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Mulder's flight back to DC had been hell. He’d struggled to even get a ticket, and at one point he thought he might’ve been arrested. He had no phone, Eddie Van Blundht must’ve taken his, and while he was able to scrounge change to call Scully from the airport, she’d not answered. It was hours later, hours. She’d be well back into DC by now, probably home and writing up the report. As he landed he’d realised that it was so many hours later that it was now Saturday and Eddie had been masquerading as him for over 12 hours. He wondered if he was sitting in a jail cell already, Scully having figured him out, arresting him with a quip about always wanting to put Mulder in cuffs.
The taxi ride to Scully’s apartment was ridiculously long and Mulder thought that perhaps the driver had taken at least three detours. When he finally stepped out of the elevator onto her floor it was a little past 11pm. He moved quickly down the hallway to her door. He didn’t know whether he should knock or not. He had no proof that Blundht was there, he might’ve been sat back in Mulder’s apartment, but he’d found himself worried. Blundht had already duped several women.
Scully was smart, it was unlikely that she’d be equally hoodwinked. She was probably just sitting back with a good book, maybe a glass of wine. He came to stand outside her door, felt him hold his breath as he strained to listen in on her. When he heard her laugh, he found himself relaxing a little until she said his name in a voice that he’d never heard her use before. He kicked in her door.
He saw her immediately, standing in her kitchen space, her back against the fridge. Mulder stared at himself, looming over her. Scully looked between the two Mulder’s in shock and barely had the time to even begin registering what was going on when Mulder pulled his gun on Blundht, and Blundht grabbed Scully by her arms, pulling her in front of himself like a shield. Scully, never one to back down from a good fight, struggled against him, stepped on his foot, elbowed him in the gut.
Mulder felt a rush of pride, but it was soon replaced by anger and fear when Blundht caught her in the head with his arm. She tumbled downwards to the kitchen floor, her head connecting with the hardwood floor.
Mulder stepped forwards, aimed his weapon at himself. He glared darkly at his doppelgänger, ‘Get down!’ he inched closer. Blundht raised his hands up above his stolen head, his eyes the same ones Mulder saw in the mirror each morning.
‘Get down.’ Mulder repeated, training his gun on Blundht as he shuffled backwards and slowly lowered himself to the floor, putting his hands behind his head. Mulder moved quickly, cuffing his wrists together and holstering his gun. He needed to call for backup, but his priority was Scully and so he turned to her. She was lying on her back, head turned to one side, there was blood. Mulder swallowed tightly, moved to kneel at her side, pressed his palm to her cheek, called her name. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cell phone, and as he was dialling 911, Scully moved. She shook, jerking violently. Mulder knew what a seizure was. Panic rose up inside him, images of her head scans with the cancerous mass flashed before his eyes. He spoke hurriedly to the operator and gave his badge number, requested police backup and an ambulance. As he waited, she became still and he checked her for signs of life, thanking whatever magical being that might exist in the sky when he felt her heartbeat fluttering in his touch.
He rode to the hospital with her, and never let go of her hand. He left Blundht to the police, that was something that could wait. Scully was his priority. She was always the priority, even when she felt like she wasn’t.
When Mulder spoke to a doctor upon arrival at the hospital, he suggested, tightly, with bile in his throat, that she give Scully a rape kit. The word felt like fire in his throat, or maybe it was just the bile. Regardless, he’d felt insanely nauseous when saying it.
Several hours later, he was sat at her bedside. She’d not had another seizure, and the wound on her head wasn’t too big. The doctor suggested that perhaps she’d seized due to her already compromised health. Mulder had hated hearing the word “cancer”. Scully was trying to live with it but he was finding it incredibly difficult.
He was holding her hand, his thumbing moving back and forth in a soothing motion, one he’d performed many times in the last 4 years. Some time passed in this fashion, and Mulder eventually nodded off. When he woke, Scully’s hand wasn’t in his and she was attempting to sit up in the bed, panic clear on her face. It was an emotion she rarely showed so outwardly.
‘It’s me,’ he told her quickly, ‘Van Blundht is in custody.’
She paused in her attempt to sit, looked at him, 'You're really..?'
Mulder nodded, 'Ask me anything only I would know.'
She shifted.
Mulder thought that perhaps she’d question him on what he held for her during her absence after Skyland mountain. It was never included in the final report.
Instead, ‘What are the names of your fish?’
Mulder snorted a laugh, ‘Really?’
She gave him a pointed look.
He cleared his throat, ‘Uh, Spock, Scully and Mulder Junior.’
She visibly relaxed, ‘What happened to Dana and Mulder?’
Mulder smiled a little, ‘You hated that I called a fish Dana, so I changed it to Scully… and you thought calling a fish after myself was arrogant. So Mulder Junior, because it’s a teeny, little thing and Mulder is a great name regardless of whether or not it’s my own.’
‘There’s the arrogance.’ She muttered, settling back against the bed. She didn’t move to take his hand back and he let her remain distant.
Mulder wanted to ask, wanted to know what had happened. If she and Van Blundht had done anything, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything except how he was glad she was okay.
She quirked an eyebrow, 'I think that's relative.'
'Yeah... Sorry...' he told her. She watched him for a moment then looked away.
'Can you leave?' she asked.
He eyed her in surprise, although he supposed he shouldn't have been, 'I... Yeah if you want me to...'
She only nodded, still not looking at him.
Mulder stood, grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, 'I'll see you later..?'
She only made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.
It stung that she didn't look at him, talk to him... That she didn't want him to stay but then, he supposed if he was in her position he'd feel the same way. So he left, shutting the hospital room door behind him with a soft click.
Over the course of the next two days he tried to visit her, but the nurses told him she didn't want to see anyone. Mulder knew she meant him, that she was saying "anyone" to avoid hurting his feelings, but it did hurt. And again he had to think about what she had been through, that Van Blundht had gone back to DC with her, been in her apartment with her, done... Done things with her, like have her up against her fridge, and sock her around the head into unconsciousness. Mulder's anger boiled at a steady pace beneath the surface. He hadn't gone to see Van Blundht, he didn't want to see him, if he did he'd probably try to kill him.
It was getting late in the day now, around 8pm, visiting times at the hospital would be over. Mulder had bene staring off into space, his television silent, the only noise in the apartment the soft bubbling of the fish tank filtering water. He glanced across to his pets, waggled a finger in their direction, watched as they swarmed towards him in expectation of food. Scully’s namesake followed him more than the others and he smiled a little.
The knock on the door made him look back, he wondered who it could be. The Lone Gunmen had never been to his apartment and likely never would. Skinner perhaps? He had half a mind to just shout that it was open but instead he stood up and wandered over, peering through the peep hole. He quickly opened the door.
'Scully?' he greeted her, but the questioning tone of his voice didn't go unnoticed. She shifted awkwardly on her feet.
'They let you out?' he asked.
She shook her head, 'I discharged myself.'
He felt like reprimanding her but thought better of it. She was a doctor after all. They stood at the door for several silent, awkward minutes.
'Can I come in?' she finally asked.
He stood back from her, held the door open, 'Sure.'
She stepped across the threshold, and he shut the door carefully behind her. He watched her closely as she made her way towards his living space and came to the couch, sitting down on it.
'Scully?' he tried, following her into the space, 'Why are you here?'
'I can't come to see my partner?' she said, a hint of annoyance in her tone.
Mulder didn't let it shake him, 'Of course you can, it’s just… you've been refusing to see me. I understand why, but now-,'
Scully scoffed, interrupting him, 'You understand do you?'
Mulder frowned, 'Yeah, I... You're embarrassed.'
She slumped back on the couch, head lying back, like she was going to sleep, 'Embarrassed...'
'Are you not?' he asked.
Scully turned to look at him, 'I'm incensed.'
'Incensed?' he repeated.
'Pissed off.' Scully reiterated.
'I know what it means.' he assured with another frown.
'You realise why?' she asked, turning to put her knee on his couch so she could tuck her leg underneath her. So she could stare at him without getting a crick in her neck. Mulder wasn't sure what to say. So he said nothing.
'I thought it was you,' she said, 'I thought it was you who had brought wine, who had listened to me talk about nonsensical high school stories... You who shifted closer to me on the couch and leant in to kiss me.'
Mulder couldn't help the flare of jealously he felt. So something had happened. A kiss. She'd kissed Van Blundht. The sensible part of his brain informed him that she'd thought she'd kissed him, Mulder. Then he felt a flush across his cheeks and looked away from her.
'Now who's embarrassed?' she ground out. She turned away, lifting her other let so that she came to sit cross legged on the couch.
He wasn't embarrassed, he was touched. That's she felt that way about him, and then he felt sick that Van Blundht had done what he did, and he realised that while Blundht had taken form of a husband, a space man, and now him, the women he'd duped, had been just that. Duped. Almost coerced in a way. It was assault. Rape. He swallowed thickly. Did Scully..? Did Blundht..? Was it more than a kiss? Did Blundht force-- Mulder cut his train of thought off as he realised Scully was calling his name.
'Mm?' he gave her a pointed look, made sure she knew she had his attention.
'I said the rape kit came back.' she said.
Mulder felt the flipping of his stomach. More than a kiss. Much more.
‘And?' he pressed softly.
She took a breath, ‘Van Blundht. Just like the paternity tests.’
Mulder watched as she fell back against the couch again, seeming to shrink right back into the cushions as if she was trying to escape.
‘You don’t have to be here.’ He told her, ‘You, you probably shouldn’t be here…’
She turned her head slightly to look at him, ‘I shouldn’t? Why? Are you disgusted by me?’
‘What?’ He asked, eyebrows shooting up, ‘God no, Scully. This is… it’s not…’ he didn’t want to say “fault”. That made it sound like she’d made a mistake in feeling comfortable with him, even though it hadn’t been. The idea that Scully could ever feel that comfortable with him made his heart warm, and the fact that it hadn’t been him made him beyond angry and not because he felt like he’d missed out.
‘I… don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’ Mulder said kindly, ‘You could’ve called about the results.’
She nodded, ‘I could’ve… but… I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologise.’
Mulder continued to stand, loitering a few feet from her at the other end of the coffee table, ‘You don’t have anything to apologise for.’
‘I thought it was you,’ she said, ‘I didn’t notice that it wasn’t…’
‘It’s fine,’ he said honestly, ‘I’m not angry with you Scully, I’m angry for you. For what Blundht did.’ Images of Scully making out with Van Blundht as him on her sofa crossed through his thoughts. He really was furious.
Where’s the crime? Blundht had asked them.
It was right here in black and white. Tricked into thinking you’re safe with someone you trust when you weren’t. Misled into soft candlelit conversations filled with private information. Conned into sex. Utterly deceived. It was enraging and Mulder hoped that Eddie van Blundht would be locked away in a cell and that he could personally throw away the key.
‘Mulder…’ she said quietly, ‘I let you kiss me, I let you touch me… I had consensual sex with you… Only it wasn’t you and now I feel so… god Mulder I… why didn’t you come around sooner? Where were you?’ she asked, looking away and staring into his fish tank.
He wished that he’d been there sooner, been able to stop this all from happening. He wished that he’d left the damn case well alone, ‘I’m sorry.’
He slowly made his way to the couch, sat down leaving a space between them. He felt that there was going to be a lot of space between them from here on out and he didn’t blame her. Maybe he’d even suggest she request reassignment. He wasn’t sure that this was something their friendship could survive.
Friendship. Mulder hadn’t really used that word in relation to his connection with Scully before. She was ever only Scully. No adjective needed. Guilt reared its ugly head. Was this all his fault? Was this because he’d never outwardly recognised her as a friend? Did she consider them friends? He realised it was past the point of asking that question.
They sat in silence. She did not turn back to face him, simply watched the fish in the tank. She waggled her finger at them like he’d done before, and he smiled a little.
‘It’s rape…’ she said after a while, ‘right..?’
Mulder folded his hands together in his lap. Technically? He sighed, ‘You consented at the time, but… it was under false pretences… your trust was violated. I’m not a lawyer Scully but I’d say it’s sexual assault at the very least… are you going to report it? Chase a conviction?’
She shrugged, ‘I don’t know… I’m so… lost… how do I report that I had sex with my partner?’
‘With a little moral support?’ he suggested, ‘All in all, it’s your choice. I won’t choose for you, I won’t push you in any direction… you know that don’t you?’
She nodded, ‘Yes.’ She turned slowly to look at him.
‘Whatever you choose, I’ll support your decision.’ He added, offering her a soft smile, just a curl of his lips.
‘Thank you Mulder. That’s means a lot.’ She offered him a small smile of her own.
‘That’s what friends are for.’ He said, leaning back in a similar position to her.
He thought he saw a flicker of something pass across her face, but she turned away before he could continue searching for answers.
‘Are we okay?’ she asked, ‘I don’t want this to ruin our… dynamic.’
‘We’re fine,’ Mulder assured her, ‘dynamic’s all good.’ She nodded absently.
‘That’s good…’ she replied, ‘Mulder can I stay here tonight? I don’t think I want to be alone at my apartment tonight…’
‘Sure,’ he nodded, sitting upright, ‘you can have the bed.’ She always did, he always slept on the couch. If you could call laying on it for eight hours “sleeping”.
‘Thanks…’ she got up, shuffled past him and disappeared into his bedroom. His heart ached for her when he heard the door shut and the lock click into place. She wasn’t taking any chances. Mulder felt hollow at her actions. He knew she felt worse.
He’d said their dynamic was fine, and he wanted it to be, but he wasn’t so sure that it was. He knew that he’d be all over the place had their positions been switched. He spent the night staring at the ceiling, listening out for her. Come the morning, Scully was relieved to find that Mulder was not in the apartment, but her heart swelled when she found the freshly brewed coffee and the cream cheese bagel in the kitchen. She found a small note, written in Mulder’s easily recognisable scrawl.
Went to work, will be back at 8pm (unless I hear from you).
Enjoy the bagel you heathen. Scully snorted.
There’s chocolate in the fridge (and beer).
Feed the fish? (I totally didn’t forget on purpose).
-S (for “Spooky”)
-Fox
She ran her fingers over the note fondly, and even as she felt the blood tickling her lip she knew, they’d be fine. As for herself? Well that was a completely different kettle of fish.