Chapter Text

Mulder sat at his desk staring blankly at a still folded newspaper, his open laptop pushed off to the side. He reclined in his chair, shifting his gaze to the pencils stuck in the ceiling panels. He could hear the faint ticking of the wall clock out in the living room. The house already felt too quiet, too empty.

Scully stopped her car at the gate and shifted into park. She looked at the farmhouse as the sunset's softening glow lit it from behind. She would miss the serenity of this place. After about a minute of quiet contemplation, she inhaled sharply and shoved the car door open as she stepped out to open the gate.

Mulder got up from his chair and ambled to the kitchen. He switched off the oven and lit one of the burners on the gas stove. He took a bag of mixed vegetables from the freezer and dumped its contents into a saucepan, added a bit of water and then left it to simmer. He knew that Scully preferred fresh vegetables, but they hadn't been grocery shopping since they returned from their vacation, during which Scully received an urgent message that there was a job opportunity for her to work as a surgeon in Washington D.C. Her recent work using gene therapy to treat a boy with a seemingly untreatable illness had not gone unnoticed.

Mulder heard Scully's car door close and went to the front door to greet her. Scully pulled open the screen door, stepped in, and unzipped and kicked off her boots in one seemingly fluid motion.

“How were the contract negotiations, Doctor Scully?” asked Mulder.

She slipped her coat off her shoulders and folded it over her arm. She stood facing Mulder, hesitant to look up at him. Keeping her head down, she took a deep breath.

“That good, huh?” Mulder said quietly.

Scully gave a slight nod, “I accepted the position,” she said, “I know we talk about this, and I know you said you were okay with it, but--” Her voice trailed off. She looked up at Mulder.

Mulder placed his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze. “Scully, I’m not going to keep you hiding out here with me when you have the opportunity to advance your medical career.”

Scully gave another slight nod, and the tears that had been threatening to fall escaped in small streams down her cheeks.

"Hey," Mulder said, cupping Scully’s chin and using his thumbs to wipe away the tears, "You know that staying here would only hold you back. You know that brilliant career in medicine that everyone saw you as giving up when you joined the FBI? Now is your chance to pursue it. I won’t hold you back anymore. We agreed that this would be the best thing for both of us."

"We did, Mulder, but that doesn't make it any easier." With that Scully's coat fell to the floor and she wrapped her arms around Mulder, buried her face in his sweater, and sniffled softly.

Mulder rested his cheek on the top of Scully's head and stroked her hair. He held her close, deliberately trying to absorb and retain the feel of her: how she fit into his arms, where her head met his chest, the softness of her hair, and the faint vanilla of her perfume.

"When do you start?" He asked.

"Three weeks," she replied, pulling back from him slightly.

“Three weeks,” he repeated, “and then you’ll be back in D.C.”

“Yeah,” she said in a near whisper.

“Be careful,” Mulder replied dryly, “With you back in our old stomping grounds, the Bureau might try and re-recruit you.”

Scully shook her head, and smiled earnestly, “I’m not sure they could afford me anymore.”

Mulder’s hands were back on Scully's shoulders, and he lowered his head down so that his and Scully's foreheads were touching. They stood in silence as each reflected on what they had been through together -- the strange, wonderful way that their relationship had evolved from a professional partnership, to a deeply rooted friendship to, as if a switch had been flicked, being each other's one and only. Theirs was a slow and steadily burning passion. But even that deeply forged connection could not withstand the dissolution of their shared resolve to find The Truth.

As far as Scully was concerned, she had found the answers she was looking for. The quest on which she had joined Mulder was resolved. They found the answers about Samantha, about the Syndicate of conspirators who were responsible for much of Mulder and Scully’s suffering, and the role that these men would play in the inevitable, tragic end of the world as they knew it. The personal sacrifices that had been made for the quest weighed heavily on Scully's heart, especially the loss of William. Even though he was, as Mulder said, their miracle, Scully felt that she could never fully protect William from the dangers of the world. The child could never be safe when his parents both had targets on their back because of the work that they once did. She would never fully be at peace with the decision to place William for adoption.

Although Mulder shared Scully’s long-standing grief, he felt that there was still more work to be done. There were still answers that needed to be found, lies that needed to be exposed. Yes, they had uncovered some answers, but there were still big questions that remained. A deadline was approaching, and Mulder needed to find out when and how colonization would take place.

If the end was inevitable, Scully wanted to use her medical training to help as many people as she could. For her, there was still time to make use of her knowledge and skills, and she deeply desired to leave behind some sort of legacy of goodness. She had, at some point, realized that it was exhausting and impossible to save the world. In her time with the FBI, Scully had seen the worst of humanity, from individuals who chose to harm others, to terrorist organizations, to conspiracies of men working within the government that was trusted to keep their citizens safe. This darkness had for so long dominated Scully's life and consciousness that she clung to the only source of goodness that she could -- Mulder. Being out of the Bureau allowed Scully to emerge from the darkness. She saw that there were other people out there, fighting a good fight, making seemingly small, but palpable differences in the lives of others. And they were happy doing so.

As much of a comfort as it was to know that Mulder, through his forced retirement, would be safe at home, Scully recognized that he was restless. He needed to be out in the world, chasing down leads and puzzling out seemingly impossible connections to resolve unlikely and improbable mysteries. Their most recent involvement with the FBI reminded Scully of that. She was acutely aware that the man with whom she had fallen in love was that brilliant, determined investigator who, often at his own peril, sought to bring light to the darkness. His passion for the work and his unwavering compulsion to not only help individuals, but also to find the larger answers, were being stifled here in his home office, sifting through news reports, magazines, and online message boards. At first the isolation was necessary to escape the death penalty for erroneous charges against him, but what Scully realized was that it was also her fear that was keeping Mulder at home. She felt selfish for stifling him, especially as he stood there telling her to go out and work towards fulfilling her own potential. But she dreaded adding Mulder to her litany of personal losses. How many times had they held each other’s hands over the rails of a hospital bed? How many times had they saved each other from harm? Scully knew that she could not go back to that life. She couldn’t go back to chasing demons in the dark, wondering if she and Mulder would come out of it alive. She had been struggling with that even before Agent Drummy approached her to appeal to Mulder on the FBI’s behalf. Now that Scully had seen Mulder back in “agent mode”, and he had been exonerated of the murder charges, she knew that he was free to extend his search for truth beyond the relative safety of their farmhouse, and he would. And with his reignited passion for the pursuit of the truth came the liabilities that would most likely cost Mulder the ultimate price. This was the reason for the separate trajectories on which they were about to embark.

The irony of it was not lost on Scully or Mulder. They had to part ways to eliminate the constant fear, to ease the paranoia, and be separated on their own terms before they were forced apart by something outside of their control. None of this meant that the love was gone. They just had different, individual missions now.

They had stood together like this in the hallway of Mulder’s Alexandria apartment building ten years before, trying to say goodbye after they had been officially re-assigned, and Scully had given in her resignation rather than accepting a transfer to Salt Lake City -- a resignation that was rescinded after Scully’s infection with an alien virus and Mulder’s subsequent rescue mission to Antarctica to administer the vaccine and bring Scully home.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder said, “Please tell me you haven’t been hanging around any beehives, because I’m going to kiss you now, and would prefer not to be interrupted.”

Scully smiled slowly and said in a low voice, “I’m glad to see that our change in context hasn’t dampened your sense of humour, Mulder.”

Together they chuckled as Mulder lowered his lips to Scully’s and kissed her deeply.

“I can’t say I won’t miss that,” Scully sighed breathily as their lips parted.

Mulder smirked triumphantly. “Come on, dinner’s ready.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked to the kitchen together. He said playfully, “You can elaborate on what you’ll miss most about me later, and then we can create some lasting memories for you to take with you to D.C.” Mulder waggled his eyebrows at Scully and then planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Mulder,” Scully said with mock sternness in her voice, “Quit flirting with me when I’m trying to break up with you.”

“You’re not gone for another three weeks, Dana,” Mulder retorted, “And… I think it goes without saying, that even though we’re not living together--”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not together?” Scully guessed.

“No, I was gonna say that doesn’t mean I’m not available for booty calls.”

Scully raised an eyebrow, “Booty calls? Is that what you’re reducing us to?”

Mulder grinned, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, would you?”

Scully smiled enigmatically and took her seat at the kitchen table. It had been a long day, and she was starving.