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Rating: This story contains mature content. Suggested for those over 17 only.

If I had anything to do with creating Mulder, Scully and their sad little world, it would be a lot less sad. Alas, all I own are Barbies and action figures. CC and 1013 get the rest.

Author's notes: For Am, Susan and Leslie. Only you know how hard I struggled to write this the way I wanted to. Leslie, I hope you can learn a little something, even though it didn’t go the way we discussed. Am and Susan, thank you for making me see that sometimes the darkness is okay.

*-*-*-*-*

Broken
March 1999

*-*-*-*-*

They headed down the hallway to the elevators, walking separately, together. Her pace was short and quick, his strides were long and heavy. It was the first time in nearly six years they weren’t moving in tandem.

They were partners again, officially, not just in spirit, which was all they had been for the last several months. There was no one now who would try to pull them apart, but Scully wondered if they would ever be together again.

She sighed heavily and pushed the down button, her gaze dropping to stare at the plain tile floor. She would rather look at anyone, anything, than look up at her partner. What she saw reflected in his face, in his fathomless eyes, no longer made any sense to her. The doors slid open and she hesitated, not sure she was ready to return to the past, not when it hadn’t been dealt with. A warm hand in the small of her back made her decision for her, and she let him guide her onto the elevator and choose the floor.

The basement. It seemed like a lifetime ago since they had worked there, side by side. Scully shoved the memories of the banter, the camaraderie, aside. Things weren’t like that anymore. She focused on the space in front of her, willing herself not to sneak a glance at him. She sighed again.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and opened its doors to reveal the familiar dimly lit hallway. Mulder was the first to exit, though the enthusiasm he would have once felt at returning to the X-Files had been deflated by the events of the past 24 hours. When she did not follow he turned slightly, pinning her with his unreadable gaze. She felt drawn into the hallway and followed him to their old office.

Without words they entered the room and closed the door behind them. It wasn’t theirs anymore. A fresh coat of paint covered the soot marks on the walls, and two new desks replaced Mulder’s old one. Diana had a thriving plant on hers, Spender’s was neat and orderly. The two agents stood in the center of the room, taking in the changes, neither feeling it would ever be the same, not really.

"Hey Scully, at least you got your own desk," Mulder tried hollowly to lighten the mood. He addressed her without actually looking at her, his voice was flat and emotionless. She did not reply, but instead walked to Diana’s desk and picked up the plant, studying it quietly. Seconds later the crash echoed through the room as the ceramic pot smashed against the wall, leaving a smudge of dirt where it impacted. Scully stood staring at the wreckage, trying to control the shaking in her hands by clasping them together in front of her.

Mulder stared at her helplessly. He wanted to comfort her, hold her to him until the shaking stopped. He remembered standing in this room after the fire, her arms gripping his biceps, her forehead pressed against his chest. Just holding him, giving comfort without expecting anything in return. He ached to make her feel the calm he knew in her arms. As if sensing his intentions, she turned to him, the coldness in her expression nailing his feet to the floor.

"I don’t know how to fix it, Scully," he said quietly, willing her to soften toward him. He took two steps closer and earned another glare. "Tell me how. Please."

Her eyes swept around the office again, taking in all the things that weren’t hers, weren’t theirs. She didn’t feel like anything belonged to her anymore, least of all herself. The shaking started again in her shoulders and began to take over her whole body, a painful lump began to form in her throat. Before he could offer her comfort, she walked to the door and closed it resolutely behind her. Inhaling a deep breath, she headed back down the hall, taking the stairs away from him. She could not sort this out while he was near her.

Mulder stood in the office, rooted to the same spot. His face did not have time to register shock at her leaving. Instead he covered his face with his hands and wept the angry tears she wouldn’t.

*-*-*-*-*-*

She was just blocks away from her apartment when she realized she didn’t want to be there. It was full of things that reminded her of the last couple of days: boxes of research, files and photographs, a half-dozen messages saved on her machine in case they provided the next lead. And he would come after her. She didn’t want to be where he would find her. Not until she figured out what she wanted.

Fifteen minutes later she was sitting in a booth at a small diner several miles away from home. The only other person sharing the small space was a student, his books and notebooks scattered across the table in front of him. He glanced up at her as she sat across the room, threw her a casual smile, and returned to his notes. The way he sat, so absorbed in study, drew Scully to him. When she was in medical school, she often frequented a place like this, pouring over her texts until her eyes were blurry and no amount of coffee could keep her awake. Her priorities then were simple. She wanted to graduate with perfect grades, and then she wanted to pursue a perfect career in medicine. She always worked alone, not wanting to risk studying with someone whose tenacity didn’t match her own. It took recruitment by the FBI for her to realize medicine alone wasn’t going to challenge her, and it took another recruitment for her to find a person to keep up with her pace.

Scully flipped her coffee cup over, allowing the waitress to fill it up, and declined the offer for a menu. Her stomach had been nervous for days.

Things with Mulder were all wrong. Words had been exchanged, trusts broken, that could not be easily healed. He wanted to fix it, he had asked her how, but she did not have the words to put him at ease. She had made a vow over the summer to stay with him, no matter what the cost. Now she wondered if she could forgive herself for breaking that promise. She didn’t know if she wanted to stay with him anymore. And she didn’t know what the price would be for forgiving him.

She looked up to find the student staring at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Are you going to answer that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Her cell phone shrilled persistently in her coat pocket. She knew it was him, and she closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow its erratic pace.

"Scully," she answered curtly. She regretted her tone. Drawing lines in the sand wouldn't solve what was happening between them.

"Where are you?" Mulder pleaded, not even trying to keep the worry out of his voice. Please Scully, he thought silently, let me find you.

She answered with silence. She hadn’t made any decisions yet, and confrontation with him would be harder when her mind wasn’t clear. It wouldn’t make sense to meet him now. He could persuade her with her defenses down. He would make her stay. He would make her forgive him. She didn’t know if she had the strength to say no to him.

"I’ll be home in thirty minutes," she said, hanging up without saying goodbye. She dropped her head into her hands and willed her body to be perfectly still. Numb, she thought. To survive it, I need to be numb.

*-*-*-*-*

Mulder stared at the silent phone before replacing it in his pocket. He had waited an agonizing hour before giving into the urge to call her. He leaned against her front door, feeling his legs slide out from underneath him. When had he lost the strength to stand? When she had refused to hold him up, he realized. When she had walked out on him last night, angry and hurt that he wouldn’t listen to her. When she told him she no longer had a reason to stay beside him and fight. Because he had taken away her reasons to do so.

He wasn’t a stupid man. He knew exactly when the strain began in their relationship, and he knew his constant defense of Diana did not make it better. But Fox Mulder would never admit he placed his trust in someone who wasn’t worthy, not when trust was so important. He would tell her he was wrong, if such a simple gesture would fix things. He could explain what he found in her apartment, or rather, who had found him. Maybe he could explain his past with Diana, and Scully would understand why he had to trust her.

He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. When she left the office, Mulder knew she would not go home. She knew he would follow her, and he knew she didn’t want him to. But he came here anyway, determined to wait her out. A more patient man would recognize her need for space and wait for her to come to him. Mulder wasn’t this man. His deeply rooted fear of her abandonment wouldn’t allow him to let time heal her wounds. He needed to do that himself, even if he wasn’t sure how.

*-*-*-*-*

Scully pulled her car into the parking lot and chose the empty space next to his. Letting the engine run she sat alone, blocking out the noise of the busy neighborhood around her. She wasn’t ready for this, but she knew she couldn’t avoid him. He was feeling panicked at her rejection of him, and he would not settle down until she was honest about what she was thinking. She steeled herself for their meeting and opened the door. What she had to say was going to anger him, she knew, but she was going to be honest. Out of respect for everything they had been through, she owed him that.

The cold air sliced through her overcoat, and she struggled to keep her scarf in place as she hurried up the walk. She would take the stairs, she decided, knowing he would be anxiously watching the elevator for signs of her arrival. She wanted to retain the upper hand in this situation, had to have it, if she was going to survive it. Her steps were slow and measured as she climbed upwards. She slowly opened the door to her hallway, and saw him sitting in the floor hugging his knees to his chest. Like a child, she thought. One who has lost his way and isn’t sure he’ll ever get it back.

He sensed her presence and dragged his eyes upward toward hers. She saw the redness there, the puffiness that gave away his tears. What she saw there was naked fear, without the hint of hope she was so used to encountering. As she came near, he struggled to stand, untangling his long limbs from the folds of his coat. Any other time she would have smiled at his awkwardness. Any time before now.

She opened the door and held it aside for him to enter, glad he hadn’t taken advantage of the key she had given him so many years ago. She left the overhead light off, instead turning on a small accent lamp on her desk. It softened her features, he noticed, until he could almost believe everything was okay. Instead she turned her sad face toward him and gestured for his coat. If they were going to do this, he could at least make himself comfortable.

"I’m not sure how to start this, Mulder," she said from the comfortable distance of the hall closet. "I wanted to sort things out for myself, before I was required to present my findings to you."

He stiffened at her words. So this was how it was going to be—she was treating their relationship like a case, something to scrutinize and organize. She had shut off all the parts of herself that would denote emotion, and she was running entirely on logic. Mulder felt his chances for forgiveness slip to unrecoverable odds.

She re-appeared in the living room and sat in an overstuffed chair, gesturing for him to take the couch. Alone. Mulder noticed the determined set of her jaw, the purely Scully way of facing unpleasant things. She was hiding from him in plain site. Next to him, but so far away. And he knew he could not reach her.

"I don’t think this is about your ‘findings’, Scully. I think it’s about dealing with mistakes we’ve both made over the past few days."

"We’ve both made?" she asked incredulously, arching her delicate eyebrow at him. She wasn’t surprised to see him flinch.

"Are you surprised I’m not taking the typical Mulder way out, Scully? That I’m not shouldering everything myself? I thought you asked me to let you carry some of the burden. So carry it, Scully, I’m giving it to you."

He spoke openly, not harshly, but Scully could feel anger rise in her at his words. All afternoon she had been convincing herself she no longer wanted to take on any more of his pain, and he had never offered to let her. Now he was trying to force it on her. She felt a weight settle in on her shoulders.

"I don’t know how to fix it on my own," he said, mirroring his words from earlier in the day. "It’ll only happen if we can work on it together."

"And if we don’t?" she asked, looking out the window as darkness began to fall. "If I don’t want to work on it?"

Silence.

"Then I guess there’s nothing left to say, and I should leave you alone. But I don’t think that’s what you want, Scully. You can’t want it to end like this. Not after everything."

"You mean, not after you learned she betrayed you. That you realized you’re all alone." She said the words to hurt him. She wanted to see the color drain from his face. Anything to keep her own control.

"It’s not her betrayal I was feeling, Scully," he matched her quip with his own, sharply aimed where it would do the most damage. He noticed her hands clench tighter in her lap. "How could you work so hard to undermine her, Scully? When it meant undermining me as well?"

"You made your choice. When you followed her and left me to take care of Gibson, you picked her, Mulder. You picked HER. It’s not my job to follow you after old lovers, Mulder." She wasn’t feeling comfortable with the direction they were headed, but she wasn’t sure how to steer them back. Her resolve was slowly slipping.

"You’re jealous," he said without question. "Of what, though? What she and I used to be, or what you thought we were going to become? Tell me, Scully. You owe me the truth."

"I. Do not. Owe. You," she pushed out of the chair and went to stand in front of the window. The uncontrollable shaking began anew. "Especially not now."

"You were right about Diana," he said, taking it upon himself to pull back before they both went over the edge. "She lied to me, Scully. She used what she knew about me from years ago, and she played me like a fool."

He saw her shoulders slump and noticed she had wrapped her arms around her torso, whether it was for warmth or comfort he didn’t know. He was reaching her. "I wasn’t mad at you, Scully, I was mad at myself. Ah, hell, I was mad at you because you made me examine myself. But that’s a good thing, Scully. You’re always the good thing."

"I don’t wanna be the good thing, Mulder," she said, her back still turned to him. "Go find another good thing."

"Not gonna happen, Scully. It took me too long to find you," he began to leave the couch to join her when she turned, her face once again a mask of anger.

"I don’t think you understand. I don’t WANT to be the one anymore, Mulder. You can’t make me. I won’t let you make me."

"I wasn’t aware the enigmatic Dr. Scully would ever do something she didn’t want to," he replied, continuing his path toward her.

"I don’t want to," she repeated, more to herself than to him. The helpless tone in her voice stopped him. He’d never heard her sound so defeated. Not after the abduction, not after the cancer took her strength, not when she lost her only child. It scared him.

This isn’t supposed to be happening, Scully thought to herself, rocking on the balls of her feet. My anger is supposed to sustain me, he’s supposed to be yelling at me by now. We’re supposed to shout until we both collapse from exhaustion. This isn’t supposed to be tender. It isn’t supposed to hurt, not yet. Not until he’s gone.

"Scully," he whispered from right beside her. "Let me in." She pulled away at his hand on her arm.

"Don’t. Touch. Me," she began, her voice getting louder with every word. "You can’t make this better, Mulder. You can’t just decide you were bad, and expect me to forgive you. I won’t forgive you this time, I can’t. I’m strong, Mulder. I have always taken care of myself. And then came you, and I let you take care of me because you seemed to need it. But as soon as I let you in you started to hurt me, little by little, until I couldn’t remember why I let you in in the first place. I need to be me again, Mulder. I need to find out what happened to Dana Scully and why she let so much of her life be absorbed by some man who doesn’t know his own heart enough to see that I love him."

Her shoulders were heaving as she struggled to breathe. Her body was trembling and she needed to sit down before she collapsed. But she hated him seeing her like this. It was like proof that she needed him to hold her upright, and that was the last thing she thought she needed. And she had said that she loved him. How had that particular sentiment wormed its way into her anger? Because you want him to know, she allowed herself to realize. Because you can’t kick him out of your life without letting him know. She groaned and dropped back into the chair.

"I love you, too, Scully," he said gently, trying to make her understand that was all that mattered in this entire mess. Her response was a frustrated snort.

"That’s just like you, Mulder, to latch on to the one thing you want to hear, and ignore all the things you don’t. I’m saying it doesn’t matter."

"Say it, Scully. Say ‘Our love doesn’t matter.’ I want you to look at me and say it," he closed the distance between them again and dropped to his knees in front of her. She stared at her lap to avoid his eyes. "Say it."

"Our love doesn’t matter when you don’t trust me," she said, looking at a spot somewhere over his left shoulder. He leaned further into her, his large hands resting on her thighs. She made no move to alter his position, but neither did she encourage it.

"Since when don’t I trust you, Scully?"

"Since you picked her. Since you ran after Diana and forced me to sort through the fallout alone."

The weight of her words crashed into him and he sank back against his heels. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about how much he loved her, or trusted her. She was hurting because they had the chance to finally learn what happened to her and he left her to do it alone.

"After all the times you helped me search for Samantha…It was your turn, Scully, to find out what they did to you. And I wasn’t there." She didn’t answer, but dropped her chin deeper into her chest and bit into her lower lip. "I’m sorry, Scully. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you."

She shook her head violently from side to side. It wasn’t enough, she chanted to herself. Not enough, not this time. He had broken her resolve, she was worn thin. She wanted to bury herself in his arms and pour all the hurt and anger into his embrace. The tears she had been holding back since she left Mulder and the Gunmen staring after her began to roll down her cheeks.

*-*-*-*-*

He nearly came undone at the sight of her. She looked small and helpless, two adjectives he would never have used to describe his partner, regardless of her small stature. He struggled with the words to comfort her, the words to make her see it was all meaningless without her. Everything was meaningless without her in his life.

He brought one trembling hand up to catch the tears trailing down her cheek, whispering "It’s okay" over and over until she believed him. Because she had to believe him.

Scully allowed herself to lean into his palm, feeling the warmth and softness of it. The strength she knew was there for her to capture and draw on. And then she stiffened and pulled away, letting the numbness overtake her once more.

"I want you to leave, Mulder." She said, absently meeting his gaze. "I don’t want you here anymore."

Instead of moving away, Mulder scooted closer to her, moving his fingers deeply into her hair. Anchoring himself to her. Resting his forehead on her chest he murmured "You don’t want me to go, Scully. You can’t."

The quickness of her movements surprised him, and he fell to the side as she lunged out of the chair and turned to face him.

"You don’t know what I want, Mulder! You can’t possibly know. This is not what I want," she said, gesturing to his place on the floor. "You kneeling in front of me and begging for forgiveness is not working. Begging doesn’t become you, Mulder."

Silence ruled the room once more, as Mulder sprang to his feet, a strange catlike grace overcoming the awkwardness of before. She noticed his face was no longer soft and apologetic. His jaw was tight and his eyes narrowed at her.

Two quick steps and he was towering over her, eyes probing her face for a hint of what she was feeling inside. What he saw was nothing. Her blue eyes were flat, in a way he had never seen them in six years. Even in anger she always showed him something. Not this time.

"I don’t beg, Scully."

She felt the change in him before he moved, but she wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way. His hands wrapped around her forearms and he stepped forward, causing her to retreat backwards, nearer and nearer to the window that held her attention earlier. She gasped when she felt the cold from the glass seep into her blouse, and she arched away from its surface, pressing her torso into Mulder’s own. This time they both gasped. Hazel and blue collided and held. Challenges were made and accepted in a glance, and neither backed down.

Scully could hear her heart pounding in her ears, the rasping of her breathing as she tried to slow her body down. She had been close to Mulder before, but never like this. Never when she felt he was going to eat her whole and leave her empty, gaping for him to fill her again. It achingly made her think of months before when he looked at her with the same desire but held her with tenderness. It fueled her anger that he was so familiar with her, that he was so confident he could win her this way. When she had wanted it, craved it. Back when they still knew how to move together.

"Deny it, Scully," he demanded of her, his thumbs tracing a singular pattern from the inside of her wrists to her elbows and back.

"Deny what, exactly?"

"How much you want me to stay," he said simply, and leaned in toward her, finding the hollow beneath her ear with his nose and nuzzling her there. She remained still as he worked his way down her smooth jaw, balling her hands into fists and letting her eyes slip closed.

She wanted this. Still, after everything. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was it. The one chance she had to have everything she ever wanted. He was offering her his body, but she knew the offer came from his heart and his soul. Everything she had ever wanted. And if he left now, if she denied him—no, denied herself—there would never be another opportunity. She smiled slightly at the thought of how many chances there had been, nights on the road with a thin wall and an open door joining their rooms. Nights when she could feel him thinking about her, willing her to give in.

He felt her lips turn up in a smile and took it as acquiescence of his claim. "See? You can’t deny it," he murmured into her cheek.

She reached for him slowly, hands landing on the sides of his face. And she met him halfway.

*-*-*-*-*-

They did not come together slowly. The first meeting of their lips was born out of bottled-up passion and frustration, lacking any of the tenderness they typically showed one another. Mulder gripped her tightly at the elbows and pulled her flush against him, his mind reeling at the thought of her being so close. A nagging part of his mind told him this was not the way it was supposed to happen, that he should never have pushed her to this, but he shoved it away and focused on the feel of her.

Scully knew, from years of staring at them, that his lips would be soft. What she couldn’t possibly know was the way they would burn her, the way his questing tongue would stoke the fire. She took the time to nip at his lips, focusing on the lush bottom one, flicking her own tongue against it until Mulder groaned deep in his throat.

He pushed her back against the glass, the coolness now a painful contrast to the scorching heat racing through her. One knee parted her thighs and he began to move insistently against her. His hands refused to settle, running through her hair, over her face and neck, stopping to stroke fiery circles on the skin exposed in the throat of her blouse. All while their lips clung together, unwilling to break contact, not when it took so long to initiate it.

Scully felt herself come unglued. Sparks were flaring behind her eyelids and her knees had long ago given way. Only the pressure of Mulder’s body was holding her upright against the window. She never knew desire could feel like this, like a bonfire, it’s flames licking up against the night sky.

She pulled impatiently at his shirt until it came free and she was able to slip her cool hands underneath. Mulder was hard and soft all at once, firm muscle moving under smooth skin. Scully trailed her fingertips up over his ribs, reaching the indention of his collarbones and tracing back down over his chest and stomach. He pushed impossibly harder into her, trapping her arms between them.

"Not here, Scully, please," he murmured between kisses. His plea caught her off guard and her hands ceased their movement. Surely he didn’t want to debate the timing?

"Bedroom, Scully," he clarified, and she relaxed, taking him by the hand and leading him down the hall.

*-*-*-*-

In the darkness she brought him to the edge of the bed and began to undress him. The sight of him naked was not unfamiliar to her, but the feel of him under her hands astounded her and she raked her fingernails over the power of his chest and arms.

"Scully," he whispered, not a question, just her name. An invocation.

Moments later she slid the last of her clothing to the floor and pressed him back into the bed, bringing herself down on top of him, pressing their bodies together once more. The shock of skin on skin stilled them both. Eyes caught and stared.

Scully couldn’t remember the last time she had let herself fall into his gaze, unguarded and unaided by logic. It felt like falling off the edge of the world, both frightening and exhilarating. And then she saw it. Laced through his desire was his love for her, and she broke the contact. Shoving the image from her mind, she brought her lips crashing back into his.

Instead of meeting her with equal force, Mulder brought his hands to her face and drew back slightly, settling into a slow, melting kiss that sent her spiraling out of control. She gave into him and settled in on his chest.

"I’ve waited so long for this, Scully. To feel you against me, to know that you want me," he accented the words with thrusts of his tongue and his hands tangled again in her hair. "I thought I would die before you let me hold you like this."

His words chipped away at her resolve and she felt herself crumbling. He was trying to make this into something she wasn’t ready for. Something they hadn’t admitted yet that they could accept. She wanted the passion to consume her so she couldn’t think about it anymore.

"Then don’t make me wait, Mulder," she stated simply. "Don’t make me wait."

And he didn’t. He tore his mouth from hers and began tormenting her body. Testing and lingering on the spots that made her whimper. Scully let her eyes fall shut and threw her head back into the pillows, vowing to think about nothing but his touch on her body.

She tasted sweet and salty all at once, and Mulder couldn’t get enough of it. He ran his tongue over each nipple and then continued down her chest and stomach, dipping it into her navel. He moved lower and deeper until he was lost, and when he felt her begin to shudder beneath him, he held her tightly to him, pressing his lips into her thigh and whispering his love for her over and over.

She felt rather than heard his declarations and squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the tenderness of his words. They hadn’t decided on this, she repeated to herself. He wasn’t going to make it into something else.

He slid back up her body and positioned himself above her, leaning on his elbows to kiss her again. He was asking for permission, begging for her acceptance. She nodded and he pressed into her, gently and with restraint. Scully felt him stretch her, invade her in a way that felt strangely natural and comforting. He collapsed further on his arms and brought his face close to hers.

"Am I hurting you?"

Again his love washed over her in waves and she stiffened. Each time she lost part of her anger at him, part of the reason why she wanted to leave him. She felt her body begin to tremble for the hundredth time that day, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

"No, Mulder. Harder."

He took up a slow rhythm that rocked her to the core, forcing her to thrust against him to gain speed. When he refused to accommodate her, she asked him again. "Harder." It was a demand that puzzled him.

"I don’t want to hurt you, Scully. I want it to be perfect for you." She held onto him tighter as the tears began to form. And when he did let his control slip, allowing himself to pound into her, she let them fall in streams down her cheeks and onto his skin.

Words began to pour from his lips. He loved her. Did she know how much he needed her? Without her he was lost. Incomplete. His world was so dark until he found her. He felt her tears and misinterpreted them. Agreed that this made them complete. Together. One.

Scully felt her second climax grip her and she fought against crying out his name. He followed her, and said the words she refused: "I love you."

When it was over he tried to pull her to his chest, but she resisted, curling instead into a tight ball on the right side of the bed. He curled his body around hers, holding her as the tears continued to fall.

"It’s okay now, Scully. We have each other. Completeness, Scully. Don’t you feel it?" She shook her head fervently. Side to side. Side to side. Until her motions slowed and her breathing became more normal. Until the numbness set back in.

"I want you to leave, Mulder. I need some time alone."

He pulled back and stared at her still form. Something about her told him words would not reach her where she had gone. He leaned in and kissed her on the back of the neck, whispering "I love you, I’ll wait for you forever, Scully." Then he gathered his clothes and left her room, shutting the door behind him.

Scully lay very still. Eyes closed. Arms wrapped around herself. Completeness, he had said. But he was wrong, what they had done didn’t make them complete. It made them cowards. She felt the tears come again and she angrily brushed them away.

He felt complete. She felt broken.

THE END

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