Chapter Text
Mulder was usually the first in the office, especially on a Monday morning, but the lights were already on when he walked in and there was a cup of coffee with Scully’s name and lipstick on it sitting on the little table that they’d long ago come to the silent agreement on was her area of the room. Her satchel was tucked up against the side of her chair, but she was nowhere to be found. He assumed she had stepped out to use the ladies room or gone up to the vending machines for a snack since he didn’t see the white paper bag holding her breakfast bagel or even the pink box of donuts she occasionally treated them to when she was feeling celebratory. He supposed after the week they’d had, there wasn’t much to celebrate and donuts would be a pretty far fetched possibility.
Going about his usual routine, Mulder draped his overcoat on the coat rack next to Scully’s, sat down at his desk, and flipped on his computer. He checked his email and voice messages, which took at least fifteen minutes, but Scully had not yet returned. He called her cell phone and frowned when a muffled ring could be heard coming from her satchel. Sometimes, not being able to reach his partner gave him a few fleeting moments of panic and his first thoughts upon rising from his chair were not to touch anything in case it was a crime scene.
Don’t be stupid, he told himself, crouching next to her chair and looking things over for anything unusual. There were no signs of a struggle. He let his hand hover near her coffee cup and he could still feel heat radiating off of it, so it seemed logical that he’d just missed her, wherever she’d gone. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well or maybe she’d run into someone in the hall that she wanted to catch up with, though that seemed unlikely. Perhaps she’d gone to get donuts or bagels after all and there was a line at the bakery.
Knowing he shouldn’t, but doing it anyway, Mulder opened the satchel next to her chair and looked inside. He saw the antenna of her phone poking up from inside and he pulled it out. The missed call from the office showed on the display. Her wallet was just under the phone, which blew his theory on picking up some pastries unless she’d only walked out with some cash and her ID. It should’ve been blown by the very fact she’d left her jacket behind, but he was busy trying not to be alarmed.
Fear was not a very good excuse, but it was the reason he did what he did next, pulling out the papers from inside the back pocket of the satchels to look for a clue to her whereabouts. The top paper was printed on thick paper and addressed to Assistant Director Walter Skinner.
Sir -
Please accept this letter of resignation from the X-Files Division and a formal request for reassignment. Though I am passionate and dedicated to my current assignment, in light of recent events, I feel that it would be in the best interests of the bureau, Agent Mulder, and myself, to tender my resignation from this division and seek other opportunities. I would be willing to accept a transfer out of state if necessary.
I do not make this request easily or rashly and have given this much consideration. As I’m sure you are aware, the strongest partnerships are based heavily on trust, and once those bonds are broken, it’s difficult to return to what once was. Over the course of our last investigation, the damage done to the partnership between myself and Agent Mulder is, in my opinion, irreparable. I once believed that ours was a partnership that was impenetrable. I was wrong. The X-Files unit deserves better.
I ask that you do not take the above as an indictment against Agent Mulder in any way. His singular devotion to the cases he is assigned to exceeds every other agent at the bureau, myself included. I am confident that you will not find any issues with finding a new partner for him, in fact I can name an agent more suitable for the position than I ever was, but I will give Agent Mulder the courtesy of making that request himself.
Her signature ended the letter, standing out boldly from the typewritten text in larger, looping cursive in blue ink. Mulder felt like his heart had stopped. His knees began to shake. He felt like he might vomit.
“Shit,” he whispered, staring at the paper until his vision blurred. It was dated three days prior, the same night they were admitted and released from quarantine. A different kind of panic took over.
Quickly, Mulder stuffed the papers back into the pocket of the satchel he found them in. Just in time too, because as soon as he closed the flap, he heard the elevator down the hall ding. He jumped up and hustled back to his desk, noticing too late that her satchel had fallen over onto its side as he sat down. He tried not to look guilty even as he nervously smoothed his tie down his chest as Scully neared, every click of her heels sounding loud and ominous.
“Oh hey, Scully,” he said, and then shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Good morning,” she answered. He watched her carefully, noticing how slowly she seemed to move and that she didn’t look at him when she walked in. He followed her gaze to the fallen satchel and smoothed his tie again.
“I uh, I tried calling you,” he said. “You left your phone here and it rang.” He tried not to wince at how lame he sounded.
“I was in Skinner’s office,” she said, bending to right her bag.
“Oh?” Now he knew he was going to throw up. He held his breath, waiting for her to tell him she was leaving. He needed time to prepare his arguments, time that she obviously wasn’t going to give him, but she didn’t say anything. She simply sat down at her desk and opened her laptop.
An interminable silence followed. Mulder stared at the back of Scully’s head as she scrolled through email and sipped her coffee. He felt like she was actively ignoring him and it felt awful. The room felt unbearably hot and he loosened his tie. There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, but it got stuck there. He really did want to tell her how sorry he was and what a horse’s ass he’d been, but he wasn’t sure it would help.
Maybe Scully leaving would be the best thing for both of them. She could have a life again, the one she should have had before so much was taken away from her because of his quest for the truth. He once told her she should get as far away from him as possible, but she stayed. He’d been relieved and grateful that she chose to remain by his side, but deep down he knew it was selfish of him. Maybe it was time for him to man up and try to get along without her even though it felt like she was the one thing in his life he couldn’t do without. If she was hellbent on leaving, it needed to be a clean break, one with no hard feelings or unresolved anger. He owed her an apology and he needed to do it now.
“Scully, I…”
“Did you read this email from Arthur Dales?” she asked.
“What?”
“He wants you to check a news article about some missing people.”
“I hadn’t...no, I didn’t see it.”
Scully tipped her head back as she drank the rest of her coffee and then lifted the sleeve of her blazer to check her watch. She closed her laptop and tossed the paper cup in the trash.
“I need to head up to the labs for some preliminary forensic IDs on the El Rico massacre,” she said, reaching down and lifting her satchel up to place it on her lap. “I was told they’d be done by nine.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Scully opened her bag and rifled through the papers in the back pocket. He watched her fingers dance over pages that were half-pulled from the packet and then selected one and pulled it out. It was not the resignation letter, or maybe it was another copy. Maybe all the papers were just copies of the same letter and she intended to post one on every announcement board on every floor so the whole bureau would know she’d finally kicked Spooky Mulder to the curb.
“I’m not expecting much,” Scully said, folding the paper in her hand and rising up from her chair. “But, if there are any positive IDs...if we find the smoking man or...well, I’ll call you.”
“You’ll be back down?” Mulder asked, eying the satchel she’d left leaning against the leg of her chair.
“It won’t take long. Enough time to find out what Arthur Dales wants from us and where you’ll be dragging me off to, I’m sure.”
“What was your meeting with Skinner about?”
“I didn’t have a meeting with Skinner.”
Mulder cocked his head and pursed his lips. She finally turned towards him and raised one brow at his quizzical expression. “You said you were in his office,” he said. “So…”
Scully paused and the tips of her nails came to rest on the edge of Mulder’s desk. “I submitted something to him in error,” she said. “I needed to retrieve it.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be back.”
“Scully, wait.”
Mulder stood and came around to the front of his desk where Scully was standing. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at him with a passive gaze, betraying nothing. She’d always had the best poker face when she wanted to. His hand moved up to touch her cheek before he really thought about it and then pulled back at the last second and briefly cupped her elbow instead.
“I just want to tell you I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I owe you about six years of apologies.”
“I mean, what are you apologizing for, specifically?”
He let out a nervous chuckle and then swallowed. “I’m not getting away that easily, am I?”
“You don’t owe me six years of apologies, Mulder, but you do owe me one.”
“For not trusting you and...I should’ve…”
Scully lifted her brow as he started to stammer and shook her head slightly. She lowered her gaze away from Mulder and ran the fold of the paper in her hand between her thumb and index for a few moments before she turned to leave. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her go, but she paused in the doorway, her back to him. She turned her head just enough to glance back over her shoulder.
“This is my quest too,” she said. “It doesn’t belong to you alone.”
“I realize that.”
“Do you?” Her brow lifted once more and then she was gone.
Mulder gazed at the empty doorway for some time, long after the tap of her heels faded and the elevator dinged to take her away. He was spared once again by the grace of Scully’s change of heart, but he knew if he didn’t start to change things, his days would be numbered and he would lose her.
“You are one selfish sonofabitch,” he whispered to himself.
The End