***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter, and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it. ARCHIVING: Link only, please! ========= Well-Suited by shannono shannono@iname.com Story, Angst, Mulder/Scully UST/Romance, a little Humor Rated PG Spoilers through "Drive" Summary: Post ep. How does Scully pay that bill, anyway? Author's notes: I have no comment at this time. Thanks: To Stacey, for beta reading. ========== Well-Suited by shannono The Express Mail envelope arrived at her apartment two days after the meeting with Kersh. The return address was that of a Massachusetts law firm she'd never heard of, and her name -- "Miss Dana K. Scully" -- and address were neatly typed on the label. Several possibilities ran through her mind -- she was being summoned for a parole hearing, or sued for some imagined slight. What was inside was the last thing she would have expected. A cashier's check, drawn on a Boston bank, for $6,500. A brief note, probably typed by a secretary but signed by one of the three men whose names comprised the law firm's title, explaining that the donor had requested anonymity, and that she not contact them for further information. She didn't need to. She knew who it was from. She considered returning the envelope, refusing the payment. But the fact was that she couldn't afford the bill from their Nevada "adventure," even if it was taken directly from her paycheck every two weeks. Her savings account was sadly depleted from her various health problems over the past two years, and she'd barely kept from dipping into her retirement account to pay the bills. No, she'd keep the money. But she'd have to find some way to make it up to him. ========== She deposited the check first thing the next morning, the last of the three-day suspension without pay she'd been slapped with first thing at the meeting with AD Kersh. Mulder himself had gotten five days, and she wasn't sure which was worse, since that left it to her to finish the remaining paperwork on their unauthorized investigation. She went directly from the bank to Kersh's office, her most severe business suit and expression her armor, and sat in the outer office, waiting nearly a half-hour before he would deign to see her. Once allowed inside, she wasted no time, extracting her checkbook and a pen from her pocket. "What is the exact amount of the bill for expenses on our last investigation, Assistant Director Kersh?" she asked, lowering her gaze to the paper as she began to fill in the check. Kersh did not answer, and she looked up at him coolly, lifting one eyebrow in question. "Sir?" she asked. "The amount? I'd like to get it out of way, if I may." Kersh regarded her silently for a moment, then reached for a folder at one side of his desk. "The bill is not yet prepared, Agent Scully," he said evenly. "And I'm afraid I can't accept your payment at this time." Scully stopped writing and pinned him with a look. "I do not wish to have this debt hanging over my head. Sir," she added, her business-like tone masking the ice in her voice. "I would like to pay it today. I would be glad to deliver the check to another office, if that would be more convenient." Kersh scowled at her. "I was about to have my secretary deliver the final calculations to accounting, Agent Scully," he said, reaching for an interoffice mail envelope and slipping the folder inside. He picked up a pen and scribbled something on the outside, then said, without looking back up, "You're welcome to accompany her and proffer your payment at that time." Scully flipped the checkbook shut and stood abruptly. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I'll wait for her in the outer office." She turned toward the door, then stopped as Kersh said, rather loudly, "Agent Scully." She turned to face him again. "Yes, sir?" she asked, carefully keeping her expression blank. Kersh matched her expression perfectly. "Do you know what the term 'co-dependent' means, Agent Scully?" he asked. Scully fought the urge to turn on her heel and stalk out of the office. "Yes, sir," she managed through slightly clenched teeth. "I am a medical doctor, sir, and have conducted research into a wide variety of illnesses, both physical and mental. I am well aware of the definition, as well as the causes and the symptoms." Kersh continued to regard her neutrally. "I believe perhaps you need a refresher course, Agent Scully," he said. He held her gaze for only another few moments before returning his attention to his desk. Scully stared at him for a long moment, considering and discarding several possible responses before finally simply turning and leaving the office, as calmly as possible. Outside, she took several deep breaths before stepping over to the vinyl sofa and carefully sitting down. She waited there, as the secretary's phone buzzed -- Carol Alderman, the nameplate read -- and then as Carol went into the inner office. She emerged a few moments later, with the interoffice envelope in her hand and a somewhat puzzled look on her face. Stepping to the sofa, she asked, "Agent Scully? Assistant Director Kersh said you would be accompanying me to Accounting?" "Yes," was Scully's succinct reply. She stood, then nodded for Carol to go ahead, following a few steps behind. Ten minutes and three floors later, she was again seated, this time in a straightback, vinyl covered chair, waiting for the expense report to be entered into the computer system so her payment could be accepted. She spent the time looking at the certificates and photos on the wall, watching people work, and staring into space. Finally, the woman at the desk in front of her lifted her head and said, "Agent Scully, your report is ready. You can pay at the counter." She nodded off to the left. "Thank you, Amy," Scully replied, rising and walking to the counter. She placed the checkbook in front of her, then waited for the woman there to retrieve the computer printout and come to stand before her. "The total is six thousand, one hundred and thirty-seven dollars and eighty-two cents, Agent Scully," the woman said. Scully nodded and began to write the amount as the woman pulled up the account. They finished at the same time, and Scully handed over the check and waited for her receipt. Finished, she headed back down to her car, avoiding the eyes of everyone she passed and thankful that she didn't run into anyone who might have stopped her for a chat. She had a mission on her mind. ========== An hour later, she was standing in a men's store downtown, scanning racks of suits with a critical eye. She had been looking for only a few minutes before a salesman approached. "May I help you find something, ma'am?" the man asked. "Yes ..." -- she checked his nametag -- "Paul," Scully said. "I'd like to buy a suit for ... a friend. He was recently in an accident which ruined the suit he was wearing, and since the situation was partially my fault, I'd like to repay him." "Certainly," Paul replied, smiling. "Did you have a certain style in mind? Three-piece? Double-breasted?" Scully smiled inwardly at the thought of Mulder in either a three-piece *or* double-breasted suit. "No, neither," she said. "Single breasted, two piece. Preferably grey, and a medium-weight material. We ... he travels often, on business, so he would need something he can wear in a wide variety of climates." Paul nodded and lifted one hand toward the back of her shoulder as the other extended toward a rack to their left. "We have a nice selection of off-the-rack suits to choose from today, since your friend is not here himself to have one fitted," he said. "Did you have a specific price range?" Scully shrugged. "Something in the four hundred to six hundred range, I suppose," she said, then smiled slightly. "It wasn't one of his best suits, thank goodness." Paul laughed as he pulled a suit from the rack. "This is a nice one," he said, pulling back the lapels to show the stitching. "We have this in a wide range of sizes, and the material is solid but not too heavy. What size does your friend wear?" "He's a 40 long, and a 31 waist," she answered automatically. Paul rehung the suit he held, reached for another jacket, then rummaged for the right size pants. As he turned back with the correct sizes, Scully thought of something else. "Are the legs hemmed?" Paul shook his head, lifting one leg. "We have two lengths -- these are longs -- but neither comes pre-hemmed. We can hem them, or you can give him the suit and send him in for a fitting. There's no additional charge, and it'll ensure the best fit." Scully paused, then nodded. "I like it," she said. "How much?" "Actually, this particular suit is on special this week at twenty percent off," Paul said, smiling again. "With the discount, it's four seventy-five." Scully nodded again. "I'll take it," she said. Paul's smile widened, and he directed her toward the cash register. "It's a good decision, ma'am," he said as they walked. Scully smiled secretly. "Yes, it is," she replied. ========== Two hours later, she was at the door to Mulder's apartment. She had considered simply sending him the suit box anonymously, as he had done with the money, but she wanted, partly, to see him try to squirm out of it, and, partly, to see his reaction to her gift. She glanced at her watch -- just noon, and she'd already jumped through enough hoops to wear out a performing dog. Sighing, she raised her hand to knock -- and the door opened. Mulder stood, staring at her. He wore jeans and T-shirt, and he'd apparently showered recently, since his hair was still damp -- and as short as it was now, it dried very quickly. He hadn't shaved, though, and his chin was dark with at least a day's growth. "Scully?" he asked in a confused tone. "What are you doing here?" Scully smiled, just slightly. "I didn't have anything better to do," she quipped, barely suppressing a laugh at Mulder's surprise. He still didn't move, so she asked, "Are you going to let me in?" Mulder started visibly. "Oh. Yeah. Sure," he said, stepping back to allow her inside. As she moved, his eyes dropped to track the box she held. "Scully?" he asked again. "What's in the box?" Scully didn't answer immediately, placing the box on the hall table and slipping off her trench coat before turning to face him. He automatically reached for her coat and hung it on the coat rack, then froze as she spoke behind him. "It's for you," she said simply. Mulder turned slowly, almost warily, back to face her. "Me?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. Scully regarded him calmly but kept her face soft. "For you," she repeated, waving one hand toward the box. "Why don't you open it and see what it is?" At this, Mulder relaxed, just slightly, and cracked, "A little late for my birthday, Scully, and too early for Christmas." She acknowledged the jibe with a tiny twitch of one corner of her mouth but otherwise didn't move, simply waiting. Mulder stepped back to the table, then lifted one side of the box, slipping his finger through to pull the lid back. Faced with a layer of tissue paper, he carefully parted the sheets to reveal the suit, neatly folded inside. His eyes darted up to meet hers, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Scully?" he asked. "What's this?" She nodded toward the suit. "A replacement for the one that got ruined," she said. "And ... and a thank you for the check." At this, Mulder's face went instantly blank. "What check?" he asked mildly, his eyes fixed on the suit box. Scully sighed, suddenly unwilling to draw this out any longer. "You know what check, Mulder," she answered. "Did you think I wouldn't know it was from you? I mean, even if it *hadn't* been drawn on a Boston bank, and sent through a Boston law firm, who *else* would it be from?" She stepped closer and laid one hand on his arm, leaning down to try to catch his eye. "Besides," she continued, her voice lower, "who else knew how much the bill was going to be? Somehow I don't think Kersh would be sending the money, now, would he?" Mulder snorted at that. "No, I don't think he would be," he answered, raising his eyes to hers briefly before returning his gaze to the suit. "But the suit?" he asked. Scully smiled. "That's your refund," she said. "The bill was only a little over six thousand, Mulder. And I knew you wouldn't take the money back, so instead, I bought you this." Mulder lifted his head back to look at her, his expression tender. "You're right," he said softly, sliding his hand up to grip hers where it still lay on his arm. "I wouldn't have taken the money. You deserve it, Scully. You deserve it all, and so much more, for putting up with me. For standing up for me. Do you ..." His voice shook, and he took a deep breath to steady it before going on. "Do you know how much that means to me?" Scully had to take a breath herself before responding. "I think I do, Mulder," she said gently, moving to take his other hand in hers. "I think I do." Mulder smiled, then leaned forward to brush his lips across the top of her forehead. He pulled back to look at her again, then glanced over at the suit. "So, you picked this out?" he asked. She nodded. "With a little help from one of the salesmen," she said. "You'll need to go in and have the pants hemmed, but I think the sizes are right." She regarded his form with a critical eye. "Although you look like you're losing weight again, Mulder. I hope the pants don't fall off you." She saw the smirk rising on his face and cut him off. "Don't even go there, Mulder," she said, dropping his hands and moving to fold the tissue back over the suit, closing the box over it. Behind her, Mulder said, "So, what, now I'm well-suited?" he said lightly. She turned back to face him, her face soft but serious. "I think we both are, Mulder," she said. They held each other's gaze, until Scully broke away. "So," she said, stepped toward the door and reaching for her coat. "You want to grab some lunch?" She thought she heard Mulder mutter "Among other things" under his breath but chose to ignore it. For now. "Gino's Deli okay, Mulder?" she asked, turning back to face him as she slipped into her coat. She almost balked at the look in Mulder's eyes, but he quickly shifted them away from hers and turned toward the living room. "Let me grab my shoes and coat," he said, his voice neutral but a little rough. As she waited for him, her gaze drifted back over to the suit box, and she smiled gently. Well-suited, indeed. ==========END==========