If You Will Let Me
Post-Milagro X-Files Fanfic
Chapter 9: Set in Motion
By now, their mornings together had settled into a structured sort of rhythm. The alarm was set the night before, and one of them would rise when it sounded to brew coffee for them both. While it had only been three nights in the same bed, there was a comfort, a ritual to the mornings that made it seem as though they had been doing this for much longer.
The alarm sounded too early for the late night they had just worked through, and Scully grudgingly forced herself to open her eyes. At first, she couldn’t see much. Her face was still buried in Mulder’s warm chest where she had burrowed in the night before, after pouring out her raw fears and wounds. She had slept the rest of the night through, thoroughly exhausted after talking over so much. She smiled to herself, peeking up to see his closed eyes and peaceful, unconscious visage. The quiet, steady rhythm of his breathing was the only sound in the room. He was something wonderful. Something she never wanted to lose. Carefully, she unwound herself from his arms, slipping off the bed in an attempt to find the coffee pot.
Upon locating it on the cracked veneer dresser, Scully realized with dismay that the diminutive appliance would not provide nearly enough caffeine to combat their late night. She groaned to herself, but began the process of fetching the water, putting the styrofoam cup under the single-serving coffee pot nozzle, and waiting. Last night had been so hard. Discussing what had been done, how she had been violated, had felt insurmountable… but with Mulder, it was doable. Not easy. Not pleasant. But she had done it. She looked over at his sleeping form… a full grown man, curled up like a little boy, serene and cozy under a threadbare motel comforter. The early morning sunlight filtered through the yellowed curtains to cast a strange, jaundiced glow over him, along with the entire room. But even in this oddly iodine wiped scene, he seemed so soft. So, right. She wanted to curl up in his arms again, resting in that protection and care. Did he know how much he really meant to her? She shook her head, feeling childish. Every day that passed she had grown more fond of him lately. She had cared about him for years, and had wanted him for a long time… but this… this was more than care, more than lust… and it frightened her. She furrowed her brow. She supposed she could thank Padgett for that, for ripping so much of her away that her raw emotions were winning.
But last night, she had slept better than she had in days. Maybe Mulder was right. Maybe each day would, in fact, be a little easier. She would regain control, and find balance within herself again.
One cup done.
Mine, she thought. She began the next cup for Mulder, then took a sip from the one in her hand. She grimaced. The truck stop diner coffee had been better than this. Desperate, she took another swig, then stuck her tongue out, nose scrunched. So much for coffee.
Stirring bedsheets behind her signaled that Mulder was waking. She turned to find him rubbing his tired eyes, his hair in sleep-induced porcupine spikes.
“Hey. Good morning,” she greeted him, grabbing his styrofoam coffee cup from under the nozzle. “I am apologizing in advance for this coffee, if that’s what it actually is.”
Mulder made a face. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s a step away from embalming fluid.”
Mulder raised his sleepy eyebrows at this, and Scully held up a finger and one slender eyebrow in a pointed rebuttal.
“See for yourself.” She handed it to him. He took a sip and pursed his lips.
“Well. That’s… something.” He blew on it and took another sip. “It’s better than nothing, though.”
Scully shook her head. “No. That tiny gas station better have something better than this. I’m going to get ready.” In a flash, she was in the bathroom, pouring the questionable brown liquid down the sink and grabbing her toothbrush.
After staying up past 3:30 in the morning, Mulder didn’t much care what the coffee tasted like, so long as it wasn’t decaf. He downed the rest of it and got dressed, up to his undershirt, then flopped down onto the lumpy bed, waiting for his turn with the bathroom. He spread his arms out on the thinning bedspread and stared up at the popcorn texture of the sandblasted ceiling.
Waiting for the shared bathroom, he mused. Making each other coffee. Talking at all hours of the night. Holding her to him in bed. They were practically married. The thought invaded his mind before he could catch it, and he found himself ruminating. Letting the what ifs of a life fully with her dance unhindered in his mind’s eye. He would dote, he knew, even more than he already did. Scully deserved that, and more. And he would kiss her. On her rose lips. On her slender, porcelain neck. Everywhere. All the time. After all, there was time to be made up for, and while the cancer was in remission now… he didn’t want to bet their lives that it would remain that way. So he would kiss her. And he would make love to her. As often as he could… if only she wanted him to.
There was one thing looming, thick as a heavy fog, that clouded the vision, keeping it just out of reach. And, just like everything else this week, it was because of Padgett.
“Agent Scully is already in love,” the man had said. The arrangement of those syllables was a solid punch to Mulder’s stomach. Since that day, the words had bounced around in his cranium, holding him hostage, and creeping into the background in the dark, when he held her as she tried to sleep.
The only possible positive he could think of was that, maybe, Padgett had been manipulating Scully with those words, too. Rubbing his eyes with both hands, he sighed under his breath, considering this prospect. If everything had been worked into her mind from within, God help her, then it was plausible that this, too, was part of the writer’s violations.
“Are you okay?” Scully was standing in the bathroom doorway, red hair tamed and controlled, white collared shirt buttoned, and coat and slacks fitted perfectly to her slender form. Mulder let his hands fall from his face to the bed. He wondered how long she had been watching him and hoped none of his thoughts had manifested unconsciously on his tongue.
“Just tired,” Mulder replied. Very emotionally tired, he thought. But so was she, he knew, so he had no room to speak.
She smiled at him. “Well, good, because for a minute I thought maybe I killed you with that coffee.”
“I can’t give a definitive answer on that yet, Scully. I’m waiting to see what the embalming fluid does once it reaches my intestines.” He grinned at her as he pushed himself up to a sitting position on the bed. “Ready for another riveting paperwork check?”
“Hmm,” Scully said absently, snagging her shoes from near the motel doorway. “I expect this is our life for awhile now. But we can make the best of it, right?” She sat on the bed next to him, sliding her heels on one at a time.
“I’ll start by getting you some gas station coffee,” Mulder said, patting her leg in feigned reassurance. He watched with satisfaction as she smiled broadly.
“That would be great.” She turned to him. “Better finish your quick shave and all that so we can go.”
Mulder touched the dark stubble on his face and moved to get up, but stopped himself suddenly. He had to know.
“Scully, can I ask you something? About Padgett?” He watched her stiffen, physically preparing herself, her gaze fixed on his face. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms protectively over her heart.
“Yes…” she said slowly. “I, um, I think I told you everything last night… but yes. You can.”
Nervously, Mulder shifted on the bed to face her directly.
“You said last night that Padgett seemed to control your thoughts,” he began, “like… well sort of like when Modell was making me… you know, point the gun at you.”
Lips pursed and brow furrowed with uneasy remembrance, Scully nodded, glancing down for a moment before returning her eyes to his.
“And those… thoughts. The writings. He did all that to you.” Mulder said it as a fact, because it was. He didn’t want her to feel cheapened or questioned.
“Right.” She raised her eyebrow, confused. She had already gone over this. “Is this more to help me process and normalize? Because I know I need to… and I do appreciate it, Mulder, but we need to go.”
Mulder shook his head, searching for the right words. “No… no. I was just wondering… so then that whole ‘Scully is already in love’ thing- that was Padgett too?”
Scully felt her face betray her and quickly looked down. Her stomach was tight again, not from the discussion of Padgett, but from fear of disappointment, were her feelings not reciprocated. She didn’t think she could survive that. Not right now.
“Oh.” Mulder’s response was measured. The silence that followed was thick, heavy and unbearably long. He broke it with a question laced with a touch of distain.
“Who’s the lucky guy then?” He kicked himself as soon as the words tumbled out. That was an awful thing to ask. It had been sour on his tongue, and he saw her stiffen all the more at it.
Dare she tell him? Like this?
“Why?” She found herself asking. From under her eyebrows, her sky eyes met his, awaiting a response. It was no surprise why Philip Padgett had wanted her so badly. She was stunning. He could see the freckles that peeked timidly from her pale skin, like faded stars in the city skies that could not be stifled by the glow of man made light. While the rest of the room wore the yellowed curtain light as a stain, on her it was a halo of gold, warming her complexion to a glow, and setting her auburn hair to a fiery blaze of gold and copper. She was gilded and perfect.
Mulder’s mind raced with what he wanted to say. Because I love you. Because I want to be here for you, and to be the one to protect you, hold you and respect you like you deserve. Never use you like that bastard did.
“I’m just curious,” was all that he managed.
Scully considered his features individually, trying to read him as he often read her. The slight furrow of his brow. The purse of his pouty lips. The -worry, she thought- that seemed etched into his irises. She had memorized each plane of his face, noting the birthmark on his cheek, the way his stubble grew in on long late night stakeouts. The deepness of his hazel eyes. But she was not the master of human motive and profiling. She could not conjure the reasoning behind the shifts in each striking feature, nor could she read his body language like he could read hers. He remained an enigma that she would follow to the ends of the earth, and further, if only he asked. And today, more than anything, she wanted him to ask.
“There is no lucky man,” she said finally. She uncrossed her arms, slumping a bit, and looked down at her hands, lacing her slender fingers together, a pensive expression on her face.
He raised his eyebrows.
“But, you said-“
“It’s much more complicated than that…” she bit her lip for a moment, considering her next move. It was a game of chess. A very poorly played game at that. “I don’t even think this person is interested.” He had been in her bed how many times now? Surely, if the man before her had wanted her, he would have said something. Done something to show his desire.
Mulder’s mind was overtaken by a flood of emotion. He didn’t want to consider the thought of Scully with someone else. He didn’t think he could bear it. Not after all they had been through together. She was, and always would be, his everything. He lowered his head to hide the tears that were threatening his eyes. He was a foolish, headstrong, irrational being, hopelessly enamored with the woman before him. She seemed so… perfect.
“I… I hardly think… that someone would… not… find you attractive, Scully,” he said quietly. “You are.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Had he just said what she thought he said? She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, reverberating through her skull. The silence between them was deafening, and seemed eternal.
“Scully?” Mulder finally broke the tension with a whisper. “Can I ask you one more thing?” He looked into her pale eyes.
Scully took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Yes, Mulder. Of course. You know you can ask me anything.”
“And you promise to tell the truth?” His eyes searched her soul. She felt completely exposed before him. It was elating, and it was terrifying.
“Yes,” she whispered. She breathed out a small laugh. “I can’t lie to you. I never could.”
His lips turned up in a slight smile.
“Good,” he said. “I could never lie to you, either.” He breathed deep, steadying himself, knowing that the next words she spoke to him would be true, and painful. But he had to know. “Who is it… that… you think you… love?”
The question whispered out of him and hung in the sanguine light of the motel room. They both knew that something was set in motion. Something that could not be undone.
Scully glanced down at her clasped hands, knuckles white. “Promise me,” she said softly, “one thing.”
“I’ll try, Scully.” Mulder wasn’t sure if he could truly promise anything, but he would always try. For her.
“What I say, it changes nothing. Please.” She looked up at him earnestly. If she ruined this, if she ruined them, she would never forgive herself.
Mulder nodded carefully, holding her gaze. He would do what he needed to do, he decided. If that meant seeing her with someone else… well, he had lost people he cared about before. And somehow, he was still breathing.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She was not ready for this. Not at all.
But she could not deny him the answer. She would not deny him anything he wanted from her. Ever.
“You.” Her word was a feather light whisper.
Silence.
She opened her eyes tentatively, her eyebrows raised in an expression that screamed of hope and fear, all at once.
“Me..?” Mulder stared, shock written across his features, watching his partner flush a bright red in the golden light.
“I know, I know it’s stupid,” she stammered, fumbling over her words. She felt so foolish. She wanted to run, but there was really nowhere to go. She was stuck. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t want to ruin this partnership, Mulder. You promised. It changes nothing. Nothing, okay?” Her eyes were begging him. “Please forget it. I’m… sorry-“
“No, no, no, Scully,” Mulder said quickly. His heart was racing. “This, this changes everything.”
Bewildered, she opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Now, tears were ready to come. And she was ready to leave. She set her jaw and stood, turning to escape.
Mulder’s hand grabbed her wrist. She flinched.
“What.” Scully reeled and glared at him through watery eyes, furious.
“Scully.” Mulder stood and faced her, blocking her path between the bed and the cheap dresser. Looking down at her, he furrowed his brow, and she held his gaze in defiance. “Scully, you don’t understand.”
“No, I think I do,” she spat. Her blue irises blazed with white hot fire.
The fingers on Mulder’s free hand curled under her chin, and he moved in closer. She froze, suddenly aware that she had made a terrible miscalculation. She was aghast at herself… and stunned to see him so very, tantalizingly close to her lips.
“No. You don’t, Scully,” he whispered, and her drew her face closer to his, slowly, almost ceremonially. He wanted to savor all of this moment. This moment that, seconds ago, he thought would never be.
Scully parted her lips, slightly. To speak. To breathe. But her lungs had failed her, and she stood staring up at Mulder’s deep, hazel eyes, completely paralyzed. Body electrified. Chin trembling.
And Mulder’s eyes changed. His countenance from elation to one of concern. His fingers felt her body tense, shivering, and he saw her forehead etched with… fear?
“Scully?” His voice was soft. He was speaking to the woman he loved. The woman who loved him back. His fingers released her chin and traced the soft curve of her cheek. “I won’t do this if you don’t want me to…” Maybe this was too much for her right now. After Padgett. He released his grasp on her wrist and, steadying her, pressed his fingers gently onto her lower back, slowly pulling her torso to his. He heard her gasp in a minuscule, ragged breath at the contact of their bodies.
She had never done that before.
“Mulder,” Scully breathed his name, almost inaudible above the rapid beating of his pulse. Her hands went to his chest, one resting above his heart, the other grasping the collar of his white undershirt. He wanted to speak, to reassure her. But he knew that she needed silence, so instead he smiled softly at her, his eyes bright, and gently kissed her forehead. Her grip on his collar tightened.
“Mulder, I… I have lived through so many dreams… lately,” Scully whispered. “And I really… I just need to know… that this is real… that we… that you are serious...” Her eyes were an ocean of fear and longing.
Cradling her head in his hand, Mulder kissed her forehead again, then pulled back to gaze down at her.
“This is very real, Scully. You. And me. That’s all I know that’s real. This is all I know to believe in, anymore.”
He felt her fingers release his shirt collar and traverse his clavicle, then his jugular, slowly up and behind his neck. He let her lead, and reveled in it.
Her fingernails pressed softly into the edge of his hairline, caressing the back of his skull, and Scully slowly pulled him down to her, closing her eyes as her lips found his, almost imperceptibly at first. But as she breathed in, filling herself with Mulder’s cozy, warm, familiar scent, she pressed in deeper. Overcome by him. Everything she wanted was right here before her. Holding her. Supporting her. Loving her. They held each other there, suspended in a sea of disbelief and desire, neither one daring to break the spell of what they had set in motion.
“Mulder.” Scully murmured his name softly on his mouth.
Hesitantly, Mulder pulled back at this. He wanted her. All of her. But he absolutely did not want to overwhelm her, after all the hell she had experienced. Her timing. That’s what this would be.
“Hmmm?” He offered a slight grin, tilting his head minutely. The creases on the corners of his eyes betrayed his elation.
“I um… we should get going,” she said softly, refusing to release his neck. She stared at his lips. “I don’t want to… but…”
“Then don’t.” He pressed a quick kiss on the top of her nose to accent his point.
Sighing a laugh, she pressed herself away from him while she let her other hand rake her nails gently down his neck.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Mulder said, his voice low and unsteady.
She raised her eyebrow, taking note of what he enjoyed, and exhaled a ragged breath.
“If this… if we are doing this…” Scully bit her lip. “We need to be careful.” She pulled the hem her suit coat down, smoothing it over her form. Attempting to pull herself together.
Mulder studied her face. Careful. Careful of each other? Careful not to be caught?
“I won’t rush you, Scully. I won’t.” He reached for her hand, lacing her fingers between his. “You are important to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her eyes were wet again, in spite of her best efforts to squelch the wave of emotion.
“You are important to me, too.” Scully stared up at him. This felt like a dream. Finally, a good dream. “I…. We can talk more later…”
“Mmhmm. We need to,” Mulder said softly.
Her head dropped down for a moment, considering his hand enveloping hers, before she returned her eyes to his.
“Mulder, if Kersh finds out-“
“He won’t.” So that’s what she was concerned about. “We’ll be careful.”
She nodded at this, and Mulder brought her hand up to his lips in response. She let him kiss her fingers for just a moment before, smiling coyly, she pulled her hand away.
“Mulder?”
He hung on the way she uttered his name. There was so much more behind it now. So much promise. Softly, she reached out to touch his face, tracing his lips, then rubbing his stubble.
“Go shave and brush your teeth. So I can kiss you properly after this stupid paperwork check.”
Mulder beamed. “Yes, Ma’am.” Obediently, he made his way to the motel bathroom on less than steady legs, and stopped at the doorway. “Scully?”
“Yes?” She was already sitting in one of the old wicker chairs, waiting. He looked at her, his eyes serious.
“We will be careful of Kersh. But I want you to know that I will be careful. With you.”
Scully looked down at her lap, smiling to herself. “I know, Mulder.” Her pale eyes returned to his. “I trust you.”
———————
As Mulder finished getting ready, Scully found herself overly contemplative, the events of the last four days washing over her in alternating waves.
“I’ll be outside,” she called to the closed bathroom door, and stepped out into the summer sunlight. The gravel parking lot was empty, save their rental car, and she moved herself toward it slowly, the crunch of old gravel mixing with the morning songs of unseen birds. Muddled memories, paired with equally muddled emotion, swirled inside her skull. She tried to collect and sort all the pieces neatly into the compartments of her mind. It wasn’t confusion, she decided. Or regret of what she had just done. She was simply overwhelmed. It had been a lot. Almost too much, really, but this morning she felt that, perhaps, things were shifting. She was turning a corner- certainly with Mulder, she smiled to herself, but also Padgett. Though she still despised the dead man, and probably always would, she considered Mulder’s advice. And his support. With him, she would process what she had to, so that she could return more to herself…. And be fully able to open up to Mulder, in all the ways she had only dreamed of before.
The creak of a door interrupted her thoughts, and Scully glanced back to find him standing, hands on his hips, staring after her, almost through her, as if in deep thought. Her forehead creased with concern, instinctively, and she wondered briefly if he was regretting the kiss.
“Mulder? You okay?”
Broken from his reverie, Mulder met her gaze, smiled, and nodded. He had never been better, and, he considered, he ought to tell her so. But his boyish playfulness got the better of him.
“I don’t know, Scully.” His expression changed from caring to clownish, and he made an exaggerated grimace. “I think it was the embalming fluid.”
Scully rolled her eyes and shook her head, grinning. “I told you not to drink it.” She walked back to him, the rhythmic gravel grit under her heels, and slipped her hand around his arm. “Now come on, you owe me a gas station coffee.”
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Notes:
Thank you for taking time to read. It does mean the world to me, and I’m certain all other fanfic writers feel the same when you read and reblog their work. ♥️ so, thank you for being awesome.
This chapter is part of a larger fic detailing Scully’s abuse and assault at the hands of Padgett, and her processing all of that with Mulder’s support. ♥️
Full fic can be found, organized by chapter, on AO3 under Paper_hearts_and_homemade_arts… along with literally thousands of other works by amazing authors that every X-Phile should read because sleep is overrated 😬
