Wednesday
by Little Grey Girl

Email: dreamscatcher@wildmail.com 
Rating: PG-13
Classification: MSR/angst 

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd be rich.
As they're not I have to work for a living.

Spoilers: Set prior to My Struggle I. 

Summary: My attempt to make sense of the separation-that-never-was.
Ignores the s10 timespan as it's just daft.

***

It was a Wednesday when she left him. 

He thinks he should remember the exact date - put it on the calendar 
and mourn its anniversary - but he'd actually had very little 
concept of dates for weeks leading up that day. It was February he 
remembers that. Lateish he thinks because although there was still 
snow on the ground she had occasionally been getting home before 
it got completely dark. 

When he even noticed what time she got back that is.

The truth is that he only really knew it was a Wednesday because 
it was Friday when he woke up.

When she put that pathetically small suitcase in her car - because 
of course she'd kept double of pretty much everything at the bland 
little apartment she rented by the hospital that was only supposed 
to be for emergencies like when she pulled a double shift or the 
roads were too bad to get home or he was a wanted fugitive and 
she needed a legal address that wasn't tainted by association 
with him. But now that bland little apartment was being used as 
an escape route, a bolt hole, and he hated that she had somewhere 
to go without him. 

When her car finally drove off and he refused to acknowledge her 
tears, her promises that she'd be back, that they just needed a 
little time apart to straighten up - when he was finally alone in 
that drafty house that suddenly seemed so much emptier than it 
ever did when she was just at work and he knew she'd be home in 
a few hours, when it was finally just him, he went into his study, 
threw his laptop at the wall, drank half a bottle of vodka and 
passed out for two days.

XXX

When he eventually woke up it was to Scully's hand gently 
smoothing back his hair from his forehead. He was lying on the 
sofa with his head in her lap, although he had no recollection 
of getting there. He smelled of puke but that was a blank as 
well. Scully's face was red and puffy and it looked like she 
hadn't stopped crying since the moment she'd walked out the door.

'Oh Mulder'. The words were sobbed more than spoken and he felt 
a surge of pleasure at her obvious pain and then immediately 
hated himself for it. 'I've been so worried. I've been calling 
you for two days and then I finally find you like this. Mulder 
what were you doing?'

He doesn't know what he was doing. It wasn't a cry for help 
because at the time he'd drank that bottle he honestly didn't 
think there was anyone left to help him.

'What day is it?' he mutters.

She sobs again. 'It's Friday Mulder.'

That made sense. She often finished early on a Friday. She 
may have been worried about him but not enough to leave 
work early.

'Mulder?' She's still talking but he doesn't want to listen 
anymore. Doesn't want to be here when she says she's leaving 
again. Clearly he barley survived it the first time around 
and he has no intention of trying to live through it again.

'Mulder did you do this just to hurt me? To make me come back?'

There is a tiny, well hidden part of him that knows this is 
destroying her as much as it is him but that part is still 
buried beneath what is promising to be one hell of a hangover. 
So he pushes her hand away but turns his face into her thigh 
and closes his eyes and lies. 'You'll never come back'

XXX

When he wakes up again there's a note on his forehead telling 
him to look in the fridge. There's a cartoon of OJ and a pack 
of aspirin - just the one as she's clearly in Dr Scully mode 
and therefore not entirely trusting of his mental state. He 
discovers later that all the alcohol in the house is gone too. 
He downs the OJ in one and takes four painkillers and drags 
himself up the stairs. There's another note on the pillow.

Mulder - 

I know I've hurt you and I can only hope that you'll realise 
that I did what I thought was right for both of us. I love 
you Mulder and nothing is ever going to change that but I 
feel that we need some time apart just now. I will call you 
every day and come round as often as I can. Please take 
care of yourself partner.

- Scully

XXX

Sometimes, if he's being honest with himself - and it took 
him weeks before he could be - he thinks that actually he 
was the one who left, even though he never went anywhere. 

There were days leading up to that fateful Wednesday when 
he never noticed if she'd come home until she was standing 
in front of him. 

Never realised if she'd been gone one day or two until she 
called to say she was staying at the apartment that night 
as she was on call and didn't want to be too far from her 
patients. 

One night he didn't register that she'd got back until he 
finally dragged himself out of his study at gone midnight 
to find a half-eaten lasagne on the kitchen table and 
Scully asleep in their bed.

She woke up when he slipped in next to her and he was prepared 
to launch into a tirade of righteous indignation about saving 
the world and on-going conspiracies. But she just turned over 
and kissed him before settling back down to sleep again.

He lay there for a moment trying to join her then got up and 
spent the night on the sofa. He stayed there the next two 
nights. 

Then it was Wednesday.

XXX

And so began a strange kind of half-life. She called him 
several times a day, leaving him relentlessly upbeat messages 
when he was being too much of a prick to answer. 

'Hi Mulder. Just wanted to remind you there's half a chicken 
in the freezer that needs eating up.'

'Mulder we just had a kid through here who was the spitting 
image of the Eves!'

XXX

She came back on the Friday, 9 days after she first left. She 
had her overnight bag with her but the wariness in her eyes 
made it clear it wasn't a permanent return. He was cleaning 
up the bits of broken laptop when she came in and he managed 
a wan smile. She returned it tentatively and bent down to help.

She slept on the sofa. He didn't argue and he made her breakfast 
in the morning. They talked about the hospital, about her mother's 
latest Church fundraiser, about the old days at the Bureau. They 
did not talk about them.

The next week he cleaned the house before she came. She still 
slept on the sofa but she let him kiss her goodnight. And good 
morning.

There was no sudden shift. The change in their physical living 
arrangements may have been sudden but the signs had been there 
for months and neither of them had been willing to acknowledge that. 

He started seeing at therapist but stopped when he realised that 
the guy didn't believe a word he was saying and that he was in 
danger of being committed with all his talk of little green men 
and government cover-ups. Scully laughed when he told her and 
said that for a home cooked meal she'd be his therapist whenever 
he needed her.

Always he replied and she smiled but didn't return the sentiment.

He started running again. 5, 10 15 kilometres a days, out in the 
woods behind the house. 

He finished two articles and a book chapter that his publisher had 
been nagging him about for months. When his next royalty cheque 
came in, he met her after work and took her for dinner. It was the 
first time he'd been into the city for over a year.

That weekend when she came over, she didn't sleep on the sofa.

XXX

They still had a long way to go, he knew that. But he also knew 
that she was right - they did need some time apart. To rediscover 
who they were themselves and not just as the other half of each 
other.

He still missed her dreadfully, missed her every night that she 
didn't sleep by his side. But he also knew now what he hadn't 
been able to believe at the time. 

That they would find their way back together again. 

That it would always be the two of them. 

And that somewhere out there in the world beyond that 
unremarkable house, a change was coming and a new chapter of 
their lives was about to begin.

***

There we go. More angsty than my usual fare but it was good 
therapy for me to write it all down! 

Now I can go back to my nice little 'M&S are happy and s10 
never happened' world. :)