Part 3 Following
By Drama

The elevator doors opened and I headed for my car, bypassing the mail altogether. I had to see him. Knowing that he came, that he wanted to see me caused all of my repressed emotions to come flooding back. I needed to see him to get the closure I was sure I needed.

I'm not even sure how I got to his apartment building, I just drove without thinking.

I got into the elevator, hit the fourth floor button and pressed my cheek against the marred steel wall. Everything had happened so fast. It was like my entire being had changed in a matter of seconds. Somewhere, in the back of my mind I always knew it would catch up with me.

The doors opened and I stepped out into the hallway. So many memories came from that place, so many things happened in that one little area, so many missed chances and frightening things were attached to that spot.

I stared at his door, afraid to knock, afraid of what might be inside. The number 42 hung at it's usually awkward angle. I doubt he'll ever get that fixed. It was just like Mulder, awkward and out of place, but right for what it represented. A smile came to my lips for a moment at the thought.

I knocked on the hard wood and waited. Nothing happened, so I knocked again, harder. Still nothing.

He wasn't there.

I threw back another shot and closed my eyes as the burning liquid slid down my throat. I counted the empty glasses that danced before my eyes: 1…2…3…4… and sighed.

"So, what are you trying to forget?"

The bartender leaned up against the bar.

"Hmm?"

"Well, you come in here alone and melancholy, order a bunch of stiff drinks and sigh a lot, I'd say you're trying to forget something…or somebody."

"I'm in love."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

" I'm a sorry sonovabitch, that's what. I broke her heart, but I didn't know I was in love, or maybe I did, but now I know and she's got somebody else."

"Tough luck." Said the bartender as he poured me another shot.

I'm not sure what it is about bars, maybe it's the atmosphere, or the alcohol, or the bartenders themselves, but it makes you just want to pout your soul out to a guy you just met who's been feeding you shots for the past half hour.

"She's beautiful, ya know. Used to be my best friend but we slept together and it was amazing, might I add, but being together was too dangerous. There are people that want us dead, and being involved would just give us a whole new weakness."

"That's gotta suck."

I nodded and swallowed another shot.

"I convinced myself I didn't love her and I told her we should forget what happened and she left me, and now I realize that I love her but it's too late."

I flexed my throbbing fist and leaned back.

"I am one sorry bastard."

I started to stand up, but I got a head rush so I sat down again. I tried it slower and swaggered into the bathroom. My God, I was drunk.

I drove for what seemed like hours, stopping in bars all around Georgetown , giving them a description of Mulder, asking if he was there. If I knew Mulder at all, in his position, he'd either be moping out at home, at the gym beating the crap out of a punching bag or getting plastered out of his mind at the nearest bar. Since he wasn't home and the gym said he hadn't signed in, he was probably in some bar, taking shots of whiskey. About the 5th bar I stopped at was a down home kind of place I'd expect to find somewhere in the Midwest, a couple of guys in baseball caps nursing bottles of Coors at the bar, a buxom waitress serving pitchers of beer, a friendly bartender wearing a dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, hell, even a pool table. I approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools.

"So, what'll it be?"

"Oh, actually, I'm looking for someone, a… friend of mine. His name is Fox Mulder, he's about six feet tall, dark hair, probably very depressed, with an injured fist..."

"Oh, that guy. Yeah he's here. Just stepped into the restroom. Can I get you something while you're waiting?"

"No, that's okay, I'm driving."

"Poor guy..."

I looked up at the bartender, who was now washing beer mugs in the sink."

"What did you say?"

"I said "Poor guy" I mean, he says he's in love, but his girl's got somebody else now. That's just sad. I feel sorry for the man."

He says he's in love? No, it couldn't be… could it?

I opened the bathroom door and had to steady myself against the door frame. A flash of auburn hair caught my eye and I turned towards it.

There she was, sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender. I couldn't face her now, not after what happened, what I heard… I had to get out without her seeing me so I headed towards the exit.

Thunk!

"Oh sh--"

I spun towards the noise and rushed over to see what happened. Mulder lay sprawled across the floor, clutching his head.

"Are you okay?" I asked, but he didn't answer me. I immediately slipped into doctor mode. I knelt down and pried his hand off his forehead. He had a little gash above his eyebrow and it would probably get a little bump, but he seemed otherwise okay. I checked his eyes and they were properly dialated, no concussion either. He stared up at me with wide eyes when I finished me ministrations.

I was so screwed. I had the distinct feeling that Scully was about to kick the crap out of me, so I headed for the door again. Damn my luck, she followed me, not that I was hard to catch, considering I was drunk and the floor kept on moving from beneath my feet.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I gotta go home." He started to pull away, so I held his arm tighter.

"Mulder, you live halfway across town and you're in no condition to drive yourself anywhere."

I wrestled his keys out of his hand.

"C'mon, Mulder, you can stay at my place until you get sober. It's closer."

"Ohh.. you promise?" he flashed a drunken leer at me and I couldn't help smiling. I had nearly forgotten how endearing his playfulness was.

"Sure, Mulder, anything you say."

I threw his arm around my shoulder and lugged him out the door and into my car while he attempted to walk.

"You're not going to be sick, are you?"

"Naw, I'm gonna be jus' fine."

Halfway through the car trip, Mulder started giggling uncontrollably for no apparent reason, except that he was incredibly drunk. By the time we got to my apartment, it was pouring rain and Mulder was still giggling. We attempted running to the building, but Mulder kept on leaning dangerously to the left, so we were soaked by the time we got into the building. Mulder continued his damp giggles. I considered asking him why, but something told me I didn't want to know. I got him into my apartment and peeled off my soaked jacket. Mulder's twittering had finally subsided and was replaced by shivering.

"C'mon, Mulder, let's get you out of those wet clothes." I tugged at his wet jacket.

"ooh… that sounds like fun, Scully."

I succeeded in removing his coat and started pulling up his T-shirt. He grabbed my wrist gently and brought it up to his lips, softly kissing the palm of my hand. I ignored the shiver that ran through my body.

"Ya know, Scully, I love you."

"Mulder, please don't" I pleaded

"I really do."

He kissed my wrist where my pulse was beating rapidly. I couldn't let him hurt me again, not like this, so I wrenched my hand from his grasp.

"Don't say what you don't mean, Mulder, even if you're drunk. I'm not about to let you do that to me again. Just take off your clothes, you're going to freeze if you don't."

His face fell as I spoke. He nodded somberly and removed everything except for his black silk boxers. I grabbed a pair of Drew's boxers from my bedroom and handed them to Mulder.

"Go change into these."

He came out of the bathroom wearing Drew's boxers and handed me his wet ones. He practically collapsed on the couch and I threw a blanket over him. It was going to be very interesting when he woke up.

fin part 3