A short post-ep for “Irresistible”. Pure hurt/comfort. Tagging @today-in-fic

Crumbling Walls

Scully, her superficial physical wounds patched up, sits shrunken in the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact, shying away every time Mulder reaches out.

“Scully, I…,” this isn’t the first time he tries to make conversation tonight, say anything of substance, and then trails off. The paramedics sent him away when they spoke to her and tended to her wounds. She hasn’t uttered a single word to him since her “I’m fine” right before she broke down in his arms. The phantom weight of her shaking fear still wears heavy on his heart.

“Do you,” he stops to lick his lips, “are you sure you don’t want me to call your mother?”

“She’s been through enough.” Her answer sounds robotic. Walls up, gates closed, and keys thrown away. Anger sizzles through him. She was taken against her will, again, and here she is, pretending it was nothing, dealing with the aftermath in her very own Scully way. For a few moments, she let him hold her, didn’t hide her feelings from him.

“Are you hungry? We could-”

“I appreciate your concern, Mulder. I just want to take a shower and forget this day. Please.” Silence falls over the car again, like a cloak, until they arrive at the motel.

Mulder walks her to her room. Her overnight bag has been lost; she has nothing but the clothes she’s wearing.

“I’m fine,” she says once they reach her room, her hand on the knob. “I really am. I’m sorry for… earlier.” He’s staring at her. Clearly, she’s not serious. She can’t be.

“Sorry,” he repeats slowly. “Scully, there is not a single thing you should feel sorry about.” Her bottom lip quivers. Would she let him take her into his arms again? Before he can make up his mind, she has opened the door and put distance between them.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Please,” he says, putting his hand against the door, “just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He keeps his hand there a moment longer in case she changes her mind. When the seconds tick on and she doesn’t make a move, he gives up.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles and the door clicks shut.

Not an hour later, there’s a knock on his door, and there she is again. Still wearing the same clothes, her eyes unnaturally huge and exhausted, she looks at him.

“I can’t sleep,” she admits in a small voice. Mulder gently grabs her hand to bring her inside. She stands there, lost, not looking at him. “I don’t want to talk,” she continues. “Not tonight, but I… don’t want to be alone either. If that’s all right with you.”

“It’s more than all right with me.” He watches over her the whole night, holds her hand in her sleep. There are no nightmares and in the morning, he sees her smile.