small fic prompt: "you shouldn't have come here"
Set early season 2 because I'm obsessed with this era MSR. Tagging @today-in-fic and writers that have inspired me, such as @gaycrouton, @scullyfemme and @peacenik0.
Tonight, the raindrops on the window sound like a drum line to a hungover Mulder. He doesn't normally drink, but he also doesn't normally lose the one person he trusted on his quest for the truth.
He figured it was easiest to just numb the pain. Scully may have only been in his life for a short period of time, but there was no denying that she had become a prominent component of it.
There's no way to forget his pain, but at least he can attempt repression; that is until he's jolted from his empty thoughts by an even louder banging on his door.
He rises slowly from the disheveled couch only to be met with a concerned Scully.
"What are you doing here? I thought you didn't care anymore."
Mulder can barely meet her eyes in fear that he'll only become more hurt by her answer.
"I don't care?! Mulder, why would you- Wait. Have you been drinking?"
As if there was a gravitational pull between them, Scully lifts her hand to press it to Mulder's forehead, but is stopped by him lightly grabbing her wrist.
"I figured you had gotten what you wanted, off the X-Files, and away from me. You're finally free, so why come here?"
Her eyes shine with worry as she tilts his chin with her other hand so he'll meet her gaze.
"There is no freedom from you. And I don't mean that as if I've been banished to a life by your side, chasing the truth. I mean it in a way that I could never be free of you. I constantly have you on my mind, wondering if you're okay when we are apart. So I came to find out."
He sighs dejectedly, and drops his hold on her wrist. He slowly walks away from her, towards the loud banging in the window.
"You shouldn't have come here."
As if she was burned, Scully winces at his words. Not knowing how to respond, she cautiously approaches him.
"But I am, and you'll have to kick me out because I don't plan on leaving willingly."
She begins to rub her hand in soothing patterns on his back, feeling his muscles relax. He surprises her by turning his head and looking into her eyes with a look she hasn't recognized yet, but one that makes her knees weak.
He begins to speak, but closes his eyes tightly as if he's fighting off a war of thoughts. When he opens his eyes, they've softened. Finally, he wins the battle with his mind and says what she hoped to hear.
"I don't want you to leave."
