Sometimes a big cup of cappuccino helps identify how we sabotage ourselves and the ones we love…
Dana Scully looked at her watch and then out the window again. He wasn't that late, but it was definitely the case that he'd normally have been there already. Her giant cup of coffee was already half consumed. It was six-forty, Friday evening. They had parted early that afternoon, he to a meeting, she to Quantico to do an autopsy. They had arranged to meet here, a small cafe three blocks from her apartment. Several weeks had passed since their last talk, and a lot had happened since then to make tonight potentially troublesome. Interestingly enough, she had been the one to suggest that they make an effort to return to their routine. But then again, it was she who had effectively derailed it too, several weeks back.
She thought back to a warm March afternoon, when they had celebrated seven years of working together. At the time, they had just been reassigned to the X-Files after several gruelling months of ego-stomping grunt work. But they had persevered. Both in their careers and in their private lives. Since being back on the X-Files, however, life had been oddly stressful to them. After so many months away, she had been sure that the reassignment would be the glue that further bound them to one another. She was pretty certain that Mulder had felt the same way. It hadn't turned out to be the case, however.
They had been somewhat testy with one another lately. In itself, that was nothing new. It had happened quite a few times throughout their partnership, for various reasons. But for it to surface now was somewhat puzzling, given that their relationship was never more clearly defined than at present. Whenever it had happened in the past, she knew that they had been striking out at each other out of frustration. For being so wrapped up in their work that their individual selves became blurred. For the support that wasn't always there. For the comfort that wasn't always offered. For the questions unasked and therefore unanswered. For the dark nights unfulfilled... God, where did that one come from?
Scully took a deep breath and sat back, pressing herself to the back of the booth. It was a strange thing with her these days, this need to stay extremely professional, occasionally interrupted by an almost hormonal need for relief from their self-imposed cage. She was too young to be going through menopause but that was the closest description she had for what she sometimes felt. Mulder had been patient as usual for the most part. But she could tell that he felt the barely hidden tension emanating from her. She could sense his confusion.
He had every right to be confused, all in all. Lately, she would retreat from him one moment and inexplicably return the next. He would try to take her cue and back off but she could see that the behavior hurt him. That they hadn't been meeting off hours all that often did not help the situation. That she chose not to discuss the personal aspects of the Padgett case had become an unspoken issue between them. Last week, however, as she lay in a hospital bed receiving treatment for the fungal attack they had both suffered in North Carolina, she retraced their recent steps and decided that it was time to talk again.
As gruelling a case as that was, she had been thankful for it in the end. The hallucinations had led her to think more about what was important in her life. They demonstrated to her almost too vividly how much she had changed during her association with Mulder and the X-Files. How, while the disbelieving skeptic act had its value, it had to be tempered with an open mind. The most alarming aspect of the hallucinations, however, had been the reality of facing life without her partner. The details of her experience had faded considerably after the first twenty-four hours, but the utter emptiness that she had felt — reflecting the sobering knowledge that precious time had passed unspoken into eternity — remained with her and haunted her. It made her decide that she had to stop sabotaging what they had and somehow put it into forward motion again. She had no idea what she needed to do to bring them back to the same page, but she hoped — as usual — that it wasn't too late. That this time, Mulder hadn't given up.
The front door opened and she saw her partner step inside the small coffee shop. He strode purposefully towards where she sat — although not seeming to meet her glance — and continued to walk right past her.
"Mulder!"
He turned quickly and looked back at her in surprise. Grinning sheepishly, he slid into the booth opposite to her. He shook his head and said, "That must have looked pretty silly... you usually select seats closer to the back."
"Preoccupied?" Noticing his state of dress, she frowned. "Were you with Skinner all this time?" "Yeah. The meeting went on and on about budgeting changes with respect to expense claims...can't say I was paying much attention though."
"Well it could be important now that we're on the road so much again."
"Maybe. But I've never given that stuff much thought before, so why start now?" He nodded towards the mug sitting in front of her that was almost dwarfing her body. "Any chance of getting something in a more civilized size, Scully? What is that anyway?"
"French vanilla cappuccino. It's to die for, you have to try one."
He made a face in response. "Kinda girlish, don't you think?"
"A certain kind of coffee is considered girlish, Mulder? How easily is your manhood compromised anyway?" She took a quick sip and looked up, adding, "Don't answer that please."
He didn't need to answer. The look on his face was comment enough without words. She shifted her gaze to the waitress coming their way. Trying to ignore him, Scully pointed to her mug and said, "He'll have one of these."
Mulder looked up at the young girl and smiled. "Got any size other than the 'mega large' cup?" "No, that's what they come in. But you'll appreciate every last drop, I guarantee it. Ask your girlfriend."
Mulder looked over at Scully and said softly, "Yeah, she's already given me her recommendation." Turning back to the waitress, he said, "Thanks. That'll be all for now."
He watched her leave, then turned back to face his partner. "So how did your autopsy go?" "Nothing special. We expected as much, given there was nothing outwardly suspicious about it. Tox results will be interesting, I guess."
"You think she was poisoned?"
"Well, we've both mentioned that as a possibility, right?"
"Yeah, it's just that it's a different m.o. for this guy. Unless we're totally off about the suspect." "Wouldn't be the first time that someone's confessed to a crime that he didn't commit."
Small talk dispensed with, he reached over and took one of her hands away from the mug she was cradling. "Well, girlfriend, where do you want to start?"
She frowned slightly, staring at his thumb making small circles over the top of her hand. "This feels strange, Mulder."
"What, this?" Puzzled, he released her hand immediately.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said reassuringly, quickly recapturing his hand. "I mean this 'we need to talk' thing is strange."
"Well, I thought we were doing pretty good there for awhile."
"I know. It's my fault."
"No, it's not. It's nobody's fault. Not like we're obligated or anything."
The offhand way in which he made his statement chilled her. She looked up at his face but couldn't find anything equivalent in his expression. "But we are...aren't we?"
The soulful reflection in his eyes was all he could give as a response. He certainly didn't have the words to do so. Obligated? Theirs was the most unconventional relationship in the universe, so who could tell what was an obligation and what wasn't? Besides, they had agreed that work — particularly so soon after getting the X-Files back — couldn't be allowed to suffer in any way because of their off-duty lives. Not that Mulder himself didn't think "screw the work" more than once recently. The energy required to keep separate work and private lives — and, as it turned out, separate work and private personas — was simply sapping him.
Hadn't she just made an observation about him being preoccupied? Mulder hadn't paid much attention at the late afternoon meeting simply because he had been preoccupied, with events both past and present. He knew that at a distance of a few years, some things could and probably should be interpreted as ancient history, no matter how much they mirrored current life. Other things, well, he wasn't so sure about, especially when they hit home in those old familiar ways. He never did appreciate being shut out by her, and had lately felt further disillusioned by her unending ability to find new ways of accomplishing it. Obligated? Mulder decided that only Scully knew for sure.
The waitress reappeared with his coffee, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up at her and gave her the same polite smile he had given her before. "Thanks." Turning back to the downcast face across from him, he said, "So Scully, this is to die for?"
Thankful for the brief respite, Scully offered a small smile and raised her own mug to her lips. "Taste it. You tell me."
His face, as always, told the whole story. "Hmm...that is nice." He took a moment to glance around the small coffee shop. "You and I have never been here before, have we?"
"I don't believe so. I mean, I've been here myself on occasion, whenever I feel like drowning my sorrows in a big vat of cappuccino. I can't speak for you. But no, I don't think we've been here together."
Drowning my sorrows. The words resonated in his ears almost painfully, although in context, there was really no reason for them to do so. He knew he was experiencing a sudden wave of insecurity, brought on by too much thinking, too much introspection. Goddamn meeting. Before he could stop the urge, he heard himself blurting out rather pathetically, "Am I still doing things wrong, Scully?"
His question definitely took her by surprise. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, it's not like it's a secret that I've done a lot of things wrong where you're concerned...and that's got nothing to do with this whole guilt complex that you think I have. All I'm saying is that — for me, anyway — things have been a lot better since we had that talk. This afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe that hasn't been enough for you."
"Why would you think that?"
He knew why he thought that, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it. She had asked him to leave it alone. He hated not knowing, but he also knew that until she decided that she was ready, there was no pushing it. But that incredibly mind-numbing afternoon at his apartment when she clung to him as though she still feared her life's blood would be taken from her was fresh on his mind these days. Amid her tears, she had uttered those proverbial "three little words" to him for the first time. But it had been such a frightening moment that all he could do was crush her against his ribs. It was all he could do not to break into pieces right along with her. After she had calmed down, she whispered that she didn't want to talk about it just yet. He had respected her need for privacy, given what she had been through. But that hadn't stopped him from wondering just what sort of chord his psycho neighbor had struck in her. Why — if Dana Scully loved Fox Mulder — she would give someone like Padgett the time of day. Obviously, the only conclusion he could come to was that he was in some way not meeting her needs.
He took a healthy gulp of his coffee, feeling the heat burn its way down his throat. "I left this up to you, Scully — the whole decision thing regarding us. You can change this any way you want, at any time...just let me know."
"What are you saying, Mulder, that I can choose to walk away from this?"
Jesus, where did that come from? That's not what I meant, he thought, but if that's what you want.... Unfortunately, he heard himself voicing only the last part of his thought. The look on his face was one that Scully hadn't seen in some time.
"No, I don't want," she interrupted, anger and frustration clearly evident in her tone. "Look, Mulder, don't put me up on some God-forsaken pedestal. I can be just as screwed up as the next person. Padgett fascinated me in some weird and strange way. He messed with my head. But don't go thinking I wanted any part of what he was describing."
Mulder stared at her, dumbstruck. Now who was the spooky one?
"Don't give me that look, either. You think it's some big secret that it's on your mind? You've been walking on eggshells around me ever since that happened. Of course I know it's on your mind. But Mulder, don't go analyzing things to death. I can't explain what it was about him, because there was nothing about him. It was just different. Not something different that I want in my life, just different. Besides...."
"Besides what?" Mulder finally asked, after a long pause in which it didn't look like she'd be continuing. He felt out of practice. When did they last have one of their Friday night talks? The first interruption to their routine was when she had begged off because of the Padgett case. He had given her that, if not so much for her sake as for his. In the ensuing weeks, travel and work seemed to dominate their schedules, even on the weekends. With the X-Files back in their possession, it almost seemed like everything was conspiring to keep them at arm's length from each other.
"I told you I loved you, Mulder...I don't know if you heard me." He could barely hear her now, she was speaking so softly.
"I did hear you. I would have responded, but I didn't think I could hold myself together long enough to be coherent. You scared me, Scully. Frightened the crap out of me. Not with your words, you understand, but you."
"You were scared...but you weren't jealous." This time her voice was even softer, barely audible. "Excuse me?" He thought he heard, but he wasn't quite sure.
"Nothing...it's juvenile."
"Do you think I'll think less of you if you say something juvenile? I mean, I hope not. Because I'm sure you know things about me that could be described as disturbing and I really wouldn't want your opinion of me to change because of that."
How was it that this man could oscillate from being a little boy to being a psychologist in mere seconds? Positive that her face had flushed a deeper shade of red than he had e ver seen, Scully willed herself to repeat her previous mumbling. "I said...you weren't jealous."
In the silence that followed, Scully felt herself growing smaller and smaller. She envisioned herself small enough to drown in her now essentially empty coffee cup, big as it was. At the same time, she kept her eyes down, feeling Mulder's stare boring into her. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, he spoke.
"No, no I guess I wasn't."
Not really what she wanted to hear, either. She looked up, however, needing to see his eyes now. She imagined the gears turning in his brain underneath the carefully composed face.
"Scully, to me, jealousy presupposes some element of possession...I don't feel like I have that. I don't imagine I could ever possess any part of you. To have been jealous, I'd have had to think that Padgett was claiming something that was mine..."
She succeeded in sitting still enough so that the tears swimming in her eyes did not fall as she gazed unseeing at the Heinz ketchup bottle. But the pain she felt that afternoon when she thought her heart would be ripped from her did not compare to the clenched pain she felt around that same organ right this minute. He didn't mean to hurt her and she knew it. Or maybe he did and she deserved it. In any case, his words felt like little knives slicing into her soul. Scully knew that jealousy was a problem for her. It seemed natural to associate it with a significant depth of feeling. That Mulder never seemed to display any jealousy had always caused her to doubt that he any similarly deep feelings for her. She just couldn't figure out where this insecurity was coming from, this seeming need to test his emotions. Especially now. After all that had been said — and she knew she had no reason to doubt his sincerity on any of it — why did she push them into that awkward situation with Padgett? Why did she have to see him? In some twisted way, it had been a replay of Ed Jerse all over again. Mulder hadn't been jealous then either, even though he probably harbored at least some small suspicion that she had slept with him. Then, as with Philip Padgett, Mulder had shown no emotion other than a thinly veiled anger...almost as if his only wish was that she should make better choices.
He reached across and gently tapped her hand with two fingers. "Hey."
She flinched at his touch, enough movement to send two tears on a simultaneous slide down her cheeks. She heard him take a long slow breath as he sat back in the booth, his hand closing over hers on top of the table. She carefully wiped at her eyes with her free hand, feeling his grip on her other increase in strength.
It was somewhat fitting, he thought, this table between them. An obstruction. A physical manifestation of their relationship, in a way. Did that make any sense within the psychology that he knew? He had to admit, he really didn't know too much about the dynamics of male/female relationships; it hadn't been a particular area of interest for him. Recently, he had been wishing that he had read more about it. But whether or not it made any sense didn't matter, not really. What mattered was that over the past month or so he had felt the increasing presence of a third party, just as he knew that Scully did also. It had made him do some heavy duty thinking about their situation. Something significant was causing them to step out of sync with one another. Something that had jumped up between them, screaming to be heard, craving attention. Attention that neither one of them knew how to give.
"I almost think at this point that we should close up some of these cans of worms before opening up any others, but maybe what we need to do is to throw everything out into the open." It was his turn to speak so low that she had to strain and lean forward to hear him. She had no response to his words, however, prompting him to continue, "You don't doubt my feelings for you, do you?"
She shook her head quickly, the question itself dredging up too many emotions for her to trust herself to answer with words.
Mulder smiled slightly and squeezed her hand, adding, "Good. And you're not having second thoughts about this?"
"No," came the whispered reply.
"Then I have to ask, Scully, what are you looking for? I told you before, I'm not good at this. I don't know what you want, what you need. And my fear has always been that even if I did know, I wouldn't know how to give it to you... but the fact is, you're not telling me."
"Mulder I don't know what I'm looking for, or even if I'm looking for anything. I know you're still wondering about Padgett, but —”
"You know why?" He sat forward, taking both of her hands in his. "I'm nobody's fool, Scully. I know there are better people out there for you than me. There are days when I think my being with you is strictly borrowed time until you find someone better. And I wouldn't hold it against you if that were ever the case. But damned if you don't pick the strangest ones. I puzzle over the Philip Padgetts and Ed Jerses of the world because I don't know how to deal with them. I don't know what to make of them, because... Christ, Scully, how can I say this? They're definitely a lot stranger than I've ever been accused of being. Not exactly the type to bring home to Mom, you know what I'm saying?"
It suddenly occurred to Scully how her rebellious forays must appear to her partner, how unflattering the comparison must seem. How could she have expected Mulder to be jealous of men like that? She felt an insane urge to laugh out loud, except that the harsh reality of her situation wasn't at all funny. After all, how could she begin to explain to him her seeming jealousy of herself, her professional self? Or how she sometimes felt this need to push away from the straight-laced FBI agent and be interesting to someone as a normal woman? Or how she needed confirmation that Fox Mulder loved Dana Scully, not Special Agent Scully. Or how she feared that once he got to know the real Dana Scully, she somehow wouldn't measure up to the person that he had come to know through work.
What was she looking for? He had a right to know, obviously. But did she know herself? Was it simply attention that she craved? From just anyone? Or was she so needing affirmation from Mulder that she willingly snapped it up from anyone who offered? How pathetic was that? The truth of the matter was, she could never see beyond her work in terms of defining who she was and what she wanted. People — men — who noticed her as something other than a doctor or FBI agent invariably drew her in because she needed to see what they saw. And unfortunately, she didn't really have a whole lot of experience where that was concerned.
"I don't pick them. They seem to pick me. And not many men pick me."
Mulder's grip on her increased once more as her words appeared to slice through him this time. "Is that why?" The low husky tone of his voice betrayed the emotions he felt at her disclosure. She seemed to understand his cryptic question, quietly replying, "I don't know. Maybe." "Since when did you have such a complex?"
"I don't, I mean — I'm not exactly in an environment that allows me to enjoy being a woman. I mean, God, female agents don't even want the gender issue to be brought up. And sometimes you get good at your job. You get accepted. And that's a good thing. But after awhile, the flipside is that you don't get any feedback whatsoever on, on..."
She couldn't continue. Dana Scully was rambling. Talking about herself in that detached second person fashion that she was prone to do when emotionally distressed. And as much as she trusted Mulder, this was not a good topic of conversation. He came to her rescue, however, gentleman that he was.
"— On the fact that you're a desirable woman who might actually be seen that way by a man?"
She didn't answer, but the way in which her gaze immediately dropped spoke volumes. He reached over and lifted her chin with his forefinger.
"Sweetheart, I'm here. I've always been here. I thought I told you that." His chosen term of endearment made her want to cry for real. That it sounded so natural coming from him was surprising, given that he had never said such a thing to her before. He continued, "And of all the choices that I could make in this world, not a one of them comes close to being the woman that you are. But if it's me, if I'm not good enough —”
"Mulder, why do you keep saying that?"
"For the same reason that I asked if I was still doing something wrong. You say that we're working towards something here. Something permanent I hope, but lately —”
"We've been out of touch." They could still finish each other's sentences; that was a good sign. "I don't know what role I'm supposed to be playing. I feel myself wanting more from us. And then I realize it's the middle of the day and I should be concentrating on doing some report and —”
"And what? We're so damned efficient and dedicated that we can't let our feelings have a moment in the middle of the day? What kind of sorry people are we?" He smiled at that, trying to lighten up the moment.
"The same sorry people we've always been," she replied in kind.
"But that's just it, Scully, we may be the same sorry people that we've always been, but our circumstances have changed." He turned serious once more and seemed to be reaching into the back of his mind for some prepared speech. "We can say we don't want it to affect our work until we're blue in the face. But that doesn't change the fact that it will. Everything's changed since last fall. Sometimes I look at you from across the room when you're interrogating a suspect and it just occurs to me that I want to kiss you. Or you tell me in your usual rigid scientific way that my theory sucks and it suddenly feels like a slap in the face." He held up his hand as Scully opened her mouth to protest. "No, let me finish. That's not an indictment of you or me or us. I'm just saying that some things have changed, period. We can fight it and not get anywhere, or we can accept it and just learn to live with the feelings."
"We still have rules to play by...."
"Rules? What rules?"
"Well, for one, keeping work separate."
"I understand that, Scully, but we've been going overboard. I think the past few weeks have given us a good amount of proof on that. We don't need to force ourselves to do a one eighty just because we're on the job. I don't think it's in us to be that unprofessional. We just might have to consider that some of what we say to each other over the course of work may now have a different impact on us than before. A more personal impact. I know we've both been having trouble with that, but that's something that we have work out for ourselves."
She opened her mouth as if to say something and then appeared to change her mind. There was something else, though. Not so much a rule as a methodology, Scully thought to herself, this slow progression thing that they had chosen for their relationship. All in all, it was turning out to be the right choice, but that didn't make it any easier to navigate around the obstacles.
"Scully?"
"Mulder, I know you said that I was in control of this and the thing is, I agree with taking it slowly, but..."
"There should be no 'but' there, Scully. It's in your hands; if it's not right, change it." "That's easily said, Mulder, but it borders on being unfair. Whatever I choose to do, it also affects your life."
"Well, what is it that you want to do?" he asked curiously, sitting back in his seat.
"I want us to move forward again. We've been at a standstill." He leaned forward in a movement to protest, but she gave him a knowing smile and squeezed his hand to stop him. "You've tried. It's me. I need to know that despite our differences, we can still be good together, like we are in our work. I need to know that our differences won't destroy us."
"How can you say that, especially after last week? If it weren't for our differences and our understanding of those differences, we'd be dead. You said so yourself."
"I know. And last week helped me a lot to see this for what it is. I know I have to stop pulling away and looking elsewhere. I mean, it's not that I even look elsewhere..." She let the thought drop, then smiled sadly as a certain irony hit her. "Funny how the tables get turned. When we first agreed to this, I thought for sure that you'd be the one to stumble around."
He shot her a look of mock indignation, but the trademark boyish grin that immediately followed warmed her heart. "So I've been doing better than expected then?"
"I don't know how you put up with me." She lowered her head, turning her attention to their joined hands.
Mulder lifted her hand with his, bringing it and her gaze back up to where he could look directly into her eyes. "Talk about turning the tables...that's supposed to be my line."
"I just think that I've given you more than enough reason to give up on me."
"I can't. I love you." He said it so matter-of-factly, it made Scully wonder about his claim so many months ago that he didn't know how to love. Even though she had raised the issue of acknowledging their situation, she ultimately hadn't been the one to take any chances on them. What Mulder said before was true. It was up to her. She heard him continue, "And unless you actually tell me to go away in so many words, I'll do whatever it takes to stay."
* * * * *
It was ten after one in the morning. Another evening had flown by, another crisis resolved...or reasonably averted. This time it was his turn to get into the car and make the cold drive home. He hated that drive. Hated the moment of leaving her, hated crossing over the threshold of his apartment when he got there. As Mulder cleared off the coffee table, he wondered if she ever felt the same way. She had been strangely quiet over the past half hour or so. Not uncomfortably so, and certainly not in a closed off sense, but he was starting to wonder if she had something to say but just couldn't decide whether or not to say it.
As he put their mugs in the dishwasher, he noticed her lingering in the hallway, a pensive expression on her face. Well, it had been another of those evenings, after all. All things considered, they had both held up rather well. Maybe that was the inherent strength behind the relationship that neither of them had yet recognized, or more accurately put, that neither of them had yet come to trust completely.
He scrubbed his hands clean and was wiping them dry when he heard her clear her throat. When nothing followed, he asked, without turning around, "Something wrong, Scully?"
There was a significant enough pause for him to take an extended deep breath before turning to look at her. Since she still didn't appear ready to answer, he prodded her gently once more, "Come on, Scully, I'm about to go. If there's something you need to say —”
"Can you stay over tonight, Mulder?" There, she had said it. It was now, as the saying went, 'out there'.
He couldn't pinpoint any specific type of emotion in her voice. It was very controlled with just the tiniest hint of uncertainty, which was underst