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Mulder wakes to a cool bed. Scully was due home from the hospital hours ago, and he expected her to be curled up against his back, sweaty in slumber, as she’s prone to do after a shift of PPE, overflowing wards and not enough staff. To his relief, her spies her car out of the window.
He moves slowly through the house, stretching his neck, his arms. Her scrubs are in the washing machine – always the first thing she does when she gets back – and he turns on the coffee machine. Eventually, he finds her in the study, wrapped in her robe with her hair in a messy bun. Her fingers skip across the keyboard of her laptop.
He plants a heavy kiss on her head. ‘Good morning.’
‘Mmm, good morning, Mulder.’ She slams the laptop shut.
‘Good shift?’
‘The same.’ Scully rarely discusses work, preferring to unleash in the moments just before falling asleep. The anonymity of that time exorcises her head of people dying alone, of caution that came just a little too late, of families trying to say the longest goodbye over the phone.
‘What’s going on here?’ He indicates to her closed laptop.
‘Nothing. I just want to finish some things before I hit the sack.’
Mulder goes into the kitchen to pour a coffee and make a tea for Scully. When he returns, her laptop is open again and she’s staring at the screen.
‘Dammit,’ she whispers.
‘What?’ He chuckles as she jolts in surprise. Leaning on the desk, he passes her a mug. ‘Seriously, what are you doing? It’s got you all het up.’
She doesn’t meet his eye but rather blows on her tea before her lips curl up slightly. ‘I don’t want to tell you. It’s kind of a niche interest.’
‘Well, as the king of niche interests, I assure you I’ll treat it with the respect it deserves.’
‘Ok.’ She inhales deeply, preparing herself. It must be good for her to forgo sleep in its favour. ‘Don’t judge.’
‘I promise.’
‘Don’t laugh.’
‘I won’t! You can tell me.’
‘It’s a bit of a thing, so bear with me. About two months ago, I was having a really rough shift. It was just…. Awful. A lot of loss. During my break, I just needed to look at something harmless… Have you heard of fanfiction?’
‘Yeah, I know about fanfic,’ Mulder says. ‘Frohike was an early pioneer of smut in the Next Gen fandom.’
‘There’s a piece of information I wish I didn’t have in my brain.’
‘There’s so much about Frohike I don’t want in my brain. You’re lucky I don’t share more.’ He taps the laptop. ‘So, you started reading fanfic?’
‘Yes,’ she blushes. ‘But no smut! I’d never heard of it before, but it turns out it’s the perfect distraction at work. When everything is so bleak, it’s fun to forget the real world for a little while. Spend time with characters I enjoy… Now that I’m saying it out loud, I’m realising just how niche this is.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed. You’re talking to a fully committed Squatcher over here.’
‘That's true.’
‘It’s only a positive that you’ve found a way to create some distance with work. And it’s fun. You know, online fan spaces have been around for as long as the internet. In some cases, these fans actually helped to shape the development of their favoured show.’
‘Some of the writers are very impressive.’
‘Sure, it’s a very creative space. Some have gone on to become published authors.’
‘Anywayyyyy, there’s this thing called Fictober. People write something every day in October.’
‘And you thought you’d give it a go?’
‘I …. I thought I might give it a go. You know, to unwind after a shift. Stop my brain churning.’
‘Science, the arts, you truly are my Renaissance woman.’ Mulder grins, delighted with where this is heading. Her whimsical side his is favourite, and it hasn’t made an appearance for a little while.
‘You need to be musical to be a true Renaissance woman. And ‘writing’ is a very generous term for what I’ve churned out.’
‘Let me be the judge of that. Can I read it?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ He laughs. It feels great. Thanks to her shift pattern, it’s been days since he’s seen Scully properly. She glides home to bed in the early hours of the morning, missing most of day, before heading back to the hospital a couple of hours before he finishes work. He only visits the Hoover building when absolutely necessary, and the result is that he hasn’t had a proper conversation with another physical human in about four days.
He misses her. Isolation can make a person fade, and though he’s not there yet, his history has taught him to be careful.
‘You don’t like this show anyway,’ she murmurs through a shy smile. It’s true, he has never liked this show, critically acclaimed though it was when it was on air. He finds the politics too unrealistic, but it feeds right into Scully’s optimistic world view.
‘Your call, G-woman. I’ll wait til the paperback comes out,’ he says and she smirks. ‘How is today’s piece going?’
‘That’s just it. It’s day three and I’m out of ideas.’ She leans her head against the chair. ‘And I need to get it finished before I can go to bed.’
‘It’s not supposed to be homework!’ Scully hates missing a deadline, even a self-imposed one. Especially self-imposed. ‘Tell me what’s rolling around in your head. We’ll piece something together.’
‘So, I want to look at two characters who work in the administration. They’re both brilliant. He’s technically her boss, but she’s the one who keeps the train on the tracks. He’d be lost without her. And they have this amazing repartee. It’s quite sexy, actually.’
‘Ah, your classic unresolved sexual tension.’ Mulder nods approvingly. ‘You know, I think we might have had some of that back in the day. Definitely resolved now though. And how.’
‘I should hope so, after all this time!’ That arch in her eyebrow still makes him weak.
Mulder scrambles eggs while quizzing her on unique character dynamics and unanswered plot lines. As they eat together, they narrow it down to one particular Christmas episode.
‘Ok, so what happens after he sees the trauma counsellor for being shot? Does she drive him home afterwards? What’s that like? What does she say to him, given that she went above his head to talk to his boss? Is he angry?’
Scully nods slowly, frowning as she hugs another mug of tea. ‘I think I see it.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ She returns to the study, and he sets up temporary camp on the kitchen table to start his own work. This unexpected treat of a morning has revived him; he falls into focus easily.
Forty minutes later, he’s reviewing crime scene photos at the kitchen counter while making his third coffee of the day when she appears and folds herself against his chest. He wraps his arms around her.
‘All done.’
‘And I still can’t read it?’
‘Absolutely not.’ She looks up at him and smiles. Her eyes are tired, but they’re clear and untroubled. ‘This was fun. I can’t remember the last time we had breakfast together. Thank you, Mulder.’
‘Same time tomorrow?’
‘You know it.’ She stifles a yawn.
‘You should get some sleep. I’ll wake you in time for food before your next shift.’ She nods drowsily and stands on tip toes to kiss his cheek.
During his own lunch break, Mulder dusts off the DVD set of the show and pops one in to watch an episode. He wants to be more prepared tomorrow. The afternoon chugs on and he leaves it on in the background. Turns out it’s a pretty good show after all.