Ok so wait - in IWTB - does Scully call Stella about the boy she's treating? I'm thinking of that line just before the awl breakup scene and she's like "but that's not what you're here to talk about" and you just know Scully is hurt because she's got so many feelings for that little boy.
The on-call room smells like microwave jelly and plastic, the scratchy waterproof dust-mite free cover that coats the cot. Scully’s phone crackles as it duels with the poor reception and reaches mightily across the ocean.
SG: Wasn’t expecting to hear from you this time of night on a Thursday.
DS: Were you sleeping?
DS: Are you alone?
SG: Yes. You want to ask me what I’m wearing?
Scully smiles but feels her bottom lip quiver.
Suddenly something huge and long and complicated is simple.
DS: I have a patient, a little boy, and I don’t know if I can save him.
SG: Isn’t that the job?
A sigh blots Scully’s crying. She knows who she’s called and if she wants sympathy she has to ask for it.
DS: He’s around William’s age.
SG: I’m sure William is safe and sound wherever he is. And if he weren’t, he’d be lucky to have a doctor like you.
The mattress cover wicks her tears and makes a puddle beneath her temple.
SG: Where’s Mulder?
DS: He’s gotten himself into something. Chasing his own demons around.
SG: Aren’t we all.
DS: I don’t want to go home.
SG: Then go to a hotel for a night. You know how I feel about hotels.
DS: No, not just for a night.
Scully closes her eyes and turns her forehead toward the mattress. Her skin itches where her hair and the plastic scratch.
SG: You’ll handle it better with some sleep, you’re exhausted.
DS: How do you know?
SG: I can hear it in your voice.
Scully runs her fingers over the front of her phone like an old AT&T commercial, like she’s pretending to touch someone’s face instead of a piece of plexiglass.
SG: Close your eyes.
DS: They’re closed.
SG: I’ll wait here till you fall asleep.
DS: I’m on call. I have to be up in a half hour.
SG: Then I’ll stay here a half hour and wake you up when it’s time.
The cot pushes back like the floor of the sea as she sinks. She covers her face with her arm so she only smells the detergent on her shirt, the body oil she put on her skin this morning. She pretends she’s somewhere else. Her eyelids grow heavy.
DS: What are you wearing?
She can practically hear Stella smile.
SG: None of your business, go to sleep.