Chapter Text
The television flickered in front of her and the empty line was ringing in her ear. Her mother hung up on her four minutes ago and the vision of her father was gone. She barely got to speak with him that night outside of how the military had changed, how much he was proud of Bill for becoming a captain and for Charlie for proposing to his college girlfriend.
Her mind wanted to point out that he failed to mention Melissa’s latest job venture with pottery but he asked about her “work.” At least he mentioned that even if it was at her mother’s insistence.
Maybe this was the anger part of her feelings of grief.
She needed to get out of her apartment or do something. She couldn’t stay there after the scent of his cologne lingered in the living room where they shared coffee.
Showing up at Mulder’s apartment twenty minutes later was obviously not in her plans either but there she was. His eyebrows shot up as he opened the door to her. He was in sweatpants and soft grey t-shirt. He looked rumpled but not like he had been sleeping. He looked inviting and warm.
“Hi.”
He sounded just like he did that day he checked her for mosquito bites.
“My father died,” Scully blurted. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know what else to do…”
He pulled her in by her shoulder in that way he liked to handle her during their cases when he wanted her to follow him by pushing her through the door first or down a hallway to discuss something in private.
By nature, she wasn’t a tactile person whereas Mulder most definitely was. He didn’t go more than an hour in their day without placing a hand on her shoulder or knee and never in the ways that the sexual harassment videos warned her were bad. She never felt a nefarious intention.
He closed the door behind her and pulled her over to the couch where the sports portion of the news was playing.
“I didn’t realize there was a one o’clock sports news update,” Scully noted as she sat down.
“Oh yeah, you get all the highlights without the forced banter between anchors,” Mulder quipped as he sat on the coffee table across from her.
What he was really saying was that he had insomnia and he watched the television to drown out the noise in his mind that kept him awake. She worried about him.
A tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away with a shaking hand.
“Scully…” Mulder started and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dana.”
She never heard her call her anything other than by her last name and the sound of her given name sounded so foreign on his tongue.
“I have to go see my mother in the morning…” she said absently as he took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs across them. It felt comforting. She looked up into his eyes and saw the pain he was taking on for her. “It was a heart attack.”
Mulder was experienced in loss. He wasn’t meant to be an only child and yet there he was. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
She was an intensely private person and sharing this with him felt exposing in a way she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t want him to treat her any different when she came into work. They were still finding their footing as partners and this kind of emotional liability wasn’t something she could afford at the FBI. These were the arguments that should have entered her mind before she grabbed her purse and drove to his apartment.
Mulder kissed the backs of her hands and knelt on the floor in front of the couch. He pushed her knees apart slightly and she looked up to study his face. Again, she didn’t see a wicked intention.
“It’s called a hug, Scully,” he jested.
The usage of her last name made her relax a little.
He pulled her body towards his and he wrapped her in a strong embrace. He smelled like fresh laundry and soap as though he had a late shower after a long run. It was what he told her he was doing when she explained she couldn’t go to the Smithsonian that evening to look through the archives because her parents were coming over. He wanted her there so he said he’d go for a run and eat take out.
She took a long breath and Mulder pressed his mouth into her hair. She still had that clip in it that she wore especially for her father’s visit. She wasn’t a child but she desperately had wanted his approval of what she was doing with her life. He wanted a medical doctor as a daughter. He liked her scientific mind and drive to serve the greater good. Ahab didn’t see the irony in that she was on a bigger path with the FBI.
“He asked about work,” Scully said. “He never asked me how the FBI was as a job even after I left medical school and worked at Quantico. We barely talked about my choices after I left medicine and I just…”
“You’re someone people would be proud of Scully,” Mulder reassured her.
“You don’t know my father,” she scoffed into his neck.
The back and forth of their usual banter continued as he held her. It was cut off when the tears poured out suddenly and Mulder ignored the lack of discussion for a long and solid cry. He reached behind him to grab a tissue from a box on the table. She clutched his shirt in her fingers as the sobs subsided and she took the tissue from his hand to cover her puffy face.
His cool fingers wrapped around her wrists to pull her hands away and she wiped at her nose and eyes.
“Maybe this is insensitive but you’re pretty when you cry,” he commented.
“That sounds like a bad song lyric,” she said as she took another tissue and glanced up at his eyes. He shrugged. “I think that’s a lie but I’ll take the compliment anyway.”
“Take it,” Mulder replied as he sat on the couch next to her and pulled her body towards hers. “You’re not good with compliments at all but you should take that one.”
It felt easy to be with him in this setting and she found her mind whirring as it tried to shut down. Her eyes felt heavy.
“I don’t want to fall asleep on you,” she protested as he wiggled closer to her on the couch.
“I won’t hold it against you if you do, Scully.”