Chance Encounters (the dark side) (R)

He watched the man seat her in a booth at the far end of the bar, her back to him. Mulder resumed his seat at the bar, unable to look away. The man was delighted to be in her presence. Well, what man wouldn’t be? She seemed just as happy though. Who was this man? He didn’t remember her mentioning seeing anyone.

After a few moments the man rose, kissed her, and headed toward Mulder. He felt his hand twitch and his shoulder stiffen. He’d kissed her. Just kissed her as though it were the most natural, normal thing in the world. Mulder managed to drop his eyes for a second as the man passed him, then looked up again to see her staring at him.

There was more color in her face than normal. Was she blushing? Turned on? Embarrassed at being caught? Caught? He couldn’t move, his eyes locked on hers. She rose from the booth and came toward him. If he’d been able to move he would have. He’d have bolted from the bar – did she think he’d followed her? Spied on her?

"Mulder? I didn’t see you when we came in."

"Uh, yeah I was in . . . " He waved vaguely in the direction of the men’s room. She nodded. "Didn’t know you had a date tonight." It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even an accusation but she stiffened nevertheless – something about his body language maybe.

"Yeah, Jessie’s an old friend."

"Jessie?" He pursed his lips, waiting for her answer, just as though she owed him one.

"Jessie Clark. We knew each other in school."

He nodded, not sure what to say. "Well, uh, you better get back before he sees you talking to another man. He might be less comfortable kissing you." Why the hell had he said that?

She stiffened, what was wrong with him? Was he drunk? Her eyes asked the question but he looked away. "Well I, I’ll see you Monday Mulder."

"Yeah." He turned back to his drink and after a moment she turned as well and returned to the booth. When he finally looked in that direction again they were gone.

Well, he’d made an ass of himself. He paid his bar bill and rose from the stool.

*****

She let herself into his apartment. She’d knocked twice and gotten no response. He’d been acting so weird at the bar she needed to make sure he was okay.

She spotted him sitting on the couch, staring in the direction of the television, but it wasn’t on. "Mulder?"

He jumped at the sound and started to rise from his seat. "I didn’t mean to startle you." She glanced at the coffee table; there was a bottle on it and a glass. He’d continued drinking here. That wasn’t like him at all.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check on you. You didn’t seem yourself earlier."

"I’m fine. Isn’t Jessie upset that you ended your date so early?"

"What are you – "

"Who is this Jessie anyway? I don’t remember you mentioning him."

She watched him approach her, her anger at his attitude growing. She shouldn’t have come here. "You’re not my father, Mulder."

"Would Ahab not approve?"

Something about his tone shot clear through her. Maybe it was his use of the word Ahab. Whatever, she couldn’t stop herself. The palm of her hand connected sharply with his face. She was immediately appalled though she tried to hide it. What the hell was wrong with both of them tonight?

Mulder seemed to grow in front of her, looming over her suddenly, making her feel small, vulnerable. He took her shoulders in his hands and kissed her. It took a second for the action to register in her brain, then she was struggling against him, fighting to break free. "Mulder stop! This isn’t funny. Stop it!"

It seemed to enflame him; he pulled her closer and his hand closed painfully around her breast. She’d come to him from some other man’s bed – he could smell him on her. He’d visualized it over and over as the level in the bottle got lower. Now between the liquor and the fury he was out of control.

*****

There was blood in his mouth. He ran his tongue over his lip – it was cut and he was lying on the floor. He started to rise and stopped, he felt like he’d been hit in the head with a 2 X 4. He stifled a groan and made it to a seated position.

That was when he spotted her. Scully, huddled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest on the far side of the room, her back against the bedroom wall. Her eyes were open but she was looking inward, not at anything in this room. "Scully?"

Memory hit him like a sledgehammer. Oh god! Oh god, no, it couldn’t . . . he couldn’t have . . . He managed to crawl to her, not trusting himself to walk. "Scully? Are you . . .? Let me take you to the hospital." He managed to rise to his feet. He desperately wanted to touch her but terror kept him from it.

Finally she looked up at him; "I’m not going to the hospital."

He absorbed that, no room for discussion. "Are the police on the way?" She shook her head and looked away again. "Why are you still here?" If she heard the fear in his voice she ignored it.

"I was afraid you’d choke on your own vomit." He blinked, trying to process the words. She had stayed here to make sure that he was okay? His knees gave way at that and he collapsed beside her.

"Scully, what can I . . . what can I do?" She rose to her feet then, moving away from him. "Scully?"

"Nothing. There’s nothing you can do." Her shield was tight around her. She had to distance herself from this, she had to deny that it had happened or she’d fall apart.

"Don’t leave. Please." She stopped at the sound of his voice but didn’t turn to him. "You shouldn’t be driving, not now."

"There’s no traffic now Mul . . . " She stopped, unable to say his name.

He glanced over at the clock. It was nearly 4:30 in the morning. How long had he been passed out on the floor with her watching over him? "Please don’t go."

"I need a shower, some fresh clothes." Now he saw what he had done to the clothes she had been wearing. Ripped, torn, destroyed, by him. Just like their relationship.

He felt dead inside, empty. He should have choked. He would have preferred it to this living death he was facing. He finally forced words from his mouth, "We need to talk, please Scully."

"No. There’s nothing to say Mu . . . I can’t talk, not now." She continued on to the door, picking up her coat and exiting the apartment without looking back, leaving him on the floor uncertain if he would ever rise again.

*****

The notice of transfer came as no surprise. She hadn’t discussed it with him; she hadn’t spoken to him or come by the office when he was there. He couldn’t blame her. Hell, he should be in jail. He had no idea what she had said to Skinner.

When Skinner had called him in to advise him of her request he had obviously been curious. It was a tribute to his professionalism that he managed to ask no questions. He watched in silence as Mulder, as senior agent of the X-Files, signed her request with no comment. "I’ll start the paperwork to assign you a new partner right away."

"Fine." That surprised Skinner, he’d expected an argument. He watched Mulder rise and head toward the door.

"Mulder," the man stopped, his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn to face his supervisor. "If you need to talk . . . " Mulder nodded and left the room. Skinner couldn’t remember ever seeing a man in more pain than this one was. He was actually concerned about the man’s physical health because of it. It crossed his mind that suicide wasn’t out of the question. He’d have to keep a discreet eye on him.

*****

He waited as long as he could to check on her, and then only by computer. He’d hoped someone would say something, drop a hint as to where she had gone. No one did, everyone seemed to be avoiding him. It was just as well, this way he didn’t have to pretend to be civil. It wasn’t an act he felt he could pull off anyway.

He could probably have gotten all the information he wanted if he’d asked the guys, but he was avoiding them too and they’d finally taken the hint.

Finding her in the computer had taken no time once he faltered in his resolution not to try. She was back at Quantico, teaching. He was a little surprised that she’d taken such a mundane assignment. She was excellent in the field – the best he’d ever seen. Maybe she wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she was traumatized . . . allowing that thought to form had shut him down for nearly two days.

Even when he felt functional again he didn’t check on her. She didn’t want contact, that much was obvious and more than understandable. He stumbled through each day half-alive, doing his work by rote with all passion gone, waiting for the pink slip he expected each morning.

Weeks turned into months. His new partner, Bob something, he couldn’t even remember that, carried him. He didn’t believe in psychic phenomena, aliens, anything that they had investigated together and Mulder felt no trust in either direction, but not caring made that bearable.

He slept when he could, ate when he remembered and basically stumbled through his days in a self-induced stupor. Liquor had not touched his lips and never would again. The alcohol wasn’t to blame, he’d gotten past that, but it had contributed. His father had been a mean drunk. Mulder had never known that kind of evil was harbored in his body. That was what kept him alive, he had seriously considered suicide, but living was more punishment and that’s what he deserved.

He had fallen asleep yet again on his couch, changing and actually going to bed had become insurmountable chores, so he avoided them. He jerked awake, crying out her name, shaking like a leaf.

This was different, he didn’t remember the dream but something was wrong. This wasn’t his normal nightmare and he knew she needed help, maybe not his, but someone’s.

He grabbed the phone and dialed the switchboard at the Bureau. Sometimes it was good to work for a place that had to be functional 24-hours a day. "This is an emergency. My badge number is JTT047101111. I need the location of Special Agent Dana Scully." There was a brief pause, okay maybe the night shift wasn’t everything the day shift was cracked up to be.

"Agent Mulder, we have her location as her home. She’s taken medical leave. I’m sorry we don’t have any more infor –"

He broke the connection. Medical leave? He had thought, when he woke, that she had gone out on an assignment, maybe been injured in the field. Medical leave – the cancer? No please, that was supposed to be gone. A breakdown? Because of what he’d done to her? Scully? Hell, it didn’t matter, he’d been right she did need help.

Okay, he was going over there. He already knew he wouldn’t be welcomed, but he had to know what was going on. It wasn’t like he could call her mother and ask for an update. She no doubt had a poisoned glass of wine waiting for him.

It was morning anyway. By the time he’d showered, shaved and found the least dirty of his clothes it would be a decent hour to show up at her door.

He looked presentable when he knocked on her door. The best he’d bothered to look in ages. He looked older too, there was gray at his temples and throughout his hair now that he hadn’t noticed until this morning. Well, prison did that to you, no matter who the warden was.

She took a long time coming to her door. He didn’t dare try his key. He was confident that she had changed the locks, but testing the theory wasn’t something he could take.

She was still in her robe and she obviously hadn’t bothered to check the peephole. That wasn’t like her. "Did you forget your key, Mom?" Then she got the door open and froze.

They both did, the sight of her stopping all senses but sight in order to more fully appreciate that one sense to the fullest. She looked tired, more than just waking her up would warrant. Was it the cancer? He felt his heart rate rise even more than the sight of her had caused.

"I . . . I know I shouldn’t be here. I have no right, but I heard . . . may I come in?"

She stepped back then, allowing him entry. She still hadn’t said a word and he couldn’t read her expression. Had it been that long? Hell yes, it had been forever. He had to be misinterpreting what he was seeing, that couldn’t be relief in her eyes or even a hint that she had missed him. Just wishful thinking on his part.

He pushed the door almost closed behind him, afraid to close it completely. He didn’t want her to think . . . He didn’t venture farther into the room. The awkward silence was growing.

"I . . . I heard you had taken a leave. I, uh, I . . . shit, Scully are you okay?" His eyes were pleading with her. She took in his appearance and was frightened at the change in him. He’d aged terribly in the last few months. No one had told her, no one had spoken to her about him except her mother and Scully had finally put a stop to that too.

Now he stood before her and she realized she instinctively wanted his support, needed his support. No. She shouldn’t feel this way, it was just history and . . . and -

"Dana! What are you doing up? The doctor was adamant about complete bed rest. He will put you in the hospital – " Scully hadn’t seen her mother coming, concentrating on him as she was.

"Mom." She spoke quietly, resignedly and Maggie stopped, looking in the direction Scully was looking.

"Fox!" A look that Mulder interpreted as relief, even joy, which made no sense whatsoever, came over Maggie’s face.

He turned to her; he was getting nowhere with Scully. "Is it the cancer? Why does her doctor want her in the hospital?"

Now bewilderment took over as the prominent expression. Maggie turned back to Scully. "He doesn’t know? You said – "

"Mom, could you leave us alone for a few minutes." She sounded tired, centuries worth of tired.

"Dana, you don’t need the stress right now. Let me talk to Fox and – "

"No! I have to handle this. Please."

Handle what? And was Rod Serling going to come through the door next? What the fuck was going on? She looked terrible now that he was really seeing her. If the cancer was back . . . icy claws tightened around his heart.

Scully took a step toward them and seemed to stumble; her hand came out to grab the back of the couch. "Dana!" But Mulder already had her in his arms.

"I’m . . . I’m okay."

"The hell you are." He didn’t even bother with the couch, carrying her into her bedroom and laying her gently on the bed. Maggie followed them. Mulder was watching Scully, but he spoke to Maggie. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

Maggie lay her hand on his arm. "Not now." She tugged slightly on his arm. He managed to look away from Scully and Maggie saw the nearly frantic concern in his eyes. She felt herself melt, he did love her – beyond all reason. Surely they could work this out, Dana’s explanation of their parting had never made sense anyway.

"Mom, please. Leave us alone for a few minutes."

"Dana, not now." Her mother’s voice brooked no argument. Whatever was going on her first priority was her daughter. "Fox can wait, you need to calm down and rest. Or I’m calling your doctor."

It was obviously a threat and both Mulder and Scully responded to it. She sank back down onto the pillow and closed her eyes. Maggie motioned for Mulder to follow her out, which he did. Scully sighed as the she heard the door close behind them.

He followed Maggie into the kitchen where she started a pot of coffee. "Mrs. Scully, please. Is it the cancer? Is that why she took the leave?"

"Fox, I . . . I was led to believe . . . something that I realize now isn’t true. I’m not sure why Dana chose to mislead me, but I can’t question her about it now. The two of you need to talk, I know you can work this out between the two of you. I can’t say more than that, except that it isn’t the cancer. Don’t worry about that."

She watched the relief flood his whole body and took his hand. "She needs you now Fox. Whatever your differences, you have to work them out – for everyone’s sake."

"It’s not as simple as that Mrs. Scully. I don’t deserve her forgiveness, I – "

"Fox." She silenced him. "I don’t know what happened but it doesn’t matter now." Mulder shook his head, she really didn’t understand. "You love her Fox, and she loves you. Now, especially now, you have to work things out."

Well she was half right, he loved Scully. But she could only hate him now. He buried his face in his hands. Maggie watched him; he was suffering terribly. She couldn’t fail to notice the change in him – he had been suffering and it had aged him. The stress of their separation had been the cause of Dana’s problem, she knew that, had known it all along.

Fox didn’t know about the child. He didn’t know what was wrong with her and yet he was here. He had known instinctively that she needed him.

She rose from the table and poured them both a cup of coffee. He sipped his gratefully. "Can I fix you some breakfast?"

"No, I’m fine."

"You look like you could use a meal."

He managed to smile at her. "You’re probably right, but I’m not hungry. Mrs. Scully . . . "

She shook her head. "Listen, if you’re going to be here for a while there’s some errands I need to run. I didn’t finish what I needed to get done, I didn’t want to be gone too long."

"You’re staying here with her?"

She nodded. "I could use the time to get some groceries and some other things. And the two of you could use the privacy I’m sure. Don’t push her Fox."

He closed his eyes at that; she didn’t have a clue what she’d said to him. Push her? After what he’d done? Maggie placed her hand over his. "You’ll work this out. I know you’ll take good care of my baby girl. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours at least. Don’t let her get out of bed except to go to the bathroom."