#Fox Mulder Partner and Father

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XIII): Fox Mulder, Partner and Father

Since his arrival at Scully's apartment the previous morning, Mulder has been demonstrating the ever-evolving state of his emotional growth. The events of the following twenty-four hours, however, bring these changes-- and his self-imposed distance-- to a head: he realizes the only person holding him back is himself.

SETTING THE STAGE

Plot plot plot, a body is found in South Carolina, and Reyes calls Doggett and Mulder in to investigate.

Mulder has, supposedly, stayed away from Scully overnight (and all the next morning) for reasons I can only log as Carterian. This is one of those Season 8 decisions that cannot be explained within reason of Mulder’s character, given his history and past reactions; and must, therefore, be taken with a massive, begrudging mountain of salt. However, because his characterization remains intact despite ill-thought-out teleportation, I’m not too frustrated over this development (as I am his actions in Essence and Existence.) Furthermore, the plot's logical fallacies-- air travel, time, distance, location-- that the writers didn't consider make their decisions... logically shaky, at best. 

Personally? I would have written this episode’s case closer to home-- Washington D.C. close-- and had this scene unfold after Doggett slammed Mulder against the wall. It would flow narratively, too: Reyes calls Mulder, Doggett catches them, hears their lack of answers and storms off to Scully’s hospital room. All three are called to the crime scene, then Mulder holes up in his office and tries to shake Reyes off his tail (previous post here.) Afterwards, Mulder walks off the case and stays at the hospital until Scully’s release (as he does the rest of Empedocles.)

DOGGETT AND MULDER, AND MORAL REFELCTONS

Mulder is waiting at the crime scene when Doggett pulls up, answering his “What am I doing here?” with a posturing, cross-armed, “Been asking myself that same question, Agent Doggett." Something’s different: Mulder is suddenly acting as if he’s on Doggett’s side, light-hearted in tone and subtly comedic in mannerisms. 

“But it seems,” he unwinds, pointing up to where Monica is, “that the tenacious Agent Reyes does not want to let go of this one.” 

Doggett does something interesting here: he squeezes right into Mulder’s zone, right up against Mulder’s back. He’s not trying to intimidate or crowd Mulder, either-- and, while this could be a result of the on-set crew guiding both actors into a tighter frame (for whatever reason), I posit that his actions are a result of his partnership with Scully.

We often give Mulder more props for being up-close-and-personal one in the X-Files department, but Scully does have a history of always initiating physical contact between them (the hug in Pilot and Irresistible, holding him close in Paper Hearts, ruffling his hair and feeling him for injuries as often as possible, etc.) In fact, her rush for comfort in the Pilot began Mulder journey towards more expressive physical affection (post here.) I’m not positing she was as chummy-chummy with Doggett in her partner's absence, but it is interesting to note that being in Mulder’s personal space-- even seeking that space-- was not outside of Doggett’s rote routine. 

(Sidenote: Can confirm: while Doggett is a typical, regular dude who isn't as bothered about personal distance, Scully herself initiates close contact multiple times. Both operate under strictly platonic terms-- the actual kind-- but it's an interesting observation, nevertheless.)

Mulder’s not particularly open or receptive to this closeness; but he doesn’t rebuff it, allowing Doggett to keep pace or withdraw as his mood dictates. It's a mark of Mulder's responsive sensitivity to others' distress: a sympathy born from true suffering, and one which enables him to empathize with fellow sufferers.

On the other hand, their actions also demonstrate that Agent Doggett has sensed Mulder's positioning allyship and is responding to that energy by leaning towards (and clinging to) it.

An interesting thing happens here: when Doggett insists, “There is no connection,” Mulder’s face grows strained and weary. The toll of his abduction and the burden of the files are weighing heavier and heavier on his psyche; and his unhealthy mental state-- combined with Reyes’s need for backup and Doggett’s increasing push and pull-- is wearing him down to a nub. More accurately, he’s so worn and weary that his walls and disguises and facades are dropping, and becoming harder to smooth back into place.

When Doggett resists the pull of the crime scene, maintaining that he sees nothing and there is no connection (i.e. denying his own instincts), Mulder’s eyes are fixed on him: surprised that the other agent is sensing something, and guardedly concerned for his wellbeing. And when Monica calls after her friend (“I think you do”), peeved, Mulder stares her down, tense. 

An understated but incredibly important point: witnessing Doggett’s reopened wound is tearing down walls Mulder had protectively erected after his return (post here and here.) Empedocles pits the near death of Mulder's own (unacknowledged but wink wink, nudge nudge, he knows, post here) child with another man’s loss. Having observed Doggett's intense emotion in the FBI hallway-- his hope and disappointment and frustration at their lack of answers-- and having read the files on his son and the investigation into it, Mulder is already sympathetic to his pain. But here, he begins to view this case through the eyes of a man increasingly aware of how close he came to this same grief, twenty-four odd hours ago. Total loss-- compared to his near loss-- is refocusing Mulder's perspective, shifting his acceptance and curiosity of Scully's pregnancy to maturer consideration and "ownership" (i.e., literally "laying claim" later by resting his hand on Scully's bump.) Reyes's insistence on pushing and prodding raises his hackles, too, because she is forcing Mulder to confront his own strain of disbelief and cowardice by proxy.

Although this is the only scene that hints at and attempts to address these insecurities (other than Essence's opening monologue... though that was a similar but separate issue), David Duchovny provides just enough fluctuation in his voice and facial expressions to float this idea closer to an actualized, well-written point.

When Doggett turns back around, angered at Monica’s insistence, Mulder looks away from both (handing out a measure of privacy to a fellow father and an ounce of disapproval to his other fellow investigative agent.) 

“You’re just afraid to go there,” Reyes states. 

It’s not a lie; but it galls Mulder, too. Not only is he frustrated with how bluntly she’s handling Doggett’s pain, but he feels the reproof of her words, too. If Mulder had been solely concerned for Doggett, he’d let the man fight his own battles-- a pattern he upheld with Scully throughout their partnership. Here, he lashes out: meaning, Mulder’s conscience is pricking him over his own withdrawal and cowardice; and, mad at being reproved, he snarks (a classic defense mechanism exhibited in One Son, for example-- post here):  

“Oof. Man, you just keep shootin’ until you hit something, don’t ya?” He stares Monica down, signaling she should back off. 

Reyes, as the saying goes, persisted: “You’d rather blind yourself to the connections, but I can’t.” 

The episode draws clear parallels between Doggett’s fear of grasping the truth, and life, again (i.e. retreating from Scully’s bedside and denying his instincts) and Mulder’s commitment to trying once more (i.e. joining Scully at her bedside and staying.) It’s a rather ham-fisted moral for the formerly dead: Mulder can choose to embrace new beginnings and happiness (“eat, dance, make love”); or he can spend the rest of his days haunted by the past, missing opportunities for contentment in the present. Moreover, it would have been the perfect follow-up to Closure: Mulder found resolution to his old lesson there-- freedom-- but is now presented with a new challenge-- responsibility. No longer would he be victim to-- and have to learn to accept-- the past (i.e. Samantha's death), but Mulder would be able to transform the present and change the future. In other words, he could shape his own life by choice, leaving his mark by fully embracing the desire to love, raise, and protect his growing child. Which, he does... without the added bonus of those connections being drawn for the audience.

Mulder listens to her and Doggett’s back and forth-- Doggett giving her another shot to explain herself, Monica positing her own (unfortunately true) theory; and remains silent until the latter suggests the two cases are linked by “a thread of evil” connecting to the former. 

“They see evil in death like others see God in a rose,” she says; and he jumps in with a flippant, “I saw Elvis in a potato chip once,” purposefully reinforcing the distance he’s been creating since their previous scene together. He continues to stare her down, a false grin stupidly plastered on his mouth.

However, Reyes still isn’t letting him off the hook, calling out his pretended idiocy with a pointed, “You know what I’m talking about.” 

Caught, and a touch amused, he admits, “Yes, I do,” dropping his flippancy long enough to observe, “I do.” Turning to Doggett, he adds, “But if this man doesn’t see it, he doesn’t see it. Right?” 

Point made, he watches Agent Doggett refuse to concede and Agent Reyes work out that she needs John, not Mulder, to solve this case; and leaves, knowing his job here is done. 

THE FIRST VOLUNTARY TOUCH

It’s after 3 PM in D.C. when Mulder finally makes his entrance. 

He opens Scully’s hospital room door haltingly, trepidatiously hanging on her face. Seeing no sign of pain or distress, Mulder is momentarily soothed; and he blinks, hanging back a second longer to gauge if she’s awake (and to watch her sleep.) 

Meeting up with Doggett and Reyes in the field and smacking against the wall he'd constructed post Deadalive began a shift in Mulder’s priorities (that will culminate in his transition from the Bureau.) Still, those sensations hadn't "clicked" yet: he asks after his partner's health, first, not yet considering the baby's until its safety is brought into question. That is the moment everything clarifies and slots into place.

“You awake?” he whispers gently, mirth dancing in his eyes and softening his face. He’s sneaking in, undetected-- or so he feels-- and hopes his partner’s awake enough to play along. 

She is. Scully stirs, turns, and tilts her head, birdlike, when she registers her partner. “Yeah,” she answers, and smiles. 

Delighted, he immediately slides through the doorway, eyes locked as he tries to divine her mood: to see if she’s all right. 

Mulder is newly tender, lighthearted, and unburdened-- a first, not only post abduction but also in Empedocles. We saw his return to form with banter and unbridled two-stepping at the beginning of this episode; but his behavior here is the first glimpse of that lost sense of “wholeness” he’d gained after his revelation in Amor Fati, his next step in Millennium, and his final “truth” in Closure. Even though he’s come a long way since his distance in Three Words (i.e. gravitating to Scully while refusing to open up to her) and the missing scene pre-Empedocles (i.e. rifling through his mom's stuff to bring an offering for his child), this is the first time Mulder approaches the pregnancy "situation" as an equal partner and father. No longer is he trying to puzzle “where I fit in”, but is actively creating a place for himself. And Scully is equally eager to welcome him, in all his Mulderly glory, back to her side.

As he closes the door, Mulder seems to take in, all at once, the cannula in her nose and needles in her arm; and is sucked back into a soberer mood. It dawns on him, perhaps, that he still doesn’t know what her prognosis is-- that neither might be out of the woods, yet. 

Closing the door first, he swiftly advances and asks, seriously, “What did the doctor say?” Mulder gives her a gentle, anxious little blink, hovering over the bed with repressed concern. When Scully takes a second to reply-- collecting herself with a sigh-- he starts to panic.

“That I had a partial abruption.” 

His panic evolves into terror as Scully continues to soberly lay out the facts. Mulder looks down, trying to make sense of this information; and his eyes shift to her bump while his brain grasps for any slight, hopeful intonation in his partner’s voice. 

In fact, not only does he glance over, but Mulder’s head also involuntarily turns in the direction of the baby, lingering there a second or two before swinging back to Scully’s face. 

As she continues to lay out the facts, he looks down again, a sense of devastation blooming over the notion that this child might not be stable for long. In that second, Mulder's mentality flips: he immediately rejects that thought, and looks up, eyes burning fiercely. As he licks his lips, a new and powerful determination takes hold and roots: he will do anything to keep this baby alive: not just for Scully’s sake, but for his own. 

This is the moment when Mulder alters: it’s one thing to observe lessons and accept truths from a detached distance, and quite another to be struck full-force with a surge of powerful, unconquerable-- and personalized-- emotion. While Mulder sympathized with and reflected on Doggett, he hadn’t understood or embraced those sensations for himself. The baby was his, if the math was to be believed; and he was ready-- he thought-- and happy, despite a lingering, unsteady feeling of inadequacy. But it hadn’t dawned on Mulder how irrevocably that protective and all-encompassing surge of “mine” extended to the baby, until now.

“They’re gonna need to monitor me for a while,” Scully concludes, subdued; but Mulder begins to relax, regardless, not having heard anything more threatening than implied bed rest.

Looking down once more, he soaks her answer in; and clarifies, “But you’re gonna be fine?” 

“Yeah,” she confirms, smiling.

The baby begins to move; and when Scully looks down, right eyebrow twitching, Mulder acts on his relief (and a whoosh of courage.) Tense but decided, he reaches out in one stiff, jerky motion, readjusting his hand before slowly letting it sink completely onto Scully's belly. Exhaling, he shoots a strained smile for her benefit: awkward, but settling in. She, meanwhile, is not at all disturbed, knowing these are Mulder's first baby steps (heh) and trusting he will be knocked off his feet once it hits home.

Two things of note: this is the first time since "the return" that Mulder has voluntarily initiated physical contact. While he rushed to Scully's side and rubbed her back at the apartment, that was in response to extreme pain and distress, not a reopening of himself. Post Deadalive, he's been gradually working back to normal (with a few hitches here and there); and his reactions here demonstrate how uncomfortable he still was in the wake of his surfacing memories and PTSD. However, this is his child, and his partner gave him an encouraging directive; and Mulder is determined to do this-- "this, having a baby 'this'"-- the right way.

Scully knows he can feel the baby, and looks up, drinking in the first of many happy firsts for her partner. The camera focuses on her face, her reaction first, then switches hazily to Mulder's comfortably resting hand-- a visual hand-off (heh) from the experienced (Scully) to the inexperienced (Mulder.)

Mulder is in awe, so completely enraptured that he is lost to the world around him. His eyes are full of wonder; his face is impossibly young, and his smile is impossibly soft. He blinks rapidly, unutterably content to bask in the moment yet unwilling to lose a glimpse of this miracle.

Scully reads this on his face; and closes her eyes briefly, soaking in this precious, fleeting moment with Mulder.

CONCLUSION

Empedocles may not be over, but I think this is a good place to end, for now. Don't you?

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[aloysiavirgata]

Ahead Into Gallilee

Summary:  For the anon prompt “Five Times A Character Didn’t Die”

Title: Ahead Into Galilee

By: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: M

Category: MSR

Timeline: Pilot - Requiem

Notes: Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the read-through!

***

For the anon prompt “Five Times A Character Didn’t Die”

I.

She isn’t an innocent like Scully’s mother. His mother knows about clones and viruses and labs where horrors are created. He bets she knows about Emily but by god Emily’s name will not pass his lips in front of her.

Scully has apologized for her older brother, but Bill is a tyro’s practice next to Elizabeth Kuiper Mulder.

“A baby,” she sniffs. “With your…partner. It’s a bit déclassé, Fox. And an Irish Catholic girl, really.”

He doesn’t bother acting offended. “Sorry, I don’t have a blonde WASP secretary and the nice Jewish mothers won’t let their daughters talk to me since Jenny Silverberg’s Sweet Sixteen. Biological clock was ticking and Scully is the best I could do. You’ve a grandchild on the way. Mazel tov.”

Teena regards her son for a long moment. “You had your first marriage annulled. I suppose the Vatican will let her marry you, Diana aside. You can have the wedding at the Vineyard if you want, my expense of course. I’ll give you the house as a wedding present, though heaven knows your father’s estate left you a bundle. Not that you act like it, Fox. Still in that awful apartment; have you even sold his house? The lawyers say 2.2 at least.”

Mulder coughs out a mouthful of lemonade. He imagines Scully in some silk taffeta meringue gown, his mother’s garden club friends trying to shame her for knowing mid-century military aircraft.

“Mom, really, we hav-“

She holds up a veined, beautiful hand. “Fox, it’s time you stopped running around with a gun.”

Mulder gapes. “You and Dad are literally the reason I run around with a gun, are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”

Teena purses her lips. “Watch your language, Fox William. I’m still your mother.”

He sighs. He sighs and he understands that he has a child coming and that his mother loves him in the terrible, unconscionable, best way that she knows how. He understands his own inamorata is a very new sort of woman.

“Sorry, Mom,” Mulder says. Refills both their cups of lemonade and leans back in his Adirondack rocker.

“How was Bellefleur?” his mother asks at length.

He stares. “What?”

“I’m trying to make conversation. Nothing too eventful, I hope? Not for Agent Scully, with a baby coming?”

Mulder narrows his eyes. “No more than usual. Made contact with a few old…connections. Why?”

She smiles, just a little. Just a softening at the edge of her upper lip. A curl of a patrician nostril. “I made contact with a few old connections too, Fox. Remember this conversation sometime down the road. Your sister was a dandelion clock, no matter what I tried back then.”

He asks for answers. Begs.

She dismisses him as ever.

“Mom, please, this baby, Scully and I need to know things.”

Teena says no more and he drives home, furious.

***

II.

Fellig disappears into some new alias and it’s not worth tracking him down.

Ritter is put on leave and Mulder finds him in a parking garage. He beats the living shit out of him and it doesn’t fix anything, but it feels pretty good. He cries for a while after that, in the darkest corner of a terrible bar on M Street.

Ritter, with three broken ribs and his jaw wired, has the good sense to say he was mugged by two unidentifiable assailants.

Mulder resigns, effective immediately. He throws his phone into the Potomac. He doesn’t go to her funeral. He doesn’t go to Margaret Scully or his apartment or his office ever again.

*

He goes to his father, with two vials of genetic material. “You owe us both,” he says, in a voice like granite.

*

He calls his newborn daughter Sylvia Charlotte for no reason other than finding it pretty. The names have no intrinsic meaning, no history to him. She has a dense thatch of black hair and her mother’s eyes. She has plump, dimpled hands and feet like Parker House rolls. She has impeccable government documents.

Mulder is smitten immediately. He holds her to his bare chest. He dances with her at 2 AM, he reads to her, he buys preposterous baby gear and tiny clothes far more stylish than his own. He is certain that she is, at minimum, the most exceptional baby of all time.

Sylvie toddles behind him along Lake Tashmoo, dragging lobster pots. Sylvie does his makeup and puts his hair in barrettes. Sylvie has both her first piano recital and her first tee-ball game at five.

*

“How come you don’t have a mom?” Kate asks her while they build a sand castle together.

“I’m adopted,” Sylvie says, sticking little pebbles onto the top of the castle. “My dad picked me out himself, so it’s just us.”

“Cool,” Kate says. “That’s lucky to get picked out. I was just borned.”

“Yep.”

They return to their work, Sylvie’s dog Queequeg keeping watch.

***

III.

“Fucking Christ. Sit still if you don’t want me to screw up your remaining hair.”

She sits still, a baby sister always. “Don’t make it too brassy, Miss. You know I can pay you, right?”

Cancer thin and white and brittle as Bernadette of Lourdes. But even Bernadette said she’d seen ghosts and Scully could never, could not ever -

Missy scoffs, offended. “Hey, Danes, are you fucking your partner? Charlie says yes and Bill says you wouldn’t. I’ve got $250 on this, so be honest with your only sister.”

Scully (she’s always Scully now, but she’d never tell Missy) jerks back, aghast.

Missy lightly slaps her hollow face. “Be still.”

“Then don’t ask me questions like that!” Scully knows her cheeks are hot. “Do you guys actually have a pool?”

Missy, lushly tressed and curvaceous and cinnamon-sugar alive, laughs. “Dana Katherine Scully, are you engaged in unconsecrated sexual congress with your FBI partner? Please note, for the court records, that I know about your cardiology professor and your FBI instructor so like…?”

Looking-glass Scully watches her sister do something complicated with a clip, with foils and a tiny brush. Watches her own Lenten-rose face, a Jabbereock, with eyes of flame.

Scully is quiet for several more seconds. She wishes she could explain the hot verging energy of the basement. The way science and conjecture and cryptozoology entangle in unholy alchemy along the margins of her education into… them.

The way it feels to have the emperor of all maladies raise a scepter in her sinus; the king of terrors claim a throne in her heart.

I’m dying, Missy, I’m dying, the oncogenes, they….p53, I … dead already, Missy, please…

“Dana? Bear in mind I’ve seen him and smelled him and I would fuck him silly myself.” Missy, fresh as a peach, clips back another section of hair.

Scully sucks in air like an Everest climber at the Death Zone. 500 more feet and she’ll make it. 100. Top of the world, the ice and the oxygen forgotten, she-

She can win, she can be the best, she can summit, she -

(Green Boots, still desiccated and unidentified up there.)

“Yes,” she breathes. Someone should know the truth at her grave.

“Good girl,” Missy says. Kisses her sister’s concave temple. “And no, we didn’t have a pool, little sister.”

***

IV.

The endless halls are painted a washed-out sea green that is somehow the opposite of color. A suffocating silence that is more than the absence of sound.

She flashes her badge to the sentry who squints, then nods, then lets her in.

Roche propped up in the narrow bed. He’s even thinner than he was when Mulder shot him, even grayer.

“Agent Scully,” he says, affable as ever. “I thought those were your footsteps. Forgive me for not getting up.”

He grins at his own joke. His face looks like an animated skull.

Scully settles into the hard vinyl chair. She sees that Roche is handcuffed to the hospital bed, which seems a very pointed kind of gesture.

“Mr. Roche,” Scully says. “You’re looking well, considering.”

“Turns out your partner is a shit marksman, who knew? Where is Agent Mulder, by the way? Didn’t he want to come see his handiwork?”

“No,” Scully replies. “He’s not like you.”

“Mmmm, I wonder. You know, they say it’s a miracle I can breathe on my own with this kind of C4 damage. Plus I can move three fingers on my left hand.” Roche waggles them slightly.

Scully pulls a yellow legal pad and a good pen from her bag. “I guess basketball is out for a while.”

“I guess. Other than the breathing and half the left hand, I’m completely paralyzed below the armpits. My lawyers are going to have a field day.”

She smiles politely. “I don’t think so.”

Roche laughs. “No? You don’t think the ACLU will be all over this?”

“No. I really don’t. You were shot because you abducted a little girl after escaping federal custody. And Agent Mulder was able to preserve your life. No one cares about you, Mr. Roche.”

She draws out a little curlicue in the pad, so it looks like she’s writing.

Roche’s face hardens. “And the sucker punch from your partner?”

“It was reported. Disciplinary action was taken.” She doodles a series of cubes.

He scoffs. “I doubt it was even the proverbial slap on the wrist. Why are you here, really?”

Scully looks up, eyebrows raised. “I’m a doctor and an FBI agent. My partner shot you. I thought a follow-up was only appropriate.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Roche snaps. “God, it must gnaw at you that he missed.”

“Why is that?”

Moves those three fingers again, Roche does. “You were a nice little Catholic girl once, weren’t you? Little kilt, little blouse. You haven’t changed much, though you’re rather too old for my tastes now.”

Roche leers and she knows, knows, that she is right. But she’s not ready to end this. Not yet.

“I was.” It takes so much to keep her voice conversational when she longs to give him what she is certain that he wants.

Roche tilts his head. “I don’t believe in god. I believe that before we are born is nothing and after we are dead is nothing. I’m not afraid of dying. But you? You believe I’ll pay for all of this again and again. You believe there is retribution after this…mortal coil. Don’t you want me there now?”

She does, she does.

Scully shrugs. “You’ll get there in time. I won’t see what happens, it makes no difference to me.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s horrible in his cadaverous face. “Keep lying like that and we’ll end up in Hell together.”

“That’s for God to decide.”

Here it comes, she knows. Here it comes. She stays steady.

Roche’s face suddenly sly. “Perhaps you are His instrument, Agent Scully.”

She feigns confusion. “Mr. Roche, I-“

“Kill me,” he says. “You can finish what Mulder couldn’t finish himself, though I bet you do that for him all the time.” Roche winks lewdly as he goads her.

“Primum non nocere,” Scully replies, prim.

“A doctor, as you say. You’d get away with it, Scully. Come on, a little air bubble between the toes. For old times’ sake.”

He’s trying to sound light and chatty, but she hears the panic in his voice. She’s his only chance to escape mindless years in soiled diapers, parked in front of a flickering television. A blank wall. Night.

Scully fixes him with a long, cool stare. The one even Skinner doesn’t like. “I should think our prior interactions made it clear that I would never harm a prisoner duri-“

“Ahhh, but you want to,” he cajoles. “Come on, Scully. All those pretty hearts. The little girl you saved is going to be fucked up forever. One more kiddy-diddler off the taxpayers’ dime, Dana.”

She shakes her head, chuckles a bit in spite of herself. “They were cheering outside Bundy's execution. The taxpayers will love knowing you’re suffering. We’re savages at heart, I’m afraid.”

“You knew I’d ask,” Roche hisses, dropping the act. “You’re eating this up, you fucking bitch. You fucking cunt. You’re nothing to Fox Mulder, you realize that, you’re a piece of ass to him so you might as well do one real thing in your worthless life.”

She prays her voice will be steady. “I’ve already had you put on extended suicide watch; told them to check the staff. I told them you’d ask.” She holds up a mini tape recorder.

His eyes go black. She sees now what those little girls saw in their last moments, the genial salesman mask removed.

“I swear to your fucking coward god that I will walk again just to rip your fucking heart out of your fucking whore throat,” Roche spits, face contorted.

She rises. “Thank you, will there be anything else?”

A choked howl of rage that follows her out into the hall.

“Fucking BITCH!” Roche roars after her. “I swear to-“

The door closes.

Her heart soars.

***

V.

A storm outside and mosquito bites on her back and shame still fuchsia on her face. She’s wearing the best robe she could afford, the color of poison apples. She bought it at a Macy’s sale with her first credit card.

The scent of hot wax in the cheap, oatmeal-colored room. The overlay of the scents Mulder favors.

“Tore the family apart. No one would talk about it. There were no facts to confront, nothing to offer any hope.”

She thinks of her three siblings, her rowdy cousins, and her chest clenches. What would she be without her sprawling, tumultuous family?

“What did you do?” she breathes. The dark is so tender and velvet-soft. Frames her partner’s long lashes and good cheekbones like a Rembrandt. Chiaroscuros

(Dana no. Dana, didn’t you learn anything after Jack?)

“Eventually I went off to school in England, I came back and got recruited by the Bureau. Seems I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases.”

Scully gazes down at Mulder with a tenderness she hadn’t expected in this impossible assignment. In this unfair humanistic trial.

“You’ll find him, Samantha,” she says. She strokes her partner’s fall of inky hair. She feels so alive.

[lilydalexf]

Hi, I’ve had a good check of your fix recommendation list but can’t seem to find what I’m looking for. Do you know of any pre pilot ones?

Here are a bunch of very good pre-X-Files fics set sometime before the Pilot. Enjoy!

Came on Lion by amyhit closer than a girl can get / to trouble if she hasn’t yet / got in it

california winter by skuls @ghostbustermelanieking Fox and Samantha Mulder, brother and sister, disappeared from their homes on November 27, 1973. (A shift in the events of Samantha's abduction leads to a very different outcome.)

A Case of Compromise by Joann Humby It's 1991, Mulder has the X-Files and no partner. Scully is working at Quantico. A Senator's daughter goes missing and Mulder's life gets difficult.

A Change of Cast by Susanne Barringer The unauthorized, uncensored true story of Dana Scully and Jack Willis.

Contingency Plans by bardsmaid 1967. CSM does Teena Mulder a favor. but motives are rarely unselfish.

Dance Card and What Happened After That by Sab The road not taken. / Kept kissing me kept kissing me kept kissing me kept kissing me...

Eleventh Hour by Rachel Anton Some feeling defy the confines of time.

Floreat by LibbyT @libbytxf This is a stand-alone story about Mulder’s first year in Oxford.

For God and Country by ML Family connections are always worth cultivating.

God by Oracle "Why would God allow this to happen? Why do bad things happen to good people? Religion has masqueraded as the paranormal since the dawn of time to justify some of the most horrible acts in history." -- Fox Mulder, 'All Souls'

Gravity Plays Favorites by anythingbutgrey The boyfriend goes quickly and the physics stays. That’s what she likes the most.

Here’s Where the Story Ends by Rebecca Rusnak A random peek at Mulder and Scully's childhoods reveals how it is often the little events that shape us.

Lammtarra by Joann Humby, LuvMulder, and Ruefrex Mulder spirals down into darkness when he begins to believe that an old ISU friend of his, who had apparently committed suicide, was really murdered by a dastardly elusive killer.

mahogany obsidian by eggschiptune For her birthday, Dana Scully meets with her sister for coffee, and they speak about the curious new assignment she's been given.

Moongate by Kel and Michelle Kiefer Bermuda, 1965. Two women, two men. Two sons, one father.

Oklahoma by Amperage and Livingoo (gooligan) It's 1987 and the Oklahoma cops have an unsolvable case. Fox Mulder, golden boy of the VCU, is called in to stop the murders of children across the state. What he finds takes him places he never wanted to go and forces him to make the pivotal choice of his life.

Out of the Shadows by Joann Humby It's 1991 and Mulder is working for Behavioral but is about to get caught up in a string of cases that make him think it's time to leave. Scully is working at Quantico.

Past Imperfect by Joann Humby The FBI wants Mulder to find out what went wrong with Bill Patterson, Bill is keen to talk, but why? Mulder and Scully consider the people who walk into the abyss and the people who they drag down with them.

renegade by skuls @ghostbustermelanieking Why Diana Fowley went over to the other side.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by Plausible Deniability The beginning of an affair, before CSM became a black-lunged bastard and Mrs. Mulder repressed it all. [This fic begins a series that continues with Somebody’s Fool, You Don’t Know Me, It’s All in the Game, and When I Fall in Love.]

While You Were Sleeping by Skinfull Mulder falls for an intoxicating red head he spots in the park, then saves her life but not before she is injured and put into a coma, then he meets her sister! Den den dehhhhhh!

[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter One: The First Day Curse

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 3,563

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“You are smart. You are capable. You are in control.”

You repeated the mantra that’s carried you through every life change in the mirror like it was a lifeline; the end-all-be-all prayer that would mend the destructive stress rattling your bones. You’ve never been good at beginnings. The starting, that first day, was always the hardest. Even knowing you’ve survived every first day there has been so far, you still have this irrational fear that this will be the one you do not. High school had four first days that felt insurmountable, and then there was the first day at Columbia, which was life or death by the time you reached your dorm. Then there was your start at the FBI National Academy, which you mistakenly believed would always be the scariest of them all. It seemed there was no escaping new chapters because today, you had to face the music all over again– and the sweat pooling in your palms led you to believe that today was going to be the one that you didn’t make it through. 

The details were vague, as is expected for such a ‘big girl’ job, as your father would put it. Your decorated school career secured you a profiling job in a small sector of the Bureau; supposedly a uniquely single position they were desperate to fill. What you knew was that you’d be working on a mountain of unsolved cases called X Files, and were being assigned to a partner by the last name of Mulder, who according to the directors who interviewed you, is in dire need of supervision. At first, you questioned your eligibility for such a position, but it seems every powerful individual at the FBI agreed that you were level-headed enough to keep the agent in check. Professional babysitting is what it sounded like, but you didn’t care. The gig came with a gun and a badge, and all the work you’d put in was leading you down the exact path you’d hoped for… well, maybe not exact, but better than you’d ever hoped to achieve by your age. For an opportunity like this, you would work in the basement if you had to. 

Even with all the excitement coursing through you, you were so scared of this day. As a brand-new agent, you had no idea what to expect. You’ve never met this Agent Mulder, you didn’t know your way around the J. Edgar Hoover complex, and you were worried that your fresh-off-the-rack pantsuit made you look too uptight, what with its prim tailoring to the waist and the old-fashioned pinstripe pattern. But you stood before the bathroom mirror, pulling the last set curl from its roller and twisting the dark hair around your fingertip, repeating the mantra– because maybe if you say it enough, you will begin to believe it. 

“You are smart. You are capable. You are in control. Don’t fuck this up.” 

If you took a second longer, you might never make it out the front door. Swiping your purse and long, brown overcoat, along with the freshly printed badge and government-issued pistol on your lonely kitchen island, you locked the apartment door on the way out.

Today, you become a Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And you have to survive this first day because if you don’t, it will all be for nothing.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Come in,” 

Your shaky hand reached for the doorknob and twisted it carefully. The nameplate on the door read FOX MULDER, whose office stood at the foot of the last staircase in the building. When you thought you’d be willing to work in the basement for this, you didn’t know you’d actually have to. 

A man sat inside the room, looking almost as tucked away as his little Shangri-la. Everything in the office was absolutely against some sort of FBI code; there were posters and photos all over, depicting things from dorky to downright creepy, and a million boxes and objects all over the floor making themselves noteworthy trip hazards. The fluorescents had to have flickered five times within the first few seconds of looking inside. It was like a teenager’s room, cluttered with paraphernalia and windowless light. The man in question was hunched over unassumingly, inspecting a newspaper article. As your footsteps absorbed into the carpet, his head rose, and he got a good look at the new wrinkle the bosses were sending down.

“Hi,” you extended your palm for a shake, which the man obliged awkwardly. “I believe I'm your new partner. You were expecting me, right?”

“Yes, in fact, I was. Special Agent Fox Mulder.” The man pushed out of his chair, newspaper clipping in hand, and turned his back to you as he fastened the story to the littered corkboard on the wall behind his desk. Engrossed in the details, Fox continued, “Tiffany, right?”

“Me? Oh, no, my name isn’t Tiffany.”

“No, your watch,” the agent laughed, “it’s Tiffany, isn’t it? Looks vintage, like an heirloom or something. Let me see, maybe… maybe your grandmothers? Looks about that old.”

You flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t outlandish, per se, but nobody’s ever inquired about your watch before, and they’ve never guessed the person it belonged to first. You cleared your throat and responded, “Yeah, actually. Funny you should say that Agent Mulder, she left it to me a few years ago. She actually worked for the Bureau back in the day.” 

“Oh, just Mulder is fine… and I know.” 

You watched the man slump back into his desk chair and grin. 

“You know?” 

“Sure. I read up on you, Agent," Fox raised his eyebrows teasingly. He pushed his glasses up on the aquiline bridge of his nose. “She was an accountant for some of the traveling ambassadors during World War II. But I'm more interested in you, actually- y’know, really impressive career you’ve got. Graduated with honors from Columbia. Double-majored in criminal justice and behavioral neuroscience, through which you had an apprenticeship at an upstate federal prison. I also understand you worked with a profiling unit in New York. You seem like a tough cookie, newbie.” 

You didn’t quite know what to say. You peered around the office aimlessly, avoiding looking your new partner in the eye. He stared with a certain intensity, some kind of interest that made your body feel like it might catch fire. 

“Well, if I’d known I could access people’s files, I would've read yours, Mulder.”

“Oh, you can’t, really. I just stole yours for a little while.” 

“You stole it?” 

“Sure I did,” Fox winked, “I had to know what you did to get banished to the dungeon. But as far as I can tell, it’s your very first day, so what are you doing down here? The FBI only had one black sheep before you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fox looked around his office with a look that screamed, Isn’t it obvious? But when he noticed how you stared back innocently, he smiled to himself and kept quiet. 

Your eyes fell on the chair stationed across from Fox’s desk, which he gestured to chivalrously. You set your bag down on the seat along with your small box of personal effects- a simple nameplate, your gun and badge, an unopened package of pens, and a photo of you and the family dog back home. Fox peeked at the contents with curious eyes while you shifted uncomfortably in the seat, unsure of what to say. 

“Well, as far as I know, I’m here to assist you with your caseload. I understand it involves a lot of unique circumstances.” 

Fox chuckled, “Sure, you could say that. Unique, unsolved, unidentifiable.” 

“Honestly, they didn’t tell me much about the job. I was working as a behavioral analyst, and I was set for a psychotherapist position at a correctional facility when I got a call with an offer. They told me you needed someone to supervise the work and help reach realistic conclusions.” 

“Is that what they said?” Fox squinted. 

The agent’s demeanor was more than confusing. He seemed nice enough, but there was an aftertaste to him; like his words soured at the mention of anyone joining him in his department. He sat defensively in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread wide- he felt somehow threatened, like he was the only thing standing between you and what he wanted to protect. It was quite the juxtaposition to his looks. His hair seemed to take kindly to its swooping pattern, boyish and manicured. His skin was fair, and a chocolate beauty mark punctuated his cheek, which you could only assume disappeared into a dimple when he smiled. Even with all the offensive energy he was putting out, there was an implied softness to him. Those stiff arms were not meant to be crossed, but to be held open wide; eyes only so scrutinizing because they’d been deceived so many times before. You truly could’ve picked him apart forever, without him ever saying a word. The man was a marvel. 

“Yes, it is. But either way, I’m excited to be here. Despite what you may think of me,” you sighed, “I have a lot to offer, Mulder. I think things could go well if you give me a shot. I’m not here to ruin things, which I know you’re thinking… I’m only here because I want to help. To make something of myself. I’m sure you can understand that.” 

The man’s face softened at your words. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, I don’t exactly have to read your file to know who you are. You told me the second I opened the door.” You glanced around the office again, this time with a different lens. One much more appreciative. Surrounding you were the dots that your superiors did not connect about the work he does down here, about why this assignment is so out of the ordinary and in need of a second opinion. 

“You work alone down here, suffocated by the things you study. You probably find yourself under fire pretty often from your colleagues and superiors because of it, because of what you do. You feel you have something to prove, you want to protect the integrity of that process. And…”

“And what?” 

“And you lean into the stereotypes, don’t you? Y’know, calling yourself the ‘black sheep’ and all. You must have a reputation, right? Even if you believe in what it is you stand for down here, you play along with it. It’s easier.” Your eyes lingered on the gripping poster tucked between his corkboard and the wall, admiring the bold, declaratory font, and you tacked on, “You believe in your cause, but you also try to remember your biases. I get the feeling you hold your work very close to you.”

Fox was on the edge of his seat. His new partner who’s only been an agent for a morning- practically fresh off the metaphorical boat- sat in the office no one ever visits, and managed to nail down the version of him most people don’t take enough time to know. Without knowing his nickname, or of his royal screw-ups, you seemed to see what he wished everyone else did. His Oxford education on profiling taught him to seek the worst in people, to understand their flaws, but you didn’t have that same schooling. It’s almost as if you search for the reasons they might be good; adversely, you look for the truth first. A purer truth than he’s accustomed to.

He smiled softly, and asked, “How did you come up with all that?” 

You pursed your lips. “Like I said, it’s all around you. The way your office looks, all of these photos of flying saucers and unsolvable cases. The messes that you’re either too busy or too discouraged to clean. The way you talk about yourself. Hell, even how you sit shows me things about you. I can tell you’re skeptical of me working with you, that I’ll damage the way you do things. Which I don’t want to do, by the way. It’s easy to tell when you know how to read people. I guess I don’t have to tell you that, though.”

“Behavioral neuroscience,” Fox clicked his tongue, “You know, you might be a better analyst than me. Guess I should’ve gone to Columbia instead, huh?”

You watched as Fox rose from the chair again, this time to cross the office and walk through to a little room that branched off the side. The lights inside it were a cyber blue, and you could hear computers whirring and the air conditioning vent buzzing loudly. When Fox gestured for you to follow, you leaped to your feet clumsily, almost tripping over the fuzzy carpet catching beneath your boots. 

In the offshoot of a room, you found X-ray photographs of different chest cavities. There were jagged shadows spanning the spine and ribcage, forming the outline of a cross. 

“What are these from?” 

“These are three victims of a recent string of murders out in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. Seems someone got a little bone saw-happy and cut each one open, removing sections of the thoracic curve and ribs. Same bones each time, same type of victims, too. Adolescent girls, dark hair, fair skin, and… uh, let’s go with untainted.”

“Virgin Marys,” you concluded.

“You catch on quick,” Fox winked. 

You looked up and found he was quite close– close enough that you could see the rings of gold hidden inside the jewel green of his eyes. He didn’t seem to mind talking so near, which sent a shiver down your spine. Swallowing nothing, you proceeded, “So, what else do you have on the case?” 

Fox turned on his heels and walked back through to his desk, leaving you to follow anxiously behind. The agent rifled around the desktop to come up with a folder, which he handed over with what seemed like apprehension. The folder was white with a red outline and centered on the front was the stately label FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. Just beneath it, on the dotted line, the case number X-60033301. Fox watched you open it unassumingly and flip through the contents. He knew the contents would’ve freaked his fellow agents out far more- the dead bodies beneath crosses, the close-ups of battered ribs, and pretty dead faces. Yet you were unphased. Unsure of how to handle such a calm reaction, the man began to explain it away. 

“The same sort of thing happened about thirty-three years back in the same town. Twelve teenage girls were killed, dissected, and left to lie at the foot of a crucifix. Some were inside churches while others were at a cross outside on the lawn. Nobody was ever pinned, but they had a lone suspect, probably dead by now, a man by the name of Joseph-”

“Iscariot,” you interjected, reading the report with wide eyes. In your head, you connected all the pieces instantly- thirty-three years represented the threes of the Holy Trinity, twelve murders for the Disciples. The religious connotations were blatant. You almost commented that the case was child’s play, but you didn’t want to assume. It was an X file for a reason, and you trusted Mulder’s judgment. Instead, you opted for, “Like Judas Iscariot… oh, Lord.”

Fox’s eyes twinkled at your unintentional pun, and there was a little spark of something in his gut that told him he would like to have you as a partner. Maybe it was your blind enthusiasm, or simply the way you quietly asserted yourself, but there was a likeability to you he couldn’t quite define. You were new and clearly smart. Maybe almost as smart as you seemed willing to try. 

“I like how you think, newbie. But these new murders, they’re more organized. There seem to be stricter patterns with what the dump site needs to look like and how the girls are attacked. I think someone picked up from where Iscariot left off, and they’re trying to patch up a hack job.” 

“Maybe they’re a relative of his. Or a religious fanatic of his work.” 

“That’s what I thought, but the Kansas PD are stumped. At least they sound like it over the phone. I think getting out there and seeing the pieces for ourselves would be beneficial. I booked us a flight, if you’re prepared to get a head start on your first case, Agent.” 

Your face fell pale, and you asked, “What, right now?” 

Fox burst into laughter at your nerves, but it didn’t strike you as rude. In any other situation, it may have, but his laugh was kind, and it felt familiar. You knew it wasn’t mean-spirited. You handed the agent his file and began to chuckle with him, trying to loosen the tension in your shoulders. 

“No, not right now,” Fox assured, “Tomorrow morning.”

You huffed and offered a taut smile. Meandering back to the box that sat waiting on the spare chair, you agreed to the trip. “Sure… that sounds good. We shouldn’t wait too long, in case the killer strikes again soon, right?” 

In a stroke of generosity, Fox motioned to the cluttered desk space that bridged the gap between his main space and the screening room tucked in the corner. “If you want to set up over there, go ahead. I’ve got some junk on the table, but you can move whatever you like. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” 

You took the box and shuffled over to the mess, finding an old, dusty desktop covered in papers, paperclip contraptions, and dried-up sunflower seeds. You made a little face and then hid it, deciding not to think too hard about where all the dirt and debris came from. Approaching the setup with a clean frame of mind, you began to unpack, placing your photo down first on the sole empty strip of surface, just beneath a lamp with a dead bulb. 

Fox watched keenly from afar. He thought of himself as a detail-oriented profiler, one who caught the little things over the big ones. His painstaking attention has saved his ass more times than he could count. He noticed the manicured nature of your hair and nails, and how your suit was pressed to starchy perfection for the big first day. He also noticed how your shoes were scuffed on the toes, making what was good leather look worn, even loved. He also noticed they were combat boots, which suggested you either ran out the door that morning without heels, or they had some sentimentality. He wanted to know why those shoes for the first day. Fox even liked the cautious way you moved, like you thought of every outcome before setting down your pack of pens or moving a stack of files he hadn’t looked at in a year. The man could sense your anxiety from a mile away. You were tough, there was no way you weren’t; working in rough environments like prisons and New York stations probably taught you to be cutthroat, but standing in his office now, painstakingly deciding what to do with all of his belongings while finding a place for your own, you were just a trainee. Adorably green. He recognized that just because you’re tough doesn’t mean you can’t also be intimidated. He could only imagine what it must be like to be hired by the FBI and thrown into the basement with the resident freak. While the agent faked reading some other pointless papers, he resolved to do whatever he could to make your first case a good experience; one that you could come away from feeling some kind of accomplishment. It might be hard since his cases rarely close and often make him the laughingstock of the week, but it’s worth a try. 

As you rolled a decommissioned desk chair over and sat down to find it was missing a wheel, which forced you into a fitting lopsided-ness, you turned to a grinning Fox Mulder who shrugged with an air of, What can you do? 

“You know, Fox is a pretty interesting first name,” You stated, feeling just a bit vengeful over him finding humor in your misstep. “Sounds kind of like an anti-villain. You know, kinda… brooding. Bruce Wayne-ish. Are you anything like that, Mulder?” 

Fox’s face flushed, so he turned to his files and quipped, “I guess you’ll find out when we get to Kansas, huh? Maybe I’ll save the city while we’re there.” 

You felt your lips curling upwards and tried to stop the muscles, but they persisted. So you smiled at him, hoping it didn’t give the man too much satisfaction. Turning back to your first assignment- figuring out where the hell you would fit a Bureau-issued computer on the desk- you said, “Works for me.” 

It wasn’t even noon yet, and normally that would be your marker for determining if a first day was a disaster. But there was a hominess to your new partner’s office, and you felt as though you’d already made a friend. Maybe first days weren’t as bad as you thought– or, maybe this was finally going to be the first good one. As long as you didn’t think about the impending plane ride you had coming, you didn’t feel so worried.

[poangsecretsanta]

Mulder becomes a Scully

Dana was unhappy, this much Bill knew from the moment she’d arrived. It was her first Christmas after she had recovered from her cancer and she was about to be an aunt, this should have been a jubilant holiday. 

Bill was on edge about becoming a father, with Tara’s delivery overdue his nerves were frayed and he wished his father’s stoic presence was there. Bill tried his best to rally his little sister, begged her to be present with them, but in every encounter she seemed a million miles away. 

Bill knew it was more than this mysterious case and that little girl she seemed to latch onto. He wanted to blame her Partner, that he was dragging her away from them; but the hardest fact to face was that this was all of Dana’s own doing, her choice to keep a moat between her and them. Each time he reached out to her, he felt like he was rejected; and it frustrated him to see her so withdrawn.

Bill did not understand how or why Dana was trying to adopt this previously unknown child. The thought that it could be her biological daughter made him dizzy, but a big part of him wanted this for her. This could be the blessing she needed to get her life on track and away from her FBI work. 

Bill was honored to support his sister in the adoption hearing, speaking honestly of her capacity to care for others and her ability to provide a stable home. As a Naval Officer and a blood relative, he hoped his testimony would hold more weight. 

On leaving the judge’s quarters, Bill was shocked to see Fox Mulder there, ready to be a character witness. Dana’s boss had provided a glowing reference for her via phone already and Bill could only wonder at the fact the man flew across the country to be there for her. 

With a scold and a sigh, Bill resented the man’s presence, ready to send him packing the moment he was done helping Dana. With one fierce look Maggie Scully informed Bill he would be doing no such thing and begrudgingly he had no recourse but to accept his fate.

Perhaps Bill would have remained sullen and cold, but that it was like a switch had been flicked on and suddenly Dana had arrived with them. So Bill endured his presence if only to get to spend time with his sister and for that he was rewarded. At dinner Dana was animated, laughing as Tara told her of her pregnancy war stories. Bill wanted to attribute her change in mood to her adoption proceedings looking more positive, but his wife knew better.  

“It’s him Bill. I don’t know what’s going on between them, but you need to work out how to make peace with him or else you’re going to lose her.”

Bill wanted to hold a grudge, but it was clear Fox Mulder would do anything for his sister so there was no question as to where he would be staying while he was in town. 

That night Dana was surprised to find Tara struggling to reach the clean towels in the linen closet as she went upstairs to put her paperwork away. Dana intercepted it for her with a questioning look. 

“It’s for Fox.”

Dana smiled as her brother walked over with some spare bedding and a pillow stacking it on to Scully’s arms. 

“Here you go short stuff,” Bill said with a razz in his voice, knowing his sister was poking her tongue out from behind the pile of linen. Placing them all in her room, Scully stopped in to say ‘thank you’ to Bill and Tara for letting Mulder stay with them. 

Bill didn’t mean to tear up as she hugged him but he felt connected to her in a way that had been missing for so long. Helping Tara to bed, the women laughed as Bill played nurse maid with Tara’s pillows, building a retaining wall to keep her partially upright. 

Grabbing Dana’s hand, Tara assured Dana that Fox was welcomed to stay here anytime. 

Bill nodded in silent confirmation, and Dana beamed at them both. 

The days ahead were filled with melodrama; Dana’s child battled for her health in the same hospital Tara struggled with a complicated delivery. Finally Mathew was born and sweet Emily passed away, Uncle Bill seeing her one last time through the glass window as she slept in her coma.

Holding his son in his arms Bill felt the weight of what his sister had lost and he wondered how she would ever carry on. 

The service for the little girl was brief. The family sat through Mass and once again, Bill watched Dana pull away from her family. A part of him wondered if losing a child you didn’t know about hurt as much as one you knew from inception, but his heart told him that the Scully family was wired to love their offspring no matter what. Whether he understood how or why the child came into being no longer mattered, Bill was there to mourn the loss of his young niece.  

As Bill left Dana behind in the church he wished she’d reconsider driving back with them, he needed to know she was ok. It was the bouquet of flowers he saw Fox Mulder holding as he entered the church that calmed his mind. It was such an innocuous gesture amongst all the injustices that had taken place but it meant something. 

While Bill may never consider the man a friend, he could see that he was a safe place for his sister. For all of Fox Mulder’s faults he was the one she had chosen, and that made him de facto family. 

Dana insisted on taking a Red Eye back to D.C with Fox after the funeral. Stopping over at the house to pack their things, Fox waited on the porch for Scully to change clothes and finalize her luggage. 

Bill made his way out onto the porch and noticed that Mulder tensed his body as he saw him approach. A part of him enjoyed the fact that the man anticipated an uncomfortable confrontation, but Bill was there on a mission of peace. 

“Does she talk to you,” Bill asked, trying to keep his frustration at bay. 

“Only when she wants too,” Mulder replied with a shake of his head. 

Bill gave a knowing grunt and patted Mulder on the shoulder. 

“You look after her,” Bill said with a serious warning tone. 

“We look after each other,” Mulder replied with a cocky defiance that reminded Bill of why the man grated on him.

Before Bill could make his way into the house he heard Fox Mulder’s voice.

“Hey Bill, thanks for letting me stay, I appreciate it.”  

Mulder stood up and offered Bill his hand, it was a peace offering. 

“Any time,” Bill said with a firm shake and a nod. 

Maggie Scully and Dana arrived in time to witness the exchange but knew better than to mention anything. Instead, Dana hugged her brother longer than she had in years, telling him to send lots of pictures of her nephew. As Dana hugged her brother, Maggie gave Fox another hug goodbye and ordered him to come for dinner when they all got settled at home. 

Maggie and Bill watched as the rental car drove away, silently they both understood that Fox Mulder was now part of their family.

@thursdayinspace

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s6 episode 12 "one son" thoughts

so. we must return to see what is going to happen to cassandra and mulder and scully!!! and also spender and diana and CSM!! but they’re of less importance to me!!! because mulder and scully are my best friends!!

i am anticipating: some angst, a spender death or exile, a bizarre plot point with krycek that will never again be addressed, and mulder trusting diana despite all signs saying he should absolutely not. and me yelling at my screen while that goes down. AND maybe some more scully diving into her trauma from the abduction. and CSM somehow making it out unscathed. or only mildly scathed. 

post-episode thoughts: this episode pissed me off and gave me a headache.

also, re: my predictions- i got a bingo.

let’s go!!!

omg, my laptop thinks i’m on s7 because i somehow let a bunch of episodes play all night... LMAOOO!!! it wants me to watch 7x03- GIRL!!! we are not there yet!!! do not rush me!!!

we open with mulder narrating- a key feature of these mytharc episodes- over a photo of his father and CSM. and again, i still cannot tell which is supposed to be which, because they do not look at all like any of the versions of the characters we have been previously introduced to. unless i wasn’t paying attention when he showed that picture from his scrapbook, and these are the same actors that featured in that brief shot. in which case: i apologize.

is he burning the photo??? or is that just a fun fire overlay to indicate the dramatic nature of the subject matter? he’s talking about the generation of his father being hardened by war.

bro just used the term “hurly-burly” seriously in a sentence. i think i need him.

omg!!! i see younger CSM now!! from the 70’s!!! and his buddies from the syndicate!!! did they put modern CSM's actor in a bunch of makeup to achieve this look? or did they have another guy about 20 years younger with a similar face shape on standby? fascinating questions are being raised here…

younger CSM is presenting an american flag to the aliens. and they are just little guys. they don’t look scary at all. must be those are what they look like in their raw form. that is, when they’re not shapeshifting. hmm…

just little dudes. intent on colonization. but they look so... cartoonish.

much to ponder. is victory the absence of defeat, as mulder claims the syndicate mistakenly believed?

YAY FOX MULDER FBI BADGE :D yay blurry sequence of them opening the door holding guns! intro time!!!

there hasn’t been a change in the display text in a while. usually we only get that for mytharc stuff, so i was lowkey expecting it today. i guess one must expect the unexpected. and not expect the expected. amen.

back to cassandra begging to be shot in mulder’s apartment!!! while scully is yelling!! 

but the door is broken down before he can make a choice on if he should shoot or not!! there are people in hazmat suits entering his place!! are they spraying our agents?? is cassandra somehow a contamination threat?? or is this simply an excuse to take her?

these people are from the CDC!! and the agents and cassandra are going to be taken into custody over a contagion of unknown origin!! is that diana in the hazmat suit telling them this?!? or just some random person? because why would diana be with the CDC?

mulder sadly showers in a sad quarantine facility. and so does scully. but they don’t seem to be looking at each other.

OH! he just looked down at her. THEY’RE LOWKEY INSPECTING EACH OTHER, LMAO. now. i imagine that they’re trying to see if there is any sort of contagion on each other. but it would be funny to imagine otherwise. gaze upon the sad showering naked body of your partner. let that eye contact do the talking.

(still thinking about this the next day as i edit my notes. i will need to ponder this moment for a few decades. guys, you don't have time to be flirting right now. put a pin in it. circle back.

also, i can imagine nothing less romantic. they've seen each other naked a bunch of times now, and it's always been for decidedly un-sensual reasons. in clinical-adjacent settings. how strange it must be to see your crush half or barely dressed with regularity, but never in a romantic light. is it ethical to steal glances at each other while the government takes you hostage? so much to ponder)

and then they are buzzed with some weird machines. scully wants to know who will tell them what this is about!! and her wet hair is SO CUTE. OH MY GOD. i need to emphasize how CUTE it is. i’m sorry she is in distress; i genuinely apologize. but. i’m. gonna embarrass myself over here. 

mulder asks where they are, and scully says probably fort marlene. which is so cool of her. she can guess which secret quarantine facility they were transported to based on their travel time. shoutout to scully. with wet hair. locked in this sad little cell with mulder.

and it *is* diana who comes in!!!! she says that she is very sorry, but cassandra might have contracted an organism that makes her blowup. which scully clearly thinks is the stupidest thing she has ever heard, LMAO. 

diana, you're literally not even in the hazmat suit anymore. clearly you don't even believe this nonsense. nor have you made an attempt to indicate you do. i'm crying. "okay, you guys might have a super secret alien blowing up disease, so we'll need to take you far away from others for their protection, but let me come on in and join ya" ijbol

diana says that she just HAD to take cassandra, and scully is calling her nonsense out- she was in a hospital for days!! no one was sick!! but mulder is trying to interrupt. SIT DOWN, MAN. 

OH, DO NOT SNAP AT HER, MULDER!!! diana is gonna piss me tf off. what does scully being suspended from her position at the FBI have to do with her being a medical doctor and knowing that you’re full of absolute nonsense?!?!?

diana just HAD to get that dig in there.

SCULLY GETS UP AND WALKS AWAY, LMAOOOO. do NOT fuck with her.

she was so mad she had to leave AND they have no clothes. truly a terrible situation to find yourself in.

“mulder, this stinks. and not just because i think that woman is a… (she looks at him shuffling around) well, i think you know what i think that woman is” <- LMAOOOOOO

“no, actually, you hide your feelings very well”

giggling. a little bit. and not a lot bit. because i’m still angry at him for snapping at her. 

there is something very funny about scully being unable to conceal her disdain. poised and polished scully can't hold her tongue. i find it endearing.

apparently, skinner heard spender make the phone call to the CDC. scully thinks it’s nonsense- it’s a fancy kidnapping, and it’s remarkable that cassandra was well. mulder points out she did come to his apartment and asked to be killed. but she said that was because people were after her, and if they got her the world would end, not because she had spontaneous combustion disease. which i feel is an important distinction.

scully says cassandra wanted to be killed because she wanted the testing to stop- the same testing that happened to her :( and mulder says she’s "the one"

krycek is in new york city, talking about medical records with CSM. hmm. what is he doing there?

no one can decide how to pronounce cassandra’s name, lmao. cah-sahn-dra or cah-SAND-dra. the syndicate says that when the aliens learn of her, colonization will begin, and so regardless of how you say her name, they have to kill her now.

but CSM says no! he says let cassandra be turned over!!! save ourselves!!

“bill mulder was against this” well. y’all had him killed. so. what do you care what he thinks?

“bill mulder sacrificed his only daughter because he knew this day would arrive”

i had kind of thought that the whole “bill mulder sacrificing samantha” thing was a coverup for a totally random and tragic accident, but this confirms, i suppose, that my assumption was incorrect. i guess they also mentioned that in FTF. hmm. not sure which interpretation is more poignant. i do kinda like the idea that she was the favorite, though, and that is why our mulder stayed behind. he wanted to save her. and left him to pick up the pieces. it's an angsty thought to dwell on.

CSM asks what choice they have “if we want to see those we sacrificed return to us” <- did they ALL sacrifice people?? as an agreement to not snitch?? so bill mulder wasn’t the only one who had to do so?? there are many implications here….

back at fort marlene, mulder is in some very ill-fitting clothes, yelling around for shoes that fit him. he sees someone in the distance and runs after. is he being lured into a trap?

peeeek into that door, strange, tall man. this woman says she can’t be seen with him. IT’S MARITA??? OH MY GOSH!!!

i was wondering if we would ever see her again!!!!

she looks so sick. so, so, horribly sick. she says they have done terrible tests on her. new tests, with the alien virus and the vaccine. to try and buy time against the colonists. and they couldn’t buy enough time, because cassandra spender happened.

she says if the aliens learn of cassandra, there will be no stopping of the plans. and she leaves. 

woah… an unexpected cameo on her behalf. i feel very bad for her. may she make a full recovery and return to doing whatever it is she does, exactly. sneak about.

spender rushes into a room with diana to find his mother!! she’s hooked up to a million wires. she wants to know why they’re keeping her here. and spender says they’re keeping her safe from dad!!! and there won’t be anymore tests!!!

she says he doesn’t understand, but he insists he does. and she says he has to let her go, he has to let them hurt her, or everyone dies. she begs and begs, but he leaves. 

knock at the gunmen’s door!! who goes there? has frohike always had a ponytail? IT’S MULDER!! but is it really him?? did he really break out?? or is it an alien?

scully called him here!!! she has information on diana!!! and he doesn’t want to hear it!! 

she says he’s being manipulated by her, and that he knew her in the past, but he doesn’t anymore. if he won’t listen to her, may he please listen to his only friends.

oh. this isn’t going to go well. 

there are no records of her in europe for 7 years. and she took WEEKLY TRIPS TO AND FROM TUNISIA?? is she with the bee people?? she was visiting every european chapter of the UFO network (MUFON) and collecting data on the abductees!!!

he says she’s reaching…. omfg… BRO. you believed in the CHUPACABRA.

yes. guilt him with the story of your abduction, scully. remind him how he couldn't protect you. rub it in. make him realize.

if cassandra is the critical test subject, there had to be others!!! and why has diana, of all people, been assigned to her?! and why is there no information on any of the things she has been doing for the last 7 years? and why is she suddenly back in his life??

OH SHIT!! he still won’t believe her. the gunmen look around awkwardly…

“well, then i can’t help you anymore” <- GET HIS ASS!!

“scully, you’re making this personal” YOU TRUST YOUR EX OVER HER?? YOUR PARTNER OF HOW MANY YEARS NOW?!? YEAH, I WOULD BE MAKING IT PERSONAL TOO!!!!

“because it IS personal, mulder. because without the FBI, personal interest is all i have. and if you take that away, then there is no reason for me to continue” <- YES!!! YOU TELL HIM!!!!! WALK AWAY!!!

augh. this is so frustrating. why can’t he open his EYEBALLS?! and SEE!! and i don’t believe for a second that scully will just leave him to it. she will want to save cassandra. and get herself in so much more trouble in the process. and try to save the world, of course. while he sits there and drags his stupid feet in their stupid too small shoes. so yes. leave his ass. do it by yourself if you have to.

mulder is going to watergate. well. why do that? is he gonna meet diana? oh god. yes. he is. he knocks at her door. 

he takes out a lock pick when she doesn’t answer and just. goes in there. i guess now he’s serious about getting results. she seems to have a nice place. he finds cigarettes. and some bras. 

but the door opens!!! and in walks CSM!!!!

mulder has his gun pointed at him!!!

this has to be all the proof he needs!!!! if CSM is here, clearly they are working together for nefarious purposes!!! LOOK!!! USE CONTEXT CLUES, MOTHERFUCKER!!!

CSM caught mulder going through the drawers, and says he has a lingerie fetish which is crazy. damn. low blow from the guy who made his career on low blows.

OHHHH... mulder pulls him up to a sofa, has the gun right at his forehead, and says he has nothing to lose. 

“i remember looking over a gun barrel at you once before, agent mulder” <- YES SO DO I!!! and it was amazing. love when he would burn the world down to avenge scully. even if he chose to find peace and say goodbye to her instead of resorting to violence. remember how loyal he was?!

“you couldn’t pull the trigger then. what makes you think you can now?” (he cocks the gun) LMAOOOO. fuck around and find out.

but CSM says he came here looking for his son. because he has betrayed him, and joined mulder's side. “that presumes my cause is wrong” “oh, it is, agent mulder, it is”

CSM is laughing as mulder says he’s not the one using innocent lab rats. he says his father was against it, too. the lone dissenter. but he came to his senses and gave up samantha. 

mulder says you FORCED him to do that, he didn't want to! but CSM laughs again, saying he’s wrong. and we jump back to 1973. “that was your father’s objection: that we would ally ourselves with the alien colonists”

so he bought them some time, i guess? so they could try and come up with a way to defeat them?

“you put those lives on hold so that you alone could survive”

“no, agent mulder, so YOU could. that’s exactly what your father failed to realize. he railed at us, and our plans, even as the process has begun” hmm…. hmmmmm….

and then we see the syndicate from 1973, and a ton of children walk in!! CSM says they agreed to painful sacrifices. including cassandra!!! he gave the aliens his wife!!! so they all had to give someone up as insurance they wouldn't rebel, i suppose.

mulder is furious they sent them away like things, but CSM says it was the right thing to do, so they would come back to them. and the kids are shown crying as the aliens come to fetch them. including samantha.

mulder calls him a liar. he points out that she was taken in front of him, not in some hangar. but CSM says that was because bill didn’t realize that he also had to give up a child, as the aliens demanded. it was the only way they could get THE ALIEN FETUS??

WHERE DID THE FETUS COME FROM???!

they needed the fetus to get the alien genome to make the hybrid- the new race who would survive the holocaust. so he could survive. and live to see his sister. 

mulder is furious. he sits down. and asks if CSM has succeeded. he says they did in spite of themselves, as the plan was only to buy time; they never thought they would actually come up with a solution. and when mulder asks about the vaccine, CSM says it was his father’s idea. but it’s too late, and the colonization is going to begin.

a state of emergency will be declared. due to the bee disease. yes, we have been over this. 

i am only halfway through the episode and i have taken SO many notes. i feel this is a good place to check in and gather my thoughts. 

how do i feel about this world building? well, i don’t know whether or not to believe it, to start. but it feels…. idk. too neatly put together. also, again, i ask: where did the fetus come from? did i miss something? am i silly?

hmm. idk. maybe it’s just that i don’t watch this show for the whole alien colonization subplot, so it doesn’t feel super interesting. i guess it is kind of neat to learn about why all the choices that have been made have been made, and to feel those mysterious undercurrents bubbling beneath the surface, but getting the answers directly feels kinda cheap. and i don’t buy for a second that CSM was doing all of these terrible things for the right reasons. don’t try and make me feel bad for him. not gonna work, buddy. it all fits together too neatly.

i guess now we should go back to the plot at hand, which, shall i remind us all, is going on IN diana’s apartment.

CSM says he must hand over cassandra and the colonization will begin. and mulder cannot stop it now, or else he will never see his sister again. 

“it’s what your father realized. it’s what you’ll realize as your father’s son. or die in vain with the rest of the world”

okay. i feel like i’m not getting something, because why would mulder live if everyone else dies?? did his father somehow agree to spare him when he gave them samantha? and by “spare” him, we of course just mean he will survive to get turned into the alien slave race, right? because the vaccine isn’t ready yet. or at least not available to the masses. so the aliens will kill everyone but spare the syndicate and their families and make them slaves?? and why not just make everyone slaves then?? it sounds like they'd get more done that way. what do they even want to do with earth??

girl. who knows?

CSM hands him a paper, saying to save her, and save himself. and then he leaves. mulder is perplexed. but so am i. so i guess we’re matching.

spender comes to the syndicate place in new york!! looking for his father!!! and who does he find but krycek!!! who says he’s gone. and they aren’t coming back. they went to west virgina, where they will begin medical preparations to receive the hybrid genes.

okay. that clears up part of my confusion. i guess i didn’t realize that genes were transferable. but also, they did transfer them into cassandra. but i thought that was only focused on women? or was the reason they only chose women so they could get a two-for-one by experimenting on them to make full alien hybrid adults and also make the alien hybrid children? 

sigh. does anyone know what’s going on?

also, why isn’t krycek there in west virginia with them? what is he planning?

he says CSM went to get cassandra, and that his doctors are already looking at her. spender thinks he has her locked away, but. alas. krycek says she’s probably being prepped as they speak. 

cassandra is being swarmed by doctors. and she is screaming and screaming as they drug her. i find myself genuinely terrified. and CSM walks in, saying he needs a few minutes. she calls him the biggest bastard of all. she’s crying, saying the others never question his authority, even though he’s a coward. 

he wants to talk about the future, not the past. he says they’re here now because of what he’s done. but for so many years, she didn’t understand it was all him. he says he ordered the tests, but he didn’t want to harm her- he wanted to save her and their son. 

so what i'm hearing here is "i am very sorry i spent all that time torturing you, but i did it to save the elite few. and i'm not really that sorry" which is... a choice?

she says you can never save spender, because he knows what CSM has done to her…

wow. normally i like to add my own thoughts to these recounts of events, but it’s going too fast for me to even gather them. the minute i have formulated a thought, another thing has happened and takes its place.

there is only one way to save spender, she says. but CSM says he can’t kill her. and he runs away. 

diana comes back to her apartment and finds mulder. he says he came here looking for evidence. she swears that she is loyal to him and the x files. lying through her TEETH.

mulder says he found no evidence of her being a traitor, but he says fate found him. he found CSM. and he says that he knows he must give up so the ones he loves can survive. 

don’t touch him queen. she takes the paper from his hand. “that’s where we need to be if we want to survive it” <- HE WANTS TO BRING HER?!? this has to be a trap, right?

(after pondering this, i think him bringing her with him to the end of the world site makes sense. mulder always wants someone to save. so yes, he would bring the woman whose apartment he broke into with him when the end of the world arrived. but still. the optics of it, man. bringing her. trusting CSM's story. after everything he has done.

let's say yes, the end of the world is soon. and you won't go try and bring your mom with you? okay, maybe she's too far away, and that is very sad, because you have to go now. what about your best friends who live right nearby? you don't want to bring them? you want to bring this woman who clearly despises you, sabotages your work, torments you and your partner, and is working with your mortal enemy, who you have previously described as the devil?

i guess that is his thing. he needs to feel like he can save someone, because he couldn't save his sister. and maybe learning that the world is about to end provokes in you a sense of despair. but to hear him say he needs to give up... that is just. so deeply unlike him. what is he thinking? why doesn't he want to go down swinging?

the whole thing just... man. made me frustrated. like, do i know this mulder? or did he get swapped with some other dude?)

no, don’t kiss him, diana. i don’t want to see that. okay. whatever. you can’t hear me, i guess.

spender is going back to fort marlene, where he does not find his mother. but he does find marita!!! she asks for his help!!! he says he doesn’t know her,,, but she knows where they’re taking his mother. and how.

and she knows his name…. she says he has to trust him. huh. CSM must have spoken about him before. i wonder what he had to say.

ew, they're getting the alien fetus of mysterious origins out. man. i didn’t want to see, like, any of this. put the fetus in the pressure cooker looking thing, why don't you? can you just… thaw him out??

but the woman who wouldn’t get mulder shoes walks in while the thawing takes place. OHHHH!!! the eyeballs!!! scraped off the face!!! she’s one of the rebels!!!!

do we cheer? has crisis been averted?

mulder calls scully, and she says she was just calling him. oh... :( she still wanted to talk to him after the earlier outburst

he says he’s with diana, and they’re going to come get her. but she wants to go find cassandra!!! mulder says it’s no use, but she’s going there whether he comes or not. and “there” is the potomac yards, because spender called her and told her that's where she is being held.

lmao. don’t let him get you down, queen. you must save the day. alone if you must. this is not fair, but it is the scully curse. 

god. again, the optics. mulder was really going to try and ascend to the alien apocalypse with his ex AND the woman he recently declared his love for by his side. and let everyone else on the planet die. mulder. use your brain. this does not make you look like a great guy.

mulder says he’ll be there, and sends diana ahead to west virginia. good on him for choosing hope?? i guess? a little late, but better than never.

well, they’re now chasing a train. and scully is FLOORING IT. ooo, i didn't know she could drive crazy like that! she angles the car across the train tracks!!!! 

mulder gets out and they shoot the train together!!! the train brakes…. and they run!!!

NOOO!! scully’s CAR!!! it got ran over by a TRAIN!!!

i hope she has good insurance 💔

the syndicate and their family members are going to the hanger to get beamed up, i suppose. when someone approaches our agents. IT’S SKINNER!!!! he wants to know what the hell is going on.

oh, skinner, i didn’t realize how badly i wanted to see you, but now that there is a big smile on my face, i know it to be so.

yeah. get in the backseat, mulder. let scully take shotgun. atone for your crimes.

who is arriving at the hangar….? the syndicate goes to investigate. it’s cassandra on the stretcher. with CSM. 

he wants to know where krycek is!! and i do, too!! he’s at fort marlene, stalking about. is he looking for marita?! will they be reunited?! are they still together?

krycek cannot find the alien fetus!!! he is furious!!! where did it go?!

spender calls out to him. he can’t get past security- they won’t let him remove a patient. and look! it’s marita that spender has with him!!! oh, this is an uncomfortable reunion between krycek and marita, who we last saw kissing passionately. his jaw drops.

krycek calls spender a sorry son of a bitch, saying the rebels are going to win. they took it. marita is shocked at this news, but spender just wants to know what “it” is. and can you blame the guy? he just got thrown into all of this.

diana pulls up at the hangar, and sees CSM. why is there music swelling between them? what is their relationship?

oh. the hangar is opening. but the syndicate didn’t send a message to the aliens!! so who goes there?

diana and CSM start to escape. and it seems that normal people are emerging from the hangar??? diana and CSM drive away!!!

but they aren’t normal people!!! they’re the faceless rebels!!! surrounding the syndicate!!! with their fire sticks!!! 

(fire roars and people scream)

is.... that the end of the syndicate?

kersh is looking at photos of the burnt bodies that skinner handed him. he says the loss of life is beyond words. and spender is there, too. kersh says he cannot imagine how it must be, losing his mother.

oh, now i feel bad for him. he even got kersh to use a kind tone.

spender says he is responsible for those deaths!!! also mulder is here! and scully, too! 

he says the agents might have prevented the terrible attacks!!! kersh's kind tone doesn't last long.

HE INTERRUPTED KERSH??? OMFG???

spender says it’s his fault the agents were suspended, and kersh ought to do everything he can to get them back on the x files. far worse can and will happen. 

spender gets up and leaves, saying he will pack up his things.

“you have answers now? why didn’t i hear about those answers before?”, kersh asks mulder

“i’ve had answers for years” 

“then why didn’t we hear about them?”

“no one ever listened” <- WELL!!! get his ass.

he says the people burned themselves, from choices made by men long ago who thought they could sleep with the enemy. 

kersh doesn't know wtf this means, and scully says. well. he's probably right. so just go along with it.

spender tells CSM to get out of his old office. he’s holding the photo of him and bill mulder!!! he says he was a good man and a friend who betrayed him. 

he said he came here hoping his mother wasn’t right. he hoped his son might live to honor me. like bill mulder’s son.

AND THEN HE PULLS OUT A GUN AND SHOOTS HIM!!???

the end?!?!

hey man. entirely too much just happened in one episode.

okay. um. 

well. i didn’t like this one. 

there was too much going on!!! my brain wasn’t handling it!! why would mulder choose diana over scully?? is he stupid?? 

is the syndicate over now?? but now they have to deal with the alien rebels?? was krycek working for the rebels the whole time?? is that a good thing? but it's krycek; he can't be good. is spender dead?? just when i started to like him?

will mulder and scully go back on the x files?? will it be under skinner? how will they just go back to work after all of that? 

“hey scully. i'm sorry i didn’t believe you when you said my ex was manipulating me even though you found incredibly detailed receipts with my best friends in the whole world. and i'm sorry for how i wanted to give up and let everyone in the world die, because the man who is responsible for torturing you and thousands of other women told me there was nothing i could do. and i'm sorry i agreed with him despite having no reason to trust him whatsoever, and only changed my mind at the last minute.

do you want to go hunt some werewolves now? and not acknowledge how i blew off all of your trauma in favor of trusting someone i haven’t seen in years and a guy i previously called the devil? i know you’ve saved me more times than can be counted, but it was an honest mistake!”

grrr. i’m growling. hissing, even. how can he be so stupid?! 

beyond mulder’s dumb choices, it was just far too much at one time. which always happens with these episodes, but this might even be a record for most stuff packed into one episode. and it just made me frustrated. and therefore, i didn’t enjoy it. 

we got the marita reveal; tons of 1973 lore; attempts at humanizing CSM- and then him immediately being evil again; foolish mulder choices; scully being taken advantage of; krycek doing… whatever it is he does, really; the end of the syndicate; spender redemption arc and possibly death; and the rise of the rebels as the new big bad? so… are the other aliens who are made of the purity stuff just not a threat anymore? or will they be competing for dominance in colonization?? and where did the fetus come from and where did it go?

hmm. i need to go ponder. but i’m not very pleased. 

a day later, i am still not very pleased. the smashing of too many things together is a simple writing flaw. it comes with the territory. i'm used to it by now, if still mildly perturbed. but man, mulder trusting diana and CSM over scully. whew. sometimes, it's like the writers have this character, and spend so much time crafting him as this devoted, if deeply flawed and egotistical guy who would do anything to save the people he loves, and then... they just... make him not care about anyone or anything. and pretend like it's the same guy. as if i was not the victim of a bait and switch here. and it's happened often enough where you'd think i'd see some sort of pattern or in-character justification for his sudden change of heart, but we never get it. never.

so, CSM claimed he could see his sister if everyone else in the world died and they became alien slaves. how many times has he dangled his sister over mulder's head before? why is this something he would still even consider? why does he take CSM's word about his father at face value? he doesn't even LIKE his father, and now CSM says oh, he wanted to save everyone, and mulder just. eats it up. with no evidence to support thing. i just don't get it. and then he gives up. sits in diana's apartment, ready to let everyone die. it's only scully's call that wakes him up, makes him take his characteristic action.

idk. is there something i'm missing here? does this make sense to anyone else? have you all come to see some sort of internal logic to his actions after spending years with these episodes and arcs, and i just have to put the pieces together and come to the conclusions that you reached decades ago? will there be some reveal that makes this all make sense eventually? am i even being coherent?

hmm. this is another of those episodes that makes me want to throw my laptop in the river. i will ponder other, better episodes in the meantime.

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 6/34 - christmas lights

[Read on AO3]

“You talked to Skinner, right?” Mulder asks, nervously turning his hastily-wrapped gift of a bottle of wine in his fidgeting hands. 

It feels dangerous, as he walks up the driveway to Maggie Scully’s house. Scully walks beside him in her usual place. His hand lightly brushes against the small of her back with each forward step, his way of keeping her close when there are threats lurking in the shadows. 

Threats Scully seems to be paying no mind to. Instead, her excitement is palpable. 

He sees where she's coming from; Having a secret of this magnitude just between them is admittedly thrilling. He's just not sure it's worth the risk of ruining Christmas, though, but maybe that's just him.

“Of course I did,” she answers, charging ahead without a lick of apprehension. His brave little fiancée. “He'll call after lunch.”

“Just making sure,” he mumbles. “If he forgets, we’re gonna be stuck here all day.”

“Mulder…” She shoots him a look.

“Right, sorry. Sorry.”

Festive strands of lights, unlit in the daytime, adorn Mrs. Scully's bushes and trees in her front yard, their clear bulbs glinting in the sunlight. It's a sight to behold when the sun goes down, he's sure. Though he's hoping he won't be here long enough to find out.

“Dana!” a voice calls, and they look up to see the front door open slightly, with Mrs. Scully herself peeking out.

Mulder’s hand drops from Scully’s back.

“And Fox! I’m so happy you could make it! I hate the idea of you spending Christmas Eve all alone.”

Truth be told, he enjoys his quiet Christmases. Better than the ones he had before his parents split, in any case. The slight pity in her voice makes him uncomfortable, but he smiles anyway, playing the part he has to play. If this works out (and he's invited back for another Christmas), he takes solace in the fact that there will never again be a secret like this to keep. He might even enjoy himself next time.

“Well aren’t you two all dressed up,” Maggie says as they step over the threshold, taking in their appearances. “The rest of us are barely out of our pajamas!”

Mulder looks around as the entryway opens up into the living space. Bill and his family are seated on the couch, and another red-headed man sits adjacent to him on an overstuffed chair, raising a cup of coffee in welcome.

‘We come in peace,’ Mulder thinks.

He waves in greeting, giving a nod in Bill’s direction. The unflappable stare he receives in response is nothing less than he expected. 

They really are overdressed. Everyone else is in a sweater of questionable taste or casual winter-wear. And here they are dressed like they’re going to court.

Which… they are.

Mulder loosens his collar at that thought, suddenly hyper-aware of the countless pairs of eyes fixed on him, as if he has the words ‘I'M ABOUT TO MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER/SISTER’ tattooed on his forehead.

Is he always this sweaty in this suit?

“Charlie, I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Scully says jovially as she sheds her coat. The red-haired man stands and makes his way over to them, wrapping Scully in a massive bear hug. It's an effective enough distraction to take the heat off Mulder, which he is certainly thankful for.

Up close, he can tell the man takes after Maggie more than Scully’s father in appearance, unlike the eldest Scully son. The red hair though, that's gotta be all Scully. His heart stutters at the thought of a red-headed baby, one they might have had if the IVF had worked. He pushes it back forcefully. He'd thought he was over that by now.

“This is my partner, Mulder,” Scully says, drawing his attention back to the present. She introduces them with a hand resting on her brother’s shoulder, gesturing up at her tall partner with a smile.

“Mulder, this is my younger brother, Charlie.”

Mulder nods and puts on a smile, hoping he might have a chance at getting on one Scully sibling’s good side.

“Heard a lot about you,” Charlie says, shaking Mulder’s outstretched hand. “From Dana, not Bill, don’t worry. She’s the only one I listen to,” he jokingly adds, and Mulder stiffly laughs, the tension easing just a bit.

He wonders what she tells her brother when they get a chance to talk. All good things, he hopes.

“You’re stationed in Japan, right?” Mulder asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s not adept at making polite conversation, but he thinks it’s going okay so far.

“That’s right. Managed to get enough leave time to make the trip finally.”

“How long will you be in town?” Scully asks.

“Just until Tuesday. The Navy can’t be without me for too long or else the entire base falls apart.”

Bill pushes out a forced laugh at that and shakes his head in fond annoyance.

When a lull in the conversation presents itself, Mulder pulls Scully aside, ducking his head so that his whispers won't be overheard. 

“We can postpone our plans,” he says into her ear, "I know you don't get to see your brother very often. I'll call Skinner and let him know.”

“No, Mulder, it's okay,” she says, reaching out and gripping his sleeve. “I'll see him tomorrow. I want to do this.”

His eyes study hers. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Heaven help him. 

“I'm blaming you if this gets me on another brother's bad side,” he warns.

“Charlie’s not like Bill. You'll be fine,” she says. “Talk to him about Japanese cryptids or something, he might actually be interested.”

Mulder laughs nervously. “That feels like a setup, Scully, but I'll take your word for it.”

-.-.-

Mulder has some success hiding in the corner with a freshly-poured cup of coffee while the others mingle, but of course his luck can only hold out for so long. It isn't long before Charlie spots him, tracing an unmistakable path across the room to intercept him before he can escape.

“So, Fox. Or is it Mulder?” he starts.

Mulder turns, accepting his fate. “Mulder’s fine,” he answers with a polite smile. 

“What are you two up to?”

The taste of coffee goes bitter in his mouth, and it takes some effort not to go straight into a coughing fit. “What?” he asks, eyes seeking out Scully already, though she's nowhere to be seen.

“Work,” Charlie clarifies. “What kinds of stuff are you doing at work?”

“Oh, right.” Mulder drops the panic face, his shoulders relaxing. “Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be interested. Boring stuff, mostly.”

“I find that hard to believe based on what my sister’s told me.”

Yeah, but how much does he know? That’s the question.

“Uh. We had a fast food worker a little while ago that ate his victims brains.”

He’ll leave out a few details and let the man believe it was a simple case of cannibalism. He doesn’t exactly feel like talking about proboscises or shark mutants or mentioning the fact that the brains were completely removed from the victim’s skull right before a nice family lunch.

“Eugh,” Charlie makes the appropriate sound of disgust, “How'd you figure that one out?”

“You really don't want to know.”

The youngest Scully sibling seems to accept that answer, to Mulder’s relief.

“You guys certainly live interesting lives, don't you?” he says.

“You could say that,” Mulder says. “I think your brother would prefer if they were less interesting, though.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Don't listen to him, he's just mad Dana's not his helpless baby sister anymore. Which, mind you, she never was. She'd wipe the floor with him shooting targets with our beebee gun growing up.”

Now here’s a subject that really interests Mulder. “I believe that,” he says, smiling at the thought of Bill getting humiliated by a teeny tiny Scully. “Got a scar on my shoulder to prove it.”

“She shot you?” Charlie asks, his voice laced with equal measures of incredulity and fascination.

“Oh yeah. With the precision of a practiced medical professional.” He smiles proudly, which probably isn’t the usual affect of a person describing how a bullet tore through their body, but Mulder wears that scar like a medal of honor. “In her defense, I deserved it,” he continued, “I wasn't in my right mind at the time, and she had no other way to stop me.”

Charlie blows out an impressed breath, brows raised in wonderment. “Well, I'm glad you can laugh about it now,” he comments. “You know, Bill might enjoy that little tidbit. I think he thinks you've trapped her with your roguish handsomeness, or possibly voodoo.”

Mulder laughs, though somewhat uncomfortably. Sometimes he wonders if he’s trapped her too, though he doesn’t think ‘roguish handsomeness’ has anything to do with it.

“No, for reasons beyond my comprehension, she's decided to stick around,” he says awkwardly. “Despite my best efforts to make her see the light.”

Charlie nods, as if that was the response he was expecting. “You and Bill aren't all that different, then,” he says, clapping Mulder on the shoulder. “Only, you know when to give in to that Scully stubbornness and admit defeat. He, unfortunately, doesn't.”

All the better for me, Mulder thinks.

They fall into an awkward silence after that, each taking a sip from their lukewarm coffee. Mulder glances around the room in search of his partner again, hoping she’ll come rescue him from small-talk hell when—

“So what are you actually up to?”

This time he plays it cool, swallowing another sip of coffee as casually as possible before asking, “What do you mean?”

“Come on. When I asked you earlier, you started sweating,” Charlie says, lightly smacking Mulder’s arm with the back of his hand. “Now you've got me thinking you're hiding something.”

Mulder gives his best clueless look, a tactic which only has about a 50% success rate of getting him out of trouble. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure you don't,” Charlie says, entirely unconvinced. He has the same expression as Scully has when he’s pitching her some wild theory at work. It’s almost unsettling to see it now on an unfamiliar face. “My sister's got that ‘sneaking around’ look she used to get when she was doing something our parents wouldn't approve of,” he continues. “I was the youngest sibling, remember? I saw everything.”

Okay, denial’s not working, time to bail. The scrutinizing eyes of Charles Scully are locked onto him, and he gives a knowing smile.

“Well, whatever it is, I'm glad you're doing it. She seems happy.” Mulder lets out a breath, not sure what the approval of his partner’s younger brother means exactly, but grateful for it all the same. “I think making Bill mad gives her a thrill,” the man continues, casting a glance at his big brother.

“I'm afraid you might be right,” Mulder agrees.

Charlie shakes his head. “Well, that's Dana for you. Appearances are never what they seem.”

Mulder couldn’t agree more. 

“Ain't that the truth.”

-.-.-

Lunch is a fairly painless affair, all things considered. Maggie had the good grace to sit Bill and Mulder on opposite ends of the table, and Charlie doesn’t mention their previous conversation again. The last remnants of dessert are being scraped off plates when the phone rings, its shrill tone interrupting conversation.

“Dana, your boss is on the phone for you,” Maggie speaks, popping her head around the corner from the kitchen.

“Oh, brother,” Bill says, instantly looking to Mulder with a nasty glare. So much for being off the hook, Mulder thinks. He wordlessly sends a complaint to Scully about her brother’s behavior, flicking his eyes pointedly toward Bill Jr., and she’s forced to suppress a smile as she hurries into the kitchen. He hears her mumble something into the phone, though it’s far enough away that no one in the dining room can hear.

When she returns, she’s wearing a serious facial expression.

Showtime.

“Mulder, that was Skinner,” she says, her tone regretful. “He's calling us in.”

“Ugh, on Christmas?” he whines, putting a little extra oomph into his indignation for appearance’s sake. Bill doesn’t appear to be buying it.

“He says it should only take a few hours—they just need our input on a case,” Scully explains, just like they’d rehearsed.

“Well, if the Assistant Director says so,” Mulder says with a shrug, and Scully shoots him a look that says he's pushing his luck. He can't help but smirk for a second before carefully masking his face. This was her idea.

“Are you kidding me, Dana? This is a family holiday!” Bill protests, a vein bulging in the side of his head. As if he’s never missed a holiday for work. Yeah, right.

Scully’s composure remains cool and confident, despite her brother’s lack of reason. “Director's orders, Bill. I'm sorry. I promise I'll be here all day tomorrow.”

He scoffs. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Maggie, to her credit, takes their sudden departure in stride, hugging both her daughter and Mulder before ushering them out the door, promising to see them tomorrow bright and early.

They smile like giddy, rule breaking schoolchildren all the way to the car.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

[numinousmysteries]

For the prompts: Mulder peering into the wondrous world of his fishtank.

This prompt is ancient now but the muse strikes when the muse strikes. Origin story of Mulder’s fish tank comes from @sagan-starstuff's brilliant post here. (I also don't actually. think I answered the prompt but this is what happened.)

A true one-bedroom in a good neighborhood—”in walking distance to Old Town,” according to the matronly realtor—2630 Hegal Place wasn’t a posh address but it wasn’t a total shithole either. Despite his burning instinct for self-flagellation, Fox Mulder’s trust fund parachute and Brooks Brothers upbringing would only let him stoop so low. Still, it was dreary enough to feel like a punishment.

He wasn’t naive enough to think that apartment 42 would be the answer to life, the universe, and everything, but it was an appropriate answer to the question of where to put a brooding man, ears still ringing from the shellshock of a failed six-month marriage. A fitting habitat for a 20th-century Heathcliff in virgin wool Zegna suits locked on course to ruin his professional reputation in the name of a long-lost sister and memories he didn’t fully trust. 

It was meant to be a stopgap. He signed a month-to-month lease. Months turned to years.

Late at night, dozing on the couch (beds are for men deserving of rest, who have the luxury of shutting off their brains a third of each day with no need for constant vigilance), the only light came from the fish tank. 

He hated the fucking fish at first, resented their glorious ignorance, their freedom from the burden of comprehension and consequence. The tank and its occupants were a housewarming/divorce gift from the Gunmen; a poorly-considered insurance policy against what they expected was his impending suicide. Fuck them, he thought, let the fish die. Let it all burn to the ground. After two days of mutual starvation, though, he locked eyes with a translucent molly and felt his humanity pulse beneath callused layers of cynicism. He tipped the container of freeze-dried flakes into the tank. He made himself a piece of dry toast. 

Newton’s first law of motion governs that action begets action. He kept rising every morning, searching for the truth, and feeding the fish. 

He was assigned a new partner. She fed the fish when he was detained in military custody, quarantined with a parasite of unknown origin, or chasing radio signals in Caribbean jungles.  

But Scully didn’t belong in his fox den. His newspaper-plastered bile nest. 

Her home was light where his was dark, soft where his was hard, warm where his was cold. She displayed framed family photos out in the open. Apple-cheeked baby nephews. A younger Scully in a cap and gown with her father grinning beside her. He hid an album of patrilineal co-conspirators under the false bottom of a desk drawer. Unsmiling men quietly plotting the demise of all mankind over cans of Rheingold in well-manicured backyards. Demerol-dazed wives trading their children for Givenchy dresses and empty promises of a valiant future. 

All her blonde wood Pottery Barn furniture and Yankee Candle torches couldn’t protect her from his darkness, though. Duane Barry stepped right into her sanctum and tore her away from him.

He took off on an ill-fated West Coast vampire hunt that ended in a bloodless climax and a three-alarm blaze. Somehow, all but one of his fish survived. He flushed down the fallen soldier, contemplating the shortcomings of mortality and the prison of eternity. 

Bleary-eyed and broken, he sat in the darkness, his gaze darting between his loaded gun and the glowing tank. This new knowledge of himself—that he was a man who’d kill in cold blood for vengeance—threatened to obliterate his reluctant detente with the fish. By tomorrow morning, he would no longer be their worthy steward. 

A knock on the door. Melissa Scully entered, her presence a tauntingly inaccurate facsimile of the woman he wanted to see. She was a few inches too tall, her hair several shades too dark, her rosy worldview miles off base. But she wasn’t that different from his partner after all. She called him out on his masochistic bullshit and saw the light within him. 

Newton’s second law of motion states that an object requires a commensurate force to launch it into action. He doesn’t believe that. These wispy Scully women with their birdlike bones and feather-soft breath shouldn’t have the power to lift him out from under two decades of self-hatred—but they do. So he put his faith in this patchouli-scented witchy sister with her silk choker and mall-bought crystals, bid the fish (and his blood-stained, testosterone-fueled revenge fantasy) goodbye, and went to see his dying partner.

[nerds-yearbook]

The X-files: I Want to Believe premiered on July 25, 2008. The second theatrical release came out five years after the end of the first run of the TV series. The original idea was to conclude the alien invasion plot, but when Fox insisted on continueing the X-Files as a TV series, they decided to make the second film as a "monster of the week" plot. The movie was dedicated to Randy Stone, who cast the pilot episode including finding David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in the leads. While X-Files creator Chris Carter had directed television episodes, this was the first film he directed. The F.B.I. had reached out to former Special Agent Dana Scully (Anderson), who had gone back to being a Medical Doctor, to have her contact her former partner Special Agent Fox Mulder (Duchovny). They promised to clear his record (he had been on the run since X-Files "The Truth" - 2002 ) if he helped ASAC Dakota Whitney (Amanda Peet) find a missing F.B.I. Agent. The reason for wanting Mulder's help was due to his experience with the paranormal as they were being helped by a disgraced priest Father Joseph Crissman (Billy Connolly) who claimed to have visions about the case. Scully and Agent Mosley Drummy (Xzibit) both thought Crissman was a fake. Meanwhile, Scully was busy dealing with a medical sittuation not wanting to give up on Christian Fearon (Marco Niccoli) a child who had been diagnosed with a condition with no proven cure. Besides Mulder and Scully, the only official cameo from the TV series was Walter Skinner (Mitch Pileggi). However, Chris Carter, Stephen E Miller and Venessa Morley had appeared on the show but as different characters. ("X-Files: I Want to Believe", flm, Event)

[shutupineedtothink]

X files mini review/analysis 3x02 "Paper clip"

Coming as the final part of what is basically a trilogy of episodes starting with the s2 finale, this was easily the craziest ep and probably the best I've seen in the show so far. I actually watched it twice!

First of all this ep covers hella ground. The amount of stuff they packed in here from mulder showing back up and the Spiderman face off with Skinner to secret files on anyone and everyone apparently including our scully and Samantha mulder to wait there were aliens in there?? To Melissa Scullys death at the end and MS final convo + hug was crazy. With cameos from the lone gunmen, scullys mom, Albert, CSM, etc etc. Lots going on and it still felt coherent and well paced to me.

Some highlights:

- how did you know? I just knew. -> biggest "we are about to kiss" energy I've seen so far. Also i more or less predicted this scene before we saw it from previous episodes, but it was no less excellent.

- scully verbally gunning for nazis was not something I knew i needed until now, please do more

- secret rich guy organization is kinda meh overall but I like the British guy

- Albert is the real hero of this ep for flying to DC just to pray over Missy

- love an old spooky mine, very scooby doo of them

- also the music? Went off this ep

- scully is really sweet for her concern over what they will find about mulders dad, but sweetie this is not the time also this man is out for answers

- sassy Skinner is my favorite skinner

- the file room/mine area gives ark of the covenant vibes slightly

- i love that mulder is immediately looking for her file and then his sisters

- fox mulder do not leave your partner behind in the creepy mine to chase aliens

- omggg the aliens running past scully got me

- looove the spaceship rising through the windows

- so that was a fuckin ufo and we're just gonna move on cool cool cool

- this shootout was fun ngl, v 80s action movie energy

- hm they kinda just get away, I think it'd be fun if there were some leftover aliens that took out the swat guys

- they really just hitchhiked to this diner huh

- they both have food but neither are eating, that feels deliberate

- what are you hoping to find agent Mulder? Why they killed my father. And what happened to my sister. And what they did to agent scully. She's his Family!! My heart.

- this convo is sooo good. Gillian acting the shit out of it as always

- interesting that mulder can't quite bring himself to make the deal, but he leaves it to scully basically already knowing what she'll do

- Actually, it is like he's giving up his family for hers in that moment, Jesus. And then Missy dies anyway. Fuck.

- so im not getting the white buffalo logic. If the mother died and the baby lived, wouldn't that mean Missy should live? Wait are they saying because mulder lived Missy had to die? I'm confused.

- krycekkkk!!!! Sucks!! Get blown to hell mf see if I care

- mulder finally getting "the truth" and maybe it wasn't what he wanted hmm

- so krycek has the tape now. You know what that is kind of interesting. And csm is lying about it. OK yes this is good setup.

- so mulders dad AND mom knew that Samantha would be taken??? Jesus.

- again, sassy Skinner is my favorite skinner.

- I like Albert being the living file but what is stopping them from killing all those guys really. I guess unless Skinner really is bluffing?

- i LOVE LOVE LOVE this ending hospital scene, specifically the lighting and the framing of the shot. Her sitting in the chair, him kneeling next to her, the light between them but they're both in darkness from the back, ugh it's so good.

- I think its about fate... idk if you should say that to someone after their sister just died.

- I've heard the truth mulder, now what i want are the answers. Banger line!

- I wonder if they planned that hug or he just went for it but I appreciate it either way.

- I hope scully gets to shoot krycek. Let her have revenge i would love to see it.

Overall great ep. A little all over the place but in a good way. Rip Missy I didn't think they would actually kill you.

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Fox Mulder Is a Father (Fan-Favorites)

In honor of Father's Day, I wanted to collect other fans' favorite "Mulder as a father" fics.

Thank you to all who participated!

Loose chronological order below~

@spooky-jordan's Picks:

rivkat's and MustangSally's Iolokus 3 (Iolokus 03 - Vix te Agnovi 1/3,  Iolokus 03 - Vix te Agnovi 2/3, Iolokus 03 - Vix te Agnovi 3/3) and Iolokus 4 (Iolokus 04 - Res Judicata 1/3, Iolokus 04 - Res Judicata 2/3, Iolokus 04 - Res Judicata 3/3)

"I'm getting really tired of that song, Scully.  Really tired.  You didn't ask to be abducted, you didn't ask to have your ova taken, and you didn't ask for the cancer.  You didn't choose to have Miranda, and when she inconvenienced your life you dumped her with Emerson and Aileen.  You didn't provoke George into stalking you and you certainly didn't *aid* him when he tried to strangle you," I continued, trying to keep my voice under control even though it was crackling like a cheap stereo speaker. "When things don't go your way, you cave like a house of cards." 

Parts 3 and 4 of the infamous Iolokus is stuffed with Mulder and Scully as parents: both of them unpacking their traumas, fighting for custody of their daughter, and settling into the life they're building together.

@calimanc's Picks:

Revely’s The Unfinished Universe (Gossamer) 

They have a private evening ritual - nose to nose on the bed they practice telepathic communication. 

Scully disappears into the motel bathroom for their soft-shelled display of male bonding, shutting the door behind her with aggravating finality - boys' side, girl's side. Mulder immediately stops casting out brain waves and begins to wonder what she's doing in there. She's awfully quiet. The baby just dozes and tries to nurse Mulder's nose until he manages to work one of his fists into his mouth.

AU-- Post-Requiem Mulder is returned a year later, bonding with his lioness partner and months-old son on the drive back to D.C.

Anjou’s (Ao3) Ghosts (mulderscreek), The Ghosts of Christmas Past (mulderscreek), and The Ghosts of Future Past (mulderscreek)

By the time that the running stroller Mulder had purchased arrived, Will had begun to stand up voluntarily. He wanted to walk, but he was still hesitant, afraid that a show of independence would mean he wouldn't get taken care of anymore. To keep William moving forward, Mulder started including him on some of the loops. This time, Scully sat on the steps and read and they waved at her as they ran by. Mulder loved the way Will's tiny hands extended out from the hood of the stroller as he laughed at the wind. By the end of the third day he was demanding "Again!" when Mulder was all tuckered out. Mulder would take him out of the running stroller and sit him on the red earth while he stretched out. By the end of the week, William was mimicking Mulder's movements. When the tiny running shoes that Mulder had ordered for William arrived, Will began to walk around their trailer and demand to dance with his parents before dinner.

Mulder, Scully, and William (who was saved via Skinner's heroic sacrifice) hide away in motels as she tirelessly works to prevent the anticipated invasion.

@samucabd’s Picks:

Donna’s Goodbyes/Hellos (Gossamer)

"Is it safe for you to be here Mulder? I . . . you can't know how much I've missed you, but is it safe?"

"As safe as anywhere Scully. He insisted we come."

Her surprise was obvious at that. "He insisted?"

"He says you're in danger. We've come to get you."

Post-Existence Scully hands William over to Mulder and tells them to go into hiding. Jeremiah Smith, the incoming invasion, and their friends, allies, and family all pitch in for a "happy ending."

Christy’s (mulderscreek)

Interstice (Gossamer | Story: "Interstice 01 - Saturday" by Christy, Gossamer | Story: "Interstice 02 - Sunday" by Christy, Gossamer | Story: "Interstice 03 - Monday" by Christy, Gossamer | Story: "Interstice 04 - Tuesday" by Christy, Gossamer | Story: "Interstice 05 - Wednesday" by Christy, Gossamer | Story: "Interstice 06 - Thursday" by Christy)

Intellectually, he knew her love. He could see it every day, as they tried to coax another bite of puréed peas past Liam's stubborn lips; as they poured through old files in Doggett's cold basement office; as they sat together on the couch at night, each armed with a red pen, wading through stacks of papers and quizzes.

Mulder left the bedroom, his gaze darting around the family room in search of Scully's shirt. Finally he found it, a puddle of light blue silk on the floor beside the couch, and draped it across his shoulder, still smelling her perfume.

He lifted their coats from where they hung over the back of the couch, then hung them in the closet. After snatching his boots up by the laces, he found Scully's shoes, one near the door, the other kicked halfway under the couch. Gathering everything into his arms, Mulder went back into the bedroom.

It's William's first Christmas, with the Scully family (and their issues) in tow.

Song of Innocence (1/3, 2/3, 3/3) and Song of Experience (1/4, 2/4, 3/4, 4/4)

His dad looked like a superhero, tall and dark and dressed all in black like a secret agent. A spy. His voice was magical, Will decided, soft and soothing as he questioned the injured deputy; then, as he said to Will's mom, "Will you just escort Deputy Wetzel to the hospital?" Will was too busy replaying the sound of his dad saying his name to hear the crazy theories that his mom pooh-poohed whenever she stepped out from behind the ambulance door, where she was hiding from the cameras.

But his dad didn't seem to mind the cameras, even laughing at them a few times during the hour-long show. Will smiled as he listened to them discuss the case, and his dad saying that bright pink was his mom's color. Will didn't think his mom owned *anything* pink.

Then it got exciting. His dad breaking the door down and his mom pulling a gun from somewhere inside the back of her jacket, her fingernails shining against the black metal of the gun grip. Then his mom doing an autopsy, something Will had wondered about for forever but had, of course, never been allowed to see.

Then the dawning in his dad's eye when he solved the mystery, dashing off heroically to save the deputy, his mom hot on his heels. They stalked through an old beat-up house, guns and flashlights in hand, and Will thought they were ten times better than Luke Skywalker because they were real.

He had watched the tape twice more that afternoon before his mom arrived, and then once again with her, crawling into her lap when she started crying, when his dad turned to face the camera head-on for the first time.

Will and his mom took the tape home with them that night, watching it together twice before he went to bed. And even after that, Will could have sworn he heard his dad's soft, gentle voice drifting from downstairs and into his room through the vents... although it could just have been the replay of Will's own memories.

He loved to watch how his dad moved -- his long strides, the fluid way he stepped across the screen -- but it was his dad's voice that stuck with him. Not the soft, reassuring tone or the private, teasing voice he used with Will's mom, but the strong, forceful way he spoke to the deputy, begging from the wrong side of a locked door for Wetzel to "cowboy up" and be a man.

Will had heard that same voice in his head ever since then, when he needed a push. "Cowboy up," his dad said, only it was Will he was talking to, not some stranger. "Cowboy up, Will," he mentally spliced together when he needed to borrow some of his dad's courage.

Post-NIHT Mulder returns seven years later with an implant and selective memory loss. As he heals up and tries to figure out what happened with Scully, his son works through the complicated emotions both are feeling.

Vickie Moseley’s Flight Into Egypt Series (Flight into Egypt 01, Flight into Egypt 02 - Making a Home, Flight into Egypt 03 - Making a Life, Flight into Egypt 04 - Games, Flight Into Egypt 05 - New Life, Flight into Egypt - Doing it Right 1/2, Flight into Egypt - Doing it Right 2/2, Flight into Egypt 07 - Going Home 1/2, Flight into Egypt 07 - Going Home 2/2)

Mulder watched Dana take their son's hand and help the little one make the sign of the Cross, then bowed his head as the prayer began. He couldn't help thinking of their conversation of the morning. Yes, he did feel safe in this place, among these people. But maybe Scully was right. They were still very much strangers, very much alone. It felt good to forget all the danger they'd lived for so long, but the danger was still there, waiting for them to slip up.

Mulder and Scully and William hit the road, becoming fugitives in a small mountain town in order to keep their families together. Of course, ghosts from their past will always find them; and, sooner or later, they have to face the complicated present.

Girlie_girl7’s A Day in the Life (A Day in the Life, 05 and A Day in the Life 12 - A Fractured Christmas Story and A Day in the Life, 14 - Christmas and A Day in the Life, 35 - Fox Mantle and A Day in the Life, 30 - The Shooting/A Day in the Life, 31 - Home Coming and A Day in the Life, 36 - Problem Child)

Mulder carries his daughter into his office all the while rubbing her dark, curly, head against his cheek. He pulls out the desk chair and switches on the computer then sits down with Katherine balanced on one knee. Scully has the baby dressed in a light blue, terry tank top and matching shorts, she kicks her white baby shoe against the desk as Mulder absentmindedly reaches down to still her foot. He brings up his email and begins to open and delete messages. He's just opened one from a UFO hotline when Katherine begins pounding the keyboard and jabbering. Suddenly the screen goes black and the computer shuts off.

"Katherine, you shut me down," Mulder says with a frown.

Mulder and Scully, their children, and her family experience the ups and downs of parenthood: be it holidays, illnesses, near-death experiences, grown bullies at school pickups, and restaurant shootouts. (Note: the stories linked above-- for brevity’s sake-- are mostly Mulder-centric. My favorite is "14 - Christmas": touchingly touch-and-go.)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 9. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas post-ep, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff - all the fixings: Bill Jr. runs into Mulder in the middle of the night and it goes as well as you might expect. (wc: 1,286)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 22: Cookie Theft and Other Crimes

He hasn't been sleeping, but he thinks that if he had, he would be wide awake now. Whoever is coming down the stairs isn’t quiet. Mulder watches and waits. It’s not Scully, he knows that much. She’d never make so much noise this late at night. It doesn’t take long until he sees the culprit. Of course, it’s Bill Jr.

Mulder gets up – quietly – and follows the other man into the kitchen, watching in amusement. This man, who hates his guts, and has threatened to take him down more than once, has snuck down in the middle of the night, to steal one of Mrs. Scully’s Christmas cookies.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” It’s dark, but Mulder sees Bill Jr. jerk, his hand still in the air.

“What in- what the fuck are you doing here?” Forgotten are the cookies. Bill Jr. stands up tall and approaches him. “Did you break into my mother’s house? I’m going to call the police.”

“Your mother knows I’m here,” Mulder says calmly. At least he thinks she does. He knows that Scully knows he’s here. Right now, she’s the only one who matters to him.

“Right. Why don’t I believe you? You weren’t here earlier. I would have remembered seeing you. Are you still not done harassing my family?”

“What is going on down here?” The lights come on and both Mulder and Bill Jr. blink in surprise. Mrs. Scully stands before them with tired, but furious eyes, wearing a big, fluffy robe. She looks from one man to the other, not caring who gives her an answer.

“This punk here-”

“Your sister’s partner,” Mrs. Scully corrects him and Mulder bites back a smile. Bill, however, snorts.

“Did you know he was here? He is sneaking around down here in the dark.”

“Would you rather I be in your sister’s bedroom?” Mulder realizes his mistake as soon as the words have left his mouth. Mrs. Scully isn’t quick enough and Mulder doesn’t even try to move away when Bill Jr. swings his fist at him. There’s a sound that reminds him of stepping on a branch, and the thought distracts him so much, that for a moment, he doesn’t feel any pain.

“William Scully Jr.! Have you lost your mind?” It’s only when Mrs. Scully touches his jaw that he notices the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the throbbing pain that comes with it.

“He deserved it.” Mulder doesn’t argue.

“Go wake your sister, Bill,” Mrs. Scully says while she gets an ice pack for Mulder. “Sit down, Fox.” Her voice goes from livid to gentle.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Scully,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” she says. “My son overreacted.”

“Did you know I was here?” She nods, holding the ice pack to his jaw.

“Not that Dana told me. I heard you two earlier.” Mulder blushes. There’s no reason to. They didn’t do anything scandalous. “She should have invited you all along.”

“She did. I didn’t want to get in the way of her family time.”

“Fox,” she says, giving him a stern look. “You are family. She missed you. I could see it in her eyes, you know? Not just you. Christmas is hard for all of us. It’s when her father… anyway. With what happened last year, in San Diego, I knew the day would be difficult for her. But she kept saying she was fine.”

“She always says that to me, too,” Mulder mumbles.

“That’s Dana for you. But you’re here anyway. I’m glad, Fox. I’m so glad she has you.” He nods, a lump in his throat. He’s not going to betray a confidence. This is not his story to disclose. He won’t reveal that Scully called him a few hours ago, her voice weak and trembling. She never asks for help. Never. Unless she absolutely has to. All he said to her on the phone was that he'd be there soon.

She opened the door to him and he took her into his arms. No words necessary. He held her as long as she needed it. They talked about Emily, and how she might have grown. How their lives would be if she were with them. Then, she finally fell asleep and he carried her upstairs. He could have left and maybe he should have. But he stayed on the couch, just in case. He’d planned to leave early in the morning before anyone else was awake.

“I’m the lucky one,” he says. “Because she’s in my life.”

Mrs. Scully is about to answer when two quarreling Scully siblings come down the stairs. He wonders how Bill’s wife and his son are sleeping through this.

“This is none of your business,” Scully says, pushing her brother away to get to Mulder. She immediately checks on him, her eyes full of worry. With her face so close, he can still see the redness from when she cried earlier. She’s touching his jaw gently, moving it this way and that.

"He started it," Bill says, but no one is paying attention to him.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” she says, her words brushing his skin. He smiles at her, hoping it’s enough of an apology.

“Well, then he can just leave.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Scully says.

“So?”

“Fox isn’t going anywhere, Bill. He’s our guest.”

“I didn’t invite him.”

“I did.” When Bill wants to say more, his mother stops him. “He will stay here and have breakfast with us tomorrow.” She’s looking at Mulder now and it sounds like a threat. He nods quickly. “Now,” she says with a sigh. “It’s late and some of us are tired. Bill, go back to bed.”

“What about Dana?” he complains.

“She needs to tend to Fox, thanks to you. What were you even doing down here?”

“Oh, you know,” Bill suddenly changes his tune, walking toward the stairs, “I just wanted a glass of water.”

“There’s water upstairs,” Scully mumbles but either her brother and mother haven’t heard her, or they’re ignoring her.

“Hey,” Mulder says once they’re alone. “How are you feeling?”

“I should ask you that.”

“It’s not often that I almost get shot and beaten up in one night. Merry Christmas, huh? But I’m fine.”

“Why did he hit you?”

“Said something stupid,” Mulder says with a shrug. “I caught him trying to steal your mother’s cookies.”

“Well, thank you for guarding them.”

“You said your mother baked them for her church.”

“She did.”

“She would have noticed one missing.” There’s a gleam in Scully’s eyes all of a sudden and she turns to look at the cookies on the table. “Scully, no.”

“We can blame it on Bill,” she suggests.

“He hates me enough as it is.”

“I’ll let my mother know that you made sure neither of her children stole a single cookie,” Scully says with a low chuckle. “You’re gonna be her hero.” Her voice is soft and sweeter than sugar.

“Do you think you can fall back asleep?” he asks, turning serious again. “I am willing to share the couch.”

“I’d love that,” she admits after a pause. “Thank you for tonight, Mulder. I didn’t get to say it earlier. I appreciate it.”

“Even the haunted house?”

“Even that. I know why you did it.” She kisses his cheek and then takes his hand. She snuggles into him on the couch and is fast asleep in no time at all. Mulder closes his eyes and revels in holding her. He drifts off to sleep with the thought that Bill Jr. is going to flip out tomorrow when he finds them entwined like this. He can't help but smile.

[muldermuse]

Halloween Card (Dad!Fox Mulder x Reader)

Okay so imagine Fox is having an awful week at work, Skinner is on his case and May (your daughter) is just over a year old and has fallen out of a sleeping schedule so he’s tired as well as being tired with work

Not even Scully is cheering him up so u know it’s bad- Scully calls you basically daily at this point of a debrief of how he’s been today

You're worried about him and you’re pulling out the big stops to try and make him feel better (having May wear the cutest clothes he has bought her, watching basketball games, keeping a bowl of sunflower seeds on the table for him to snack on) and THEN there’s the nsfw stuff obviously

He’s obviously a great dad and a great partner but you’ve been together for this long at this point that you know- something isn’t right

SO, obviously Halloween is his favourite, so you spend the day with May making a cute Halloween card craft for him

May’s handprint turns into a spooky spider and she scribbles on the page in orange and black crayon which is obviously very spooky

You put her in her pumpkin onesie and as soon as Fox walks through the door he basically melts- she’s too cute. What bad mood??? It’s gone

She has the Halloween card clutched in her lil chubby hand and she babbles at Fox as he walks in and basically chucks the card at him with a huge smile on her face

It reads: “happy Halloween daddy, I love you so much. Love May” VERY SIMPLE but cmon like you thought of it off the cuff but Fox doesn’t CARE he’s welling up (he’s cried at Father’s Day and Christmas cards from May and you’re pretty sure he’ll do it with every card he receives from her)

He takes her from you and presses kisses to her cheeks and says to her “You’re so smart, my smart baby, making a card for me!!”

As Fox is kissing her she’s giggling and babbling at him and he smiles at you and thanks you and you’re like “???? She wrote it, nothing to do with me”

[vintageandroid]

VintageAndroid fanfic full list

All my fanfic is, of course, on my AO3 as well. Please mind my tags & content warnings on AO3. I always update new chapters and babble about current/upcoming projects here under the tag #my fanfiction if you're interested, and I'm going to start doing specialty tags for ongoing fanfic updates.

I always welcome comments, questions, asks, whatever, here or on AO3 as applicable! (I would also welcome fanart but so far it hasn't come up lol.)

General Notes

Most of my fanfic is canon/oc or canon/reader fic, because I think it's fun. Most if not all of my OCs are over 30 and they are often AFAB nonbinary or GNC women. (My implied readers are often gender-neutral and non-specific in age as well.) There are lots of 20-something femme OCs, so if that's what you're looking for, I know you can find it! No problem with it being out there! But I don't feel moved to write any thus far. I'm writing for other horny older bitches.

Some of my fanfic does deal with dark themes or situations. I also love kinky stuff (including D/s, impact play, rough sex), and relationships that are probably not super healthy but are fun in a fictional narrative. If any of these things don't appeal to you, I encourage you to not read my stories.

I write for myself first and foremost, appealing to me and sometimes to my partner. I am self-indulgent, I am cringe, and I am having a blast.

(Speaking of, @inkstars1138 is not only my partner but also my beta-reader and loudest cheerleader. They also write fanfic so go check them out!)

I do not do requests but I do happily brainstorm with people and sometimes come out with more ideas than I want. As you do.

Ghost Band

Novel-length:

On the Edge of the Knife

Primo/OC; 35 chapters (eventually); explicit; pt one of Life After Life series

Father Primo Emeritus, having faked his death for the Ghost project, has spent the past several years as the head of a tiny Satanic church in a crumbling small town. A former resident of that town approaches him with an offer: human sacrifice to try to fix a few things in the world. As a bonus, with such a sacrifice, he could ask Satan to make his own world a little less lonely in his last few years.

Primo doesn't have any problem with human sacrifice. But as he coaches Eden towards the ritual, he does find himself reluctant for other reasons. But there are many ways to take a life...

Sacrifice-to-lovers (let's make this a thing Ghost fandom) involving slightly dubiously consensual D/s, kinky sex, a risotto-cooking ghoul, family of origin versus family of choice, and how no matter where you go you can't escape yourself—but sometimes, if you're lucky, you can find someone to love you exactly where you are. Completed!

Your Love, Bright as the Starlight

Copia/OC & V/OC; 35 chapters; explicit

Ministry tradition entitles the current touring Papa to a volunteer Sibling of Sin to relieve all that erotic energy after any ritual, with one major rule: no attachments from either side. Smut, forbidden relationships, healing, occasional ghoul shenanigans, intrigue, and two brothers trying to figure out how to be brothers...maybe. Complete.

Short:

Recovered Text Log

Copia/OC or reader; one shot; explicit-ish

While Frater Imperator is away to help with the tour, he and an unnamed partner attempt to sext. Exactly nothing goes to plan. Was written as a spin-off of Your Love but can stand on its own. Complete.

Papas' Favorite Toys (To Use On You)

various Papas/reader; 2 chapters; explicit

A list of headcanon thoughts on each papas' favorite sex toys to use with a partner. Chapter 1 consists of vanilla sex toy headcanons; Chapter 2 is dedicated to kink toys. Complete.

Dom!Copia Headcanons

Copia/reader; explicit-ish

Headcanons about how our nerdy awkward dork of a Copia can still successfully be a spectacular dom if you want.

X-Files

Stress Relief

Fox Mulder/reader; one shot; explicit

Your boyfriend Fox Mulder works too hard. Maybe you can help him with that. (Shameless blowjob fic.) Complete.

Your Boyfriend, Fox Mulder

Fox Mulder/reader; PG13 at most

A list of headcanons about dating Fox Mulder. Complete.

Batman

Echolocation

Bruce Wayne/OC; 26 chapters; explicit

Batman is just trying to put a corrupt businessman back in jail, but he's struggling to find the connection he knows exists between the new synthesized street drug and the businessman in question. His search for answers unveils a lot more than he expected. Like the reluctant psychic they've kept locked away…who knows a lot more than she's telling her keepers. Complex plot, romance, smut, angst with a happy ending. Complete.

No Interview Skills

gen; one-shot; all audiences

Gotham City's poor job market leads people to becoming masked supervillains, more often than should probably be the case. But sometimes, people can do better, if they're very lucky. Unnamed and ungendered POV character. (lol no one has read this one but I'm still really proud of it.)

Gotham City Resident Problems

gen; one-shot; all audiences

Headcanons list with a bit of a reader perspective of how much it probably sucks to live in Gotham as an ordinary citizen.

[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Two: Piglet Takes A Plane

^^ rip the gif quality ugh LOL

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 2,575

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You were not well-acclimated to flying. You’d gone on one trip in your life by plane, and it was from Massachusetts to Disney World; you were five, and your father held your hand the whole ride, and you had not a worry in the world. But now you’re older, bigger, and positively terrified of all the possibilities. Even in taking this job with the FBI, you somehow failed to consider the chance you’d need to travel. All that time spent working in New York got you used to staying in one place because God knows there’s enough crime up there to keep you stationed at home. But now, you need to fly halfway across the country just to start your job. You were a nervous wreck; Fox could see that by how you sat hunched over in your seat, flipping through your copy of the case files like a fugitive, jumping at the fuzzy announcements every time they reminded the gate-goers of their departure times. 

“Not a frequent flier, huh?”

“No.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I fly all the time, I’m a pro, I’ve got all the tips,” the man attempted to comfort you, but it came out more like teasing. He shifted gears with, “Did you know that you’d have to fly every single day for nearly 10,000 years to get in a plane crash? The likelihood of you dying in a plain old car accident is way higher than the plane going down.”

You frowned in aggravation and grumbled, “Not helping.”

“What will help, then?”

The attendant interjected, her grating voice in the PA system blaring the worst news: “Flight 128, Dulles to Kansas City, will begin boarding now. Groups one and two, please make your way to the gate.”

Fox stood up and took your bag for you, chuckling to himself. When he caught a glimpse of the color leaving your face, he said, “Oh, come on, Piglet, the plane won’t go down! You’re gonna be okay, promise.”

You followed the man towards the front of the gate, where a line of people itching to board stood. The odd nickname rang in your ears like an alarm, panicking you along with the feeling jolting through your arms; you wanted to say something, but the anxiety paralyzing your limbs was much more pressing than your objection. Ignoring the urge, you stood behind Fox so you could watch how he got through- the attendant took his boarding pass, scanned it, and checked his passport photo. He smiled charmingly at the woman, whose eyelashes fluttered as she passed his papers back. Then, he walked through the little turnstile and stood on the other side, giving you an encouraging nod. He mouthed to you: Relax. 

You attempted to mirror the ease with which he went about passing through, but as you flashed the lady a nervous grin, you fumbled the things in your hands and dropped your passport. You bent down to grab it and bumped into the man behind you on the way back up. You muttered an apology, and he simply huffed in response.

The attendant stared at your passport photo, which you knew was nearly expired, and she said, “Changed your hair?”

Mortified- and slightly pissed off by her tone- you responded, “Seven years ago.”

She passed your belongings back and you walked through the checkpoint to Fox, but not without bumping into the bars before she unlocked them, yet again making yourself look like an idiot in front of the line. Your partner was biting back the most innocent laugh when you finally passed through. He’d never tell you, but he admired the way your face did the talking- all it took was one look to know how you felt about that woman, and the sheepish color in your cheeks was endearing. You tried to take your duffle from him, but he swung it away and clicked his tongue, so instead you walked onto the jet bridge, and he followed. Every few seconds you looked back to find he was still there, and each time his kind eyes put you at ease. You let out a heavy breath as you reached the plane door., where you were greeted by two flight attendants who looked at your boarding pass and pointed you in the proper direction. You made sure your partner was right behind you and tried not to giggle at the way he had to hunch. You knew he was tall, but inside a plane, he almost towered… or maybe you just thought he did, since you felt relatively small all morning. Attentively, you followed the aisle numbers just above your head down the line until you reached the middle of the cabin. Row 29, you thought to yourself, this is it. You scooted into the window seat and watched Fox push both yours and his luggage into the overhead compartment. You would’ve never imagined he was strong, given the pleasing lankiness of his body, but he didn’t lug or haul- he simply lifted. You turned your attention to the seat before you when he moved to loosen his tie and sit in the aisle seat of the row. 

Fox watched as you leaned back against the headrest to settle, taking note of your features. He stole a few glances yesterday when you were filling out paperwork for your transition into the Bureau on his old desk; for the first time, he wished his office wasn’t so dark. He didn’t get much of a chance other than when he offered to walk you to your car at the end of the night, which you gratefully accepted. He thought your car suited you, being compact and black, but with pictures pinned to the inside roof- reserved, understated, hiding things beneath the surface. His analytic brain was so intrigued by you. Here, where the lights weren’t so low, he could see a lot more. Your jaw had less sharpness and more of a curvature, molding your face into something of a heart; your eyelashes were long, and they curled upwards, mirroring your button nose. It had a little bump on the bridge, which he thought might be from long-term glasses-wearing, but he couldn’t be sure. His eyes traveled along your plump cheeks, a nervous red, just like your lips; your chin protruded a bit, but not too much, just enough. There was a warm feeling between his lungs, an odd one, but he kept looking at how your chest rose and fell anxiously, and wondered how your face could look serene when you felt anything but. 

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.”

Fox’s head snapped around to see an older woman, gray hair to her shoulders, staring down at him with frustration. You opened your eyes as he muttered, “Oh, sorry. I’ll move over.”

You pulled yourself in tight, tucking your elbows between the armrests stiffly so Fox could scooch over and sit beside you. He smiled at your awkward position and said, “Loosen up Piglet. Everyone is too small for economy, you don’t have to suck it in for me.” You blushed and readjusted, offering him a tight-lipped grin. Another stress you’d had was taking up too much room in the seat, but he didn’t seem to find you did. Fox crossed his own over his chest to give up the armrest. You continued to take long, deep breaths as the seatbelt lights flashed, and when they announced preparation for takeoff. You were doing fine- when Fox started talking about the case, you even paid him half attention. But it all went downhill when the airplane engine began to rev beneath your feet. You tensed up like you were in pain, drawing Fox’s attention away from his ramblings. 

“What’s the matter?”

“I told you, I- I don’t like flying,”

“I know you don’t,” Fox spoke softly, “We’re on the wing, you know. I changed our seats last night so we got the wing. It’s the steadiest part during the flight. Nothing to be scared of.”

You looked out the little window by your shoulder, seeing the plane’s wing stretching out for what looked like forever. You couldn’t see the tarmac, only the span of it, white and comforting. Turning back to him, you realized you’d never seen a face so sincere. “You did?”

“No reason to make you suffer, right?”

Just as you went to really smile at him, the plane began rolling- no, hurtling into takeoff. In a fit of fear, you seized the armrest and shut your eyes. You’d had nightmares about plane crashes. You’d refused any trips that were too long by car. Between when he told you about the case yesterday and this morning, you’d imagined every possible disaster and had reached the epitome of paranoia about it. Yet here you were, stuck in the center of your fear. It felt like your ribs were burning up from the inside out.

You felt rough skin against your knuckles and opened your eyes to see a familiar hand on your own. Your gaze trailed up the arm to the face it belonged to. 

“I’m right here,” Fox leaned in close, and you saw those golden rings again. They seemed to glow. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many worries you wanted to voice, but you couldn’t. The sound of his comfort was a roadblock, and all your reckless thoughts smashed head-first into it, making it impossible to think in the pile-up. Instead, you nodded quickly and flipped your palm up, lacing your fingers with his. Pressing your head hard against the seat and swallowing butterflies that you couldn’t define as nervous or excited, you paid close attention to the way his thumb rubbed slow, deliberate circles into your hand. Through the rattling of the engine and the screaming whistle of the air curling around the wings, you felt his touch grounding you in mid-air. You forced yourself to get lost long enough that the plane was in flight for at least a minute or two before you opened your eyes again. 

Humiliated by what a sight you must’ve been, you loosened your deathly grip on Fox’s hand and apologized. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, flexing his palm. “You’re strong. Didn’t hurt me, though.”

As you settled into the seat, you felt the ghost of his thumb on your knuckle. The skin was cold. You thought of how hard his hands were. Oddly warm. Curiosity nearly got the better of you as you saw him looking from the corner of your eye, but you pivoted to something else that bugged you. “Where did Piglet come from?”

“Huh?”

“Piglet. Before, at the gate, you called me Piglet.”

“Oh. That,” Fox giggled. You wondered how a guy could look so boyish and weathered all at once. “I don’t know, you’re just so… fretful.”

“Fretful?”

“Yeah. You worry about everything. Yesterday you were practically pulling hair out over those stupid processing papers. This whole plane thing has been a nightmare for you. I don’t blame you, I can be anxious myself… but it just seems like everything drives you crazy. I can imagine you just stressing out, running all around the woods rambling like Piglet does. Y’know, pacing, complaining, bugging Pooh.”

“Oh, and what, are you Pooh in this scenario?”

Fox feigned offense. “What, am I not carefree and- and honey-loving enough for you?”

“If you’re anybody, you’re Eeyore. Maybe some weird amalgamation of Eeyore and Tigger, since you think you’re so funny.”

“I can’t believe this!” Fox gasped jokingly, splaying his hand over his heart and wincing. “You’re brutal, Piglet. So brutal.”

You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, so you looked down to hide what you could of it. And in a stroke of confidence, you said, “If you’re gonna nickname me, can I at least suggest something?”

Fox craned his neck down playfully, searching for the eye contact that you were purposefully refusing him. You felt your cheeks heating up once again, and he must’ve seen it because his eyes twinkled. “Sure. Whatcha got?”

“Rosaline. Maybe Rosie. Something like that.” “Rosaline? Why?” 

When you did raise your head to meet his gaze, there was a genuine look of interest. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pouted in some gentle way, and he rested his chin in his hand like he was a student behind a desk, soaking up every second of a lecture. You blinked, suddenly embarrassed for speaking up. “Like Romeo’s Rosaline. She’s my favorite Shakespeare character. I, uh…”

Fox was fixed on you. When you trailed off, he insisted, “What about her?”

“Well, I had to do a project on her back in middle school. I had to come up with a new end scene, sort of like a “What if Romeo went back to Rosaline in the end?” type of deal. I- I got in her head a little, tried to understand what it must’ve felt like to be left by a lover out of nowhere… I don’t know, I guess I just resonated with her. I always thought she deserved better cards. I do love Romeo and Juliet, but I think how she disappears into their story is almost more tragic than how the play really ends sometimes… a-and after that, I always wished I had her name,” you gushed. As you realized how much you’d spoken, you mumbled, “Sorry. Dorky, I know.”

The agent ogled you like some specimen he’d never seen before. He knew he was making a face, but he couldn’t help it. You were like a curveball, just flying by and catching him off guard every chance you got. You thought about things in a way that made him want to think like you. Before you said anything, he hadn’t remembered who Rosaline was; his extent of knowledge was how hot the actress who played Juliet was in the 1968 adaptation he saw in school. But the way you looked when you explained it somehow made the man feel guilty for ever forgetting her, for just letting her be lost in time like everyone who suffered the whiplash of Romeo and Juliet’s love. For you to resonate with her, you must see yourself in her, and he wanted so desperately to understand why. Somewhere in the part of his brain where he stifles his thoughts, he knew he could never forget her name now- because by doing so, he’d be forgetting you. And that was not something he was prepared for.

Despite the churning in his stomach, Fox slapped on a smirk and joked, “Good job, you just reminded me of how much I hated Shakespeare when I was fourteen.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Well, we’ll see,” he teased, tipping his head back against his headrest and smiling. “Maybe I’ll go for it. But every time you freak out, we’re going straight to Piglet.”

“Yeah, fine… Eeyore.”

“What’d you call me?”

“Nothing!”

You playfully fell silent and turned towards the window, which you swiftly shut because you didn’t want to know how high up the plane was flying. From a seat over, Fox watched you close your eyes and zone out, and he thought to himself that if you happened to fall asleep in your seat, and your head lolled onto his shoulder, that he would let you rest on him, even if it meant holding his pee until landing. 

[aloysiavirgata]

Prompt: Maggie/Scully Come to Jesus discussion re: Mulder

Her mother strokes her hair, and Scully curls her toes inside of her slippers until her mother’s touch feels good and soothing. Feels like love instead of control.

“I saw you and Fox,” Maggie says, checking the muffins in the oven.

Scully had not asked for muffins or observations regarding her partner or, frankly, her mother’s presence at all. She wanted her oncologist’s paperwork, a kiss on the cheek, and maybe some flowers. Peonies to brighten up the kitchen.

“Mom.”

“Dana.”

Scully stares at the painted-over drywall ceiling. “Mom if you have something to say I wish you’d ju-“

“Are you involved?” her mother asks.

Involved, good god. Would I give him my kidney, would I die for him, would I casually fuck another man because I cannot deal with my marrow-deep adoration of the searing brilliance of his pre-frontal cortex?

“No,” she tells her Catholic mother, because she has not known Mulder in the biblical sense, because that is the sense that matters to her lovely mother who gave birth to a 9-pound 30-week “preemie.”

Maggie blinks, long and slow.

“He’s my friend,” Scully says, stalling, describing Mulder in the same way one might describe Mount Everest as a slight aberration in the Earth’s crust.

Her mother cups her cheek in a cool palm. “Dana.”

“Mom.”

Maggie smiles then, smiles at her frail, beautiful, impossible daughter. “Melissa told me, years ago,” she murmurs.

Scully blushes then, her pale cheeks rosy for a moment. Hot with her thin, anemic blood.

“He’s a good man,” Maggie continues. It hurts to go on, but my god, what else is left?

Scully looks away, looks at clouds massing in the west.

“He loves you,” her mother goes on, like she doesn’t know Mulder adores her, would kill and maim for her.

“Mom,” Scully says again. Mulder’s kisses private in the sweet dark of her mind.

Maggie pulls a pan of muffins from the oven, puts another one in as though her daughter is eating three or four a day.

“I know about Daniel,” Maggie says, and Scully absolutely wants to die then. To bring up THAT when she’s been all but snatched from the grave.

“Mom,” Scully repeats, desperate now.

“We did our best, your father and I, but we aren’t saints. I know some of your history with men, Dana. I don’t like the danger Fox puts you in.”

Mulder, Scully mouths.

“But on some level,” her mother continues, “Maybe the deepest level, I think he understands you. And I’m your mother and you got a second chance. What are you going to do with it, Dana?”

Scully looks at her tidy little home, at her teabags and her prescription bottles and her drainboard. Mulder doesn’t have a drainboard. Mulder has paper plates and plastic forks and eleven different books that include leylines and one exclusively on medieval bestiaries and a mouth like a beesting.

“I’m going to live,” she says.