#even if it involves
The fourth series reads as follows:
Apple Balancing…Potential…The Newbies…The Dessert…Dinosaurs and Cannibalism…Sassy Sprinklepants…The Secret Vault of Mudlerness…Taco Night…Neckhole Wrestling…The Onesie…Multiplication…Catching On…Thanksgiving…The Funeral…Midnight Libations…Stockings were Hung…Mama Walter …Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style)
To catch up: First series…Second series … Third series
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He found her sitting at the kitchen table one cold January morning, afghan around her shoulders, super thick, warm fuzzy socks in place, staring at her badge wallet. Approaching, she didn’t look up and he leaned into her back, looking over her shoulder, “whatcha doin’?”
“Look at the date.”
There was a reissue/re-up date for a new photo and the date told him that her credentials would be expiring in three days, “you better come in and get your new picture.”
Leaning her head against his, she knocked the wallet against the table twice before holding it still, her knuckles whitening in spots, “I think … that … we will have three children soon and I … need … to officially quit … the F … B … I.”
Had she not been supporting him, he would have collapsed to the ground in a disbelieving heap, “what?”
Gently shrugging his off her shoulder, she turned, eyes pink from what he realized must have been crying, “I think it’s time … to quit … officially.”
Without breaking his gaze, he shifted, turned, pulled a chair over and settled in front of her, hands on her thighs, “if it’s making you cry, don’t do it. You can stay around as long as you like.”
Her head tilted, lips pressed together, chin wrinkled, eyebrows both up, “I’m not crying because I don’t want to go. I’m actually crying because I don’t think I mind quitting.”
Not expecting that quite this early in the morning, he tilted back at her, “you’re finished with it?”
Tears ran again as she nodded, “I think so. The thought of leaving Will behind and soon, two more babies, even for the day, to go do an autopsy for you, or to paper chase lab results, is so far out of my realm of understanding right now that … I … I just …” resting her hands over his, “I don’t want to do it anymore.”
His heart ached at the thought of her never being beside him again in partner capacity but sliding his hand out from under hers, he spun his wedding ring around his finger, his thumb shifting it back and forth. Looking from her, to it, then back again, he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose, “we’ll probably have to go gun shopping for you then. Get you a concealed license, steal some Kevlar and staples.”
“Staples?”
“You never know when we’ll need staples.” Suddenly she was hugging him, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle he chose to ignore, his arms going around her, “how long have you been awake?”
One large sniff in his ear later, “since three. I threw up and came out here and for some reason, it just popped in my head and I’ve been staring at it since then.”
Finally pulling back, his back cracking, he returned his hands to her legs, “aren’t we supposed to, like, talk about everything and wake each other up when crazy stuff like vomiting and calendendrical revelations occur?”
“Calendrical?”
“It’s 5:15 in the morning, I can make up a word.”
Scully handed him her ID, “I guess you should take this in, give it to Skinner.”
“Naw, we’ll keep it, put it in with Will’s first pair of shoes and that weird stump of umbilical cord you insisted on saving.”
Smacking him on the chest, “I did not save his umbilical cord.”
“You wanted to.”
“I really didn’t.” Resting her hand on his cheek, “you hungry?”
“You’re thinking pancakes, aren’t you?”
“With extra syrup.”
Standing, “do we have bacon?”
Already heading to the freezer, “buy one, get one free last week. I stocked up.”
&&&&&&&&&&
The pancakes were light and fluffy, the syrup sticky, the butter smooth, the bacon carbonized, the son asleep longer than usual, the make-out session against the refrigerator door quick and perfect. They also got ready for work together, for what they could only assume would be the last time.
Scully decided to bring Will to the Hoover Building and turn her items in to Skinner officially, instead of over the dinner table at her mother’s house, which, in the grand scheme, is probably a much more appropriate way to leave a job.
It was a slow process, each taking their time with pulling on shirts and brushing teeth, sliding on shoes and filling pockets, watching each other throughout. Mulder felt the beginnings of a minor depression setting in as he held her coat out to her but it disappeared the instant she tried to close her coat over her rapidly expanding belly. She looked up at him as he looked down at her and suddenly, both were grinning, “you are completely adorable.”
“Even with a seven-foot circumference?”
“As long as I can hug you, I don’t care how big you get.”
“Pretty soon, you won’t be able to get anywhere near me. How are you going to hug me then?”
Waggling a lewd eyebrow at her, “I’ll just come in from behind. Cop a cheap feel in the process. It’ll be great.”
&&&&&&&&&
Half the people in the Hoover building nodded and said ‘hello’ to her and Mulder, stopping the trio to catch a view of Will and comment on his shock of red hair and his startlingly bright deep blue eyes. Mulder deferred all compliments to Scully, letting her bask in the attention that she never once received while she worked there, basement dweller shunned seven years running.
Heading to Skinner’s office, they talked to his secretary until Skinner got off the phone and immediately came out to the outer office, unstrapping Will, settling him on his shoulder in his usual spot. “What do we owe this visit to?”
Scully motioned toward Skinner’s office, “can we talk to you?”
“Of course. Go on in.” Grandchild snuggled against him, he followed, closing the door with his foot, “everything all right?”
“I should have called but once I decided, I decided.” Pulling her badge, wallet, and gun from her pockets and holster, she set them on her former boss’s desk, “I’m quitting, formally, effective today.”
Skinner had been rendered speechless on several occasions by the Scully-Mulder dynamic but this one was the first to make his heart drop a little. He’d known it would happen eventually but he hadn’t been expecting it to be before the twins were born, at the very earliest.
Scully looked at him, quiet for a few seconds before, “you okay, sir?”
This brought him back, “sir?”
She shrugged, mouth turned up on the left side, right side still serious, “old habits.”
Gently rocking Will, he first gave the boy a kiss to the forehead, then cuddled him unabashedly under his chin, “what made you do it today?”
“It was expiring and I just realized … it was time.”
“No consulting? No teaching? No curbside favors?”
“Not anymore.”
For the first time, in possibly forever, he looked sad, “I was expecting this but I will say, a small part of me is going to miss the daily game of ‘what the hell did Mulder and Scully do now?’”
“We can play it at dinner on Sundays. I’ll make sure Mulder is extra argumentative next week.”
Reaching out, he one-arm hugged her, surprising them both, “even more to look forward to on Sundays.”
She hugged him back, “I will need you to get me a concealed license, though, so our work isn’t quite done.”
“Don’t forget the paperwork we have to do. You don’t get to quit until you sign the papers.”
So began an emotional rollercoaster, two hours in the making, human resources, life-sucking ordeal that ended, finally, with Scully in the basement, standing in the doorway, voyeuristically watching Mulder hunched over a file cabinet, shirt slightly untucked, wearing the belt she’d bought him and running their son’s stroller back and forth an inch at a time with his foot.
Not able to help herself, she pushed the door open a little more, knocking lightly as she did so, “hello?”
It was on the tip of his tongue, their opening line, their introduction to each other and to the world as partners in his battle with the universe. Instead, he turned, studied her a moment, then let his face crease up in a smile.
He was wearing his glasses.
God, she loved the glasses.
“I desperately want to say something about the FBI’s most unwanted but I’ve come to realize that I am wanted by more people than I ever thought possible so instead, ‘hey, how’re you doing?’”
She kept her station in the doorframe, her eyes dry but pained, bright with unshed tears, “I’ve been better but definitely been worse.”
Moving to his desk, he removed something from the bottom drawer, then walked back to her, “got something for you.”
“If it’s all my personal casefiles, you’ll do better to burn ‘em than give ‘em to me.”
Somehow, he understood, having gone through a version of this when he opened the office up to Doggett and Harrison. From behind his back, he gave her a sandwich bag full of peanut M&Ms, majority red but all colors represented, “thought maybe you’d like to take a trip down memory lane.”
