Chapter Text
Scully’s POV
They’re sitting across from each other, a half-empty bottle of Pinot Noir tucked in between a shared plate of fresh oysters. From the window to her left, Scully can see the last faded rays of sunlight decorating the Potomac River with a golden twilit sparkle. The other restaurant patrons—couples, partners, lovers—talk in quiet, private murmurs while the sound of a live piano plays in the background. The effect is overwhelmingly romantic, almost cartoonishly so. Scully takes a deep draw from her glass, finishing it.
Her dinner partner’s dark eyes alight on her empty cup and he quickly reaches for the bottle, offering to pour her another. She studies him carefully, continuing to make the calculation she has been making since he asked her to dinner earlier this week. Handsome, intelligent, thoughtful. Lips that look like they’ll feel delicious against her skin. Hair that she can twist and pull in fistfuls. Hands that can pin her to the bed while those lips go to work. She shifts in her seat, places a hand demurely across her wine glass.
“No, thanks,” she murmurs, looking up at him through her lashes. It’s a coquettish move, something she rarely has any use for, but tonight’s about seduction.
He’s studying her back, has been all night since picking her up at her apartment and unsuccessfully keeping his eyes from darting across the form-fitting red dress she had selected. Red. Uncharacteristic for her, of course, but it has been tucked away in her closet for years. Something she bought with Missy on a whim, the kind of aspirational garment that one purchases in hopes that the night one finally chooses to wear it, it will be a magical, momentous night.
He nods, a small, knowing smile ticking up on those beautiful lips. She’s made her decision, catches the waiter’s eyes for the check. They make haste retrieving the car from the valet and his hand catches on her waist, pulling her into him as a breeze lifts off the water and sends chills up her arms.
In the car, they are silent, trading quick glances that they think the other doesn’t notice. Light from a streetlamp dances across his face, accentuating the angles of his straight cheeks and sharp jaw and long nose. The uncanny resemblance, momentary though it is, sparks a recent memory. Suddenly, she’s back in the hallway of that psychiatric hospital.
From where she’s standing, in front of the door where Mulder and Diana are, she can see the angles of Mulder’s cheeks, his jaw, his nose. The silhouette he cuts is achingly familiar: tender, gentle, boyishly charming. Except this time, he’s directing all of that not towards her, but towards Diana. Scully’s heart constricts as she watches their hands clasp together. It’s the culmination of a hundred emotions—hurt, anger, guilt, despair, jealousy, envy, pain—but the most prominent one is regret. Regret that she has let her heart get this involved with someone who has become unbearably distant. Regret that she has let herself believe he will always, under any set of circumstances, choose her first. Regret that she has built her life on a foundation of trust and respect and love that is now starting to crumble. She turns and leaves.
In the car, the memory shoots familiar bolts of pain through her chest, waves of frustration and sadness causing her skin to prickle and her heart to race. This is why I’m doing this, she reminds herself, glancing once more at her companion. He’s focusing on the road now, and Scully is relieved to see that he doesn’t look like Mulder anymore. The similarities are there, of course, but Ty is different—slightly shorter, a bit broader, handsome in a serious, no-nonsense way.
This is why I’m doing this, she repeats to herself as something akin to guilt begins to creep in. She shoves the feeling away, reminding herself of Mulder holding Diana’s hand. If he’s involved with her again, then it’s really time for me to move on. If she doesn’t push past her desire for him, if she doesn’t bury those emotions, she knows that the pain she feels now is just the tip of the iceberg. I must protect my heart, she promises herself.
Gentleman that he is, Ty pulls up to her apartment and idles the car, not releasing his seatbelt or assuming that she’ll invite him up. But she needs this. She needs to remind herself that she is desirable, and she needs to start feeling feelings towards anyone but Mulder. This is how she’ll start. She places a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly.
“Come up with me?” she asks, her gaze direct and clear. He knows what she’s asking. He smiles and she relaxes. He is handsome. He is intelligent. He is kind. He follows her to her apartment, she fits the key in the lock, and pushes open the door.