Chapter Text
Scully’s day commenced with the notion of at least half a century of life left to live. All of her ambitions were yet to be marked off on the scroll floating in her sea of dreams. How was she to know that before the moon found its way to the pinnacle of the night’s sky, it would all rapidly dematerialize and her life would be reduced to one harrowing truth - everyone dies alone.
The case was innocent enough, a decapitated corpse, dumpster diving for body parts with Mulder, an iodine filled bathtub Norman Bates would be proud of, and a man with regenerative powers that was the envy of all the starfish in town. Even Chuck got to play with the splice of life, taking some aura photography to analyze the head’s coronal discharge.
Mulder had been polite and protective of her while on the case, guarding her like his heart already knew what either of their minds were yet to contrive.
It was all fun and games until time came to a screeching halt with one sentence from Mr. Leonard Betts. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got something I need.”
Scully’s body stiffened, her eyes widened, her veins bulging with fear. The horror of truth sent pins and needles to every nerve ending. Luckily her body reacted without the aid of her mind as Leonard Betts attempted to plunge a scalpel between her eyes. With two quick punches and another two kicks, she sent him to his knees. She had taken a good blow, and he came towards her once more, but she shocked him with the defib and ended the scuffle.
“I’ll wait in the car.” Scully told Mulder sheepishly and glanced up at him before returning her stare to the black tar of the street. Luckily, the dark of night cloaked her inner turmoil from the watchful eyes of her partner.
She allowed Mulder to believe her reactions were from the altercation. The truth was she didn’t want to talk. This wasn’t a conversation, this was her life. Choosing to wait in the car for Mulder as he finished up with law enforcement, her brain replayed Bett’s words over and again. With a twist of the wrist she glanced at her watch. Minutes felt like hours. The car’s stale air encasing her in a coffin squeezing at her existence. She grabbed the door handle and the door creaked open. She didn’t want Mulder to leave her and yet she needed to be alone. Their friendship, so intimate, yet tonight she made herself a stranger. Perhaps a stranger to herself. Right now she felt cold, deep inside her bones. For a fraction of a moment she imagined Mulder’s strong arms wrapped around her, healing her, warming her, making everything around them liquify. No words, just his arms taking away the possibilities. Her insides hollowed. It was wrong to do that to him. Being the only dominant figure in her life, her brothers both distant, it was wrong to put that cross on his shoulders. It wasn’t about staying professional, she didn’t question that, it was about burdening their friendship. When he returned he stated the hard facts including Leonard Bett’s mother’s diagnosis.
“Cancer,” Scully leaked out in a whisper.
“Yeah,” Mulder confirmed, still misinterpreting her body language and fears.
“You did a good job, Scully. You should be proud,” Mulder reassured her and it only added to her feelings of isolation.
“I want to go home,” she replied back. He solemnly nodded an understanding and got in the driver’s seat, starting up the car. The seatbelt clicked into place as she stretched it across her. Ironic as it provided no safety from that which presently was taking her life. Mulder dropped her off at her apartment and she remained polite, mustering a wave. The last thing she wanted was for him to have suspicions.
Finally inside her sanctuary, she quickly got ready for bed, convincing herself that there was no proof that she was ill in any way. She cocooned herself inside blankets and sheets, but sleep would not come. Tossing and turning, the time turned 2:08 in the A.M. with a fit of coughs to follow. Two crimson buttons sat buoyantly atop the backdrop of her crisp milky white linen pillowcase. Her finger dipped into one of the pools as she felt a nightmare leak from her nose confirming her fear. Blood.
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The following week…
She had been looking forward to tonight for two weeks. Brushing a comb through her strawberry locks, Scully could already hear the beat of the music, see the colored lights flickering from a strobe. Her clock radio was booming some heavy dance music through its tiny speakers, putting her in the mood for fun. Tonight the whole gang would be there. Friends she hadn’t seen in a few years now and she planned on cutting loose. She wouldn’t be counting drinks or thinking about anything remotely work related. In a half-walk/half-dance she trotted from the bathroom covered in her robe ready to decide on her attire for the evening. She heard the distant ringing of her phone over the music and turned it down to answer. “Scully.”
“Scully, it’s me. Mulder. I’m going to need your help.”
And just like that her night changed. Another day she would miss out on the life she had yet to lead. The one she lied to herself and said she would make time for right after this one last case, but the last case never presented itself. Work was all she had and that thought filled her with dread. The days had begun to dissolve into themselves, traveling on perpetual roads, in motels where other people’s memories dwelled, flying into storms of dissociative fugue. As each season dissipated so did her identity, diluted by Mulder’s compulsions that were rapidly amassing, giving into an abyss of paperwork and branching into infinite paths of dissection and analysis. Her fingertips were scraping against the edges of reality and reverie.
The years had flown and her mid-thirties were hastily approaching. If she desired to have children, a family, a husband, some semblance of life, it was healthiest to start now. She already knew of the consequences of waiting until after thirty five. To Mulder, none of that life held any weight. His life was to investigate and expose. Nothing beyond the surface and he was content at that. She had not abandoned the hope of something more as he had. He was smothering her, extinguishing her time, aging her without the prospect of creating a history, a legacy for herself, out of her own singularity. She was a bomb about to pop.
Scully fought herself and against her own better judgment, canceled her plans and booked her flight to investigate another case with Mulder.
*********************************
“Mulder, it’s Saturday and we’re in Nebraska. Can I at least know what was so urgent that you had to get me out of bed and onto a red eye?” Scully prodded as she gazed out the window and into the abyss.
Mulder played the imaginary keys on the steering wheel, breathing his frustrations out of his nose. He looked over at his partner. Her expression wasn’t exactly contempt, but she wasn’t dancing any jigs either. “Where would be a better place to learn about corn pollination and corn seed germination?”
“But why on a Saturday and why so early in the morning?”
Mulder breathed out another hard sigh. She appeared to be losing interest in their plight. “There are less eyes on the weekends and this was the earliest the horticulturist would agree to meet up. Nebraska can’t be all bad. It was the birthplace of Marlon Brando, Fred Astaire, and the famous geneticist George Beadle. Nebraska claims the invention of the Reuben sandwich, McRib, and frozen TV dinners.”
“Ah. Let’s not forget Arbor day,” Scully replied. “You’re right Mulder, it’s like Shangri-La. I mean the state drink is Kool-Aid, which I believe you’ve been drinking plenty of lately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mulder asked, narrowing his eyes. “Look, if you wanted to stay home, you didn’t have to come. I could have done this on my own.”
“Thank you for permission.” Scully crossed her arms and stared back out the window. In the distance she could swear she saw a tumbleweed blow by.
Meanwhile, Mulder sat on the other side of the car, continuing to drive them farther into the deep, with an expression on his face of utter confusion as to why she wasn’t having the time of her life and singing his praises to the gods of the prairie dog. “Scully, what’s wrong?” he asked, delicately.
“Nothing… I’m fine Mulder…. Just haven’t had a lot of sleep lately.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. When we’re done we can hit the Air and Space museum if you like.”
Mulder’s face brightened and his back straightened. “Really? If you want we can go see Carhenge too.”
“Carhenge?”
“Yeah, you know, the replication of Stonehenge in England only with cars..” He nodded his head excitedly.
Scully shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Mulder gave her a thumbs up from the steering wheel and concentrated on the empty two lane road ahead, unsure of the growing distance between them. It was like she had encased a piece of her heart in an impenetrable wall. What was she hiding? What was she burying so deep inside herself?
**************************************
“What if I give half of my vacation days to Scully?” Mulder frowned, growing more agitated by the minute. It was a trap to get him away from the x-files because he was closing in on the truth.
“No. It doesn’t work like that,” Skinner returned, letting Mulder know with a push of his eyeglasses that he was quickly losing his patience.
“Who’s going to run the x-files while I’m away?” Mulder countered.
“Agent Scully should have no issues carrying the workload.”
“You mean I can’t take her with me?” Mulder fumed. Not only were they forcing him to leave the office, but they were attempting to keep him away from Scully as well. It was lucky for Mulder that there was a desk between him and Skinner or Mulder might have been sent to HR over more than just vacation days.
“No,” Skinner said firmly. “Mulder, take some time. Get your mind on something else.”
Mulder’s brow furrowed. “What else is there?”
Sulking inside the elevator, he punched the button to the basement floor. If nothing else, he could depend on Scully to be around to keep an eye on things.