TrustSome1 Productions

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Mulder was still quiet when the police and the paramedics arrived. He was still in a daze, stuck in the moment when “Scully” shot herself, and he was there to see. He remembered crouching over her and gasping for air – he didn’t even have the strength to cry at the moment.

After all the turmoil, Scully stood next to him all the time, but he wouldn’t speak, and she was afraid that if she touched him he would finally lose the self-control he was trying so hard to maintain. But his unfocused hazel eyes told her that inside, Mulder was breaking apart nonetheless.

She didn’t know exactly what he saw; just that he thought she was dead. She knew the feeling pretty well, and she wasn’t happy in admitting it. The sinking feeling of grief, of impotence when facing the death of a beloved one.

“Mulder…” her voice was just a soft whisper next to his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“You need to go home and rest”.

“Okay”.

But he didn’t move. Scully sighed. She knew he was in no condition of driving, but she didn’t realised until then that he could be a lot worse than she had originally thought.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home”, she said, pulling gently at his jacket sleeve, signaling that he had to follow her. He followed without arguing. Scully saw A.D. Skinner amidst cops and other FBI agents, and saw him moving to approach them but she shook her head discreetly in Mulder’s direction, and the assistant director realised that he should give his agents at least one night of rest before demanding reports.

Fortunately for Mulder, her car was parked away from the crowd of cops, and he sat in the passenger seat while Scully turned the key in the ignition and started the car. His silence was killing her, but she didn’t dare pushing the matter, afraid it would make things worse.

The streets were damp and empty, leaving her some kind of peace of mind, following that well known path to his apartment building. She could turn off the reality and immerse herself in her own private turmoil of thoughts.

Their job usually presented itself in the most disturbing ways possible, and both of them had already seen the horrors of it, and they both had learned how to not be disturbed by it. However, no matter how much of the horrible things in this world you could see, nothing ever prepares you to something like your partner’s death. She didn’t know what he had seen there, and seeing his reaction to it, she was even more afraid to ask. What had happened? Did Linda Bowman shot her? Did her blood spill in Mulder’s face? Did she cry out his name while dying and he could do nothing for her? What had he seen?

And their previous argument… The last time they had spoken was to argue over the case, and instead of ending the fight with the typical “we agreed to disagree” mood, it had ended badly. He just walked away the hall, away from his distrusting partner in that moment, away from the only person he believed would stand by his side no matter what. But she didn’t. This time, she didn’t trust his instincts, his almost-always-right instincts, she turned her back to him and dared to truly disagree, without even giving him the benefit of the doubt.

In his eyes, she had died and that had been their last conversation. Ever.

Oh, god, what he must have felt!

And after all that, after the false loss, he pointed a gun at her. Not for the first time, that’s for sure, but the same feeling of fear always take over her in this situations. And this time, she was more than conscious that he didn’t see Dana Scully, his partner, but Linda Bowman, the woman who had just killed his partner.

She remembers shuddering when his piercing hazel eyes focused on her. His gun pointed at her, his arm steady. In his eyes, she only saw blood, and it scared her – he had never looked at her that way. She was shaking from head to toe while talking to him, and she just couldn’t hold the gun firmly. She tried to open his eyes to the real situation there – she was Scully, not Linda Bowman. She was alive. She knew him. She loved him.

But he wouldn’t listen to her appeals, and that… that was what scared her the most. “He’ll shoot me” she kept thinking, but deep inside what she feared the most was not being killed by Mulder (he was being controlled by an outsider force) but that after it, Mulder would drown in guilt, and most likely end up locked in a cushioned room, or kill himself before that.

Their future together… She almost let a laugh escape her with this silly thought, but the truth was, she did think about their future. As uncertain as it was, their future together would be over. It didn’t matter to her what they would face, happiness or sorrow, because for as long as she was with him, she could carry on despite of everything else. But if Linda Bowman didn’t step two inches from behind Mulder, it was all over.
He would have shot her.

Although she knew this for certain, she couldn’t carry a single drop of remorse towards her partner – whether because he didn’t listen to her at the time or whether because he was pointing a gun at her. The truth was, he was being manipulated by that bitch, he wasn’t responsible for his actions. She was very much aware of that, as much as she was that *Mulder* himself wasn’t. He would still blame himself after all, and it didn’t matter what she said, it wouldn’t erase the guilt that Fox Guilt Obsessed Mulder felt.

She sighed heavily this time, but it didn’t evoke any response from Mulder.

During her musings, she was only barely aware of Mulder’s stillness by her side. He didn’t honestly look bad, she thought, it was as if he was just sleepy and really tired from the day. But she knew him better than that, and knew that he would repeat the scene in the warehouse over and over again in his head, god only knows for how long.

She wanted to reach for his hand, give him some kind of comfort, but his spiritual distance materialised itself between them, and it was as if he was miles away from her, and all that Scully could do was watch him walk even far away. A thick wall of glass separated them, and the only thing she could reach with her hand was the cold surface of it.

Even though tempted to stop the car in the middle of the street and shook Mulder to see if she would get any response, she kept her grip in the steering wheel, and kept driving to his place. It wasn’t far away now, soon he would leave the car and her presence, and would be completely alone with his guilt.

She sighed again, sadly, her eyes on the road.

Mulder could have remained still all the time, but he was very much aware of each breathe Scully would take. She was there. She was real. She was very much alive, his Scully. Though she didn’t know, for more time than he would admit he thought of her as “his Scully”.

And he saw his Scully shoot herself to death. And he couldn’t do a thing about it. He felt as if he had been hit in the gut and couldn’t breathe. She had shot herself. *She had shot herself.* She was there, lying on the concrete floor, bleeding the blood of an already dead person, her long lashes closed over her eyes. It was as if she was sleeping. The only thing that accused that she wouldn’t open her eyes anymore was that discreet hole hidden by her hair.

He couldn’t breathe at the time. He couldn’t even cry, for god’s sake!

She was gone for good that time. He had finally lost her. Mulder had elaborated this theory about life a while ago, that said that Fate would only take from you what you can carry on without or make you stronger to keep living, so the possibility of Scully dying was, in fact, an impossibility, once he couldn’t carry on without her. Not only the X-Files, which would most likely become meaningless for him, but his life in every single aspect.

He just couldn’t do anything else without her. When she was abducted, he realised it. Only the hope of finding her alive that kept him sane that time. But now…

Mulder actually felt physical pain. He thought for one second that he would just die there, that he would bend over her and fall dead just from the pain of losing her.

But then, he heard footsteps. High heels clinging in the concrete floor. It had to be her. Linda Bowman. The bitch.

Suddenly the blinding pain was gone, and he felt engorged by anger. He would kill her. He would fucking kill her. He didn’t care about FBI rules or else, he would just drill a hole in her head. Better, he would drill *many* holes in her entire body. She would pay.

He stood there, saw her approach him. He told her he was going to kill her. And then… Then she said she was Scully. And Scully was there, lying on the floor, dead. He didn’t want to listen to a word she had to say, he just wanted to kill her, and he wanted to be sure he was killing the right person. He wouldn’t admit that she created any doubts in his mind. It was her. Scully was dead, and he was going to kill the responsible one…

If she hadn’t shot the woman behind him, he would have killed her. His Scully. He would have shot. He was determined to. Mulder wouldn’t think twice that time… He played her game.

At that moment, when he saw the real Linda Bowman lying on the floor, and a very much alive Scully at his side, he still wanted to kill. But this time, himself. He had pointed a gun at her. He pointed a gun at a breathing, very much alive, Dana Scully. He was going to kill his Scully.

In the end, he played Linda Bowman’s game like an ingenuous kid. She had him, she made him shoot his partner. Yes, because he would have shot, so in his mind’s eye, he had already done it. He shot his Scully.
If Scully wasn’t fast, she would be dead by now. And it would be all his fault.

But instead, here she was, driving her killer home, worrying about him, giving him sideway glances, frowning her beautiful face because of him.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to break something in a thousand pieces. He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but he knew that if she said one single word, he would break – although he also didn’t know what his break would be like. He was fighting one of the hardest battles inside his being at that moment to keep a straight face and act normal.

But above all that, he wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel her warm, soft skin against his, he wanted to hear her breathing close to his ear, and feel her heartbeat with the palm of his hand. He wanted to be sure she was real, that she was really alive.

He had always felt the urge to touch her, just lightly, just to be sure she was there, with him, but now the urge was almost overwhelming. It was the hardest battles of all inside him now. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. He kept repeating this like a mantra. She didn’t really like to be touched, he knew that. She was a very reserved person, and if she let him touch her as often as he did it was out of respect of this mania of his. Of course, he knew she loved him, but that wasn’t enough for Dana Scully let people go caressing her face or hand whenever they wanted. No, she needed to keep her distance, her professionalism. And as much as she respected his need to touch her hand or face once in a while, he respected the distance she wanted to keep.
You shall not touch her.

God, he was sounding like a priest talking about the forbidden fruit.

And before he could come back to reality, she was parked in front of his apartment building, staring at him… Waiting for him to get out of the car?

“Thanks” he didn’t dare to look at her, so he looked through his own window while opening the door.

“Mulder”

Her tone of voice made him turn to her with urgency. It was her “I’m fine” voice that meant “I’m not fine”.
“What is it?” he asked, just barely aware that his need to hold her was growing.

She smiled that discreet smile of hers, and replied: “I should be the one asking this question, Mulder. After what you saw…” she trailed off, and he gulped. “I mean… do you need anything?” Actually what she meant to say was ‘don’t blame yourself for what never happened, you were being manipulated and I don’t blame you in any way’, but it came out like that odd question. Pathetic.

He looked to his lap. He gulped, opened his mouth two or three times as if he was about to speak, then finally he said “Actually… yes”, still not looking at her.

Scully’s mind was racing with the possibilities. He would ask her to never talk about that again. He would ask her for her forgiveness. He would ask her to leave the X-Files. He would ask her to stay overnight. He would ask her to make love to her.

She slapped herself mentally. Now where *that* came from?

“So…?” she pushed him, once he still seemed quite hesitant.

“Can I…” He cleared his throat “Would you…” he wouldn’t dare finish the sentence.

“Mulder” she said, firmly. “Just say it”

“Can I…” and finally, he raised his gaze to her face “… hold you? Just… a while?” seeing her look of astonishment, he amended: “I promise I won’t be long.”

Now *that* was something she wasn’t expecting, and she fought the urge to let her jaw drop. Hold her? He wanted to *hold* *her*?

She didn’t know what shocked her more: the fact that he actually *wanted* to hold her or the fact that he felt the need to *ask* her to hold her. When did they become so cold that he didn’t felt he had the right to hold her whenever he wanted or needed?

Scully just notice her tears when Mulder said “I’m sorry”, looking straight to her eyes.

“No” she shook her head firmly, closing her eyes and fighting the tears back “Don’t be, Mulder. I…” she had too much to say, so she only said “Of course you can”.

She saw tears forming in his eyes too, but just like her, he fought them back.

“Okay” Mulder thought he was being ridiculous, he thought she would just hold his hand and tell him to go home to bed, but she didn’t. She just said “of course you can”. ‘Of course’, as if it was obvious that he could hold her whenever he wanted. But he couldn’t… Could he?

That was such an odd conversation, Scully thought, unbuckling her seatbelt while he did the same. Can I hold you? Yes, you can. Okay, so how shall we proceed?

She almost giggled.

And she almost let her jaw drop again when she realised that she was *nervous* about it. But how could it be? It was just a hug, for god’s sake. A hug from the man she most trusted in this whole world. Why would she be nervous? Why would she feel like she was ready to get into bed with him? It was just a damn hug! They had held each other hundreds of times during these years… They had held each other just a few hundreds of times these past five years, when they should have held each other thousands if not millions of times and… Anyway, he also had never actually *asked* to hold her before. He truly felt the need to hold her, it was a comfort to him hold her… And just thinking about it made her feel warm.

Damn, was she blushing?

Anyway, why was he still there, not moving?

“Mulder?” She raised *the* eyebrow, questioning. Had he given up the idea?

“Oh, Scully” and before she could understand what had happened, she was straddling him in his seat, while he buried his face in her shoulder and held her so tight against him that she could barely breathe. But it just felt natural to embrace him as well, and bury her nose in his neck, welcoming his smell in her nostrils.

Who needed to breathe, anyway?

His big hands roamed over her back, making her shiver. Damn, why was she wearing so many layers of clothes?

He inhaled deeply her smell. She was alive. She was there, warm and breathing and moving and shivering under his fingertips. She was real, his Scully was there with him, letting him bury his face in her shoulder, letting him hold her so close to him, but even then it wasn’t enough.

Mulder let his head rest in her shoulder of a while, then turned it to the right and slip down, hearing her accelerated heartbeat while she clutched his hair, forcing his head to her chest.

She was so much alive… He couldn’t stop to be amazed by it. She was warmer than he thought she would be, and she moved and held him more strongly than he expected. It was just when she released his head and took hold of his hands, slipping them beneath her blouse, that he realised how much she, too, wanted to be hold. She was giving him permission to fully touch her, skin to skin, a sensation they so rarely allowed themselves to feel.

He let his hands rest on her lower back, where he so usually touched her, but with layers and layers of clothes. Was it only his impression or was her light hairs staying on end? He allowed his hands to go up her spine, and she definitely shivered.

Oh man.

He brought his hands to her stomach, feeling her muscles go tight, and he massaged her abdomen. So warm… So soft… So alive…

He wanted to kiss her. Fuck, he had always wanted to kiss her. He could let his hands go just a little up north and see what happens… No. He was getting out of his mind. That’s the reason why he never really held her that close. It was too damn dangerous, for both of them. And tonight he had almost shot his warm and soft Scully, that was straddling him and letting him hold her and touch her and smell her…

Scully was so lost in the sensation of being so close to Mulder that she didn’t realised how embarrassing her position and movements were before Mulder pushed her away from his groin, making her straddle his thighs.
Oh, right, she thought. Self-control. Professionalism. Partners. Right. Damn.

But he still had his big and warm hands holding her underneath her blouse, making the situation quite unfair for her…

“Scully…”

“What?” Was that her voice? *Her* voice? Hoarse like friggin’ sex? He didn’t even kiss her!

“Thank you”

She smiled. A sad smile.

That was it for them. He slipped his hands from under her blouse, apparently ashamed. They had already crossed too many lines for one night, but never the one both of them wanted to. Too much of a cowards, they were. Scully knew that he wouldn’t mention this moment anymore, not even in private, so she took her chance in this so rare opportunity to be honest about their feelings.

“Anytime, partner” when his eyes sparkled, her smile lighted. “You don’t even need to ask, okay?”

He smiled back. “Okay”.

“I’ll be always here for you, Mulder, you should know that by now”

“I do…” he lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry… I played her game, didn’t I?”

She was quiet for a moment. “But you’ve won, Mulder, and you were right all along. I should be the one apologising here, not you. I was the one that didn’t listen to you, I was the one who made a mistake”. She wanted to lift the guilt from his shoulders, she wanted to let him know that if someone was guilty there that person was she.

He shook his head as she thought he would. “No, Scully” he was firm. “You didn’t almost shot me. I did. I almost killed you, Scully. If you hadn’t shot I would…”

She shushed him with one fingertip lightly touching his lips.

“Please, Mulder. Don’t do this to yourself”.

He didn’t answer, instead, he moved uncomfortably in the seat, and just then she remembered she was still straddling his thighs, and he was most likely getting numb from her weight. Awkwardly, she got to the driver’s seat and rearranged her jacket and blouse. Jesus, it was like she was a teenager making out in the car, though a teenager would probably get what she wanted.

Mulder opened the door and gave her one last sad smile before getting out of the car.

He hadn’t listened to her. He still felt guilty about trying to shoot her, even though he had thought she was already dead. The next morning, when they would meet Skinner, he would have the same guilt in his eyes. He would never let her convince him of the contrary.

Scully knew that he would never forgive himself for what he had almost done. She herself wouldn’t forget the anger in his eyes when he pointed the gun at her.

But it didn’t matter how many more sorrows they would have to face, they both knew, now more than ever, that they would always have someone to hold them when they needed, and they would face their uncertain future, where only one thing was certain: they would be together to hold each other. Always.
“Anytime, partner”, she said to herself, while starting the car and driving to her own place.

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A/N: I just re-watched the episode and wanted to practice my English. It’s been a while since I last read any book (or fanfic =P) in English, and I just need to make sure that I practice once in a while. I’m waiting for my copy of “World without end” arrives. =P
I’ve always felt like Mulder should hold Scully after the events in “Kitsunegari”. God knows I’d touch the person I loved (even if it was a platonic love) just to make sure he was alive. And jeez, this fic got longer than I’d originally planned…
Hints of humour in the middle of this fic because I just can’t help myself. That’s why I suck with angst. I’m just too much of a clown to write them.


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