From: Ten Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2001 22:13:15 +1000 Subject: "Anniversary of an Embrace" (1/1) by Ten Source: xff TITLE: "Anniversary of an Embrace" (1/1) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au and/or kristena@netconnect.com.au CATEGORY: V, UST, A RATING: PG-13 SUMMARY: Mulder unexpectedly and abruptly takes a few days leave. When Scully realises the reason why, it brings unresolved issues to the surface. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set after "Wetwired", before "Talitha Cumi". Refers to episodes throughout the first three seasons. NOTES: This story was written in late 1996, after I read comments that the Mulder-Scully relationship had become cooler in the third season (Australia was about six months behind in the screened episodes) and I also wished there had been more of their great banter. This was my 'theory' why. I stumbled over it on my hard drive recently. Dates are based off onscreen info and Deep Background's excellent episode timeline, with one exception: the events of "Wetwired" began on 27 April 1996, but for plot purposes let's say that ep actually occurred sometime in March. ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact. FEEDBACK: I love to know who is out there in the ether! THANKS TO: Gerry, Debbie, Judie, Suzanne and Mac for the reassurance. My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the wonderful Skyfox, is at: http://tenxffic.tripod.com Mirror site: http://homex.coolconnect.com/member3/tenxffic/ DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder and Scully and all other characters from the show belong to Chris Carter and his team of writers, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. The X-Files: "Anniversary of an Embrace" (1/1) By Ten, September-October 1996, August 2001 xXx Scully eyed the paperwork impatiently, then made another check of her watch. Where WAS he? Mulder was almost always at work before she arrived, but his empty chair mocked that unwritten rule. His trenchcoat and briefcase were absent. He could be stuck in traffic, or be somewhere else in the building. Another fifteen minutes and she'd try phoning. The office felt too different without him. At least that's what her imagination told her. When he was there, that burning certainty of his brought life to all the cluttered junk, breathed possibility into the fuzzy UFO photos, the books on telekinesis, the strange rocks she was sure were more to him than mere paperweights... At the moment, the basement office paraphernalia (paranormalia? she thought with a smile) looked too far outside logic, unable to woo her from her dedication to science. Her cellular rang. "Scully." "Hi, its me." "Where are you? Are you all right?" "Yeah... Sorry for not phoning sooner. I'm taking today and tomorrow off. Just cleared it with Skinner. Sorry for the short notice. At least I'm leaving you just paperwork to fend off at the moment - you always loved that more than me." His tone went teasing on the double meaning. "I've got the paperwork covered. That's fine." She hesitated, hating to probe, but her concern won out. "Is everything okay?" "Yeah... Just some stuff I want to do." "Mulder - you're not chasing boxcars again are you?" Mulder could get into trouble on one regardless of whether it was moving or stationary. "No. No, I swear I'm not haring off on a case." But she caught the strain. Her inner alarm bells began gearing up. The pause lengthened. "Look, I swear it on my sacred video collection! Okay?" Mulder protested. "Okay," she said as brightly as she could manage. To try to deduce if whatever Mulder was up to would be keeping him in town, she opened her mouth to ask if he wanted her to feed his fish. "Scully, I gotta go. See you later." Scully spent the next ten minutes ignoring her paperwork. Her gaze at the wall was so intense that if the wall possessed speech and knowledge of where Mulder was, it would have given up the answer immediately to stop the torture. She was missing something... Her gaze dropped reluctantly to the paperwork. It was not urgent, due in a little over a week's time - so she COULD easily leave it and try to get to the bottom of his sudden need for time off. But should she? Had she the right to - The paperwork was due on April 22. That date. There was something... Scully realised. That was the day Melissa had been shot. And four days after that would be the first anniversary of her death. The jarring shock of its closeness was almost swallowed by her second realisation. Mulder's father had been killed on April 13. Today. Scully sucked in a deep breath. That horrible act, a year ago today. That horrible time, of Mulder psychotic and ill. How she and Mulder had risked their jobs. The boxcar... Oh God, her unwitting half-joke about boxcars! That would have been the last thing he'd wanted to hear. And he may not have even comprehended the significance of the date himself until this morning. Perhaps when his newspaper arrived, or during breakfast, or while driving to work. It must have crept up on him like Melissa's anniversary had with her. I have to find him... Scully tried his cellular. He'd turned it off. Though doubting he would still be there, she went to his apartment. No Mulder. She had a good idea where to look next. xXx Garden of Reflection Parkway Cemetery Boston Mulder sat on a bench, staring out at the headstones. He could just see his father's grave from here. But ever since arriving at the cemetery, he had not approached it. Too many memories of this day, one year removed. Of the even darker times that had followed it. Go to your father's grave. Why haven't you? What are you waiting for? Where's your courage? It came and stood next to him quietly. With impeccable timing as usual. And a look of deep compassion and worry. He shuffled over to make room for her. She sat and gently slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding, Mulder. But I thought you might like some company." He stared down at her hand. "When did you know?" "When I saw the date on -" "No, what time?" "Um, around nine." "I only beat you by an hour and a half." She heard a touch of painful amusement and irony. He had not met her eyes since their conversation began. Even though she was touching him, Mulder seemed just as unreachable as the irrational, snappish person of that other time and place. "The year has gone by so quickly; but you DID remember, Mulder. That's all that matters. That and how you're feeling." He turned towards her, but his eyes flickered around, only looking into hers for a second at a time. Scully couldn't see any evidence that he'd been crying - recently anyway - and it didn't seem that words would be any more forthcoming than tears. He was clamping down on it all. Lone-wolf mode again. But she could feel the undercurrents. Let me help you! she wanted to plead. Then she remembered her own voice from ages ago, telling a counsellor: "I don't want him to know how much this is bothering me." "Do you want me to leave?" Scully asked. "No!" He felt panicked at the thought. He didn't shake his head, afraid the slight movement would spill out tears. "Can you talk to me? Please?" "I can't even approach my own father's grave!" Mulder snapped, his anger flaring up. "That's what I should be doing - not talking." He took a deep breath and gave her a brief 'I'm sorry, that was misdirected' look. His misery was palpable. She went to reach her left arm out, to encircle him, but he abruptly shifted, his shoulder moving firmly between them as a barrier. "Don't!" It was a small cry of pain. She froze. "Mulder -" "My father... he didn't hug me." Mulder stated. He began to tremble, knowing he couldn't stop the words from pouring out now. "All those years when we met I tried to hug him... He could SEE me trying...but out would go his hand. It might as well have been a knife. The handshake was as close as I could get. But I kept trying... Then that night last year he called me - and when he opened the door I played his game. I was so tired of being hurt...was so confused and exhausted... I shook his hand...AND HE HUGGED ME! I was so stunned, and it was so brief but it was all I ever wanted from him...and before I could...he was dead. And I was too stunned and sick and it was so fast I can't hold the memory clearly. They've cheated me of even that." Too many memories of this day. But not enough of the one that mattered. Tears rolled silently down his face. Dana reached out again to touch his arm, but he faced the graves again, folding his arms tightly across his chest, as if at once a roadblock and the only comfort he could grant himself. Scully's mind raced to take in the full implications of his broken speech. She had never known anyone who needed to be held more. All those times he must have broken down alone, or locked it up inside... He wouldn't even have turned to his mother to let out his feelings. He wouldn't want to scare or worry her after the life she'd had. Carrying the burden himself for the family. And, through no fault of his own, he had missed his father's funeral, but would still blame himself for not being there. This fear of and need for closeness must have built up in him over the last year. Was that the reason their relationship had...lacked...that spark lately? The teasing tension, his irrepressible banter - it just seemed muted most of the time. Surely an investigative partnership didn't work like a marriage - the excitement fading after the first few years? She was worried that she may have contributed to him not turning to her. Not feeling that he COULD turn to her. He probably thought that she had enough to handle with grieving over Melissa and he didn't want to add more to the burden... Scully knew that she was not a demonstrative person. She rarely touched others, even Mulder. When he had been at rock bottom at times during the first two years of their partnership, she had shown concern by being there, sometimes touching his hand or his hair. However, he was always lightly touching her back to steer her through a door, touching her shoulder in passing... But she had only really felt it was safe to be demonstrative under her doctor persona. When he was injured - which was often enough - only then did she dare. To make sure he was all right, to reassure herself as much as him, and for the closeness. How would he know? At those times he would be too dazed, focused on the pain, only seeing her medical ministrations. Didn't he know that in all those times she'd rushed to his side in the last year, to his hospital bed, that it was more than because he was her partner, more than merely to see the doctors were doing their job? She didn't think it was possible to care so much for anyone else. But over the last year he had withdrawn more into himself and she had unconsciously abetted this, too hesitant to reach out to him. After Melissa died, they had made a vow to keep searching for the truth together, the battlelines of 'us' against 'them' even more sharply defined by events and their losses. Had they isolated themselves not only from everyone else but also from each other after William Mulder's and Melissa's deaths? Scully wondered if Mulder thought she blamed him. That his crusade was to blame. She thought back over the last year. The depth of Mulder's feelings on the Amy Jacobs kidnap case... Especially towards Lucy, the troubled young woman he was sure had a special link to Amy. The kidnapper had drowned Amy in a river as the partners raced to catch him. Dana remembered returning to the kidnapper's house after Amy mysteriously revived - how through the rain she had seen police milling around uncertainly and pushed through them. She saw Mulder hunched against a gurney, face buried next to Lucy's motionless head. He had pulled the sheet down from her face. "Mulder," Scully had said gently, "Mulder, we have to get you -" she tried a better track, "we have to get HER out of the cold. Please." She tried to hold him then, to comfort, but he had gone straight to the car. As soon as they arrived at the motel, he went immediately to his room. She only got to talk to him the next day. Mulder had been hesitant to comfort her when Clyde Bruckman died. And when Skinner got in all that trouble with the dead prostitute and the killer had knocked her down - when Mulder saw his partner lying against the wall he had been worried and squatted down, but hadn't reached out, hadn't cupped her cheek like he used to or brushed the hair away. He'd kept at a distance as if frightened. Other examples came into her mind, but Scully pulled herself back to the present, to Mulder's huddled form on the bench. "Mulder, do you think you don't deserve to be loved? Do you think I blame you for something or don't care anymore? I came all this way to help you - to hold you. Don't turn it into a knife and stab yourself with it. Don't let what happened with your father prevent you from reaching out. It's time to grieve and heal." Mulder spoke one word. And it wasn't what she was expecting. "Pfaster." "What?" He couldn't help sounding accusing. "The Pfaster case, Scully. I kept asking if you were okay; I said I wanted you to feel that you could confide in me - but you kept shutting me out..." So why should this be any different? "I know what I did, Mulder. Then I realised I was wrong, and I let you help me. Letting it out, knowing you were there, it helped me so much. I want to do the same for you. I'm here for you. But you have to let me." She remembered insisting she was fine, and him lifting her chin so he could catch her averted eyes. How he had filled them with his gaze of such concern and reassurance that she had immediately buried herself in his shoulder and clung tightly to him, allowing herself to let go. Only with him. "Why can't I go near his grave?" Mulder said softly, as if afraid his father would somehow overhear. After what he did to you, I'm not surprised... Scully thought, but left it unsaid. "I think you need to cry for yourself first. For what you've missed; not for what you think is guilt. Then you can be free to cry for him." So close. She could sense it. Just a little more... She swallowed, then said, "Mulder, after Pfaster... I felt so safe in your arms. Please let -" His laugh was harsh. "How could I ever make you feel safe?" Despite what she had said in the last minute, his nature would not let him accept his importance to her so easily. "You do. Safe and many other things. Soon, I'll need your help, your reassurance. It goes both ways." She reached out to touch his shoulder. "Don't you feel safe with ME?" He remembered arriving at her apartment after his father's death. The memory was somewhat hazy from his drugging and subsequent fever; however he could clearly remember his relief at seeing her again. How she had cared for him, keeping him still and quiet when he could easily have rushed off to his death. How she had cooled his burning body, staying with him to comfort, nurse and guard. Then the sense of betrayal he'd felt when he woke up the next day to find not only her gone but his gun missing too - even allowing for the effects of the drugs messing with his mind... It had felt like the world had fallen out beneath his feet. But then she saved him again. Took care of him again. Risked her life and job. Safe with her? Oh, yes. She was always there for him. How could he have felt that he should shut himself away from Scully? She cared so much, he could feel it, even if it wasn't shown in an obvious or usual way. Like her shooting him. Mulder turned towards her. He made no other move, only reaching out with his expression. Scully put her arms around him and gently, carefully, pulled him to her. His arms remained at his sides, his body a little stiff. He closed his eyes as they neared, then felt skin against skin, skin against hair and cloth. He wanted to abandon himself to the embrace and let out more of the pain, knowing she would keep him safe and secure. One of her hands was gently stroking his back as if he were a frightened creature. Her other hand was doing the same against his neck and hair. Other memories pushed into his mind. Pushed. Pusher. That was a too-clear recollection. He'd almost killed Scully due to Robert Modell's mind control. Those draining few minutes had brought them closer together, but driven another wedge in too. Another example of Mulder breaking down alone in his apartment after it was all over. And recently the reverse had happened. Scully had been brainwashed, cumulating in her training her gun on him. And not forgetting his visit to the morgue to identify what could easily have turned out to be her body. And even though it hadn't been, it was still his fault. All that had happened to her was his fault for putting them onto this case because of a shadowy tip-off. Mulder did not tell her about the incident at the morgue; she ended up finding out about it when she read his report later on. She had been angry at him for not telling her, and he shut out both their feelings by saying with finality: "It wasn't you - and that's all that matters." Oh, it did matter so much. And he was sick of denying it. Now, to the relief of both of them, he released his tears. Scully felt them silently fall. The tension was leaving his body. Slowly his hands went around her waist. Then he crumpled, head against her neck and shoulder, arms tightening their grip until there was nothing passive in his action. Scully kept stroking, holding and rocking, relieved by his breakdown yet not wanting him to have to feel this pain. After all he had been through, it amazed her that Fox Mulder managed to be as normal as he was. "It's okay. It's okay," she whispered tenderly; echoes of another time and place. She would probably have to put him to bed tonight too. But she had him back. And she was determined to keep it that way. She would not shut him out when Melissa's anniversary came around. On the contrary, she would seek Mulder out and be strengthened, instead of keeping silent and merely surviving. Mulder knew he would go to his father's grave a little later, with Scully right by his side. Now he just enjoyed the feelings of an embrace he would never forget and a lesson well learned. THE END.