Chapter Text
On a day so humid it seemed to suck all the moisture from her skin, Scully decided the best thing she could slip into would be a bath.
It had been nearly two weeks since Deep Throat had been executed on the tear-slicked streets of D.C. In the cradle of Scully’s arms he died along the darkened bridge between righteousness and hubris; And now that he was gone, it felt as though their work had died too.
Immersed in the melody of Piazzolla’s Oblivion with hints of lavender and vanilla blooming around her, Scully sunk into the tub. The warm press of porcelain felt cool against her skin just before sliding inside the steaming blanket of bubbles. Closing her eyes she tried her best to relax.
It had been a very strange year. Meeting Mulder and taking on the assignment with the X-Files had thrown her life a curve she felt could never be straightened.
So much had been crammed in such little time. The memories came fast like the slides on Mulder’s carousel. From their trip to Oregon to her turning away her date to cruise the Smithsonian with him, the X-Files had crept its way into every facet of her life. Then there was Mulder. He had comforted her through her father’s death and she had met his old flame. As strange as everything else, his introduction to her apartment was to help fight off a liver-eating mutant. He met her ex-boyfriend and she met his first case in violent crimes along with his partners. They operated well together, and saved the other more than a few times, her from the throes of a kindred alien, him from Ellen's airforce base. They performed a covert operation to stalk a UFO, she sprung him from the crowbar motel at club DoD, and witnessed the Eves of the super soldier program.
Now, among the reflected glow of the candle light she flashed on the frozen embryo of an alien and all Deep Throat had died for.
Scully scooped the warm water with a whiff of orange blossoms across her satin skin. The pine trees dangling from Mulder’s rental cars never smelled even close. More memories hit her with a spark, then another, then they took a slant, sending her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding.
“Mulder I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you.”
“If there’s an iced tea in that bag, could be love.”
When he told her the change was coming, he meant in the world, the government, the FBI, the X-Files. What he didn’t account for was the change between and within them.
“Mulder, you’re the only one I trust.”
“Then you’re going to have to trust me.”
Scully closed her eyes. She felt old, as if the mere knowledge of the government obtaining the alien specimen had aged her, wrinkling her hands and slowing her energy. It was getting late and the water grew tepid. Dripping from the tub, she showered off then got ready for bed.
It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, or for the nightmare to return. The same one she had for the past two weeks. It was her, going against every belief she had, working with a man she didn’t know to retrieve what she had been told was the original alien tissue - All to save Mulder’s life.
The face of the man who fired the gun haunted her dreams, and as Deep Throat laid in her arms with his last words.. trust no one, the man raised his gun, with the hollow barrel aimed at her, he fired.
The phone rang, startling her awake.
“They’re shutting us down, Scully. They called me in tonight and they said that they’re going to reassign us to other sections.”
“Who told you that?”
“Skinner,” Mulder said, disdain dripping from his words. “He said word came down from the top of the executive branch.”
Before hanging up, he said something she thought was somewhat hopeful. “I’m not going to give up, I can’t give up. Not as long as the truth is out there.”
Her head returned to the silk of her pillow and she closed her eyes for a brief moment. Then opened them. Her mind wouldn’t settle. Ironically, the town slept, completely unaware of the tragedy that had occurred. The events of that day would domino into their lives and they would never know that the man who tried to warn them, to expose it all, had fallen to his demise, paying for his sins before any redemption. They wouldn’t hear the deafening silence of the war that waged outside their windows beneath where their children slept. One day they might awaken to the nightmares, only to find the cogs already in motion. Scully threw her covers back. Sleep had done the breast stroke out with the tide.