A Rush of Blood to the Head

So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war,
If you can tell me something worth fighting for


"Mulder, slow down, you need to tell me what's going on." Scully grabbed Mulder's arm before he could take another hurried step.

"I need to pack. My flight leaves in three hours." Mulder muttered, not looking Scully in the eye.

"Where are you going? Why is this so urgent?"

"Dana." Mulder started. "I need to do this. I've been waiting on this lead for half a year and finally I'm making some progress. I can't wait any longer."

"And what about me? What about us, Mulder?" Scully sighed.


"Mulder." Scully bit back, giving him a hard stare. She wasn't going to let him convince her to back down by using his soft nature. She was sick of giving in and standing down.

"You can come with me, Scully." Mulder suggested, but they both knew that wasn't going to happen. She had given up that life years ago, ever since…

"Just go, Fox." Scully growled. She didn't want to fight anymore.

Mulder packed his bags and left without so much as a good-bye.

"John." Reyes' soft voice echoed through Doggett's mind. "John, honey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Doggett's voice was barely a whisper, yet it was still rough and curt. He wanted nothing to do with her.

Reyes gave him a small smile. "I was hoping you were up to going out tonight. It's been so long since we've –"

"No." Doggett cut her short. He didn't need her. He just needed silence. His solitude.

"Are you sure?" Reyes asked, masking the hurt on her face, but unable to hide it from her voice.

"Yes Monica. Now, just leave me be." Doggett begged.

"But, John…" She began.

"Please!" He demanded, glaring at her sharply.

Reyes nodded, squeezing his hand gently with her own. She wanted him to know that she was there if he needed her.

But he could never hear her.

John Doggett sat alone, his head ducked out of sight, lost to the world. He cradled the remains of a scotch in his hand; just bitter enough.

And she walked in, her shimmering red hair like a beacon. She was confident and secure, she had direction. She knew what she wanted and exactly how to get it. There were no doubts. He watched her, entranced at the sight.

It was all a façade. There was no certainty. She was lost, searching for the answers she knew could not be found at the bottom of a glass. She was a reflection of the turmoil in his soul. He could not keep away.

It was Scully who took a seat next to him and all words were lost.

"You're staring." She noted defiantly.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, attempting to feign innocence.

"You've been staring at me since I walked through that door." Scully explained. "Either you want to make a move on me or you're trying to distract yourself from your own misery. Neither will work, unfortunately for you."

He felt compelled to wipe away the knowing look on her face. "What the hell do you know about me?" Doggett spat back at her but she barely batted an eyelid.

"I know that look." Scully mumbled. "You're broken."

"And so are you."

She gave him a wan smile, pursing her deep red lips. "You only know what you are."

The champagne colouring of her dress reflected a dull hue from the bar lights. It slipped carelessly off of her shoulder. He stared at the colour until his eyes could take no more. Anywhere but her face.

"I lost my son."

Scully blinked once. "I'm sorry." Doggett was drawn to the sincerity in her voice. Sheer kindness from a complete stranger. The compassion struck him.

But there was no pity. He didn't deserve pity.

"Do you have kids?" He asked, noticing the ring on her finger.

"No." Her bitterness sliced through him and they fell silent once more.

Scully's face held no emotion, her words would not yield; she had no favours to grant. Yet her eyes…

Her clear blue eyes told a tale unlike any other. A tale they both knew too well. A story that made him want to lace his fingers through hers. It made him want to graze the soft skin of her neck.

Instead, she turned away without another word and walked out the door, never to return.

He waited all night.