I picked 6: “I can’t breathe". Combing this with a very old prompt: Would you consider writing something where scully talks mulder through a panic attack ? Maybe post kitsunegari ?

Tagging @today-in-fic

It’s okay

It’s sheer luck that she finds him in the stairway, huddled in a corner, holding on to an open case file, loose papers circling him.

“Mulder,” she says, more to herself than to him, and then she’s by his side, on her knees, touching his ice-cold hands. “What happened?”

“Can’t- I- can’t-ca-,” he stutters, horror flashing in his eyes. Scully’s hands roam over his body in quick, certain movements. There is no blood, no wounds; nothing. Her hands wander under his jacket and find his heart. It’s galloping in his chest.

“Mulder, talk to me,” she pleads, at a loss what the matter is.

He is gasping for air, in desperate gulps, staring at her. “I-,” he starts and she nods, praying that he’ll find his words. “I can’t breathe,” he presses out.

“Panic attack?” It’s suddenly so clear to her. The case file, the one Mulder had been holding, is the Linda Bowman case. Skinner asked for it. Just the other day he made a throwaway comment about how he was still thinking about it, about the warehouse and what almost happened. How often have they pointed guns at each other? How long until it ends in tragedy? Scully wonders as she looks at him, quickly dismissing the thought. Right now she needs to help Mulder. 

“I’m here,” she says, her hands cupping his knees. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s over.” She motions to the papers, lifeless and full of empty phrases. “Linda Bowman can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.” His eyes are fixated on her and his mouth is open, trying to capture the much-needed air. “We’re both safe,” she adds, feeling self-conscious. It’s him who does this, reassure her. Him who spews words easily. Now, he can barely breathe and she’ll have to do the talking.

“This will go away,” she assures him. “I know it may not feel like it right now, but the panic attack will end. You hear me, Mulder?” Carefully, she wipes away a few drops of sweat from his forehead. The smile she gives him is shaky. Years ago, Pusher tried to break him and didn’t succeed. His sister tried to do the same. Scully is not going to let either of them inflict any more pain.

“I haven’t told you this yet – it’s silly,” she checks to see if she has his attention and he’s looking up at her, waiting, “my mom has joined a dance group. She asked me to join, too, but… that’s beside the point. They’re doing the Waltz, the Rumba and the Foxtrot. She said she thought of you the first time they danced it. You know how it goes? It’s slow, slow, quick, quick.” Her fingers dance over his knee, imitating the dance.

“You move forward with your left foot, forward with your right foot,” her fingers do the same, moving over his knee and his thigh, “then sidestep with your left, sidestep with your right.”

“You know a lot about dancing,” Mulder says, still out of breath, but breathing slower now, smiling at her. They made it. It’s over.

“Hi.” There’s a huge smile plastered on her face, full of relief. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay now, I think. Thanks to you.” His own hand finds hers on his knee and squeezes it. “It’s never been this bad before.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having panic attacks?”

Mulder shrugs. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“You’re going home,” Scully decides and helps him up.

“You’re telling me to play hooky, Agent Scully?” She slides her arm around his waist to steady him. He can joke all he wants, but she knows he’s still shaken up. “I’m learning so many new things about you today,” he says to distract from the fact that they’re making baby steps down the stairs and that he’s using her as a crutch. “I didn’t know you can foxtrot, Scully.”

“Maybe I’ll show you one day,” she teases.

“I hope you do,” he replies and they both smile.