Chapter Text
Mulder sprinted through the dark alleyway and Scully’s little legs tried their best to stay in stride. At this point it was a race of pure will. Her chest burned fiercely, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the callous forming inside her heeled shoe. Mulder was a good ten paces in front of her, close enough for her to see the puddles rise up as he woke them from their sedentary state. The man they were pursuing turned the corner and Mulder followed. In his silhouette the London Fog trench coat looked more like a cape and the Sig Sauer nestled in the crook of this palm an extension of himself.
Stepping up from the street to the curb, the ball of her right foot hit the sidewalk and skidded, tiny pebbles underneath the thick heel worked like roller skates. She used her other heel to balance herself, her arms flailing as she slid, finally gaining her balance, but not before excruciating pain zigzagged up her leg and into her backside. Conceding the loss of her nylons and some severe callouses, she hopped around and removed her shoes, making the walk of shame back to their rental car.
Given their history, Scully, over the years, had become accustomed to keeping tennis shoes in her overnight bag. Retrieving them from the trunk, she put them on, slid the key in the ignition, and drove around Chicago’s damp city blocks to catch up with Mulder.
Turning down West 63rd, she tracked down the source of the flashing blue lights climbing the tall buildings. She parked as close to the scene as permitted, leaving the car diagonally positioned across two parking spaces. There wasn’t time for pleasantries. Flashing her badge, she demanded, “Where’s Agent Mulder?” to the first officer in her path.
“The FBI Agent?” the officer said, but she didn’t bother to answer.
Mulder had his head down, and his eyes up while a very fit bronze skinned woman stroked his forehead. The shoulder holster that hugged her like suspenders, pushed her large breasts together to form majestic hills three inches from Mulder’s nose. Scully saw red, green, and various other colors of the rainbow. Since Diana’s shadow had faded and Mulder had penetrated the barriers of Scully’s mind, felt her dedication to him in his own heart, their friendship had deepened immeasurably.
Scully had no need or right to be jealous of anyone, since she was the one that had kept him at arm’s length. When she had asked him to be her donor, he had floated the idea of something more and it was her that held back for fear. Fear that she might lose herself, fear in her inability to maintain a long-term relationship, fear that she couldn’t give him the unwalled heart he deserved. In the end, she couldn’t risk all that they had without more proof that they could be successful. Diana had come and put all her decisions into question. Instead of diving into his arms, she still had kept a distance, for lack of courage. Looking at what was in front of her now made her question her own judgement.
“Mulder, are you alright?” Scully asked, showing her badge to the woman, practically shoving it between her breasts and his sightline.
Mulder pulled back and smiled as he met her eyes. As usual, he found any jealousy on her part humorous. “I’m okay. A bullet grazed me. Luckily you had called for backup.”
“I didn’t call for backup.” Scully reached out and lifted his hair, searching for anything other than the superficial wound on his scalp. She feared a concussion so soon after brain surgery.
“I called it in,” Gina answered. “He should get that checked out. Could be more than a simple abrasion.”
“I’m a doctor,” Scully explained. “I’m his doctor.”
The woman lifted a hand in surrender.
“This is Central Intelligence Agent Gina Contreras,” Mulder said and Scully shook her hand. “It seems the CIA has taken interest in our case.”
“That’s classified,” Gina said, giving Mulder a wink.
Scully was not amused. “Let’s go, Mulder, I want to take a closer look at that head wound at the hospital.” She stroked his forehead again for good measure. “At the very least it needs to be cleaned and bandaged.”
“Looks like you’re in good hands.” Gina held up what Scully recognized as Mulder’s business card. “We’ll be in contact.” She turned to Scully. “I’ll leave you to it. Have a good night.”
Scully watched Mulder’s gaze as Gina walked away. Scully swallowed down the knot in her throat until it laid heavy in her stomach. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” he said, staring at Gina’s stride. Finally he looked back at Scully. “It seems she’s been assigned our case.”
The knot twisted. “Let’s go, Mulder.”