of black – mascara, he guessed – and he pictured her crying only moments before.
Scully lifted here gaze to his. “Can I come in?”
He welcomed her in, wordlessly. Her walk was not her usual one, confident with intent. She was unsure. The “X” drew her eyeline as she walked forward to the living room dividing wall, leaning her shoulder against it. Her eyes remained forward as Mulder approached from behind, near her left shoulder.
“Have a seat, Scully.” She remained motionless as he retreated to the kitchen.
Her eyes narrowed, and she called out to him, “I take it you were expecting someone.”
Mulder closed the fridge door harder than he intended. Two bottles of beer in hand, he offered one to Scully and touched her upper back softly. The combination of this and his gentle, concerned voice started melting her reserve, and she proceeded to sit on the warm leather of the sofa. He joined her, half an arm's length away.
He turned his head to the window, in parallel with hers. “Not so much expecting as much as plain hoping someone will give me some answers. He doesn't respond at every beck and call I may have. Looks like tonight is not my night.”
As he turned his head to look back at Scully, her gaze averted to her lap, fiddling with her un-manicured fingernails. “Mulder...”
“Yes, Scully?”
She couldn't help feeling that she was out-of-sight, out-of-mind to him. However, while in his presence, she often felt like the most important thing in the world to him. It was disarming to say the least.
“I do feel left out of the loop with you, sometimes. It isn't a good feeling.” Her eyes were damp.
It may be some mild guilt I'm seeing on his face, she thought, as she looked up to meet him gazing back at her. He tousled his hair.
“I'm sorry. Some things just register for me as my issues, my questions. I don't always think about you wanting to be in on every detail.”
Scully sighed and put down her bottle on the coffee table. “I would like to be the one to decide for myself what's important and what's not when it comes to our cases. I'm your partner, Mulder. I don't want to be kept in the dark, unless it's my choice to leave it alone.”
Tonight was not a night for flowery words of apology, but he wanted to try. Mulder knew he could be a selfish little shit. He could be better if he wanted to, and he hated himself a little bit at that moment. He reached over with his right hand and grabbed hers, intertwining their fingers.
“I am a selfish little shit, please forgive me.” He smirked, mildly, hoping not to drive the self-deprecation over the edge into making fun of her feelings.
“Mulder, you...”
He raised an eyebrow. Scully's anger melted slowly as she exhaled and settled deeper into the sofa cushion.
“I really hope you're hearing me.” The walls were coming up again.
He stroked her knuckles with his thumb. With all the sincerity he could muster, he reached for her chin with his other hand and lifted her slightly in his direction.
“I always hear you. Sometimes I'm just too dumb to admit you're the smartest one in the room.”
She smiled, dipping her head again to avert her eyes. “Thank you.”
He kept his eyes on her for a moment before lifting his beer bottle to hers. “Cheers, Scully.”
“Cheers.”
They clinked bottles and drank. Scully looked into the middle distance lost in thought, while Mulder turned on the TV to find a Twilight Zone marathon.
“Consider this your open invitation to drop by whenever you can't sleep, or to put me in my place. Beer, popcorn, and old science fiction marathons to cure all that ails you.”
She grasped his hand again in response. Her selfish little shit not so selfish this evening. He dipped his chin to glance in between them at their entangled digits.
“So Mulder, are you going to tell me what your questions were about our case, or will I be forced to spoil this episode's twist for you?”
She knew full well he knew every episode by heart. And he knew that she knew. He regarded her face with contentment, the corners of his smile betraying his willpower, to be cool and in control. She returned the contented expression.
“Later. We're just getting to the good part.”
He was not alone, and neither was she.