Chapter Text
Mulder groaned as he slid into his seat at the back of the plane. The flight attendant handed him a blanket, with an apologetic smile, after he saw her wrinkling her nose at the smell of gasoline still clinging to him. He thanked her, knowing it was only his badge that got him a seat on this flight, while smelling like he did, at all. There weren't many other people on this flight, and they'd seated him well away from the other passengers, to his relief.
His mind was reeling with all the events of the past few days; the excitement of discovering a real live miracle healer, the shock of his mother's stroke and the connections to the smoking bastard and the project his father belonged to, that the healer Jeremiah Smith was part of that, too, part of his sister's disappearance. There could be no question of these facts: he'd seen her himself, his sister, somehow not older than when he last saw her in 1973. Yet at the same time, not his sister, nothing of her sweet smile or sarcastic wit or warm personality, just a drone, an It in a sister-shaped form.
He had failed her again, failed to bring this drone- sister to Scully for testing as evidence, failed to save Jeremiah Smith, to bring him to his mother to cure her. He had nothing now, and if his mother died, he'd have no one. No one but Scully.
He scoffed at himself. Did he really have Scully? He knew she was dedicated to the work; she had her own stakes in this quest now, after her abduction. After they murdered her sister. She'd had the chance to walk away, when they'd been shut down, when she'd seen his first mysterious informant gunned down, when she saved him from the men who had taken him.
Not only did she keep pursuing the work, she encouraged him not to give up. Not giving up led him to Arecibo; she followed him and saved his ass again. He couldn't imagine not having her in his life, whatever that looked like. He would continue to play by The Rules.
He thought of her, at the hospital with his mother, and his throat ached as he fought tears. To distract himself, he thought about The Rules. They'd come up with them together, over the first months of their partnership, beginning on their second case. Sometimes the rules frustrated him, but he recognised the wisdom behind them, the concern for their partnership, while they allowed them the leeway to indulge themselves a bit, when the need arose. Not to mention certain body parts.
Their first conversation about The Rules happened on a plane like this one, when they were flying home from their second case. He'd been sulking a bit, after they left Ellens Air Base empty-handed.
Scully had been her professional self; she hadn't scolded him for ditching her. She'd been quiet after her outburst outside of the the Buddahas' house. He thought about how she had put herself on the line to come to his rescue, and he'd felt badly for how his actions had effected her. He'd glanced at her, in the window seat. She was looking out the window, but there wasn't much to see out there, just the wing and some clouds. He cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something?"
She looked at him, wary of another discussion of the case they were leaving behind. He gave her a wry half smile to encourage her; she returned it before repenting. "Sure, Mulder, what do you want to know?"
"Why didn't you want to meet me at the bar, the day I told you about the case? Am I too embarrassing to be seen in public with? Is it my ties?" he asked with a smirk.
That made her laugh.
"No, no. I mean, some of your ties are a bit...bold. But there's nothing wrong with your looks. I mean, with how you look...with anything you wear" she stammered a bit, "I mean, I'm not shallow like that"
"What was it then?"he asked, genuinely curious by then.
" Its just that...this is my first assignment, out in the field, with a partner, and I just want to be careful about... crossing any boundaries," she explained
He had been a bit taken aback at the time.
"Did I do something to make you feel like..."
"No, no, no, Mulder! If anyone did anything, it was me, showing up in your room in Bellefluer, with the...mosquito bites..." she blushed at the memory.
"Scully, you were scared. I was glad that you trusted me enough to come to me. I would never do anything intentionally to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe and I hope you can trust me, as I am coming to trust you. We're partners," he assured her. "Right?"
"That's right" she smiled back.
"I'm a bit rusty on having a partner, but sometimes partners do go out for drinks, or grab a bite to eat. Or call to check in, particularly after a rough case; its part of being a team, of getting to know the person who has your back"he explained.
"It wasn't meant to be a date"
She had actually blushed before replying that she hadn't thought it was a date, she just wanted to keep things professional, but she did acknowledge that the partner relationship did allow for time spent together off-the-clock.
"Just no date-night activities," she joked.
"I once went to the movies with Reggie, but we each bought our own popcorn," he'd agreed,"But yeah, no candlelit dinners or walks on the beach"
The memory made him smile; that had become the first Rule, No date-night activities, and though it had stretched a bit and evolved, over time, they still kept to it. Sometimes it irritated him, when he wanted to be closer to her, but the Rules kept him in check, while freeing him to pursue his search for answers; they kept Scully at his side. He needed her by his side, he knew this much, he couldn't lose her. He didn't want her to leave him, like Diana had.
Diana. God, he hadn't even thought of her for awhile. He remembered getting in touch with her after the Suzanne Modeski case, he remembered her from the Academy, with her strange background in parapsychology, and her willingness to think outside the box. She'd been staring at the wedding ring on his finger, but she'd agreed to help him. He'd explained to her a few weeks later that it was his grandfather's ring, and a symbol that he was married to his work, his quest to find the person who took his sister, and find out what had happened to her.
He snorted. He thought she had understood, when they started fucking, after he had gone on her advice to see Dr. Werber. He would go and have sex with her, in her family's suite of rooms at the Watergate, before escaping back to what she called "his gloomy little apartment" and falling asleep for a few hours before seeing her again at work the next day.
She'd been happy when they'd found the x-files months later, but when he used his father's contacts and gained enough influence to get them both reassigned to them full time, she balked.
"These aren't real cases, Fox. Not the kind that build you up to be a man of influence, the kind that brings prosecutors cases they can win. The kind of man who can get answers by asking for them, without all this drudging through cases that are not only cold, but that can't be explained in a way they'll accept. I agree that they are interesting, some of them fascinating, but you became a profiler for a reason, you're brilliant..."
"I became a profiler to find my sister," he'd informed her bluntly,"Spent years studying every kind of sick, psychotic human fifth, only to discover that what took my sister wasn t human"
She had protested that she'd brought him to Dr. Werber to try to help him get answers, to help him move on so he could "finally grow up" and settle down, and have kids. With her. As she talked, he had realized with a sort of growing horror and irritation that she thought they were Something. That they were Together. That she had tried to give him answers as a manipulationn, not for him or for Sam.
He set her straight; that not only were they not together, he had no interest in her that way even if he didn't have a personal quest and was free. That he had no interest in going forward personally with her, that her professional skills kills were what he needed from her, to help him work the cases in the basement.
"I see," was the last thing she'd ever said to him, before walking out of his new office, and out of his life, for good. He had felt some guilt; he still did, but no real regret. She was a good, smart, and attractive woman, who had only wanted to care about him, She hadn't deserved his callous reaction to her disclosure.
When he had called her a couple of days later, to apologize, there was a message saying she had relocated to Europe. He felt slightly more guilty when he realized he was relieved.
He didn't want to think about Diana anymore. He definitely didn't want to think about losing Scully. Despite his efforts, she had somehow, unlike Diana, made her way into his heart. Also unlike Diana, she didn't want to be in a relationship with him, other than that of partner, friend, with occasional benefits thrown in, under exceptional circumstances.
Or, at least, she didn't seem to want anything more from him than what they had, though she did get slightly...territorial? on occasion.
He wondered if it was time to talk about the Rules again. He buckled into his seat as the announcement of the plane's landing sounded throughout the cabin. If Scully was the last, the only person he had left in his life, he wanted her to know how he felt, that he could be open to...More.
He wondered if More with Scully meant two kids and a house in the suburbs. He knew it probably meant a dog, though he hoped it could be a proper dog, not like that fuzzy rat thing she had. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Queequeg, the alligator hors d'oeuvres. Would she want More? As much as he knew he loved her, was he ready to settle down? Was she? Did he only want her because she had setnherself off-limits? Was he that perverse?
He made his way off the plane and, having no baggage but his guilty thoughts, made his way directly from the terminal, to where taxis waited outside. He got in one and directed it to the hospital.
Sitting back, he thought again of the Rules. There were five.
No date-night activities.
No sleepovers, especially at each other's apartments.
Exceptions may be made under exceptional circumstances.
No mushy stuff.
Exceptions must wait until cases are over to be acted on.
They were rules that had allowed them to indulge themselves, to comfort each other, to give them an outlet when it was all too much, but still put the work first, to keep them working cases together for over three years, without things getting too personal, too emotionally messy. What would change, he wondered, if they agreed to something More?
The car pulled up outside and he got out, making his way slowly inside, where he knew Scully would be expecting him and Jeremiah Smith. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking of asking for More when he had failed her, failed his mother, failed that clone-samantha. Failed their superiors at the FBI too, if the crowded hallway was any indication, not that he particularly cared about that.
She spotted him right away as he made his way down the hallway to his mother's room. He let her fuss over him, taking small comfort in her ministrations.
After flying back to DC, he let her drive him home, and help to guide him upstairs. He wanted to ask her to make an exception and stay the night, even if they only shared the bed with their clothes on, but he didn't get the chance. The elevator doors opened on his hallway, and on the chaos of a crime scene investigation in progress, right in front of his door. Helping him, helping them, had gotten his informant killed, after all.
He was still wracked with the guilt when he stood in the office at the UN, alone, a month later. Scully had offered to help him, when the Gunmen had directed him to the Special Representatives office at the UN, based on the message left in blood on the floor. If talking to them both had gotten his last two informants killed, he didn't think any potential future ally would be forthcoming unless he went alone.
He hadn't expected to see an attractive woman, nor was he surprised that the strange farm with its silent workers had vanished, leaving no evidence. He felt like giving up, going back to the hospital to see his mother, still comatose, before disappearing, so he didn't get anyone else killed.
Then the pretty blonde lady showed him the photos; told that not everything dies, and he knew he still had work to do.