Chapter Text
She ran from the blinding light behind her, filling her with dread, the empty stage and the sense of helplessness. She was alone, rows of lights above, all directed at her, nowhere to hide, powerless. There was no laugh from the audience, just a hum, like high voltage power lines. She ran, stage right, through thick, dream-swamp, legs not carrying her fast enough…
A gasp. There was someone hovering over her, unidentified presence in the darkness. Her hand flew up, swatting away the hands on her.
"Shhh, it's me."
Mulder. She relaxed, surrendering to gentle hands that woke her up, tucking in the thin, military issued blankets around her. She was in her room, in the small, makeshift apartment, that was their home for almost two weeks now. There couldn't be a worst time for her to be locked in quarantine then now, when all she wanted to do was get back on the horse and move on.
"Another dream?" He asked, gently straightening the sheet.
Scully nodded, scooting away, making room for him to sit. He pushed the covers away and perched himself on the edge of the narrow bed.
Rubbing eyes and clearing her throat, she gathered her thoughts, details of the dream fading along with her calming heartbeat.
"Why are you awake?"
"I heard you kick the wall," he said softly, "after third time, I got up to investigate."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
Mulders' chuckle was completely humourless. "It's me who should be apologising, for getting us into this mess, again."
"It's not that bad," she sighed, burrowing deeper in sheets, warming up. "No one got eaten by prehistoric bugs."
"Or angry, extraterrestrial worms, yuck."
"We still are who we are." She said with a hint of a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay, but I wouldn't mind going for a run."
"The treadmill doesn't really do the trick, does it."
"My dream of becoming an astronaut got squashed. You?"
"I'm fine, no cough, no sore throat."
"And that other thing?"
He paused, worrying the seam on his sweats. She knew he meant the abduction, cautious of pushing her. They talked very little about what little she could remember, and she appreciated the space. This question was honest, and she owed him an honest answer.
"Better, though I don't think I will be able to sleep tonight. What time is it, anyway."
"Little past 2am, wanna come watch tv? I'm sure we can find you some home shopping channel, in the narcoleptic tradition."
"We can try." She said, and felt him get up.
"Take the blanket and meet me on the couch."
Someone at the base probably hated them right now. The couch was stained to the point of jungle-warfare camouflage, moaning every time you tried to sit down or get up.
They shared, making room for each other in the mere 6 feet of space. She curled into a ball, taking the left armrest, Mulder took the right, remote in hand, changing channels with volume cranked barely above whisper.
After third round through all 25 available channels, he finally asked. "Any preference?"
"Whatever you want is fine," she mumbled back, focusing on the toasty warmth, calming her down.
Mulder chuckled, stopping at the black and white screen. "Casablanca it is."
In the midnight hush, familiar dialogue and story was as comforting to Scully, as the blankets or Mulders' weight. Letting her mind be distracted, it didn't take long to hear soft snoring from the other end.
With arms folded over his chest, he looked slightly distressed, as if he had to hold himself together. They shared enough overnight trips for her to know he was a light sleeper, with occasional spells of insomnia, explained by cases keeping him awake. But never on their flights or long drives, or naps she saw him do that. Something in her stirred, to pry those arms away, smooth open his palms and hold him until he felt safe again.
His feet twitched, head rolled on the armrest, lips moved. Scully caught nothing but a vague mumble, but it was enough to startle himself awake. Their eyes met, catching her staring in the faint grey light.
"What?"
Scully shook her head lightly, shifting as he pulled himself together. Making room for her, Mulder turned to look at the tv, seemingly detached.
"I never thanked you," she said quietly after a minute, drawing his gaze back on herself. "For everything, after I woke up."
"My offer stands, whenever you're ready, we can talk."
"I wish, but I still don't remember anything. Even dreams become vague."
Mulder smiled reassuringly then returned to the movie.
"How about you?" She said, not falling for his quick dismiss.
"What about me?"
"You know it wasn't your fault."
"I know," he muttered.
Pulling his own blanket higher to hide from her was a rare defensive gesture. Scully could feel the wall appear, as he shifted away from her even farther, but since she expected it, she could fight it.
Shifting with him, she made herself comfortable, slipping low and stretching her legs, draping them over his, bare feet dangling free, a bold move that won her a chuckle. Mulder tugged at his blanket and cover her with it, drawing her feet to his chest, warm hands against delicate skin. Mulder and boundaries didn't mix nicely.
"I'm here too, if you need me." She said quietly, accepting the nod, light tickle and intimacy.
They didn't see the fog or the beginning of a beautiful friendship. They fell asleep, deep and dreamless, anchored to each other.