The Truest Truths

She took a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes, allowing the hot water to run down her body, massaging away much of the worry and stress she’d carried for so long. Her hot tears soon mingled with the water, taking with them her fears and washing her spirit anew. They were tears of joy, tears of release, and tears of overwhelming gratitude for her life. She thought of everything that had transpired over this long journey. She thought of Penny Northern and the women she had met at the MUFON house, all gone now. She was the only one left. Why her? She was the only one had a Mulder, someone who would fight the powers that be for her, a true comrade on her side, willing to sacrifice everything to save her. Mulder. He was the only reason she was here today, preparing to go home, to leave this place in a soft, pink sweater instead of a body bag. She couldn’t be more thankful for him.

As much as it made no sense to her scientific mind to think that a tiny piece of metal found in a Pentagon warehouse could actually be the cure for cancer, the investigator in her couldn’t deny the evidence. She had survived while the others had not. Mulder: her source of strength, her friend, her protector. No truer ally could be found. She was never good at expressing her feelings, but he deserved an enormous thank you. He deserved to know that she was thankful to have him in her life. As she squeezed the fruity-smelling gel from the small bottle of shampoo and lathered her auburn hair, the question struck her: Why did he do all of this for her? Why was she so valuable to him? But she soon realized if the tables were turned, she’d have done the same. They had pretty much always stuck their necks out, risking life and limb, for each other. It was just a natural impulse, something neither ever had to think about. They just did it without question. She had broken a lot of rules and bucked the system more in the five years she had known him than she had all the rest of her years combined. He brought out something in her, and clearly, she in him. Maybe it was because they were partners. Maybe it was because she really believed that his cause, their cause, was just.

Whatever it was, her tall, handsome partner would be there before long to pick her up and take her home, and she would be happy to see him. He’d probably crack some jokes along the way and look at her sideways with a goofy smile and dancing hazel eyes, hoping he’d made her at least grin. She caught herself smiling thinking about him, as she scrubbed the past day off of her skin. She washed herself, noticing her ribs were a bit more pronounced than they used to be, her body having transformed over the past several weeks from petite to frail, the treatments she had been receiving having destroyed her body from the inside out. She hadn’t lost her hair, which usually does happen, so she was grateful for that, but it was dull and lifeless, much more brittle than it had been before. She was ready to be back in her own space, put on makeup again, wear something other than a hospital gown, to have some purpose again other than just waiting to die.

She stepped out of the shower, clean and refreshed, toweled her hair and body, and stepped into the jeans and sweater her mother had brought her. A nurse came in and had her sign discharge papers as she blow dried her hair. A few minutes later, Mulder arrived, walking on air. He knocked and gingerly cracked the door. He found her sitting on the bed, looking more like herself again, more like the put-together, classy Scully he knew so well, and his heart skipped a beat. She was wearing a coral sweater and black pants, her bag packed and ready to go next to her, her black wool coat draped over her arm. The pink was beautiful against her creamy skin, and her red hair caught fire in the sun and radiated around her small face. She was gorgeous. Even though she still appeared somewhat sickly and weak, fading dark circles still visible under her eyes, she was still stunning. He had always thought she was pretty, but as he came into the room and she looked up at him with her azure eyes, a bright smile on her face, she took his breath away.

“Hey, Mulder,” she greeted him as she slid off the bed and he took her bag. He didn’t say anything, he just watched her, not noticing she had even spoken. “Mulder? You okay?”

He shook himself away from his thoughts and finally answered. “Yeah, I’m just…” he nodded, a crooked grin on his lips. “I’m just really glad to be taking you home. You ready?”

“More than ready.” He took her coat and helped her shrug into it.

As they stepped into the elevator that would take them down to the parking garage, neither of them said anything. There was a thickness in the air, as if both of them wanted to speak but the words were floating, lost between them. Mulder simply gave her back a small reassuring rub and remained silent.

Mulder opened her door for her. She smiled her thank you and got in. He tossed her bag in the trunk and began their short drive to her building. A few minutes in, Scully decided to break the silence. “How’s work been? I mean, other than you implicating one of our superiors in a plot against the American people,” she said dramatically. Mulder huffed a small laugh, his fingers drumming on the wheel while they waited at a red light.

“Eh, it’s been…quiet. I’ve been mainly going through the last few months’ X-Files and logging keywords. Skinner has had me look into a couple of possible cases, but they both turned out to be nothing.” He was silent, contemplative for a moment but decided to just go for it. “I’ve missed you, Scully. A lot. I think I…I mean, I always knew you brought a lot to the table, your expertise, your investigative skills, I’ve told you before what an important part of this team you are. But, it’s not just that.” He paused for a beat before finishing, “I’ve missed my friend.”

The sincerity and heavy meaning of his words caused a lump to rise to her throat. She answered him, clearly, emphatically, hoping he grasped how much feeling she was trying to put into words, “I’ve missed you, too, Mulder.”

Their tender moment hung in the air between them, more being said in the silence than words ever could. A couple minutes later, Mulder asked, “Do you need anything, Scully? Want me to stop by the store?” The last thing she wanted to do was be somewhere with a lot of people.

“No, I don’t think so. Thank you, but I’m just ready to get home.” He nodded, and soon they were pulling onto her street.

It’s an odd feeling returning to your familiar surroundings after a long absence. Things never look the same. You notice details you didn’t before. Something always seems off. But it doesn’t take long to feel at home again, and so it was for Scully as she unlocked the door to her spacious apartment and stepped in, the familiar must of the old building mingling with the scented candles, potpourri, laundry detergent, and various aromas that mingled together to create the unique scent of her home. Her mother had obviously cleaned while she had been in the hospital. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found. The old wood floors shined, and she detected a faint whiff of orange oil. Mulder followed her inside and closed the door behind them, taking her bag to her bedroom for her.

“How does it feel to be home?” he asked upon returning to the living room, watching her face carefully. He sensed there was something she had been wanting to say.

She smiled a tired, relaxed smile and sighed. “It feels…amazing…a little strange, but wonderful. There was a point where I really believed I’d never be back here.” She stared off into space, deep in thought for a moment before shaking herself from it. The calendar on the wall by her desk caught her eye. It still said September. She’d been gone a while. It dawned on her she didn’t even know what day it was. “What day is it? I completely lost track,” she muttered out loud, more to herself than to Mulder, as she pulled the pin out of the wall and flipped the calendar’s pages.

But he answered her, “November first. Saturday.”

She had to flip not one, but two pages forward, a physical representation of time lost. She pushed the pin back through the hole in the page and admired the picture for the month of November. It was a beautiful painting of a New England light house with a row of trees far in the background, their vibrant leaves showcasing all the various reds and yellows of Autumn. She loved Fall. It was her favorite time of year. The crispness in the air and the faint odor of wood burning in distant fireplaces all around the neighborhood soothed her soul. She had always tried to appreciate the little things in life, but now she was all the more grateful for them.

Mulder was unsure whether to stay or to leave her alone. She hadn’t said anything for quite a while. He thought it best to just ask. “You okay, Scully? Would you like me to stay or would you like to be alone?”

“I think I’d like to just sit here and watch a movie with you. Would you be up for that? Maybe we could order some Chinese and just hang out for a while?” It was only 10:30 in the morning, but neither of them had eaten.

Mulder grinned, glad she wanted his company. “Sounds good to me.”

“Okay, pick us out something and I’ll order lunch,” she told him, as she pointed to the TV armoire. Mulder opened the doors to the cabinet and browsed through her movie collection. He was pretty sure she owned every chick flick ever made: Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, Steel Magnolias, Fried Green Tomatoes, Pretty Woman… Ah. The Shawshank Redemption. That’s a classic. Who doesn’t love Morgan Freeman? The bad guys lose and the good guys win in the end. That’s fitting, he thought to himself, especially considering the week he’d had.

He pulled the movie from its home and slid the cassette out of its box. He found the remote on the shelf by the TV and clicked it on, pushing the cassette into the VCR. He sat back down on the end of the couch and fast forwarded through the previews, pausing at the Warner Brothers logo, and leaving it cued up for whenever they were ready to settle in. Scully had slid a takeout menu from its place on the fridge behind a tooth-shaped magnet from a dentist’s office and settled on the couch next to Mulder, phone in hand, her socked feet curled up under her. She was practically drooling as she pored over the menu, having had nothing to eat but hospital food for weeks, and that’s if she had even had an appetite at all.

“I’m gonna have vegetable lo mein, pork dumplings, and spring rolls,” she told him excitedly, obviously looking forward to their feast. “Mulder.” She got his attention to hand him the menu, which he took. He was turning the first page when the phone rang. Scully answered, and he could hear Maggie Scully’s kind voice through the phone, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. “Okay, Mom. That’s fine. But he’d better behave himself. Yes, he’s here.” Pause. “I know,” she sighed. “Okay, see you in a few,” she finished, punching the phone’s power button a bit more firmly than was necessary and getting up to unlock the door.

She tossed the phone on the couch and flopped back down on the couch, sighing wearily and pinching the bridge of her nose, clearly not in the mood for whatever was just said to her on the phone. “Mulder, that was my mom. Bill is flying black to San Diego this afternoon, and he wants to come say goodbye. I’m sorry. It won’t take long.”

“It’s okay, Scully, they’re your family, I understand,” he told her sincerely, and reached a hand out to rub her shoulder, reassuring her.

She crossed her arms, frustrated, already angry with her brother again, and he wasn’t even in her presence. “I just don’t understand his disdain for you.”

“Scully, he just needs someone to blame. Someone’s hurt his sister, and he’s angry. I know a little something about that.”

“But he doesn’t have to take it all out on you.”

He didn’t appreciate what Bill had said to him, no doubt, but he didn’t want to make Scully think it had really gotten to him. She didn’t need that. He held his hands out and shrugged. “I can take it. Believe me, I’ve heard worse. This amounts to a grade-school fight on the playground. I’ve been pistol-whipped, had guns held to my head, I think I can deal with your cocky brother. But if you’d rather, I can go. You shouldn’t have to be put in the middle of all this.”

“No, I’m not going to make you leave because my grown, Naval Officer brother can’t act like he has some decency and class. You’re staying.” That clearly wasn’t a suggestion, so he didn’t argue.

Mulder was absent-mindedly flipping through the menu, though he wasn’t truly reading the words.

“Have you decided what you want?” Scully asked him a couple minutes later. It was then that he realized he hadn’t even been thinking about food. He really hated her brother. It wasn’t the words he had spoken that really stirred up his ire. What he resented was that through all this, even though Scully had been through enough, he had made her life more stressful. And that wasn’t okay with Mulder.

“Oh, um…yeah. I’ll…I’ll just have whatever you’re having. That sounds good.” He handed her the menu back and she dialed the number on the front. He listened to her soft voice as she read the numbers off to the person on the phone. “Yes, a number 6, two number 15s, and a double order of spring rolls. Apartment 35. Scully, mmhmmm. Thank you.” The phone turned off with a small beep. “Lunch will be here in about 20 minutes,” she told him with a little excited grin. “It’s been ages since I’ve had any decent food.” Mulder took out his wallet and tried to hand her $30, which she waved away. He caught her hand and placed the two bills in it, raising his eyebrows to show he wasn’t playing, and she begrudgingly obliged, pressing her lips together and getting up to put it by the door. “Thank you,” she muttered quietly when she came back to sit on the couch. They both knew that being sick in America wasn’t cheap. Even if you have a decent job and good insurance, bills rack up. She was thankful for his thoughtfulness.

They sat quietly for a moment, the mood beginning to grow heavy again. “Mulder, you’re too good sometimes.”

He scoffed at that, not having ever really considered himself as good. “What?” He shook his head at her, confused by her statement and the randomness of it.

“You’re too good. My brother deserved to have his nose broken the other day at the hospital. But you just stood there and took it.”

Mulder was taken aback. He had thought he did what was best. He had thought she would have never wanted a brawl to take place in her hospital room.

His brow furrowed, “Would you rather we’d duked it out in your hospital room? I mean, I thought you would be glad I didn’t…”

She cut him off, putting up a hand to stop him, “I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not angry you didn’t hit him…I just…” she sighed. “I have never been more furious with him, and if you had hit him, he would have deserved it, especially considering he’d already been in your face once before.”

“I’d never disrespect you or your mother like that, Scully, especially considering the situation.”

“I know,” she smiled at him. “Like, I said, you’re too good sometimes.”

Mulder scoffed again, the idea of someone calling him “good” was comical to him. He felt like old gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s worn out sneaker most of the time, forgotten, unimportant, too self-absorbed to be of use to anyone else, his existence more of an annoyance than anything to most everyone who knew him or knew of him.

“You are a good person, Mulder. You know that…” She was making more of a statement than she was asking a question, her blue eyes staring him down, boring a hole through him until he finally dragged his eyes away from the floor and faced her. No, he didn’t believe it, not for a moment. She was good. She was the counter to his darkness. She was his Jiminy Cricket. She was the only thing good about him. Scully was his human credential, the only thing that made him whole or decent. Without her, he was a man lost, wandering, blindly led by whatever impulse or curiosity tempted his mind at any given moment. She gave him a rudder, some direction, some grounding. Sometimes he found it frustrating. Sometimes he found it downright suffocating. But the moment he considered straining against it, something in his heart told him if it was coming from her, it was for his own good. He had trusted in that knowledge for as long as he’d known her. He needed her to look out for him, and she needed someone to look out for.

He shook his head gently, unable to agree, feeling undeserving of her praise, wishing deep down she’d stop and just let him drown in his self deprecation. She moved closer to him on the couch. “Yes.” She nodded, silently encouraging him to nod in agreement with her. “Yes, you are.” She picked up his hand, resting it in hers, his palm against her own. “Mulder, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you weren’t. I’d still be in that hospital bed waiting to die if it weren’t for you.” Her bottom lip trembled slightly and she lifted his hand and kissed it, her soft pink lips against his knuckles, and turned her misty eyes back to his face again.

He swallowed hard. He was so happy to see her comfortable again in her own home, sitting here with her on a lazy Saturday, nowhere to be but wherever they want, and out of all the places she could be and all the people she could be with, she wanted to be here with him. This beautiful creature he had come to know so well, his soul’s other half whom he had come so close to losing forever, just wanted to be with him and was telling him how thankful she was for him, even though he felt undeserving of her affections. He wanted her and needed her, but he didn’t feel he deserved her.

She saw something in him, though, something that he could never see in himself. Maybe that’s why they needed each other. They were mirrors, reflecting back that which the other couldn’t see in themselves. If she, the person he thought most highly of in the entire universe saw something in him worthy of praise, maybe she wasn’t altogether wrong. Maybe he wasn’t completely unworthy. Maybe he could search her eyes and see a glimmer of himself there the way she saw him.

He allowed himself a reluctant smile, “Maybe I’m not the worst.” She rose up next to him on her knees, her hands on his shoulders, staring him right in his eyes. She smiled warmly at him as tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. “Thank you, Mulder,” she told him, slowly, meaningfully, and his arms were around her, holding her, his Scully. He pulled her half into his lap, her arms around him, her chin on his shoulder. He held her tightly, wishing she could understand how much he needed her and how happy he was she was well again. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, one small sob of joy escaping his throat. She pulled back slightly, shifting her weight back onto her legs, and he eased his hold on her slightly. Scully took his face in her hands and playfully turned his head away from her, placing one kiss on his right cheek, then turned his head the other way, pressing another on his left.

She paused for a beat, her smile fading, their eyes locking, and tentatively, ever so gently, pressed her lips to his. It happened fast. It couldn’t have been longer than two seconds, and during that time nothing existed but the two of them. Then it was over. Right after her lips left his, a thousand thoughts and questions buzzed through his head at the speed of light. Their hearts beating hard against their chests, their breathing quickened, Scully pulled back for a moment, searching his face, wondering what they were doing, what she was doing. “Scully…?” He said her name softly, almost imperceptibly, unsure of himself and her. And she answered for the both of them, pressing her lips against his, harder this time, more confident, hungry for what she’d only had a sample of. Their lips parted, tasting each other, slowly, deeply, but insatiably, locked together, his hands on her face, stroking her cheeks.

And then the door opened. Scully pulled away from Mulder and sat back down on the couch faster than a teenager caught groping her boyfriend in her parents’ living room. Bill Scully and his mother stood, jaws agape, one pleasantly surprised to have walked in on this display of affection, and one enraged. Maggie Scully stifled a little gleeful giggle, her hand on her chest, beaming. It was about time her daughter found love again, and who better than Fox Mulder? She loved Fox, and she knew he’d always take care of her baby girl. And besides, it was about time. Those two had been dancing around each other for five years. It seemed everyone could see it but them. And perhaps Bill, Jr.

Scully’s brother stepped forward, pointing at them both, as if he were in some position to be scolding them. “Did you do this on purpose? You knew we were on our way. Are you rubbing it in my face? Making out on the couch for us to see? Nice, Dana. I thought that would have been below you. Real classy.” That was all it took. No more could Mulder stand by and not say anything, hold his clenched fists back, and swallow the words he had so wanted to spew at Bill Scully over the past several days. He had insulted Scully. Mulder was on his feet in front of Bill in a flash, adrenaline pumping, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring. He looked wild, feral. Scully somewhat enjoyed seeing Mulder like this.

Mulder paused, though, remembering what she said. You’re a good person. He took a half step back. Mrs. Scully had already moved behind the couch to stand behind her daughter who had scooted down the couch as far away from the impending scene as she could, knowing things would probably finally come to blows between these two any minute. She was done trying to keep Bill reigned in. Mulder had been more than forgiving. Whatever he got, he had coming to him. And she was fairly confident Bill wasn’t going to come out the victor.

Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. He took a steadying breath, every fiber in him fighting against the impulse to knock Bill’s head off his shoulders, to rip his throat out with his bare hands. If Bill said one more syllable, Mulder may lose the last molecule he had left in him that was holding him back from beating Bill senseless. And, of course, Bill just HAD to poke the bear. “COME ON, Mulder, just do it, man up!”

Mulder looked over at Scully, silently asking for her permission. She knew, just like her mother, he had it coming, and Mulder was well within his rights, as far as she was concerned. She felt like decking Bill herself right about now. She met Mulder’s eyes for a moment. She shrugged, cocked an eyebrow and turned her palm up as if to say, “proceed, he’s begging for it, have at it.”

Mulder had had a few seconds to think this through, to at least be cognizant of his surroundings and respectful of Scully’s home. So he decided to knock Bill backwards so he’d hit the front door instead of hitting her desk or knocking a lamp off a table. He glared at Bill, clenched his jaw once again, and nodded an ‘okay, let’s do this’. Bill’s eyes got as large as saucers. He didn’t think Mulder would actually do it, or that Dana or his mom would let things escalate to that point.

Mulder saw nothing but those big round eyes and then red as he reared back with everything in him, taking all his anger, all of Scully’s suffering, their fear, all the negative energy that had been so unfairly cast upon them these last several weeks, and willed that energy into his arm. Time seemed to slow down as Mulder’s fist made contact with Bill’s face, finally.

Mulder wasn’t even quite sure what part of his face he had hit, but he knew his aim was on target because Bill had hit the door and then slid down to the floor, barely coherent. He moved his head slightly, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He tried to focus on Mulder who had one more word to say to him. He knelt down, grabbed Bill’s face, a hand under his chin and around his jaws, and forced him to look at him. He quietly spoke to him calmly and clearly, so that Bill could comprehend in his dazed state. “Don’t you EVER disrespect Dana Scully in my presence again.” And he shoved his head back against the door. Bill flailed around, trying to get up, his arms weak and his legs unsteady. Mulder calmly sat back down on the couch, staring straight ahead, not moving or speaking, his hands casually resting on his knees. Scully looked at him in awe, then couldn’t help but grin. She looked back at her mom who was also smiling proudly. Bill had finally managed to stand, but was holding onto the doorknob for balance. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, eyes averted. He muttered, “Bye, Dana,” and slipped out the door as quickly as he could manage.

Mulder’s heart had stopped pounding so hard, and his adrenaline was quickly waning, the endorphins no longer disguising the throbbing in his hand. He held it, rubbing it, wincing a bit. Mulder still didn’t look at Scully. He was a bit angry with himself. He felt maybe he’d let her down, like Bill had made him stoop to his level. He was afraid she’d be upset with him. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands and wearily sighed, suddenly spent from the rush of adrenaline and the subsequent release of all his pent-up rage. But Scully moved over next to him and pulled his left hand down away from his face, turning his head with a finger under his chin. She was smiling, beaming proudly at him, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh. He slowly smiled back at her, relieved she wasn’t disappointed in him.

Scully took his injured hand gingerly, holding it out flat in hers, checking to see if anything appeared to be broken. It was already starting to swell. Maggie returned just then from the kitchen with a bag of ice and a towel and handed them to her daughter. Scully wrapped it as gently as she could around his reddened hand and he winced. “Aww,” Scully grimaced as he flinched, “sorry, Mulder.” There was a knock, and Mrs. Scully looked through the peephole and opened the door. “Money’s on the table by the door, Mom,” Scully said when she saw it was the delivery boy from the Chinese place down the street. Maggie paid the boy and brought their food in and set it on the kitchen table.

“I guess I’m going to get going, Dana. I’m sure Bill is sitting in the car sulking. I need to get him to the airport,” she explained, as Scully finished doctoring Mulder’s bruised hand and stood to hug her mother. They stood for a moment making lunch plans for later in the week. Mulder politely stood, giving Maggie a sheepish grin as she turned towards him, not sure how she felt about him after she watched him punch her son. She took a step towards him and reached up for him, and he bent slightly so she could reach him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders firmly. Mulder hugged her in return, pleasantly surprised, and she whispered in his ear, “Thank you for loving my baby girl,” and patted his back before giving him one last squeeze and heading for the door. Mulder turned and smiled at her as she turned to leave. “Goodbye, Mrs. Scully.” She smiled warmly at him and closed the door. It was just the two of them again.

“Well. That was fun to see,” Scully stated matter-of-factly, and then finally let loose. She belly laughed until she couldn’t breathe, doubling over and clutching her chest as she headed towards the kitchen. Her face turned red, and Mulder couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I needed that, Mulder.”

He chuckled and nodded, “Me, too. More than you know.” He followed her to the table and picked up the takeout bag with his good hand as Scully got him a fork, knowing he’d be unable to manage chopsticks with his injured hand. She grabbed some Cokes from the fridge, “Sorry, Mulder, I don’t have any beer,” she apologized. “No problem, Scully.” She stopped in front of a narrow cabinet and took out a bottle of aspirin, handing him two of them, for which he thanked her.

They sat side by side on the floor in front of the couch, their Chinese feast spread before them on the coffee table. Scully hit the play button on the remote, and the Warner Brothers production logo played. She opened both their Cokes, and Mulder tossed the aspirin into his mouth and chased it with a gulp of soda. He tried to get some lo mein on his fork, but the box slid around no matter how he tried. Scully noticed Mulder struggling with his lunch and held up her chopsticks to him, proffering him one of her dumplings as his struggle was obvious. He opened wide, leaning towards her a bit, and gratefully accepted. As he chewed, she got up to get him a plate so he wouldn’t have to struggle with the boxes. He finished chewing and swallowed as she sat down, thanking her for the plate. She dished him out some of his food so he could eat more easily, and he felt like a kid, his mother cutting up his food for him. “Better?” she asked.

“Much,” he answered as he picked up his fork and was able to somewhat clumsily feed himself.

“What movie are we watching?”

“Shawshank,” he answered around a mouthful of dumpling.