Scully Sits In Her New Cubicle. She Hates It. She Hates The Way Her Every Breath Is Heard By At Least

Scully sits in her new cubicle. She hates it. She hates the way her every breath is heard by at least twenty agents around her, she hates the way her back feels exposed with her front and side surrounded by thin walls, she hates the placard the reads “Fox Mulder” sitting atop the desk next to hers.

The man himself is walking down the hall. She knows it’s him; she’s spent too many years with him not to and too many nights listening to see who was outside her door as a child. Another year and she might be able to tell you what pair of shoes he’s wearing, but for now she could tell you that he’s angry. Scully does not turn around as he approaches her, the familiar shadow eclipsing her stupid, tiny desk.

Mulder slamed the paper on her desk, his hand still covering it as he asks, “What the fuck is this?” She pokes his wrist with a pen and he concedes, granting her access to the familiar page. ‘Dear A. D. Skinner’ at the top and her name at the bottom.

Scully does turn around when she hears the click of heels. Arlene, Skinner’s assistant, is racing after Mulder. “Agent Mulder, you cannot have that! That was intended for Mr. Skinner!” She looks like a cross mother speaking to a school child. Mulder does not look remotely remorseful, in fact, he ignores the poor woman all together.

Scully can feel the heat radiating off him, and she’s never wanted to step out of his reach so much before, even in the last few months, “Well, Agent Mulder, this appears to be the resignation letter I brought to A. D. Skinner’s office this morning. May I ask how it came into your possession?” She asks, her tone even, professional, and clear as a bell.

“I was going to pick up a file and saw it on his desk. You can’t quit Scully, not now! Not after Antarctica!” He’s yelling. Scully bites the urge to nag him about everyone on the floor being able to hear him. They can hear her as well, and she’ll be going out with dignity.

“As long as my resignation is accepted, and it should be as I am owed a fair amount of compensation, I can. I’m a doctor, agent Mulder, and I’d like to get a chance to use my degree in the traditional sense before I’m kidnapped by another serial killer, I hope you can understand that. Please return that paper to Arlene.” Mulder rips the letter in half. Scully purses her lips: this is childish behavior, even for him, but not entirely unexpected. Scully pulls another copy from her desk, pushing Mulder’s chest as she stands so she can have another room to breathe. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Arlene,” she says, handing the paper to the flustered woman.

“Quite alright, Agent Scully,” she said primly and walked away. Scully practically has to manhandle Mulder out of her way so she can exit the cubicle.

“Where are you going?” He asks, so bewildered Scully almost feels bad, but she forces that back behind the door with all the other things she’s feeling about Mulder.

“The restroom, I hope that’s alright.”

“Scully, please,” She almost breaks as he grabs at her shoulder as she walks away.

She reminds herself that that’s why she has to do this and dislodges his hand. “Don’t make this personal, Agent Mulder,” she says, with her best impression of professional detachment.