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burritoscully · 3 months ago

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Time Can Heal Rewrite

A canon divergent/Irresistible fic. What if Scully’s post-abduction trauma was actually dealt with. What if Mulder realised that his quest for the truth was costing too much?

A/N: A Time Can Heal rewrite because 25 year old Powder is gonna have a better way of telling this story than 20 year old Powder. Also it will most likely have a different title but I haven’t decided yet. It has been inspired by Jean Helm's And Death Shall Have No Dominion (since the two fics were recently confused for each other; highly recommend you read that fic, it's my favourite) And also the scene in Irresistible where Scully sees Pfaster morph into a bunch of different people. I also just wanted to write a fic that addresses Scully's trauma. The original was never completed, I got to 10 chapters but I've decided to rewrite it since it was such a long time ago and me and my writing have both matured since then. You'll find similiarities between this one on and the original, obviously, but I'm hoping this is the better version.

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Chapter One

They put her apartment up for sale. Good.

Her mother promised her she would try to get it back.

“You were gone for three months,” her mother says, justifying her actions. “We didn’t know when you would be back. We thought…” Her mother glances towards Melissa, her sister materalising for the first time in a year and a half, unable to say the word.

“You were dead,” Missy answers softly.

Scully was dead. She had floated up to that white room, laid on a table, a man standing over her; her father, who had forced her back down.

Between the bright light that had blinded her atop of that freezing summat to the hospital room she lays in now, she had been dead.

“I’m sorry,” says her mother.

There was nothing to be sorry about. Scully didn’t want her apartment back; it's lonely, soundless rooms made for one. Scully wanted noise, the presence of another person, the knowledge that somebody might be there to protect her.

She chided herself. She is supposed to be the protector. But how could she ever protect others if she couldn’t even protect herself?

There was an ever-present fear. Her stomach twisting as she lays in the bed of her mother’s guest bedroom. It keeps her awake. Watching shadows twist in the dark as she tries to remember anything but there is nothing, just the sense of time missing, something lost. Maybe that is what scares her; memories of time that she will never get back.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She has her first nightmare a week after she returns.

Trapped inside the trunk of her car, she bangs against the roof to no avail. There are people around her; she can hear their voices speaking in a language she can’t understand, someone laughs, there’s the sound of a gunshot, and the undeniable stench of cigarette smoke.

Scully wakes in a panic. There’s something over her head, her body. Hysteria takes over her as she truly believes she is in that trunk still, that she had hallucinated her survival and recovery.

But the top of the trunk is soft, the material lays against her body and when she kicks her feet or moves her unbounded hands the material moves with her.

She kicks the duvet off her body, hears the sound of it falling onto the floor in a heap. The November chill seeps through the cracks in the windows and Scully shivers yet she can’t bring herself to pull the duvet back over herself. Instead, she curls into the foetal position and gently closes her eyes, willing the nightmares away.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A nightmare doesn’t wake her. In fact, Scully is unsure if she even had a dream last night but the duvet is over her again and that is enough to send her heart beating rapidly and her breaths quickening. She kicks the material right off.

“Scully?”

Scully opens her eyes to find Mulder staring at her with puzzled concern. The sight of him immediately calms her, temporarily banishing her fears to the corners.

“Hi, Mulder.”

She hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Those first couple of days she couldn’t get him away from her but over time, once she was moved and settled in her mother’s house, his visits had decreased exponentially. It had been a week since he last visited not that Scully had minded, she understood life and work took precedence and with the X-Files having been reopened she knew better than most how busy Mulder must be right now.

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from missing him and seeing him here now fills her with as much joy as it does comfort.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

Scully shrugs. Head down, fingers fidgeting with each other she doesn’t want to burden him with her nightmares and worries.

“As well as I can be, I suppose,” she answers.

Mulder looks unconvinced.

“Your mother tells me you haven’t left this room since you got here,” he says not buying it.

Scully frowns, feeling defensive. Were Mulder and her mother judging her? Surely they must understand. Besides, she was still healing, the pain in her abdomen still hadn’t gone away, it hurt to even walk over to the ensuite bathroom some days.

But they were excuses, she should get out of this bed, soon she will be back at work.

Scully looks towards the window, curtains drawn open so she could see the light dusting of frost outside. Mulder must’ve opened them when he came in because they were closed over last night and all day yesterday. Scully didn’t want to see outside let alone be out there. The thought of leaving this bed, of facing the world and the monsters that inhabited it made her stick to the sheets like glue. Her mother and Melissa had both tried to coax her outside to no success, Scully would just shake her head, say she was tired. Eventually they gave up and left her alone.

Mulder, she knew, would do no such thing.

“You can’t stay in bed forever, Scully.”

She closes her eyes at his words. She knew that but still…

“Come on,” he urges, holding out his hand. “Let’s sit outside, we need to talk anyway.”

Scully looks at his hand then back outside. Just to the porch, she tells herself. That wasn’t scary, that was still her mother’s property where the monsters couldn’t hurt her. (She had thought that of her own home but they had still found her there) No, that wasn’t the same, this time she had Mulder, this time he would protect her.

She takes his hand and eases herself out of bed for the first time in two weeks.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It’s cold on the porch. The chilly air nips at her cheeks, bites at her fingers that she wraps around the mug of tea her mother handed to her and Mulder. Scully sips at it slowly, tasting the hot bitterness of it, letting it burn her tongue slightly, it feels good.

Mulder is silent beside her despite his insistence on talking. She wonders if it had just been a ploy to get her out of her bed but when she looks over to him she can see him thinking, his face crunching when he doesn’t like a thought, pausing when he thinks he is onto something. It’s fairly interesting. It also fills her with dread. What could he possibly be wanting to say that is taking this long?

“Scully,” His voice cuts through the silent air and makes her jump slightly. “I handed in my resignation to Skinner.”

Scully frowns. She knew this already. During Skinner’s one and only visit- one that had surprised them all- he had recounted the tale of how Mulder had handed in his resignation but Skinner had refused to accept it. It had been told with humour, as if to try to add some light to the situation, and Scully had smiled along but when she looked at Mulder to gauge his reaction he had been sombre, lost in thought, somewhere far away.

“Yes, Skinner told me, remember in the hos–”

“This morning.”

It cuts through the air like a knife. Cold ice runs straight through Scully’s body that has nothing to do with the temperature. Her back straightens, tea forgotten.

“Excuse me?” she asks quietly because maybe she heard wrong, maybe he’s got it all mixed up.

“I’m leaving. My final day was yesterday.”

No, no he can’t…

“The Bureau?”

“The X-Files. I asked Skinner to close them, lock the basement door if he has to, burn the filing cabinet. Anything to…”

It’s a sucker punch to the gut, everything he is saying. She was back, they could work together again, everything could go back to normal but instead he had made decisions without her.

“And you did all this without talking to me first?” She makes sure he can hear the betrayal, the anger she feels.

“Scully–”

“And what about Samantha? What about discovering the truth? You’re really just going to leave all that?”

“Yes! If I must!” he says, his voice rising. “Don’t you see? It’s all too much risk. I’ve already killed Deep Throat because of this cause, I almost lost you…It’s too much.”

“But I don’t blame you for that, Mulder, you know that.” She tries to explain it, to make him see, why can’t he see that he’s all she has, her anchor. “We knew the risks when we signed up. This is why you should’ve spoken to me first.”

But Mulder shakes his head. “You can’t change my mind on this, Scully, I’m sorry. I leave tomorrow. I’ve handed over my apartment keys, my things are all packed into a van. This is the end, I’m sorry.”

Keys? Van? What? A panic grips her as she tries to make sense of the words.

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

“Just… away,” he answers, revealing nothing. “There’s an opening in one of the Field Offices, I’m transferring there.”

“Well, which one?” She fishes into her pockets for a notepad and pen so she can write it down, remember it, but of course she is wearing a robe, she had no notepad and pen. “Maybe I could see if they have another opening–”

His hand reaches out to touch her forearm, halting her movements. “Scully,” he says, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you understand? This is your chance to get away from me, to live a normal life.”

Scully shakes her head. “I don’t want to get away from you.” Maybe it’s the cold or her fatigue but she can feel tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says and for some unknown reason it makes her angry, angrier than she was before. Suddenly she can’t stand to be around him.

“Go then,” she says, standing up abruptly it makes Mulder jolt backwards slightly. “No point wasting time here.”

“Scully–” he calls to her, standing up himself.

“I don’t care anymore, Mulder, okay? If you want to go then just go.” Her hand is on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

“Please understand, Scully, I’m doing this to protect you because I care about you.”

If he gave even one shit about her he would stay. Scully’s hand pauses on the door handle, she turns her towards him slightly, eyes and voice cold as she tells him, “I don’t need your protection.” She rips the front door open and slams it shut behind her, it vibrates through the house like a gunshot, killing them both.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Mulder packs the last of the boxes into the Gunmen’s WV bus, pulling the door shut after himself and heads up to the driver’s seat where Langly, Frohike, and Byers sit together up front.

“You sure you don’t want a lift?” asks Langly.

Mulder shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll follow you up there.”

Langly nods, twisting the key in the ignition.

“So what’s up in Minneapolis anyway?” asks Frohike over the hum of the old engine.

Mulder shrugs. “A fresh start, I hope.”

“And what about the enigmatic Dr Scully? Will she be joining you?”

Mulder falters. His argument with Scully was still an open wound. For his last interaction with her to end that badly made him want to throw up. He had stood on that porch for a while after she had gone inside, until he had caught the attention of Mrs Scully who had wondered what had happened.

He had had no words for her, just silently handed the half-drank mugs of tea back to her and left, resisting the urge to look up towards the second floor where he could feel Scully watching him.

“That remains to be seen,” Mulder says, not wanting to tell the exact truth. “She might even go back to medicine.” A blatant lie but one he wishes to be true all the same.

“Well, we’ll certainly miss you,” Frohike says, an agreement made in mutters by Langly and Byers.

“Good luck, Mulder,” Byers wishes him.

Langly holds out his fist and Mulder bumps him. “See you around,” he says. He puts the bus into gear and with Mulder’s belongings takes off down the road.

Mulder watches them go, his eyes trained on them until they disappear around the corner, then he pulls out his cellphone, dials a number he knows off by heart now, lingers above the call button for a second, then presses it. He puts the cell to his ear and listens to it ring.

And ring.

It goes to the answering machine. To Mrs Scully’s soft, kind voice telling him she wasn’t home and to leave a message. Mulder buttons it instead, placing the cellphone back into his pocket. What was he even expecting?

When he gets to Minneapolis he’ll delete the number. And the two others. It won’t matter, he could recite all three in his sleep but he needs to try to cut her off, from his life, from his entire world if he even stands a chance at keeping her safe.

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