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greekowl87 · 3 years

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Fic: Embracing Parenthood 5/?

Get caught up: (1) | (2) | (3) (4) or AO3

A/N: I’ve been writing while trying to figure out my depression but it’s not as much as I would like. I finally got this done and have two other things I am working on. Looking at episodes 4-D and Lord of the Flies, I decided to consolidate this chapter and do a focus on “Lord of the Flies”. I’m still not 100% on the direction this will be taking. I borrowed lines from the episode so, just an fyi. I used the transcript from Inside the X. Bit of light smut at the end.

Tagging @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm

After a few more months, they seemed to finally be hitting their stride. This new...whatever it was...took some getting used to for Mulder and Scully. Aside from the one time they caught William’s mobile spinning under its own accord, they had not caught anything else. Scully was fine with this and shut down any attempt Mulder made to bring it up. She kept telling herself that their son was just fine and normal like any other baby. After a couple of weeks, Mulder gave up. It became an unspoken agreement between them. Aside from this, things at the academy and x-files remained quiet.

Agent Reyes settled in an apartment in Foggy Bottom. A few x-files have been solved. Despite Agent Reyes’s claim of an interdimensional serial killer nearly ending his life, Doggett was still alive. Mulder and Scully settled into their teaching roles at the academy, William was growing in size, and they both were beginning to believe that they were getting that happy ending that they both deserved.

On a regular Wednesday afternoon, as Mulder graded quizzes in his office, he heard a light knocking at the door. “Come in,” he called looking up from his desks.

Scully smiled at him. “How’s the grading, Agent Mulder?”

“I want to know your secret,” he confessed. He held out his hand, offering a chair across from him. She surprised him instead by taking his hand, squeezing it, and kissed him deeply. “Well, hello to you too.”

“I like this, Scully.”

“I’m glad. I have to go to New Jersey though. Agents Doggett and Reyes need my medical opinion about a matter.”

“Do you need me to tag along?”

She didn’t answer his question. She sat in the chair across from him. “Teaching suits you, Mulder. Are you happy?”

“I can do without the grading,” he confided. “So, back to the case? Is this what...for an afternoon?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe. I’m sure it’s fairly straightforward. A teenager was found with half of the head collapsed in, and many flies came swarming out.”

“Flies? Is this a case of Lord of the Flies? Or Jeff Goldum’s The Fly?”

“Thankfully not. I just suspect something weird. However, I need to travel to New Jersey to lend a helping hand.”

“You never answered my question. Do you need me to tag along?”

“No. I’ve already called my mother to let her know. I’m taking a car from the pool and I’ll be stopping by the apartment before making my way to New Jersey.”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The suddenness of this news made him feel very uncomfortable. He did not have much time to sort through these new feelings as Scully continued. “It’s a three-hour drive from Washington. I’ll be spending the night up there. I should be back in a day or two.”

Mulder cleared his throat. “Just like that?”

She titled her head. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“No,” he lied. He fiddled with the pen in front of him, rolling it back and forth on his desk. “I’ll pick up William from your mother.”

“It’s only for 48 hours,” she said.

“It’s not a big deal, Scully. Do you not have faith in me taking care of William?”

“I didn’t say that but you are pouting.”

“I’m not pouting. Look, I probably need a guy’s night anyway.”

“The Gunmen?” She asked.

“I was just thinking about me, Will, and Plan 9 From Outer Space. You know a guy’s night.”

“Maybe pick a less depressing film?”

“We’ll be fine, mom. Promise.” Scully arched her eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Promise, Scully. Nothing will go wrong.”

Her cellphone started to ring and she sighed, looking at the caller ID. “It’s Agent Doggett,” she sighed. She got up from her chair and hastily kissed his cheek as she left. “I’ll call you when I get there. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied, watching her retreating form.

As the emotions welled in his chest. Mulder pushed the rest of the ungraded quizzes to the side and began to search for movies. As a psychologist, he knew pushing his emotions aside and burying them was unhealthy. He and Scully spent seven years doing that. Unfortunately, he was no longer a bachelor and had a baby to worry about as well.

* * * * * *

Traffic was a beast in driving the length of I-95 to Quantico to drive the hour to Annapolis to Marget Scully’s house. Two accidents just added to Mulder’s sour mood. As he sat in traffic, he tried to distract himself by switching it to NPR and ultimately switched it off. As traffic inched towards Maryland, he finally identified and named just a few of the emotions that were swirling in his chest. Jealousy. Feelings of inadequacy. Sadness.

He sighed, finally sighting the exit to Mrs. Scully’s and signaled the right turn signal. As he pulled off, he was bitterly reminded of the initial shock and awe he felt coming back from the dead. He struggled to find this place in a Twilight Zone-like universe where he no longer had the x-files and had Scully seven months pregnant. They struggled to find their footing. Mulder remembered feeling left out and bitter that Scully had a new partner in Doggett. He didn’t necessarily dislike this man. He was a good agent, just like Scully had said, but he was the one investigating x-files with Scully. Mulder wasn’t. He didn’t mind Agent Reyes either. He liked her and thought her addition to the x-files office in place of Scully would help balance the skeptical Doggett. But that didn’t stop him from feeling jealous and left out.

As he slowed, pulling into a residential neighborhood, he saw Mrs. Scully’s white sedan in the driveway and the lights throughout the house. He jogged up the front steps and raised his hand to knock. Mrs. Scully opened the door before his knuckles could rap against the wood. “Fox, I’m glad to see you weren’t caught up in traffic too badly!”

“I still hit a couple of accidents, Mrs. Scully.” He forced a smile. “Were you expecting someone?”

“What? Oh, no! I saw your headlights in the driveway. Come in! I was just about to pull out dinner.”

“I couldn’t…” he stammered out of instinct.

“Nonsense. Besides, William will be very happy to see you.”

Oh yeah, he thought, I’m a father. “You need to get past the formalities, Fox. Don’t you think Maggie will do? You are the father to my grandson after all.” Mrs. Scully was already pulling on his hand, tugging him inside before he could put up a fight. “Besides, as much as I love my daughter, Dana does not know how to cook.”

“Actually, she’s quite good,” Mulder defended.

Mrs. Scully chuckled to herself. “What I meant is she doesn’t know how to cook for a family. I raised four children by myself for the most part when the Captain was at sea. Now that William is here, I’m not going to dismiss the possibility. Take off your shoes, Fox.”

Mulder slid off his polished Oxford shoes and loosened his tie. “The possibility of what?”

Maggie stopped and smiled. “Of what could be. Come on. I bet William will be excited to see you.”

Mulder followed Mrs. Scully into the kitchen and saw his son light up. William began to babble happily and stretch his arms for his father. He smiled and bent down to kiss his forehead. “I think he is going to have Scully’s eyes.”

“They might still turn brown. I don’t know, Fox. I think William is beginning to look like you. Have a seat. Do you want a beer with dinner?”

“Water would be fine.”

Mulder sat closest to William as Mrs. Scully served them. “William was fine today,” she said. “Dana called and let me know. If it is more convenient, I can come to Georgetown and watch William tomorrow if you want.”

Mulder nodded and replied, “I would appreciate that. I wish I could simply take the time off.”

Mrs. Scully played with her shepherd’s pie. And how are you feeling, Fox with Dana in New Jersey and you here?”

He was caught off guard with the question. “What do you mean?”

“Seven years you two were practically glued together. She would always answer your calls. Now you’re here and she's out in the field.” She paused. “I know you two had some difficulties when you came back.”

He chuckled hollowly. “Not every day you come back from the dead.”

“Exactly. She was alone for six months.”

“I didn’t leave her intentionally,” he defended quietly.

“I’m not saying that you did. I’m not my oldest son, Fox.”

“I’m that bad?”

“Worse than Dana,” she chuckled. “I know what it’s like to feel left behind and on the sidelines. I imagine you felt some sort of jealousy with Agent Doggett when you first met him?”

“I, uh, punched him in the jaw.”

Mrs. Scully nodded. “Dana mentioned something about that. The point is, Fox, I know what is like feeling out of the loop when your partner is out doing something. I felt the same way when Bill was out to sea and I was left to raise four kids of my own. He would joke that I was the admiral in the family.” She gave a small smile. “And you find yourself in a similar situation.”

“I guess so,” he whispered. He pushed his food around. “Even though we’re both teaching at the academy, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“You could always propose.”

William squealed eagerly and threw something across the table making Mulder jump. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Scully shrugged. “I just figured after 8 years, a child, and sharing an apartment...it’s time you make it permanent, Fox.”

“I…”

She held up her hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Just think about it. In the meantime, are you sure I can’t get you anything else right now?”

“Yeah,” he stammered. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

As it neared 8 o’clock, Mulder gathered his son and Mrs. Scully piled leftovers into a brown grocery bag to walk him out. “I’ll be up by 10 tomorrow. What time will you be home?”

“About six,” he replied, shifting William in his arms. “Scully said she might be home by tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ll set one extra place at the table.”

Mulder, still feeling insecure, interrupted. “You don’t have to, Mrs. Scully. I can take care of William. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Nonsense,” she dismissed. “I love seeing my grandson.” She kissed Mulder’s cheek goodbye. “And I don’t do these things because I pity you or think you unworthy of Dana, Fox. I do it out of love for you and William. Now, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

As the door closed behind him and Mulder tucked William into his car seat, his thoughts became distracted yet again. Scully did need him, right? He hadn’t brushed aside. And what did Mrs. Scully insinuate with their dinner conversation?

* * * * * *

A few states away in Manahawkin, New Jersey, Scully retired from examining the half-collapsed head of “Captain Dare” and the persistent flirting of Dr. Rocky Bronzino earlier than she anticipated. She politely declined the dinner invitation from Agents Doggett and Reyes as well. She found her attention drifting towards various journal articles about the Spanish fly and their mating rituals. After a few hours, Scully abandoned her research.

She tried to take a bath and felt distracted. Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the facts of the case. As she dressed for bed, she sleepily looked at the motel clock and saw it was nine o’clock. How could she have let time get away from her? Without a second thought, she found her cell and called the apartment’s landline. When there was no answer, she quickly called Mulder’s cell phone. He answered the third thing.

“Mulder,” he greeted automatically.

She could hear him hiding a yawn in his voice. “Mulder, it’s me,” she spoke softly. “Did I catch you at a bad moment?”

“No,” he sighed. “I just put William to bed. A late bath, a lot of crying, and a partially read bedtime story and he is down for the count. He misses you terribly.”

“I bet,” she said. Scully shifted the files around. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” He yawned again.

“How are you?”

“Tired,” he admitted simply. “And very much missing you. Your bed is too big without you. But never mind me. Tell me about the case?”

“I am dealing with a human head half-collapsed in with flies exploding it before I arrived. Agents Doggett and Reyes are chasing down a teenager suspect.”

“Oh,” he hummed. “Bugs. Is this like those teenagers from Pittsfield, Virginia, Scully?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m not entirely sure if this is an x-file yet. I mean it has bugs. It’s all about the bugs, Mulder.”

“Washington state. One of our first cases.”

“Well, no one has been found cocooned in the web.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” she repeated. Scully sighed and looked at the empty side of the motel bed. “I should be done by tomorrow evening. Hey, we have the weekend at least. One perk of teaching at the academy: normal 9-5 jobs.”

“Unless you get called away on another case.” Scully could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But yeah, I’ll look forward to it.”

“Mulder, are you okay?”

She could hear the phone shifting on his end. “Hm? Yeah. I was just getting the blankets pulled down. I thought about putting William in the bassinet but I guess he needs to learn about sleeping in his room.”

Scully groaned inwardly. “You’re not helping,” she told him.

“What did I do?”

There was a weariness in his voice she could not place. “Mulder, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing, nothing. Everything is okay. I’m handling it just fine.”

She heard his voice rise defensively and the baby crying in the background. “Look, Scully. I’m going to check on William. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Okay but…” Mulder hung up the phone before Scully had a chance to reply. “Great.”

Scully looked back at the clock, wondering if she should call her partner back. She felt hurt about the shortness in her voice. What had happened? Did her mother say something to Mulder? Did she do something? Did something else happen to William that he wasn’t telling her? In the end, she decided not to call him back lest she wake the baby again and cause Mulder to lose any sleep. As she settled in the motel bed, she turned onto her side and swept her arm up and down the empty side. She missed being away from him and their son.

Three hours away in Georgetown, Mulder, unable to sleep found himself on the couch in front of the television. William held contently against his chest. William sleepily watched his father as Mulder settled on TCM for a black and white horror film. A small gurgling brought Mulder’s attention back to his son. “We’ll just keep daddy sleeping on the couch a secret from mom,” he said.

William yawned and twisted his head towards Mulder’s chest. “Well, the important thing is that you’re comfortable,” Mulder continued. “You’re just like your mother; she can sleep anywhere too. I think her favorite place is to fall asleep on me.”

He shifted his attention back to the television and then back at his son. “I can’t help but feel forgotten,” he confessed to William. “I mean, your mom was all by herself when she found out she was pregnant with you and I was abducted. She got a new partner.” Mulder thought of Doggett’s straight-laced demeanor. “He is just the opposite of what I expected. And of course, I am jealous of him. He was the one watching Scully’s back because I ran off to chase down a damn UFO. Look at what that got me, Will. Six feet under.” He looked down at his son. “Does that make me a bad person?”

William met him with silence.

“Well, I value your opinion so don’t hold back,” he told the baby. More silence except for a sleepy blink. “I think that is why I was so distant tonight. I’m jealous. I’m upset. I feel left behind.” Mulder watched his son grow sleepier. He had Scully’s blue eyes. “I feel like she’s moved on without me. I have since I came back. Even with you and all your glory, bud, I still feel inadequate.” William grabbed a fistful of Mulder’s t-shirt as his eyes grew heavier. “Are you trying to reassure me?” Mulder chuckled slightly. “I wish I could tell Scully how I felt.”

One day, he promised himself. As William drifted off to sleep, Mulder found himself wide awake still, his thoughts going to Scully and the bitterness he felt over the fact she was out in the field and he felt left behind.

* * * * *

Back in New Jersey, Scully left the motel to head straight to the medical examiner’s office. Agents Doggett and Reyes had texted her that they were going to follow up with some matters at the high school before meeting her at the medical examiner. On her way there, Scully tried to call Mulder again first at his office and then his cell. This was the second time since last night that he hadn’t answered his phone. Trying to dismiss the growing insecurities into the back of her mind, she tried to focus on the case instead. As Scully strolled into the main medical lab, it was much to her dismay that Dr. Bronzino was waiting for her.

“Dr. Scully,” the overly tanned scientist greeted. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Well,” she greeted with some reserve. “Have Agents Doggett and Reyes arrived yet?”

“Not at all! But I’ve been examining the flies that exploded from that young man’s skull. It’s quite fascinating really. Being a forensic pathologist, you might find this particularly interesting. Have you ever heard of the coffins fly?”

Scully took a step back and forced a smile. “I can’t say I have.”

“Well, they’re amazing creatures. A female coffin fly has been known to bury its way through over two meters of dirt just to lay its eggs on the cadaver. That is the equivalent of a human digging two miles into the ground.” He flashed her a dazzling smile of whitened teeth. “Isn’t it amazing of the lengths one will go to procreate?”

“Fascinating,” she replied quickly, “but what does this have to do with the victim?”

“Oh,” the entomologist exclaimed, “all the flies that came for the young victim’s head were female. There is probably nothing to it but isn't it fascinating?”

Scully’s mind was already firing and meaning connections. “It is. And it could be nothing or it could mean everything. Did you set any aside for the examination?”

Dr. Bronzino waved to the other end of the room where the microscope was. “I was going to prepare some samples to examine.”

She moved towards the microscope. “Why don’t I start on that and you do whatever it is that you are doing, Dr. Bronzino”

“Excellent suggestion, Dr. Scully! Divide and conquer! I like the sound of that!”

“I’m sure,” she answered.

“Which reminds me. I’m going to run back to my lab real quickly to gather another instrument of my invention. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” she said.

Scully was secretly glad to see him retreat as she set to work. She laid out her research of flies that she had started the night before and her morning coffee. She paused, trying to collect her thoughts before she delved into the day’s work, however, she couldn’t. Her thoughts kept going back to the abrupt conversation that she had with Mulder the night before. He sounded distant and aloof. She was reminded of his jealousy when he came back from the dead. She found her phone and dialed his office at Quantico. At nine a.m., he should have been strolling right then. However, it went straight to messages. She hung up before she could leave one. Growing disgruntled, Scully called the Georgetown apartment. To her surprise, it was her mother that answered.

“Hello?” Her mother answered.

“Hi, mom,” she greeted quickly. “What are you doing at the apartment?”

“Oh, I thought I would save Fox driving to drop off William with me this morning,” she said. “One less hassle to do. I also picked you and Fox up some groceries that you desperately needed.”

“We were fine,” she said. “Where is Mulder? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” her mom replied vaguely. “I found him sleeping on the couch last night with the tv on. William must have kept him up all night.”

She felt a twinge of regret twist her heart. “Is he okay?”

“I guess so. He seemed fine and left for the office with no issue. Why? Is there something that I should be aware of?”

“No, no,” Scully said. She pushed the thoughts of insecurity deep down. Now was not the time. “He seemed distracted last night. We only chatted briefly. Is William okay?”

“He’s a fat, happy baby who can sleep through anything. Just like you were. I’m here until Fox comes home if you need anything. Do you want me to tell Fox that you called?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.”

Her mother was silent on the other end. “Well, if you do need anything, Dana, I’m here with William. Love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

She hung up her phone and tried to ignore the new signs that taunted her. Nothing was fine except she was not going to say anything. Scully sat at the microscope and began to work.

A couple of hours later, Dr. Rocky Bronzino rejoined her with a crude-looking invention to he promised to give a giant break in the case. She half-listened to ramble on about the various mating rituals of insects until she noticed a pattern emerging with the insects. It took Bronzino to confirm her suspicions and identify the peculiar fact about the case. As she continued to examine the flys, at a quarter till noon, Agents Reyes and Doggett walked in. Scully looked at both of them and announced, “I’m glad you’re here. I think we just got our first real break in the case.”

“What did you find?” Reyes asked.

“Well, it's what the entomologist Rocky Bronzino found. The flies that ate at the brain and skull of the victim are all female. Every last one of them.” Scully motioned to a fly under the microscope as she spoke.

Doggett looked towards Monica Reyes and asked, “Exactly how is that a break”

Scully thought for a moment and answered, “Well, what are the chances of that?”

Agent Reyes clarified, “You mean that the absence of males suggests there's a reason for the attack. Behaviourally.”

“Well, something biological is going on. Whether it's hormonal or chemical something has caused these bugs to attack,” Scully theorized.

Doggett added, “Or a need to express themselves.”

Scully asked, “To what?”

Agent Doggett continued, “This is a kid that calls himself "Sky Commander Winky." Agent Reyes and I were interviewing him as a suspect when this happened.” He showed photos of the victim’s back were the words ‘DUMB ASS’ shined a bright, red welt. “The paramedics arrived and treated him for an aggressive attack of bodily lice.”

She took the photos to examine them closer. “Hmm. Lice are not altogether uncommon in a school environment.”

Doggett snorted. “Except that these are better spellers than most of the kids.”

“Maybe they stayed late for after-school lessons,” she snorted. “So what are you saying? That this is just another dumb ass stunt?”

Reyes interjected, “Well, that was my first thought. But the victim here was just too freaked out by this incident to make me believe he'd staged this. Which leads me to think that while you may be right about this being a matter of biology, someone is directing the biology.” She paused. “Maybe you might want to consult Mulder?”

“Why?” Doggett asked. “These are bugs we are talking about.”

“And how does one direct bugs?” She added.

Reyes shrugged and replied, “I don't know how but we've been running down a long list of witnesses.” She passed Scully the rest of the photographs. “A loner who was present at every dumb ass stunt and who had a run-in with this kid Winky at school just prior to the lice attacking. His name is Dylan Lokensgard. We're going to want to talk to him.”

“He seems like a promising start,” Scully replied. “Dr. Bronzino should be back soon. He promised to bring a piece of equipment that will help break the case.”

“We’ll be back then. Call us if you have anything. Let’s head back, Monica.”

“I’ll call you when I have something,” Scully replied.

She watched the two agents retreating. She glanced at the clock on the wall and did the math in her head. She probably wasn’t going to be home that evening that she had promised.

* * * * * *

Having Mrs. Scully watch William in Georgetown instead of Maryland was a bigger relief than Mulder had realized. Although he hit traffic on the way to Quantico, the extra hour of not driving had put him in a somewhat fairer mood. However, as the morning dragged on and he did not hear anything from Scully began to sour his fair mood. By lunch, he was mad. Well not mad, but pouting and being gloomy. If Scully were here, she would have chewed him out and told him to pull his head out of his ass. But that was just it. Scully wasn’t here to do that.

As noon droned on, Mulder heard a light knocking at his door and looked up with some surprise to see A.D. Skinner standing in the doorway. “Wow, Mulder. Even having an office out of the basement and looking depressed as hell.”

“And it’s good to see you too, sir.” Mulder rose to greet the man and offered his hand. “I suspect you did not come down to comment on my office.”

“No.” Skinner paused. “I had a meeting I needed to attend. I wanted to check in on you and see how things were. You know, just to see if you threaten to burn down the establishment yet.”

“Haha,” Mulder said lamely. “No. Things are normal. Just perfectly normal.”

“And you are a terrible liar. Why don’t you come to lunch, Mulder? Get your head out of your ass and get some fresh air.”

“I’m fine where I am,” he said.

“And I know you well enough to know when you’re lying. You’re jealous aren’t you?”

“About what?”

“I know Scully’s out in the field,” Skinner stated, “and you’re not.”

“Way to rub it in.” Mulder glanced at his computer clock and relented. “Fine, fine. It isn’t like I have anything else to do today.”

“Good. You could use the distraction.”

. . . . . .

Back in New Jersey, Doggett and Reyes were still canvassing the school looking for more witnesses, Scully found herself out in the streets with the brazen etymologist, Dr. Rocky Bronzino. His continued efforts of flirting with her wearing down on her last nerves. She surveyed the empty street and how idyllic it reminded her. Dr. Bronzino focused on the tool he had brought from his lap that was designed to help them. He took a step back from the tracker to examine the surroundings.

“So many flowers ... so little time,” he murmured

Scully looked up from the trunk of the Land Rover. “Excuse me?”

The etymologist stated excitedly. “Pheromones, Dr. Scully. Heavy in the air. Nature's natural attractions. Driving the insect world to go forth and pollinate.”

As Dr. Bronzino began to advance on her, she took a few steps back. She shifted her gaze to the device he had brought with him. “I'm aware of how pheromones work. But according to this device, there isn't a single pheromone to be found out here.”

He began to tweak his machine and Scully rolled her eyes, looking back up to the sky. She smirked, remembering the time she was with Mulder when frogs rained from the sky. Dr. Bronzino was growing frustrated. “Well, that can't be right. The biosensor uses an actual fly antenna over which the pheromones pass. But I modified the EAG to measure in picograms which makes it sensitive to traces a mile in any direction.”

Scully watched an overly casual Rocky lean against the car, a confident hand on his hip, as he tried to charm her. Scully tried to remain professional and keep them on track. “But I'm still not sure why you think that pheromones might cause an otherwise harmless fly to attack a human so violently, Doctor…”

“Rocky,” he corrected. His whitened teeth shined as brightly as he flirted with her.

“Rocky,” she repeated

He smiled, thinking his charm was working. “Bugs are small-minded creatures, and therefore very predictable. They don't have moods. They react to circumstance and stimuli as they have been doing for millennia.”

“How wonderful.” She tried to keep it professional. “So what do you suppose they're reacting to out here?”

Dr. Bronzino puffed out his chest like a mating dove and took a few steps forward. “It may be the bugs are being somehow driven crazy with desire. You know, they say we humans respond to pheromones, too.”

Scully put her hands on her hips, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, I tend to agree with that, yeah.”

Rocky pressed on. “‘Women's dormitory syndrome.’ It's believed that pheromones are the reason that women who live together share the same menstrual cycle.”

“Fascinating,” she deadpanned.

Dr. Bronzino felt emboldened. “You know, when a male and female calliphorid fly mate they stay joined for up to one and a half hours. One and a half, doctor.” He punctuated the last few words for emphasis. “What do you think of that?”

Scully stood unfazed. This was not the first time she had to deal with this, however, this time was different. “You know, Rocky ... I'm a mother.”

He arched an eyebrow, not dissuaded. He looked at her left hand. “Mothers are women, too.” He took a moment to look at Scully surveying her. “I noticed a lack of a ring. And what does it matters? Women have biological needs, just like men do.”

“You are drawing dangerous conclusions without lack of evidence, doctor.”

“Well, as a trained scientist, I observe you are a woman. There is no ring on your finger to denote a marriage or a serious relationship in what we consider legally.”

“I can assure you that I am very serious. I am in a committed, nine-year relationship with the baby’s father.”

“Well, he is not here. You are.”

“Doesn’t matter, Rocky. Let’s keep focused here, please.”

“Well, relationships aren’t known to be monogamous,” he countered.

“Seahorses, macaroni penguins, gray wolves, barn owls, and bald eagles,” she said.

“What do those animals have to do with relationships?”

“If you were a real scientist,” she pressed, “you would be aware of some of the animal species that are known to mate for life. There are some cracks in your argument. ”

“Well, there are numerous insects that perform a variety of mating rituals. Give it time, Dr. Scully and I’ll win you over.” She was about to reply but was interrupted by the beeping of the pheromone bio-sensor. Dr. Bronzino turned excitedly to the machine. “Big hit!”

“What is it?”

“A high concentration of c-13 calliphorone...incoming.” He looked up at the sky. Scully did the same and heard the beeping increase and then suddenly dissipate. “What? What happened?” He quickly went to check his machine.

“Nothing, apparently,” Scully commented drily. “We should get back to the lab. Agents Doggett and Reyes might have something for us there.”

“Are we going to continue our discussion of animal mating and ritual habits?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with innuendo.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s done.”

“Dr. Scully, are you blushing? As the great Charles Darwin once said, ‘Blushing is the most peculiar and most human of all expressions.’”

“Don’t make me shoot you,” she sighed.

“I consider it a challenge.”

. . . . . .

“How do you like teaching at the academy,” Skinner asked. He watched Mulder use his plastic fork to push the mac and cheese around on his plate. “Mulder?”

“Um, interesting. A lot better than having to deal with the profiling cases in VCU even though I’m sure I will come calling. That’s part of the deal with teaching? We help out and consult as needed.”

“Are you that bitter that Scully is on an x-file and you’re not,” he asked.

“Am I that obvious?” Mulder asked.

“I’ve had hemorrhoids that weren’t as annoying with you,” he replied. “Or is it the fact that you don’t have the x-files anymore?”

The bluntness of Skinner’s observations caught Mulder off guard. He looked up from his food and took a few moments to reflect. “In theory, I shouldn’t. I have Scully and our son, things are about as normal as we can make them. But I can’t help but feel connected to them in some way. Seeing Scully out in the field, me not there…” He shrugged. “It brings up a lot of baggage.”

“Especially with Doggett?”

Mulder was quiet. “I blame myself. I should have stayed with her instead of chasing UFOs.”

“Doggett’s a good agent, Mulder. It was hard watching her, Mulder, during those months she was gone. Having to keep her pregnancy a secret. It was tough.” Skinner took a napkin and wiped his mouth. “You know, Sharon used to get mad at me when we first got married. I was still a field agent but the jealousy she would get. She felt inadequate with everything that was going on between us. Said she felt left behind.”

Well, Mulder thought, certainly hitting everything on the topic. Skinner continued to stare at Mulder. “And?” he asked. “What did Sharon do?”

“Well, we had a real nasty fight that was the start of our quarrels at the very beginning of our quarrels. I was in the field, missed an important date, you know how it goes.” He smiled to himself, remembering her. He thumbed at the wedding band thoughtfully. “But we made time. Communication wise. It didn’t always go well but we tried.”

“So, in addition to being an assistant director, you are secretly a marriage counselor. Wow, sir.”

“Knock it off, Mulder. All I am saying is that something is bothering you about this...arrangement, then make sure you take the time to talk to Scully.”

Mulder nodded. He decided to change the subject. “So, how is our old buddy Kersh?”

Skinner chuckled. “Tap dancing his way on the top floor so that you’re no longer there to bother him.”

“Well, at least some things never change,” he answered. “My advice, Mulder, from one man who tried to balance a career and relationship? Make sure you always leave time to talk and communicate. If not, the whole thing can go to shit.”

“Thanks, sir,” he nodded. His mind drifted to Scully. “I appreciate the advice. You should come down to Quantico more often. Skinner’s Lunch Hour wisdom.”

“Knock it off, Mulder,” he dismissed.

. . . . . . .

After getting John’s call from the school, Scully took her car to investigate and meet them there. According to Monica, Dylan had somehow controlled the bugs during their confrontation. She was surprised by the number of cops, firefighters, and EMTs. She was even surprised to see people in hazmat suits. But to her surprise, Monica had found them a clue. A used tissue. They rode back to the medical examiner. As they rode the elevator to the second floor. Scully was the first to emerge carrying the tissue in a metal container with Doggett and Reyes flanking her. “Where did you get this again?” She asked.

“Dylan Lokensgard provided it to us when we interviewed him,” Doggett answered.

“I have to warn you, there's typically not a lot to be found in a teenage boy's sweaty kleenex.”

“Well, a teenage boy can produce other things,” Reyes replied.

“Don’t remind me of the future,” Scully laughed thinking of William.

“But we were looking for pheromones. Aren't there pheromones produced in adolescent sweat?” Reyes continued.

“Yes, it's what causes B.O., But all too obviously it's not all that attractive--to anything,” Scully countered. “While I was out with Dr. Bronzino this morning, we thought we had a possible hit this morning but it turned out to be nothing.”

“A possible hit?” Doggett asked.

“Well, Dr. Bronzino was more than trying to hit on pheromones.”

“Well, at least Mulder isn’t here to punch him in the face,” Doggett chuckled.

“Yeah,” she said distantly. Scully’s brief thought of Mulder drifted away as she entered into the medical examiner’s office where Dr. Bronzino was bent over a microscope. She still needed to call him. The lack of communication between them was growing. “Let’s see what we uncover.”

As they entered, the biosensor’s beeps became progressively faster, startling the etymologist grew excited. “Finally! I knew it wasn’t broken!” He glanced up seeing Scully, Doggett, and Reyes. “Dr. Scully, I’m so glad you’re back! I've got a reading here that's going right off the scale. Holy Toledo! We've got pheromones coming out of the ying-yang here. C-13 calliphorene and how.”

As they got closer, the beeping became a steady tone, and then suddenly stopped. Doggett raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I think my electroantennogram just... tilted,” Bronzino spoke in disbelief.

“What's c-13 calliphorone?” Reyes asked.

“Insect pheromone,” Scully supplied.

Dr. Bronzino’s attention shifted to the sample the FBI agents had brought. “Where did you find this mother lode?”

Agent Reyes answered, “A boy named Dylan Lokensgard. That specimen came from him.”

Rocky Bronzino sputtered, “A boy ... is secreting bug pheromones? That's impossible. Preposterous.”

Doggett glanced at Scully who met his gaze, trying to hide her smirk. He glanced back at the doctor. “You're the expert, Dr. Bronzino. How else do you explain it, then?”

When he didn’t respond, Scully asked, “Rocky?”

“A boy is a boy, a bug is a bug. You can't have it both ways,” he explained trying to wrap his mind around it, “science doesn’t allow it. Period.”

“I have a few theories,” Scully began, “Okay, so this boy's going through puberty, right? I mean, maybe his body chemistry is somehow just going crazy and it's his raging teenage hormones that are attracting all these insects.”

Reyes nodded in thought. “What if it's more than chemistry and hormones? More than biology? Dylan's not just attracting these bugs he's using them to act out.”

“Yes, but against what?” Scully asked.

“We saw him talking to a girl,” Reyes answered.

“Well, that makes sense. In a way. Teenage love,” Doggett connected. “The girl is the one in the dumb ass video. Captain dare's girlfriend.”

“How on Earth are you all making these connections,” Rocky said.

“We’ve experienced with cases like these,” Scully said. “Agent Doggett, why don’t you and Agent Reyes try to chase down the girl and check on her. Dr. Bronzino and I will check on Dylan.”

“We will?” He asked, confused.

“We are,” Scully confirmed. “Call each other in about two hours and meet back here?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Doggett nodded.

. . . . . .

It was evening by the time they got to the Lokensgards’ home. As Scully and Bronzino pulled up in front of Dylan Lokensgard’s house, her mind was elsewhere. She did not remember to call Mulder. As they walked up the sidewalk to the front door, Scully slowed and saw the front door slightly open. Scully slowed and drew out her flashlight. She knocked lightly on the door. “Mrs. Lokensgard? Dylan?” She called out.

Rocky Bronzino behind her was fiddling with the machine, trying to fix it, and it started emitting a series of steady beats. “Ah, got it! I'm getting a reading here. Trace levels inside the house.”

Scully shifted her gaze and replied, “Well, I guess that's probable cause.” Scully began her trek up the stairs when she was stopped by Rock Bronzino. “What now?”

Bronzino said quickly, “Dr. Scully? I just wanted to say this while I had a chance.” He smiled with bleached teeth. “This is so exciting. I've never had a partner before. And this isn’t a thing. This is a professional collaboration that happens only one time.”

Scully thought of Mulder and felt her heart twist. “I have. Don’t forget what I told you, Dr. Bronzino.”

“Semantics, Dr. Scully. I'd like to think of it as a hymenopteran relationship. Two scientists using their special knowledge reaching higher than either of them could ever reach alone. And if I may say so, Doctor, you complete me.”

“I’ve already completed. I already have a partner. I’ve told you this. Now, I got upstairs, you takedown.” She shook her head and thought of Mulder. She needed to call him once this was done.

“All right,” he exclaimed, “Partner!”

She rolled her eyes and jogged up the stairs. As she slowly examined the upstairs, her thoughts drifted back to Mulder and how she hadn’t communicated with him. Or her mother. As she neared Dylan’s room, Scully spied Natalie’s class picture on the bed. As her phone rang, she jumped, digging it out. “Scully?”

“Where are you?” It was John Doggett. He sounded rushed.

She looked around the room. “I’m with Dr. Branzino at the Lokengard’s house. But there’s nobody here.

“Yeah, well, I'm afraid the kid's on a tear. He's caused a car accident out here on Glenhaven road,” Doggett explained.

“How'd he do that?”

“You'd better see for yourself.”

“I’m on my way.”

Scully turned to make her downstairs while Rocky was just getting his equipment working properly. He looked up. “It’s everywhere, Dr. Scully. C-13 calliphorone. I'm getting a stiff new reading from up here.”

Scully nodded, “Yeah, Dylan's bedroom's up there. That’s probably what you’re reading. Unfortunately, he's not in it.”

“Where are you going?”

“The kid's on a rampage. I’m going to meet Agent Doggett.” The pheromone machine began to beep loudly and Dr. Bronzino cried in surprise. She called, “You got my number.”

Dr. Bronzino smiled and called out. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, Dr. Scully?”

“Not in your wildest dreams, Rocky.”

. . . . . .

Mulder came home, hoping to see, Scully but his heart fell when it was only Mrs. Scully smiling with William. He should be happy to have his son but he was missing his partner more. After a simple dinner and promises of coming to dinner Saturday night, Mrs. Scully left Mulder alone with William on a Friday night. William was quick to fall asleep and Mulde put him to bed. He surveyed the empty apartment. It felt foreign without Scully there with him.

He went back to the couch and tried to get comfortable. Flipping on the TV, he found the Sports Center. He glanced at his cell phone. He checked it one last time before turning it off. If she wasn’t busy saving the world without him, she would find a way to let him know what is going on.

. . . . .

As Scully drove to meet Agent Doggett, her phone started to ring again. She sighed and answered, “Scully.”

“Agent Scully,” Doggett’s voice filtered through the voice piece, “I need you to turn around and go back to Dylan’s house. Monica just called. She got knocked out and Natalie is gone. I think Dylan got her.”

“Is Agent Reyes okay?”

“Yes, I think so. I found her covered in some sort of web. Like a spider.”

Scully’s mind flashed to one of the first cases she and Mulder had on what was supposed to be a walk through the forest. “Call the EMTs and make sure they bring hazmat gear. I’m on my way back to Dylan’s house.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Take care of Agent Reyes first. And call back up for me as well.”

“You got it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She tried to dial Rocky’s number but it was disconnected. As Scully pulled back up at the Lokensgard home, it was still eerily quiet and something felt amiss. She drew her weapon and flashlight and took a few steps in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Natalie Gordon, the girl that Doggett and Reyes had been after, sitting in a chair and crying. She asked, “Where are they?” Natalie shook her head, unable to speak. “Natalie!”

Natalie’s crying continued. She pointed upstairs wordlessly. Scully pointed her weapon upstairs and began to make her way to the attic. She widened her eyes in disbelief to see large human-sized sacs of web hanging from various positions. She instantly recalled the mysterious web-slinging, glowing insects from Washington state and how her, Mulder, and the park ranger were almost swallowed alive. As she examined them, a small voice emitted, “Help me. Dr. Scully, help me!”

Scully bent down to tear off the web. “Dr. Bronzino?”

“It’s the boy! And the mother!”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded faint. “I don’t feel so good.”

In the distance, she could hear sirens. That must have been Doggett and Reyes coming with the cavalry. She tried to tear the webbing away as she heard the sirens sound to a stop. Bronzino looked faint suddenly and lolled his head backward and his eyes shut. She dragged him out and checked for a pulse. Feeling one, although faint, she began CPR. She heard footsteps running up the stairs and as the flashlight shined on her.

“Agent Scully!” Doggett greeted. “Is that Branzino?”

“He was in one of the web sacks,” she explained quickly, continuing CPR.

“He’s smiling,” Reyes observed.

“He’s what?”

Scully looked down to see Bronzino with his eyes closed but he was smiling. “That sonofabitch,” she cried.

Caught up in the moment, she slapped him against the cheek and got to her feet. The smack was resounding and caused Dr. Bronzino to sit up suddenly and place his hand against the red cheek. “What kind of care was that?”

“A dose of reality,” she snapped. “Make sure the EMTs check him out.”

“I thought we were partners,” he pouted.

“We worked together on this one case. That’s it.” She turned to Doggett and Reyes. “I found him cocooned up like these unknown victims. I had seen something like this once before when I first started on the x-files. That might be worth checking out.”

“We will,” Doggett said, trying to fight from grinning. “But um, do you find any signs of Dylan?”

“Gone. How is Natalie?” Scully answered.

“Fine. Shaken up but I think she’ll be okay,” Reyes said, trying to fight the urge to laugh.

“What?” Scully asked. She turned as the two agents stared at Bronzino who was now trying to charm a female EMT about his close brush with death. “Oh, come on!”

“I’m just saying,” Doggett said. “If Mulder were here, he would have slugged the guy.”

“Just because you were on the receiving end of the man’s fist once, John doesn’t mean he would slug another guy.”

Scully rolled her eyes and cast one lingering glance at Bronzino. “Speaking of Mulder, I need to call him.”

“Let him know about the human fly trap?” Doggett grinned.

“Both of you knock it off,” she grumbled.

“Agent Scully,” one of the police officers called, “I need to get your statement!”

“Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am unless you want to do it in the morning,” the officer said.

Scully sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it tonight.”

Her plans of going home or evening calling Mulder disappeared as she was left with Agents Doggett, Reyes, and the cops investigating the scenes.

. . . . . .

Saturday morning. The sun was just peeking through the windows of the Georgetown apartment as Mulder sipped his coffee. He was preparing to wake William up to take him to do a morning run to the shop down the street for donuts and a newspaper. Despite the jealousy and sour feelings, he had with Scully being in the field, being home on a Saturday morning with his son was nice.

His attention was drawn to the door when he heard a key sliding into the lock, the deadbolt turning, and the door open. In came Scully, still wearing the suit from the night before. She came in, kicked off her boots, and dropped her keys on the table next to the door. She sighed and Mulder stood quietly. “You look like you’ve had a tough case,” he called softly.

Scully looked surprised. “You’re awake.”

“I’m not much of one for sleep. You should know that by now,” he replied. “You didn’t call.”

“I’m sorry,” she started. Her tired mind tried to piece the past 24 hours. “I got busy and distracted. Everything came to a head last night. I didn’t want to wait to see you so I drove through the night…”

“You drove through the night,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“As a doctor, you should know better.” He made his way to her in a few steps and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Scully was shocked by the greeting but relaxed a few seconds later. Her arms came under his and she hugged him tightly. Mulder squeezed his eyes tightly and buried his face into her hair and breathed deeply. “I missed you.”

Scully buried her face into her chest. His cotton shirt smelled of William, old sweat, and just home. “I missed you too.” She lifted her head and kissed him. Mulder smiled and kissed her deeply, not relinquishing his grasp. She chuckled tiredly. “You missed me.”

“Words fail to describe it.”

She smiled again and looked about the empty apartment. “Where is William?”

“Still sleeping. He’ll wake up in another hour or so. What about you? When was the last time you slept?”

“I napped at the station before I hit the road.”

“You’re a doctor,” he admonished.

“I know, I know.”

“So you know bed rest is the thing you need right now. I’ll call your mother later and cancel dinner plans.”

“Dinner plans?”

Mulder nodded. “We thought you were coming home last night so we were going to have dinner as a family. No worries. We can do it tomorrow.”

“Mom usually goes to church first thing.”

“I’m sure she’ll make an exception.”

Scully was already moving towards their son’s bedroom. The need to see her son was killing her. She opened the door slowly to see William still sleeping soundly. “He sleeps like you but like clockwork, he’ll be up ready for his bottle. We were going to run to the store to get donuts and the Saturday paper. I can pick you up for breakfast if you want?”

“That’d be nice.”

At the sound of his mother’s voice, William sleepily opened his eyes and gurgled happily. “He was up earlier, about three, with a diaper. Go ahead. I’ll get his bottle ready and get you some coffee. Unless you want to change.”

“No, no, this is fine.”

Scully bent down to pick up her son, cradled him, and sat in the rocking chair. Mulder smiled at the image before he went to fetch the bottle and coffee. As he came back and saw Scully, still disheveled from her case, smiling and cooing at their son, the anger and bitterness he had been nursing the past few days momentarily vanished.

. . . . . .

“Is William asleep?”

“Yeah,” Mulder replied, crawling into bed with her. “He’ll probably be up around two or three. He’s been consistent the past few nights with you gone. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the first shift when he wakes up.”

Scully flipped the covers down for him further. “I missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“You, William, us.”

Skinner’s advice came back to him suddenly and Mulder said, “I have something to ask you. Rather something to tell you?”

“What?”

“I was quite moody and jealous when you were gone. I felt...I felt left behind,” he confessed searching for the right words. “I know I screwed up being abducted and dying and putting you through all that before William was born. With you gone…” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong. I may have gotten caught up in the work,” she said. Scully reached for his hand. “But this parenthood thing, our relationship, we just need to strike a balance and find out what that is. I enjoyed Saturday with you and William. That’s something we wouldn’t have if we were still on the x-files.”

“True. But I still feel bad.” He pulled her suddenly towards her and she let out a yelp of surprise. He kissed her neck and nuzzled her pajama top open. “William can sleep through anything. And, correct me if I’m wrong, doctor, you’ve healed enough.”

She giggled and slide down so he had better access. “On the case, there was this etymologist that had helped us. Rocky Bronzino. The man kept flirting with me to no end. He ended up in a cocoon…”

“A cocoon you say,” Mulder murmured.

His fingers were already unbuttoning her pajama top, his hand sinking beneath the elastic waistband of her undergarments. She shivered to feel his fingers touch her. “Yes. I got to say I was in a relationship,” she smiled. She sought more kisses from him. “Publicly. Openly. I am in a committed relationship with my partner.”

Mulder smiled and whispered, “You sound so sexy saying that.”

“What? I am in a committed relationship with my partner?”

“Yes.” Scully found herself topless and pulled off Mulder’s shirt. “He made me perform CPR on him.”

Mulder paused. “He did what?”

“Don’t worry. I gave him a good dose of reality.” She snickered. “By slapping him.”

“There’s the Agent Scully I know,” he breathed. “And good. I don’t share.”

Scully let him continue his ministrations, relishing being home and with him again. Her thoughts about the case as she just let herself be present and let herself be free. Mulder moved and loved her, silently thanking whoever was listening he had her and William in his life. After a passionate reunion, Scully cuddled against Mulder, resting her head on his heart. “I missed you.”

He held her and gently played with her hair. “I missed you too.”

On the baby monitor, William began to make noses, crying from one of his parents. “I got it,” Mulder whispered. He kissed her quickly. “And you’re right, we’ll try to find a balance.”

Scully laid back down in bed and watch his naked behind jog to the nursery. She lay back down to watch the shadows on the ceiling and he was back five minutes later. Mulder slid effortlessly back next to her, embracing her again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “He was just talking in his sleep. Like you do.”

“You mean you,” she yawned.

“I mean you.” He pulled her closer. “It’s good to have you home, Scully.”

“It’s good to be home.”

#xfiles #xf fic #msr #txf #txf fic #msr fic #embracing parenthood fic #mulder #scully #mulder and scully #season 9 #au

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alexa-crowe · 3 years

Text

Reunited

TXF | AU — Post-S9 | Sequel to “Two”

August 9th, 2005.

She’s buzzing with excitement as she drums her hands on the wheel of the rental car, William in his car seat in the back, scribbling away in his coloring book. Scully can’t choose between laughing hysterically or crying out of relief. According to the GPS, she’s five minutes away from the destination. Five minutes away from Mulder.

She starts tearing up for what feels like the twentieth time today and hastily wipes them away. Scully sniffles and spots an abandoned house with a 2003 Silver Ford Taurus parked out front. She laughs a little, knowing that Mulder must’ve been stuck watching the same rampant ads for it on TV and rented it as an impulse purchase.

As she drives closer, Scully realizes that the house has a decrepit stone wall and a rusted gate in front. She can imagine driving home from a long day at work, hopping out of the car to push open the gate, parking the car next to that Ford Taurus, and then opening the door to an armful of William and the sounds of Mulder making dinner. She starts tearing up a little.

The house would definitely need to be renovated, but... She shakes the thought away. They’re just using it for now before moving on—but as a family, from now on. Mulder’s made sure it’s safe for a few nights of peace; Scully spots him standing up from his perch on the wraparound porch stairs, jogging part of the way down the gravel path.

She parks the car and unbuckles her seatbelt as fast as possible, shoving open the car door and stepping outside. She nearly runs over to him but turns away from Mulder to open the passenger side to unbuckle William and help him to the ground.

“Daddy!” he screeches when he sees Mulder running over to them.

“William!” He meets his son partway, picking him up and spinning him up in the air before squeezing him tight, tears in his eyes.

“Mulder,” Scully says, voice choked with tears as she makes her way over to them, wrapping her arms around her boys tightly. “I missed you so much.” She’s crying now—sobbing, really, and it’s a debilitating thing—but she couldn’t stop herself if she tried.

She feels a small hand trying to tuck loose strands of her hair behind her ear and pulls away from Mulder’s shoulder to look at William. “Don’t cry, Mommy. It makes me and Daddy sad when you cry.” Scully laughs a little, along with Mulder, and wipes her tears away, saving the rest for after William is put to sleep.

“I’m okay, baby. These are just tears of love. Mommy loves Daddy very much, and I don’t like it when I have to separate from him for a long time.”

“Come on,” Mulder starts softly, placing one arm around her waist, “let’s go inside. You’ve gotta see your room, Will! I painted it your favorite color!”

The four-year-old gasps, his eyes wide as his father sets him down on the wooden flooring of the porch before opening the door. “My room is purple!?”

“Yeah! Go take a look! It’s the first room on the right up the stairs.” William runs through the sparsely decorated living area to the stairs. “Just be careful! Don’t go too fast.” Mulder turns to Scully once their son is out of sight and they wordlessly collapse into each other, arms wrapped around each other as she presses her face into his shoulder. They have no words, so they stay like that for a bit before pulling away and pressing their foreheads together, tears in their eyes. “I thought of you every day,” he admits, taking in her familiar scent and the softness of her hair, dyed blond now.

“Me, too,” Scully whispers, cupping Mulder’s cheeks in her hands as his move to her waist and neck, respectively. “Mulder... how did you paint William’s room? I thought we were only staying here for a few days.” She pulls away enough to make eye contact.

“I figured out how they were tracking us, Scully.”

“What do you mean? I thought they had the agencies on us after your trial?” Her eyebrows furrow and her hands drop to his jaw, unable to stop touching him.

“They did, but they’ve been called off. They were developing some sort of technology that could track using DNA samples, and there was even a proposal to try and develop tech that could use really advanced satellites to identify fingerprints. It’s...it’s astounding, Scully, what they believe they’re capable of developing by 2050, let alone 2010.”

Scully shakes her head and closes her eyes in disbelief. “Mulder, that’s... Jesus. How did you find any of this out?”

“Kersh. He joined them. He joined them and he somehow got the information to Skinner who got it to me. Scully, we can stop this. We can keep William safe. We can be a family, with a house and everything. William can go to school and meet other kids his age and have a real life. And we can finally stop running.”

“Mulder...” she sighs, voice wracked with tears.

“I bought the house. It’s ours now. This house belongs to Fox William Mulder and Dana Katherine Scully.”

“Mulder...” she whispers again, and he stops, focusing on her. “The date is set, though. I don’t want... William deserves more than eleven years. He deserves a whole life.”

“I know,” he says, pulling Scully close. “We’ll jump that hurdle when we get to it. Okay?”

She nods, hugging Mulder tighter. “Okay.” She sniffles and looks up at him for a moment before pressing her lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#fanfiction #txf #msr #dana scully #william #fox mulder #the x files #the x-files #1) someone begged me to reunite them in the ao3 comments so i just acted on my idea kjdsfh #2) is this plot not so much better than canon? dshskjhkjfhajhfklsdjfhk #x files #x-files #xfiles #xf

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 17

Scully meets the Mufon women, who clue her into their shared fate; Mulder accompanies Scully to the OB-GYN after her car breaks down; A mysterious voicemail appears on Scully's machine.

---------------------

The murder of Mulder’s father--and attempted murders of the agents themselves--went the way of many X-Files, becoming another everlasting thorn in their sides. Skinner wasn’t happy with them, but he pitied them, so it was a two-week paper pusher assignment and then they were back at it. Lightning strikes, allusions to immortality from a mortal man, too many prisons and too much death; the calendar advanced, time marched on, and they saw it all but it couldn’t touch them. Wouldn’t, more like. Emotionally stunted, that’s what they are. Holding onto too much pain to process any.

And then comes Mulder’s $29.95 tape and its path to Allentown; a Japanese diplomat, a dead man, and a list of Mufon members wait in its wake. All of which lead Scully to Betsy Hagopian’s doorstep.

These women--whom she has never seen before, nor could not pick from any crowd--know her. They swear. She is one of them, they say, as if that’s supposed to snap everything into perspective. As if the semblance of belonging somewhere will make her spill her guts. But no; she wants to be nothing but herself, and sometimes not even that.

Then there are dozens of cars outside and women surround her, speaking of a place she didn’t know she knew until they said it. A blank slate flashes in her mind; an echo from some past life. She doesn’t believe in reincarnation, so how can that be?

Then the women--these strange women--speak of men & mysterious tests, and a drill sears Scully’s brain, and she’s coming apart, and is this annihilation or healing?

These images--she can hardly call them memories--expand until she’s living inside them. She is doubled, the victim and the spectator. She sees herself on a medical table, a tube spiraling from her belly button. It’s nonsensical, there’s no procedure of the sort. And then, before her unblinking eyes, her stomach grows. Inflated like a balloon. Her warped form...it looks pregnant, and her old fear comes back as a bitter taste in her mouth. Surely this is something seen in a dream, impossible to be reflected in any reality.

The rattle of metal pulls her back to the present. Every woman standing before her holds a capsule containing a microchip, barely perceptible to the eye. Marked...they have been marked. She has too, they say. They have all the scar, and it’s already been established that she is one of them.

Scully’s swept up by the crowd and taken to Betsy Hagopian at Allentown Medical Center. She’s unsure at this point whether she’s investigating the murder case or some vastly larger conspiracy. Or if those are even distinguishable.

She watches as the nurse slides Betsy into the MRI machine, wonders how Betsy feels about them being there as she disappears from view. Scully once thought of making oncology her specialty, back when she was bright-eyed and believed she could save the world. That path would have been paved with pain, sure, but there would be victory, and above all, hope. Her current job fails to put her in such close contact with miracles.

We’re all dying because of what they do to us, Penny Northern says. And how ironic it is, Scully thinks. She and Mulder want the truth--the proof--of some atrocity greater than themselves, and they may have it...once she’s packed into a coffin. How’s that saying go? Be careful what you wish for…

------------------------

The scar at the base of her neck had never stood out to Scully. She can’t see it, and her hair covers it anyway. She had felt it in the shower once, shortly after her return, but she wrote it off as a bug bite. No one had ever commented on it until Penny Northern and the Mufon women; not Missy, not Mulder, not her mother…

Missy had noticed it during one of their face-mask nights in the weeks after the return, but she chose not to say anything, figuring it wasn’t worth adding to her sister’s worry. If she had seen it again recently--known that it hadn’t gone away--she would have said something.

Mulder...well, he never noticed it, and holy shit, he would have given anything for a situation where he could have. Scully never wears her hair up, he’ll blame it on that though it's fruitless. Really, it’s on him. He has a mental map of the places he’s touched her--and the places he won’t. Her neck is on neither one. He hasn’t gotten there yet.

Margaret Scully never saw it, and frankly, she would have thought it was something inappropriate to mention and wished her daughter had worn a turtleneck that day. What else can be said about that?

Thus, as autumn breaks over Washington, the agents crowd into a Bureau lab with Pendrell (or Agent Nerd, as Mulder prefers to call him) to address the intruder put into Scully’s body. Scully’s calm, cool, and collected, but Mulder winces as Pendrell’s tweezers pierce her skin. He’s never had the guts (nor the patience) for the medical profession.

“Yep, I’ve got something,” Pendrell remarks, dropping it into a petri dish. Mulder inches closer to get a good look at the object, and sure enough, it’s a microchip. He’s met with the urge to pocket it and run so that his partner would never have to see it.

Instead, Pendrell presents the dish to Scully. “It looks like a computer chip to me,” he tells her. “Something manufactured.”

Scully squeezes the object between her thumb and forefinger. She looks to Mulder. “This must be what made the metal detector go off in Santa Fe.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I remember.” The handsy men at airport security still make his blood boil.

As Scully’s eyes meet Pendrell’s, he feels like he’s staring directly into a spotlight. And he’s not used to having the spotlight on him. “So it’s man-made, you believe?” she asks, as in need of an answer from him as she ever will be.

He blushes. “Well, I don’t know of manufacturing plants on any other planet, but it does look pretty technologically advanced.” He takes the dish over to a microscope and peers through. “I can’t say I’ve seen something of this complexity before.”

Pendrell moves aside so Scully can take a look. She’s not accustomed to using this sort of magnification for anything other than microbes, but the intricacy of the wiring speaks for itself. Loops upon loops upon loops of electric current, all contained in a space smaller than a pea.

She looks up. “It’s like it was storing something…” The idea of her thoughts being catalogued by some malevolent stranger is too terrifying to voice. Both men’s mind’s land on it without any prompting.

Mulder lays a hand on the small of her back and steers her away from the microscope. “We’ll get this all taken care of, okay?” he murmurs. “Pendrell will pinpoint the manufacturer, then we can track them down and help Betsy Hagopian and all those women.” He intentionally leaves out mention of Scully herself. She hates being helpless, he won’t frame her as such.

“Okay,” she squeaks out, and Mulder feels her shiver beneath her buttoned blazer.

Having received his command from Agent Mulder, Pendrell watches him usher Agent Scully out of the lab with complete control over the situation. It’s as if Agent Mulder knows what he’s doing, comforting Agent Scully with such composure. And right in front of Pendrell, too! Pendrell kicks himself for...well, being himself.

-------------------------

At ten to four, Scully grabs her purse and unclips her key ring as quietly as possible. Mulder’s in the midst of typing up a report about the Japanese diplomat who sold him the $29.95 tape, and she’d hate to ruin his flow. How alarmed Skinner would be if a Fox Mulder field report didn’t read like a Whitman poem! He’d probably assume the bounty hunter got to his agent.

She straightens her blazer and swings the purse over her shoulder. No need for a coat yet, her usual work attire combats the mid-October chill just fine. As she edges toward the door, the guilt of leaving Mulder without a goodbye stops her in her tracks. He knows about her appointment--knows she has to leave early--but still...it feels wrong to walk out without a word.

Hand against the doorframe, Scully tosses her hair over her shoulder. Her partner types at his desk with the ferocity of a teenage boy playing a video game. He even looks like one, with those wiry glasses. She can’t help but smile...these are the ordinary moments she will miss one day.

Setting her lips in a line, she pipes up--”I’ve gotta go, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s instantly snapped from his trance. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He lays his glasses beside the computer, rubs the red mark on his nose. “Let me walk you down.”

“That’s not necessary,” Scully assures, one kitten heel out the door. “I can navigate the parking garage on my own.”

Mulder pops up from his chair, rounds his desk. “Well, the parking garage, yeah. But haven’t you heard that the Hoover Building is unaccustomed to beautiful women roaming its halls? Who knows what might happen if I send you up there by yourself.”

Scully gives him the unamused smirk he’s fishing for, tries to ignore the way his sleeves cuff over his elbow. “I only have to go through the lobby. I think I can hold any admirers off for those twenty steps.”

“You’re right, I should have faith in you.” He ruffles a hand through his hair. “At least let me escort you to the elevator.”

“If you must.” Scully turns sideways.

He slides past her, winking as he does. It’s infuriating, really, how smooth he can be when he wants to.

Scully follows him down the hallway, wondering if she’s finally grown into the giddy teenager her mother feared she would be. He hits the up button for her, then clasps his hands together--the only time he’s ever been the epitome of patience.

“I hate to pull you away from your next masterpiece for Skinner,” Scully teases, trying to break his gentlemanly bit.

“Oh, an artist knows no timetable,” he responds, barely taking his eyes off the elevator door. He taps his foot...they always joke that the FBI takes an elevator tax out of their paychecks for making it go all the way to the basement.

Scully looks at the floor. A moment ago, she felt like the object of Mulder’s affections. Now, she’s shut out again.

At the sound of the doors gliding open, she steps in. No need to wait for passengers to disembark; nobody comes down here. She hits the first floor button, offers Mulder a weak smile. “See you--”

He sticks his hand out as the doors begin to close and ducks into the space, taking his place beside her. She should have known...his goofy grin confirms that he’s been planning this all along. They begin their brief ascent to the next floor.

“You know, I’m having deja vu, but I’m gonna say this anyway,” Scully starts. “You’re crazy, Mulder.”

“And I’m sure I’ve said this before Scully, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again--thank you,” he replies.

Scully rolls her eyes, but god, this is much more fun than being alone. The elevator banks on the landing, and she looks to her partner as the doors open onto the lobby. “Did you lose your faith in me, or did you never have it in the first place?” she asks, taking extra long strides to keep up with him as they make their way toward the parking garage.

“What, about the whole holding off your admirers thing?”

Scully nods.

“I figured back-up wouldn’t hurt.” He slips his hands in his pockets, giving himself an air of pretension. As Scully watches him, she gets the notion that it’s all carefully calculated. It makes her feel both powerful and annoyed. She is the damsel, and he is framing himself as prince charming, though she is not in distress.

They make it to the parking garage and take another elevator up to Scully’s level. “Skinner’s gonna want that report before you leave tonight, you know,” Scully tells him, surprised that he has followed this far.

“I’ll burn the midnight oil if I have to,” he replies casually. And she can’t argue with that, cause she knows he will.

While he looks for her car, she takes a long glance at his face. He spies her sedan, and they set off in that direction.

“You don’t have to baby me,” she reminds him, almost apologetic. “I made it through med school and Quantico. If anyone is capable of--”

“It’s not about whether you’re capable, Scully. You are. But you should never have had to go through all that in the first place. It’s not fair, what you’ve dealt with.”

“Life’s not--”

“--fair. Yeah, I know, that’s why I don’t believe in God,” Mulder deadpans.

Scully gives him the infamous look. He shrugs. “It’s the truth!”

They make it to her car, and Scully lays a hand on the driver’s door. “Alright, Mulder. It looks like we’ve both learned something about each other. Very productive conversation.”

“Good thing I came all the way down here, huh.” He flashes a smile that would disarm a scorpion. Scully feels it in her core. She tightens her grip on the door, pulling it open.

“Bye, Mulder,” she prods, sliding into the driver’s seat.

He salutes her. “Bye-bye.”

He stays at the front of her parking spot as she cranks--or rather, tries to crank--her car. The engine gurgles at her in protest. One twist, two twists, three twists, nothing. She pulls the key out of the ignition and opens the door.

“It won’t start...battery’s dead, I think.”

Mulder leans against her door. “Let me try.”

Scully shuffles herself into the passenger’s seat and he settles in, finding himself squished against the steering wheel with her seat settings. He laughs and jams the key into place. The engine won’t give under his hand either.

He rests his elbow on the console and stares at his partner. Her eyes darken. “I don’t have jumper cables, do you?”

“I’m not a jumper cable man, no,” he mutters.

Scully knocks her head against the back of her seat, covers her face with her hands. “My appointment’s at 4:30. I got the latest one of the day…”

“Okay, okay, no problem.” Mulder taps her shoulder. “I’ll take you.”

She uncovers her face. “But what about the report…?”

“You really think Skinner’s gonna be surprised by another late report?”

She bites her lip. “Fine, fine. It’s off 6th Street, I’ll tell you how to get there.”

“And we can pick up jumper cables on the way back,” Mulder adds.

“Perfect.”

They hop out of the car and head for Mulder’s. Scully watches him out of the corner of her eye--he’s striding along, completely unbothered by this inconvenience. She is struck with the notion that he is a better person than her in some crucial ways.

“Do you have your keys?” she pipes up, always bringing reality into the picture.

He taps his pocket. “Right here.”

“You’re saving my ass, Mulder--thank you.”

“I was the ass hero of Oxford. I’m glad to be of service.”

Scully shakes her head, her smile eclipsing a laugh. “Please don’t ever tell me the story behind that, ” she giggles.

“Your loss.”

And as she looks over at him in the dingy parking garage, she knows that this is exactly where she’s meant to be.

------------------------------

He wasn’t planning to go in with her--he expected that she’d make a fuss about it if he asked, and it wasn’t his business anyway. He’s surprised, then, when he pulls into a spot at the clinic and she raises an eyebrow when he doesn't turn the engine off.

“Are you coming?” she asks, one leg sticking out of the car.

“Y-you want me to go with you?” he stutters.

Scully shrinks back. “Were you planning on going back to the office? I’m not sure how long the appointment will take, but I hate to make you drive all over the place.”

“No, I was just gonna chill in here. I thought you wouldn’t want me…”

“Oh.” Scully’s out of the car now, her purse swung over her shoulder. “Well, it’s just an ultrasound, so you can come if you want. I bet you’ve never been to an OB-GYN before…”

Mulder shakes his head. “Never had the pleasure. You know I’m all for new experiences, though.”

“Come on, then.” She slams the door closed and starts walking toward the building, playing hard to get in her own little way.

Mulder cuts the engine, locks up the car, and jogs after her. Not a usual occurrence, but he likes the role-reversal.

“So is there anything I should know,” he pants as he catches up with her, “before I walk in? Is there some kind of universal girl code that governs these places?”

“The only naked women you’re about to see are in anatomical diagrams, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“Oh, so it’s not a communal kinda thing?”

“Jesus, Mulder. That’s a male fantasy if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Hey, men have urinals and locker rooms, it’s only fair that women have some arena for comparison too,” he attests.

Continuing the role-reversal, Scully holds the door for him. “Clearly, we have different priorities,” she says as he strides through. He chuckles at her as he enters, feeling no insecurity about standing out. He’s not the lone man in the waiting room, but he is the only one without a visibly pregnant wife.

He looks around while Scully checks in. The room, he feels, is misleadingly similar to any other doctor’s office. Daytime housewife fodder on TV, issues of magazines that are barely from this decade, and posters preaching about the flu shot...some unsuspecting man might walk in here because he stubbed his toe and walk out with images in his brain that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

He takes a seat at the far edge of the room, Scully joining him a moment later with a clipboard.

He points at the entry to the back--“I feel like they should have a sign on that door that says ‘beware: health class flashbacks ahead. And not the good ones.’”

“If you’re a woman, it’s no flashback,” she tells him, focused on filling out the forms. “It’s just what you deal with everyday.”

“Okay, but imagine men had to go to a place like this, and you had to go back there.”

She looks up. “Mulder, you know I do autopsies on dead bodies, right?” Then, with a smirk--”Besides, I’ve never known you to be squeamish about naked women.”

“Right, but this is like...I’m used to looking at the completed painting, and now I’m seeing the paint-by-number. Not so pretty.”

“Maybe you should go sit in the car…” Scully says with a hint of a tease.

“I digress.” He glances absentmindedly at what she’s writing, then looks away.

Scully notices and meets his eye. “You know what I’m here for, right?”

Without intending to, he read it off her paper. “Follicle ultrasound?”

“Yes, but do you know why? ”

Mulder holds his mouth open like he’ll catch an answer that way. “Uh…” he starts, classic caught-off guard college student.

Scully jots the last marks on her forms. “To check my egg reserve and see if anything’s changed since the last time. To see if there’s any possibility of me having a biological child, essentially.”

“Huh,” Mulder hums dumbly. Way to make an asshole of himself, cracking jokes at a time like this. He wishes it were socially acceptable to walk around with tape over your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t realize the situation was so dire.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

It’s funny she says that, because at that exact moment Mulder is thinking about how it is his fault, and where’s the nearest bridge? He realizes then, too, that maybe she wants him there so she’s not alone for whatever the results say, and boy, this is more than he bargained for when he offered to drive her.

He turns to her, his glance far shyer than usual. “So this is the follow-up to your first ultrasound?”

Scully nods. “It’s been almost a year.”

“But you…” he tries to arrange the words in as courteous a manner as possible. “Are you still premenopausal?”

Scully crosses one leg over the other. She’s pleasantly surprised that he cares about this. “No, I’m on birth control to regulate my cycles. But that doesn’t matter if I don’t have enough eggs left for potential fertilization. Fertility and menstruation are not necessarily linked.”

“But there’s an upside to that, right? Aren’t there health risks with early menopause?”

“Yep.”

Mulder’s not sure whether she’s answering his first question or his second one. He lets it be, and good thing, because a nurse calls Scully’s name moments later. He follows her into the back like an eager to please puppy, playing it cool until the nurse pipes up.

“Mr. & Mrs. Scully, how are you?”

“Not married ,” Scully clarifies, amused.

“Oh,” the nurse takes a stray glance at her clipboard. “I’m sorry.” She gestures toward Mulder. “You are…?”

“Fox Mulder. I’m her partner.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Gender-neutral language, very inclusive.”

“He’s my FBI partner,” Scully grumbles, giving Mulder a punch in the bicep for his purposeful vagueness. “I work at the Bureau.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” The nurse waves them into an exam room then closes the door behind herself. As she reads over Scully’s chart, Mulder’s presence makes less and less sense to her, and she addresses her patient with pitched confusion in her voice.

“So you are here for a follow-up antral follicle count...?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The nurse reads from the chart. “Your first one was roughly eleven months ago and indicated low fertility. Five follicles were counted.”

Scully nods.

“But since then, you’ve started hormonal birth control and now have stable menstrual cycles, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The nurse makes note of this, then looks to Scully. “If you could come with me for a moment, we’re gonna get your weight, and then Dr. Zapolsky will be right in for the ultrasound.”

Alone in the strange room, Mulder’s met with fascination, not fear. He’s never seen an exam chair with stirrups in real life, and it makes him chuckle, reminiscent of birth scenes in slapstick comedies. On the counter is a 3D model of the uterus, which is pretty cool if he’s being honest. Remove the labels and it’s a modern art piece...and he means that with all due respect. His reproductive system would not make a nice decoration, that’s for sure.

He’s reading a poster about each trimester of pregnancy when Scully and the nurse come back in. Did you know that babies can be frightened by loud noises while they’re still in the womb? he wants to ask, but Scully knows everything, so she probably already knows that.

Scully settles into the exam chair as best she can. She locks eyes with Mulder, and he winks at her--again. It puts a genuine smile on her face, which has never happened in this room. The nurse exits quietly, but they are still there, and so is the smile.

They don’t speak at first. Silence is good when it’s comfortable, they have learned, and it’s always comfortable for them. Until Mulder begins to worry that Scully’s head might be spinning with dark thoughts, and he can’t have that. He thumbs toward the poster. “Did you know that loud noises can frighten babies through the womb?”

Scully’s gaze falls upon him, warm and light. “I’ve always thought that was just an old wife’s tale. I never saw it demonstrated during my obstetrics rotation.”

“Well, it’s on the poster. It’s gotta be true,” he wisecracks.

The door opens, and the majestic Dr. Zapolsky saunters in.

“Let’s ask Dr. Zapolsky,” Scully suggests.

“What’s that?” The doctor rolls the ultrasound machine to the center of the room.

“We were wondering if it’s true that babies in the womb can spook at loud noises,” Scully explains.

“It’s on the poster,” Mulder adds.

“Oh! Yes! But not until around 28 weeks.” Dr. Zapolsky sits down on her stool. “You never saw that during your rotations?”

Scully shakes her head.

“It presents as a kick, and as long as the exposure to the noise is not continuous, it’s harmless.”

“Good to know...I guess,” Scully finishes, wondering why Mulder fixated on that of all things.

Dr. Zapolsky scoots toward her patient. “How are you doing, Dana?”

Scully musters a smile. “I’m okay. Much better than I was last year at this time.”

“And who is your guest…?” she asks, swerving toward Mulder.

“Mulder, my partner at the Bureau. My car went dead, so he had to drive me.”

“Ah! Hello Mulder.”

Mulder nods. “Nice to meet you.”

“I see you’ve gained some weight since your last visit,” Dr. Zapolsky tells Scully. “That’s a good thing--fueling your body allows it to put energy toward ovarian function.”

Scully tries to accept this as a compliment, though she’s been conditioned not to view it as one.

The doctor continues. “And you’re doing well on your birth control? Any problems with it?”

“Nope, everything’s working out.”

“Wonderful.” Zapolsky clasps her hands together. “Looks like we’re all set for the ultrasound. Go ahead and lie back.”

Scully does so.

“I’ll need you to pull your waistband and underwear down. Let me get you a sheet for cover.” She slides over to the cabinets and pulls out a disposable blue blanket, which she drapes over Scully’s bent knees.

Mulder turns his head away as Scully shimmies off her skirt of choice--black, pencil, from the clearance rack at J. Crew, per usual. Not that he’d be able to see anything since she already has cover, but he’s not risking any disrespect. Scully’s not paying attention to him, and it’s a testament to the trust they have developed.

Dr. Zapolsky grabs the ultrasound wand and takes it under the sheet, using the image on the monitor to guide it into place. “Everything feel alright?” she asks Scully, who nods.

The three occupants focus intently on the screen; two of them have a clear sense of what they’re looking for, and one has no idea. A few circles appear on the monitor, narrowly standing out from the background.

“There they are, right?” Scully inquires with tension in her voice.

Dr. Zapolsky nods. “Those are your follicles. What do you notice?”

Scully’s eyes search the screen. “There’s not many.”

“I’m afraid not. Six. One more than last time, but not the improvement you would need.” Dr. Zapolsky frowns. “Two low antral follicle counts qualifies you for a diagnosis of primary ovarian insufficiency. There’s no clear treatment plan, it simply functions as a label for your condition.”

Scully sits with this numbness as her doctor removes the ultrasound wand and cleans up. She wants to look at Mulder, read his face, but he’s over her shoulder and she can’t bend that way just yet. She takes a breath and pulls her skirt back on.

“So there’s no hope, then?” Her voice shakes. “Of carrying a child with one of my own eggs?”

The doctor finishes washing her hands and turns back toward her patient. “There’s a five to ten percent conception rate for women with POI. If you’re dead-set on it, IVF using an egg donor is your best option. Personally, I don’t recommend it at those odds. It’s very expensive and can take quite a physical toll.” She pats her patient’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Dana.”

With tears threatening to break her composure, Scully cranes her neck toward Mulder. He’s her escape hatch, but he’s not doing much better. His hands are squeezed into fists, his eyes dark. “I’m sorry, Scully,” he murmurs. “You don’t deserve this.”

And even if he’s right it doesn’t make any difference, because this is what she’s gotten, and this is what she must deal with. Gravity’s full brunt bears down on her body and spirit, and she wonders once again if God intends her for heaven or for hell.

-------------------------

The sun is sinking below the horizon by the time Scully sets her keys on her front table. If she wasn’t exhausted before, she is after buying jumper cables and using Mulder’s car to start hers. She hears clanging pots and pans and can only hope it’s her sister home from the lunch shift.

Forcing her tired body into the kitchen, Scully finds Melissa at the stove. The smell of marinara sauce wafts through the air.

Missy looks away from the boiling pasta she’s stirring. “Hello jellybean!” Neither one of them knows where the new nickname came from, but neither one is against it either.

“Hey Missy,” Scully says as she plops into a dining chair. She slides off her heels and stretches her toes.

“How was your day?”

“Alright,” Scully sighs. “Paperwork and then my ultrasound appointment, but my battery died so Mulder had to take me.”

“Oh my goodness!” Missy turns the heat down on the stove and strides over to her sister. “I forgot that was today...how was it?”

Scully looks up through her lashes. “Not good, Missy.”

“No?” Missy slides into the adjacent chair. “Were your counts still low?”

Scully nods, picks a piece of lint off her skirt. “Too low. Doc says I have primary ovarian insufficiency. Basically, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to have a child with my own egg.”

“God…” Missy sandwiches one of her sister’s hands between both of hers. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Across the way, the boiling water sings a siren song, and Missy reluctantly makes her way back toward it. “You’ll have to accept my condolences in the form of food cause I’m too far into this to stop now.”

“Oh, I will.” She’d be having a salad or...well, probably nothing, if Missy wasn’t here. Scully leans back, examines the ceiling, then rubs her eyes. “Did you know that babies can spook at loud noises through the womb? At 28 weeks, at least.”

“No, I didn’t,” Missy answers with gusto, happy to distract her sister.

“Mulder read it on some poster, and I didn’t think it was true, but it turns out it is,” Scully rambles.

“Mulder read it...?” Missy echoes. “He went in with you?”

“Uh-huh.” Scully’s immune to the usual implications of her sister’s curiosity. She’s had too much of a day to argue that Mulder isn’t as integral a part of her life as he is. “It was nice...I was happy not to be alone.”

“I’m sure,” Missy says, pouring the ravioli into a colander. “Mulder’s a good guy.”

“Mm-hm.” Scully chews the inside of her cheek. She can’t discern whether she’s failing to repress a feeling or experiencing one anew, but it’s in that ballpark.

Having put the pasta in a serving bowl, Missy spoons sauce over it like she’s auditioning for a cooking show. “There was an interesting voicemail on the machine when I got in,” she begins.

“Yeah? A telemarketer? Scammer?”

“I don’t think so. It’s odd, but it sounds quite urgent.”

Missy hits a button on the answering machine. A gruff voice fills the room. “Hello, this is Agent Feniston from the California Bureau of Investigation looking for a Ms. Scully. I am contacting you on behalf of the California Department of Social Services foster care system. Please get back to me as soon as possible at 619-555-1334. Thank you.”

It does sound legitimate, Scully can’t argue with that. She raises an eyebrow at her sister. “You were in California for a while, weren’t you?”

Missy pops a ravioli into her mouth, wipes some wandering sauce off her lip. “The Bay area, mostly,” she says between bites. “The 619 area code is--”

“San Diego. I remember, that’s what our number started with when we lived by the shipyard.”

Missy nods. “I know I’m considered the free spirit in this family, but no child of mine is running wild in California. Let’s clear that up right now,” she chuckles.

“I mean, we don’t have any details,” Scully says. “They probably just need you to testify whether some friend of yours is stable enough to resume custody of their child.”

“Does that sound like something that would warrant a call from the Bureau of Investigation? ” Missy challenges, scooping a hefty portion of pasta into a bowl and handing it to her sister.

Scully takes it and grabs a fork. “If they couldn’t find any other way to contact you.”

Missy stops, looks at her sister with a pointed glare.

“What?” Scully shrugs.

“Darling,” Missy continues, “no one I knew in California has this number, nor any way to determine that I’m living with you.”

Scully lifts the fork to her mouth, freezing before it makes it there. “You think the call is for me?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” she says, taking a seat across from her sister.

Scully scoffs. “I haven’t been to California in ages. There was a case in Marin County, but it’s been two years now.”

“That’s funny,” Missy muses. “I was living there then.”

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Scully tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not fond of having a random call from the California foster system on my answering machine.”

“Then call Agent Feniston back, and it won’t be random anymore.” Missy gets up, glances at the clock, and grabs the phone off its receiver. “It’s only 3:30 in Californiaaaaa,” she sing-songs, dangling it in front of her sister.

Scully pouts, but lets the weight of the phone rest in her hand. “Can you play the voicemail again? I need the number…”

Feniston addresses them for a second time, and Scully taps the keypad in concert with his directions: 619-555-1334.

#hello i am very excited for what's to come <3 #anyone who has stuck with this is now my best friend #thank you and MWAH #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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mldrgrl · 4 years

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Careful

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 (for some swears) Pairing: Mulder/Scully Summary: For all you fighting Anons that want Mulder and Scully to be in a fight for some reason.

She is so tired. So, so tired. Her feet ache. Her head aches. Her spine aches. Her shoulders ache. The back of her jaw aches from clenching her teeth. On loan to Quantico, she’s been on her feet all day, lecturing, autopsying, lecturing some more, autopsying some more. All she wants to do when she gets home is to pop something quick into the microwave, sink into a hot bath, and then sink into bed. She tells Mulder all of this hours before she’s even finished with her day at Quantico, so when she walks in her door and finds him waiting for her, the irritability she already feels skyrockets to new levels.

“Dammit, Mulder,” she mutters, dropping her keys into the glass bowl on the table behind the couch. He’s already by her side, taking her bag from her shoulder and trying to kiss her cheek, but she leans away. “I told you I wasn’t up for-”

“I know,” he interrupts, nodding profusely. “I know, I know, I know. But, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“I don’t want any surprises.”

“Go ahead and change. Something casual.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’ll like it, I promise.” He tries to take her hand and she yanks it back with a scowl.

“No,” she says, firmly. “You never listen, Mulder. You just never listen.”

“Of course I listen.”

“Do you? I told you how badly I needed the night off less than three hours ago.”

“I know. But-”

“No, buts! I don’t want to hunt aliens with you and I don’t want to visit a haunted house or search for sea monsters or investigate any ridiculous fairy tales, myths or legends. I don’t even want to hear the word ‘x-file’ tonight, I just want to be left alone.”

He stands in front of her, incredulous, his mouth opening and closing and Adam's apple bobbing like mad. She’s about to tell him to get out. To just go home and give her one night to be annoyed and exhausted and call her in the morning, but he sets his jaw and narrows his eyes like he has the audacity to be angry with her and she sets her own in response.

“You never said you wanted to be alone,” he says.

“It was implied.” She huffs and crosses her arms.

They stare each other down. He pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and then crosses his arms as well. It’s her favorite sweater too, the dark green one that brings out the green in his eyes. The one that’s so soft that she can’t help but rub her cheek into his chest when they lie together on his couch. That stupid sweater makes her lick her lips unconsciously and want to give in to whatever scheme he has going on and that pisses her off even more.

“You always do this,” she says, shaking her head. “Dammit, Mulder.”

“Do what?”

“This. Show up where you’re not wanted. Nag me into following you into places I don’t want to go.”

He purses his lips, but says nothing. He nods his head and his gaze drifts away before he drops his arms and heads for the door. She opens her mouth and then holds her breath and fights off the urge to tell him to stop, to call him back and apologize for something she doesn’t feel sorry for.

While she’s not quite sorry, she does feel bad. She doesn’t want to fight with him, but she told him how tired she was. She told him she just needed to relax tonight. And still he showed up, with surprises no less, and left without even a goodbye or an apology. She stops feeling bad immediately and instead just feels angry all over again.

She hastily yanks her blazer off, tosses it towards the couch, and untucks her shirt from her slacks. She kicks her heels off, the ache in the soles of her feet even more prominent with every step she takes across the hardwood floor to the kitchen. She grabs the first Lean Cuisine she spots in the freezer and rips the box open. The cutlery rattles in the drawer when she yanks it open and she grabs a steak knife. She stabs her aggression out into the plastic covering of the frozen chicken and rice meal, puncturing it far more than necessary before she finally drops the knife onto the counter with a clatter and throws the sad little meal into the microwave.

She’s startled when she hears the front door open and whirls around, her right hand moving automatically to her hip where her holster would be, if she’d worn one today. But, it’s only Mulder, bogged down with a picnic basket that he looks like he’s struggling with. He doesn’t look at her, simply hefts the basket up onto the table, rattling the contents inside, and then walks out again.

Frowning, Scully walks over to the basket and flips open the top. There are plates and cutlery inside, a bottle of wine, glasses, take-out boxes with the familiar red lettering of her favorite Italian place. She can smell garlic bread and her mouth waters. Where did he get this picnic basket from? Where did he go?

Scully grabs her shoes off the floor and opens her front door. The elevator doors at the end of the hall are just closing and she catches a glimpse of her partner inside, which is strange considering she’s on the second floor and only a short flight up. He never takes the elevator. She hops and stumbles to get down the hall and put her shoes on at the same time. The numbers on the elevator go up to six, the top floor.

“Come on,” she mumbles, smashing the call button with her thumb over and over again as she watches the numbers fall back to two. When the elevator arrives, she rushes in before the doors fully open and then she smashes the number 6 until the doors close again and she paces in a circle as it ascends.

Directly to the right of the elevator is the door to the stairwell. Next to it is a small silver plaque stamped with ROOF ACCESS. The door is open and she peers inside, looking down towards the fifth floor and then up to the roof. The outside door is also open. She hurries up the stairs and spots Mulder near the edge of the roof, kneeling on the ground with his back to her. She heads towards him, walking briskly.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” she asks. There’s a folded blanket on one side of him and two pillows stacked on top of the pile. She can’t tell what he’s kneeling in front of, but the closer she gets, she realizes he’s dismantling a telescope and nestling the pieces into foam inserts inside of a carrying case.

Mulder doesn’t respond or turn to look at her. He finishes what he’s doing, closes the case he’s working with, and then gets to his feet. He slaps dirt from his knees and stoops to gather the pillow and blankets before he walks away.

“Mulder?” she calls, following just a few steps behind.

He stops suddenly and she comes to a halt, nearly running into him. He glares at her, or tries to, but there’s a wrinkle between his brows that betrays the set of his jaw. He might look angry, but he’s not angry. He’s hurt.

“What are we doing?” he asks her.

“What?”

“If I’m such an inconsiderate asshole, then what are we even doing?”

“I never said that.”

“It was implied.” There’s venom in his tone as he throws her words back at her.

“Mulder, I never-”

“Why be with me? Why lead me on? Why stay? Why?”

A wind kicks up and blows her hair into her face which she blows back and shakes her head once. The wrinkle between his brows grows deeper and his eyes squint nearly shut. She blinks at him, unable to answer such ridiculous questions. He turns his back on her and walks away.

She’s slow to follow this time and takes the stairs all the way back down to her floor. The blanket and pillows that had been tucked under Mulder’s arm are dropped in front of her door, but he’s nowhere to be found. She kicks them inside ahead of her and calls his name, but there’s no reply. She stands silently in the same place for a long time.

Finally, she steps out of her shoes again. Her knees are shaking and she has to hold on to the table so she doesn’t fall. It’s not from hunger or exhaustion either, it’s from fear. She’s disturbed and frightened by her argument with Mulder. This sort of thing was something they’d both feared in taking their relationship to the next level. If it didn’t work, they would both lose everything.

Scully feels dizzy and her stomach rolls. She heads to the bathroom and stops when she flips on the light. There’s a large white towel folded over the lip of the bathtub and a blue plush robe folded nicely and arranged on the closed toilet seat. A little brown paper bag rests on top of the collar of the robe with a handmade tag identifying it as lavender bath salts. New candles are arranged along the windowsill and corner table next to the shower.

“Shit,” she whispers.

And it only gets worse when she goes into the bedroom. More candles are on her dresser. The comforter is already turned down. Another towel is spread out in the middle of the bed and there’s a bottle of massage oil on one of the nightstands. Just behind it, her portable CD player has been moved in and an Enya CD is at the ready.

A laugh bubbles up from Scully’s chest, which immediately turns into a sob. She sits down at the edge of the bed and squeezes her eyes shut. She allows herself a full minute to cry and then she wipes her cheeks and picks up her phone. He doesn’t answer and she doesn’t have the courage to leave a message.

Instead, Scully trudges back to the living room, pushes her aching feet back into her heels as penance, grabs the picnic basket she can barely lift, and heads to her car. In the time it takes to drive to Mulder’s apartment, she berates herself for her callousness and her carelessness. When she starts feeling sorry for herself and reminds herself that he isn’t blameless, that he has a history of doing and saying the wrong things at the wrong times, it’s his voice she hears in his head also reminding herself that this wasn’t one of those times.

She knocks on his door and waits just a few beats before letting herself in. He’s sprawled on his couch, clearly there was no intention of letting her in. He doesn’t even move the arm bent over his eyes or ask who it is. The only light is from the fishtank, bathing his chin and torso in an emerald hue. She leaves the picnic basket and her shoes by the door.

“Mulder,” she says.

He doesn’t acknowledge her. She picks up the hand resting limply on his abdomen and lifts his arm to slide into her spot at his side. He doesn’t hold her like he usually does, letting his arm fall away from her and empty fingers that normally are full of hip or thigh dangle loosely above the floor. She rubs her cheek against his chest and then her nose. Little eskimo kisses to the point of his v-neck collar.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He swallows and still he says nothing, still keeps his face hidden under his arm. She keeps nuzzling him, making her way up his neck to his jaw. She presses her mouth to his chin, just below his bottom lip and near the corner of his mouth, and gets no response.

“Do you want me to go?” she asks.

“I’d like to know why you even bothered,” he finally answers.

“I overreacted. It was a rough day, but it’s no excuse. I should have-”

“Not tonight. At all. Why did you bother at all.”

She props herself up against his chest and looks down at him. She pulls his arm away from his face and he stares up at the ceiling.

“It’s still so new,” she says. “I haven’t learned yet to determine when you’re being my partner and when you’re being my...boyfriend.”

His jaw tightens a little and without warning, he sits up. She has to catch herself from falling off the couch in addition to his chest and sits up as well. He bends over with his head in his hands and then rakes his fingers through his hair and blows his cheeks out.

“Mulder?”

“I’m not two different people. I am who I am, Scully, and if you’ve never even liked the person I am, then why are you here?”

“Because despite the fact that you piss me off sometimes, you also managed to make me fall in love with you somewhere along the way.”

He grunts a little in response, but says nothing and doesn’t look at her. She turns towards him and slides a little closer, putting one hand on his knee and the other on his shoulder. She leans down and rests her chin on her own hand, putting her lips close to his ear to whisper to him.

“I love who you are, Mulder. I love you for your passion and your dedication and your empathy and your brilliance, even for your stubbornness. I love all of that about you.”

“Except I don’t listen and apparently I’ve forced you to follow me this whole time into places you never wanted to go.”

“You have to admit...Mulder, you have to admit, you’ve dragged me out into all sorts of-”

“I just thought it was part of the dance.”

“What dance?”

“The dance we do where you feign disinterest in whatever it is I present to you so you can temper my enthusiasm and be the yin to my yang. You moan and grumble and then you show up. If you never wanted to be there, why did you keep showing up?”

“You’re my partner.”

“Or your obligation.”

“No, never. Well…” She sighs a little. “Maybe sometimes.”

“Sorry I’m such an asshole.”

“You’re not.” She takes her hand off his knee and cups his face, bringing him closer so she can kiss his cheek. “Mulder, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m the asshole that ruined your night. I should’ve known you wanted to be alone.”

She sighs and rests her forehead against his temple as she strokes the side of his face. “No. No, Mulder, you listened to me bitch about the day and what you heard was that I needed to be taken care of. It’s me that’s sorry I’m so bad at being taken care of.”

“You are pretty bad at it.”

She smiles and he tilts his head into her just a little. Enough though, that she can tilt her own head and bring her mouth to his. He’s pouting, but she feels his resolve weaken as she sips tiny kisses from his lips.

“Think you can just kiss me and make it all better?” he asks.

“Can’t I?”

“Yeah.” He turns to her and wraps his arms around her to pull her into his lap. She yelps a little in surprise and then brings her arms around his neck. They stay there, forehead to forehead, chest to chest.

“I am sorry that I missed this up,” she says.

“So am I.”

“No. Don’t give up on me, Mulder. I love you for trying.”

“I would never give up on you, Scully. Not ever.”

“Can I stay?”

“If you want.”

“I want,” she whispers, nodding against him. “I want nothing more.”

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #mulder #scully #fight fight fight #but just a little fight

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danadeservesadrink · 4 years

Note

Hi, I saw a post about you wanting requests, not sure if they are still open or not. But if they are, I would love to see something with a fluff/angst spin, where Scully comforts Mulder after a tough case and it leads to feelings FINALLY being revealed. If not, sorry to bother you and hope your day is fantastic.

Hello! So sorry this took me so long to write, but prompts are always welcome even if I can’t get to them right away! But happy fictober, I hope you enjoy!

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Pusher missing scene, Rated T, 1.7k words, tagging @today-in-fic

She fought the collapse for as long as she could. She carries him out of the building, into the car, his weight leaning into her small shoulders. He whispered in her ear, questioning if she was ok for the fourth time since they got in the elevator and she offered him reassuring nods and a quirk of her lip, smoothing sweat-slicked hair off his brow as it furrowed, trying to get a read on her. He tried to walk on his own but the exhaustion of sharing your skull with another man overtook him, and he draped his body over her tiny frame, trusting only her to hold him. He crumbled down on top of her and she was forced to stand like Atlas and hold the weight of her world.

Sloughing him off into the passenger seat she drove them home in silence. His phone rang and he blindly reached to answer it, but she snatched it from the center console before he could, silencing it. He stared, dazed and confused, at her set jaw and white knuckles, before he let the silence take him and slumped into the cool window, letting the rumble of the interstate pull his thoughts away.

Her hand met his cheek in a gentle swipe to let him know they had arrived home.

“I can do it” he had insisted, but when he stumbled out of the car she was right at his side, placing a hand on his chest to steady him.

“I’ll walk you up” she replied, and let him try to convince himself he could have made it there without her. His fingers wound their way around her shoulder and she shivered as he gripped her there. But she did not waver. Someone slammed a car door and the sound rang like a gunshot off the cement walls and he was the one with white knuckles now, bruising fingers latched onto her after both of them jumped in fear. He released a breath when she met his eye cautiously, and the pair moved inside.

The elevator was filled to the brim with their silence, she doesn’t know how anyone else could have gotten on. The third floor dinged and doors opened to an empty hallway they were both grateful for. Explaining their fragile state to a neighbor would have been difficult. They walked joined at the hip to his door, and as his hands shook with his key she stole it from his fingers to press it into the lock herself.

He tumbled forward with the door, his final resting place in sight, abandoning her sturdy crutch to fall neatly onto the couch with a grunt. She followed him in, watching him close his eyes and settle into the leather. She stood over him a statue, stillness to conquer his shake, watching as he trembled with exhaustion. She wanted him to rest, she wanted the tension to release itself from his shoulders, she wanted the thoughts that were haunting his mind to leave and never return. She was frightened by how easily she would have killed for him. How thoughts of pure oxygen lept from her brain at the sight of him with that gun pressed to his temple. Her only thoughts were of how to get it, and how when she did she was going to pull the trigger as many times as it would take to get him out of their heads. She wasn’t thinking of all the lives this man had taken from the world, that he was a murderer, a sick bastard who deserved to be dead because of justice. She only cared that he might take away his life.

He went to sit up, but she practically saw the stars spinning behind his eyes. Carefully she pressed him back down onto the couch, his protesting weak.

“You need to rest”, she insisted. He nodded slowly, but wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

“Please don’t leave”, he whispered, and it was her turn to nod. She sank to her knees slowly, and he relaxed his grip on her so she could spin to sit with her back against the couch on the cold floor. Her hand reached up over her shoulder and their fingers twisted together. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, call and response.

“I was so sure” she heard him mumble. She didn’t know if it was for her to hear, but the silence had seeped so deeply into her ears that she felt like screaming, so she replied.

“Sure about what?”

“Sure that if he had me, I would be able to fight it”, he sighed, choking slightly on his words. She shook her head, amazed at his arrogance.

“Why, Mulder? He pushed people to kill themselves, light themselves on fire. He convinced a man’s heart to stop beating and you truly believed you could fight it?”

He laughed and she felt like shaking him.

“I don’t know. I was his worthy adversary. I knew him, I knew what he wanted, how he ticked. Something in me believed he wouldn’t be able to control me”

His voice grew stronger with every word, and she was inclined to believe him. She couldn’t deny that she’d been praying for the same thing. With all the demons that had haunted them over the years, when she watched him walk through the hospital doors she had wanted to believe that he was strong enough to fight it. He was brilliant, he knew the mind better than anyone she knew, but still it wasn’t enough. She had practically begged him at the table, begged him to be stronger than he was, begged him to do the impossible.

“But he did. And you almost shot yourself”

Her words were bitter and she tasted the bile in her throat at the image of Mulder’s brilliant brains bloody on her blouse, blown to pieces by his own hubris.

“I almost shot you,” he whispered harshly, “That's worse.”

“Mulder how can you say that?” she choked out.

“Because if I died of my own arrogance I would have paid the price for my mistake. If you died because of me I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself”. As he spoke he gripped her palm tighter, stroking his thumb over hers like a metronome for his confession.

“Mulder if you died…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her head dropped and her mind was invaded with the thought of him gone, wiped from the face of the earth for good, his wonderful confident mind splattered on pristine hospital tile.

She fought the collapse for as long as she could. But her pillar came crumbling to dust and a sob wracked her body. She was supposed to be his strength, she wasn’t the one who’s mind had been invaded, torn in half, pitted against itself. But he pulled on her hand and she twisted up into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She held onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt. The hand she had been holding found a place on the back of her head, pressing her lightly to his stomach, and she felt him shake under her.

“I’m so sorry” he wept, arms wrapping around her and pulling her off her knees into him. She fit herself on top of him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms engulfing her as if he could pull her further into him. His apologies spilled out into her hair as he pressed his lips to her scalp and begged for forgiveness. Eventually the words fell away and only their sniffs and hiccups were left, their tears falling silently in tandem. When even those drifted away, she pulled herself up off of his chest and he followed her, refusing to let her be out of his grasp for even a second.

“Scully I need you to know.” His eyes were wet and pleading. He looked at her with such intensity she was frightened. “I need you to know how much you mean to me”

They were close. Too close. This kind of collapse only comes with closeness and until quite recently they had forbidden this level of intimacy for fear of this exact scenario. She was practically sitting in his lap and his arms were still around her somehow and there was a wet stain in the center of his chest and it was all far too much to deny.

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them.

Slowly she inched her face forward, eyes still closed, exploring the contact between the two of them. Her nose brushed his cheek and she felt him still like a statue, awaiting what was to come. Her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, quick and dangerous, and she pulled back almost instantly. Her tongue darted out and she tasted the salt of him on her lips. She squeezed his hands, and felt a flutter within her when he pulsed back quickly.

She was braver this time, finding his lips with hers, and he kissed her back instantly, desperate to convey his affection. Neither pushed deeper, allowing the soft contact of lips on lips to linger between them, a simple profession of the utmost devotion.

She pulled back eventually, wanting to look at him fully. She smiled a tentative smile when she saw the pain that had dwelled in his eyes replaced by the smallest glimmer of hope.

“Now there’s that smile I was looking for” he teased, which only resulted in her smile widening.

“You should get some rest Mulder”

“Only if you’ll rest with me”, and he pulled her back down until she lay slotted next to him, face pressed into the warmth of his chest. The silence of sleep taking them both, comforting confessions still hanging in the air surrounding them. They had time to sort through the rubble tomorrow. For now, their time belonged to them and them alone.

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monikafilefan · 4 years

Text

seven years

This is an answer to a couple different anon prompts from a long time ago mixed together. One with Maggie finding Scully’s journal and seeing what she’d written to Mulder. The other prompt was for Mulder to spend a lot of time at Scully’s place after “all things.”

tagging @today-in-fic

Margaret Scully considers herself to be a great many things in life. She’s a conservative woman of God who has quietly voted democrat since the day she said “I do.” A loyal navy wife who has worked her slender fingers to the bone as a stay-at-home mother of four; a stickler for rules who occupies her time spent alone with a well-kept home; a grandmother who loves to spoil her grandbabies with cookies before dinner and always reads “just one last story, Grandma” at bedtime.

She also considers herself an excellent judge of character and has learned over the years when not to pry in the private lives of others without invitation. Though she cannot say she has never let curiosity take over and wishes her children would invite her in to visit those hidden recesses of their minds once in a while.

But blind is one thing she is not.

Arriving at Dana’s for a quiet Mother’s Day brunch after church today has only confirmed her long-lasting suspicions of the current relationship status between her daughter and Fox Mulder. One look at Dana’s flushed cheeks and swooning smile as she utters her partner’s name across the kitchen table would have been enough to satisfy Maggie’s curiosity about whether or not her daughter has finally embraced what lay within her heart.

Yet, there is much more to be seen here than a meaningful smile and pink cheeks.

And Maggie sees plenty.

A pair of men’s running shoes - size twelve - sit snugly by her daughter’s size sevens. A large leather jacket that smells of familiar cologne is slung over the coat rack by the door, only partially hidden by the sweater she’d gifted Dana four months ago on her first birthday of the new Millenium. There are two mismatched mugs resting next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes inside a cup in the bathroom - bristles touching in comfortable ease - and two towels hanging dry over the shower door. The entire bathroom smells of men’s body wash.

A new development seven years in the making.

Maggie dries her hands at the sink and shuts the bathroom door, smiling warmly as she goes.

“You need help cleaning up, Dana?”

“No.” She shakes her head and turns the water off in the kitchen sink, soap bubbles rising above the dirty plates as she wiggles her rubber-gloved fingers. “I’ve got it, Mom, today’s your day. Why don’t you take a seat in the living room? I’ll make us some tea and we can talk.”

It’s her day, too, Maggie thinks, but will never say. There will always be an ache in her heart at the thought of her child unable to raise one of her own, yet her pain is one she soothes regiously on her knees come Sunday morning.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m fine.”

Maggie eyes the paired coffee mugs once again and taps each one with her manicured nail, giving her daughter a chance to open up if she so chooses.

“Do these need to be washed, too?” she asks, knowing good and well that they do not.

Dana’s blue eyes widen as they flick to Maggie’s but replies with a casually dismissive, “No. I cleaned them this morning,” before resuming her scrubbing. This time, Dana does so with a renewed flush and a bitten lip.

“That’s good, honey,” Maggie says with a reassuring squeeze to her daughter’s shoulder, but cannot resist adding, “It’s good to spend mornings with those you care about,” as she turns to leave her with her thoughts.

As Dana finishes with the dishes, Maggie allows herself to admire the intimate details of her daughter’s home - now that she knows for certain with whom she’s been sharing so much of it lately. Her slender fingers trail along the bookshelf, scanning the titles of anatomy books, several science journals in which Special Agent Dana K. Scully, MD has been published, and some classic novels she recalls her freckled nose being buried in over the years. All are in alphabetical order. So very Dana.

She chuckles and her eyes catch on a leather book that is not neatly tucked in line with the rest. It’s black with golden letters etched on the cover that simply says “Journal.”

Curious, Maggie holds the journal close and contemplates on whether she should peek, selfishly hoping that more than just the surface-level emotion her daughter allows her to see might reveal itself.

Yet, the thought of betraying Dana’s trust unnerves her. Her daughter trusts so few these days.

As she firmly decides to return such private thoughts to where she found them, she notices a piece of yellow paper slipping out of its back pages. Maggie quickly tries to nab the square bookmark so Dana wouldn’t lose her page due to her mother’s intrusion when the spine flips wide open, fanning out words of heartache her eyes simply cannot unsee.

And every word is intended for someone else.

To whom it may concern,

To my family,

Dear Mulder,

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you’ll read it and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other…

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie exhales through her fingertips, hesitantly scanning the pages scrawled in intimacy with watery eyes.

...Mulder, if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done. And though we’ve traveled far together this last distance must necessarily be traveled alone...

Months spent watching helplessly as the bright light of life burning within her daughter slowly faded more and more each day was the hardest thing she as a mother had borne. Watching and waiting for what many thought was the inevitable is something she would never wish upon anyone. And here she is, sneakingly seeking some sort of deeper understanding of what her baby girl has endured.

...Mulder, I feel you close though I know you are pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express. I need to know you’re out there if I am ever to see through this...

Maggie sighs and swipes at a tear hovering along her lashes, hands shaking as she adjusts the book to replace it, when the piece of paper floats to the floor.

Bending down to retrieve it, the journal pages flutter open across her lap to another time in Dana’s life. Maggie’s chin quivers at the words displayed before her.

Dear Mulder,

There was a time in the not so distant past when I told you I was throwing this journal out. That I chose to leave my moments of weakness in the past. But the time has come to admit to myself that losing my only child, my daughter that was never meant to be with you by my side, only confirms that the ache of what lies within my heart is meant for you to bear along with me. That this time, the distance must necessarily be traveled together…

Maggie gasps at the strength and conviction laced within her daughter’s words. The raw heartache Dana must still feel after burying a piece of herself is a familiar one Maggie does not have the strength to re-expose.

But her baby has not experienced it alone; she’s had her partner, and that has been enough.

Her eyes burn and a hot tear rolls down the swell of her cheek, splashing onto the next page before she can stop it. Pinching the tear-stained paper between her thumb and index finger, she waves it through air in hopes of drying the smeared ink before she shuts the book. As she does, Maggie turns the page fully and sees a single sentence hastily written over and over with what she recognizes as fierce emotion pouring from her child’s fingertips.

Dear Mulder,

Personal interest is all that I have. Personal interest is all that I have... Personal interest: it’s something I’ll always have, even if I should not.

“Oh, goodness.” She should not be reading any of this. If Dana wants her to know what secrets lie in her heart, she will tell her.

Maggie picks up the yellow paper next to her feet and immediately realizes it’s more than merely just a bookmark. It’s a note addressed to “Scully” that’s written in fresh ink and time stamped for today’s date.

I never imagined you’d invite me to see your private thoughts you’ve kept so well guarded over the years. I’m truly grateful; for your loyalty, your trust… for you, Scully. More than words can ever express.

Sniffling and riddled with guilt, Maggie slips the note meant for her daughter to read in private back behind the journal’s last written entry. This time, Dana’s greeting to the man she’s clearly been loving from afar for years is a very different one.

To my constant, my touchstone...

Maggie quickly shuts the book and stands, heart racing at her lack of self-control as she places the leather bound memento back on the shelf.

She has known for years that her daughter loves her partner a great deal, and that he loves her just as fiercely in return. She’s not an oblivious woman and never has been.

No, she thinks, as her eyes scan the room once again to land on a lone photo of Dana and Fox standing close together at a crime scene, staring into one another’s eyes, blind she is certainly not.

“Mom, I have tea brewing if…” Dana enters the room and stops a foot away as she takes in the likely overwhelming expression on her mother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Maggie swallows a lump in her throat and smiles softly at her daughter across the room. Suddenly she sees the tomboy with wild red hair and dirty knees; then the teenage girl with freckles and braces kissing a boy on their front porch. She sees a proud Dana graduating with honors and jumping head first into med school, only to be eagerly recruited by the FBI. She then sees that pride and determination focus on a quest that Maggie will never truly understand, but she doesn’t need to.

No, Fox Mulder is the reason Maggie now sees a real and fulfilled happiness on her daughter’s face for the very first time.

“Nothing, honey. Nothing at all,” Maggie assures, and she means it.

Dana cocks a brow - just like her father used to - and points to the kitchen. “Okay, well I’ve a kettle on the stove if you want some tea.”

The house phone rings before Maggie can respond and Dana stares at it carefully, as if considering whether or not she should pick up. At the fourth ring, she gives in and answers with a breathy, “Yes, Mulder?”

Maggie smirks, silently moving about the living room to gather her things.

“The audit has been moved up? To tomorrow?” Dana huffs with her back turned, tapping her nails along her desk. “Isn’t this a little short notice coming from Skinner?”

Walking into the kitchen with her purse and sweater slung over her arm, Maggie removes the teapot from the burner before it screams for attention. She pours her daughter a cup the way Dana likes it and sets it on the dining room table as she finishes her call.

“Yeah... yes, I can do that,” Dana murmurs, failing to fight off a smile before swiftly hanging up. “I’m sorry, Mom I-”

“Have to go?”

“Mm,” she confirms and darts her gaze out the window. Maggie knows the summer sun is only partially to blame for the glow on her Irish child’s porcelain cheeks. “Something like that.”

“Fox needs you.” A question isn’t needed this time and both Scully women know why.

“Yes,” Dana draws a deep breath and nods. “It looks that way.”

Maggie has seen more than enough today to know that it’s always been that way. And when her daughter finally looks at her again, Maggie is staring at her gleefully.

“What, Mom?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Dana runs her tongue across her upper lip, expectant. “You may as well.”

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly, openly grinning now with a motherly confession perched at the tip of her tongue.

“I may be near-sighted, Dana, but I’m not blind yet,” she teases, reaching up to cup her daughter’s reddening cheek. “Not blind at all.”

side note: Mulder leaving evidence of his weekend sleepovers at Scully’s is a little slice of head canon happiness I like to cling to pre Requiem. I do however believe the evidence shows he moved in with her after he came back in “deadalive,” just not beforehand.

#angst #romance #msr fanfic #maggie scully #cancer arc #pre requiem #journal entries #mulder spends weekends at scully's

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atths--twice · 4 years

Text

The Pregnancy Series 1/6

Contentment

And so begins the next chapter of their lives. The “what happens next” portion of the end of the series and of Soulmates (which I recommend you check out and of which I have recently posted). A season 12 of sorts, but no more X-Files, no more monsters in the dark, no more conspiracies. This is the life they deserve after all the shit they have been through- happy, together, a baby on the way that will not be taken, hunted, or need to be given up.

I NEVER planned to fall into family stories for any reason. Seriously, it was not even on my radar. I had so many other stories to tackle and a baby story was not one I was super interested in working on. Then a tweet was posted about it being Father’s Day and Scully would be so far along and how Mulder would he be talking to her belly and well... I was gone.

I wrote this one and thought I was done, but no. I went on to write over 30 more, so get ready... :)

_________________

Mulder and Scully, together once again, content and cuddling in the Unremarkable House.

(Oh, and we obviously don’t have any pregnant photos from the revival, sooooo.... )

June 2018

Mulder sat on the front porch, his feet up on the railing, as he leaned back, enjoying the breeze of the summer day. It had not been too hot, for which he was grateful. It had been warm the last couple days, but today was good. Today was good.

Scully was inside making a late lunch/early dinner. Now that they were not working at the FBI anymore, they were home more. Scully had been back at the hospital for almost two months. Mulder was still thinking of what he wanted to do with his time. He had been writing, but he was not completely devoted to it yet. It helped him though, helped with all they had gone through.

He was content for now. Content being home with Scully. Watching her body change as her pregnancy progressed. Being there for every step of it this time. Holding her hand while they heard the heartbeat for the first time. Him crying and falling to his knees. She had murmured to him that it was okay, they were okay.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes. He still did not know how this baby came to be. Well, he thought with a smile, he knew how, because he had been there and it had been amazing. Both times. And every time since.

But this pregnancy, five months in and he still was stumped. Years of no discussion, no thought, no consideration of it and they were never expecting. Then they had a discussion in a hotel room, a roundabout discussion about their lives, their hopes, and what they had wanted. Then, he thought smiling, then she had kissed him. Kissed him like she had for years, full of love and promise.

He had rolled her on her back and looked at her until she smiled, giving him the green light. He took care of her first, he owed her that. Owed her his time and devotion. She broke quickly, calling his name, and holding tightly to his hair. She had been breathing hard, whispering his name, as he kissed her and joined their bodies. It was fast, but wonderful.

He got up and stepped over to the screen door and looked in at her. She had music on, though he could not place it. She was swaying to it as she made whatever she was working on. His heart swelled watching her. At the way her body was already changing. The extra weight, the shape of her body. He loved her so much, he would do anything to make her happy. He knew that beyond anything else. She was more important to him than anyone had ever been.

He sighed and sat back down in his chair, feeling the wind blow, closing his eyes. He needed to relax, will his body to calm down, his mind to stop racing, to not start thinking beyond what was happening in the here and now.

“Hey,” she said through the door, then pushed it open. She walked over to him and touched his arm. His eyes flew open and she smiled. “You hungry? Ready to eat?” She ran her fingers across his arm, tickling him, her smile widening. Her other hand was on her belly. The swell of her made him smile.

He pushed himself up and grabbed her hand, heading inside. She laughed and followed behind, squeezing his hand.

She had made a salad and chicken breasts for them. Something healthy for them and for the baby. She was determined to be better with her eating habits of late.

“This looks great,” he said, as he sat down and took a big bite of chicken. “I’m even going to eat the salad.” He said with a wink and a smile. “But, do we have any beer? It will make the salad taste better, I think.”

She laughed as he got up to see if there was beer in the fridge. She heard the bottle open and knew he had found at least one. He winked at her again as he sat back down. She smiled at him and grabbed her knife and fork. It was quiet for a bit as they both ate their food.

Mulder looked at her as he took a drink of his beer. “How are you feeling, Scully? You okay?” He stared at her looking for any sign that she was sad or feeling sick.

“Mulder, you’ve asked me that at least three times today. Every time, I’ve told you I’m fine. Do I not look fine to you?” she asked as she stared back at him, eyebrows raised, a small smile on her face.

“That’s not a fair question, Scully. If I say no, it implies I don’t think you’re fine- which I absolutely do,” he said with an eyebrow waggle, while she rolled her eyes. “But if I say yes, it implies I’m not actually sincere in my questioning. So..how are you?” He smiled and waited.

She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “I was a little sick this morning, as you know. I’m a little tired, but other than that I am okay.” She gave him a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He reached for her hand and she took it. He threaded his fingers with her and squeezed.

“How about if we watch a movie after we eat? You pick, and I’ll clean up. Any movie you want to watch. Yes, even Steel Magnolias.” She chuckled and squeezed his hand back. She nodded and let go of his hand so they could finish their food.

He took their plates to the sink as she picked out a movie. He was washing the dishes when he heard the music of the movie she picked and he smiled. Mystery Men. He liked this movie and she tolerated it. Of course she would pick something he would like. As he set the dishes in the rack, he looked over at her as she sat on the couch and rubbed her belly. He loved watching her do that almost as much as he loved doing it to her.

He hurried his cleaning so he could go sit with her and touch her belly. Hopefully the baby would be awake tonight so he could feel it moving again. The first time it happened, it scared the shit out of him. They had been lying on the couch spooning, his hand on her belly when he felt it move. He pulled his hand back and shouted. She had laughed and put his hand back. For twenty minutes, he had felt the wave like feeling of his baby moving around inside her. He had cried into her neck as she turned to him and held him.

He joined her on the couch, lying down, put a pillow on her thighs, and put his head down, facing her belly. She smiled down at him, while she stroked his hair. The late afternoon sun was coming through the windows and his face looked beautiful in this light. He pressed a kiss to her belly and started mumbling into it, his lips warm against her shirt.

“Do you want me to turn the movie on? Or do you want to just speak to my stomach?” She scratched her nails into his scalp and his eyes closed. He loved when she did that, it felt so good. He put his head back and looked at her.

“Scully, I read in one of the numerous books I ordered, it is important for the baby to hear our voices. He, or she, hears yours all the time, but I don’t get unlimited belly time. So, I have to use my time wisely. Tonight I’m telling him or her, about the Mothmen in Florida. About how we were hunted down and built a kickass ladder tower of dead bodies. So, if you’ll excuse us.” He put his mouth against her stomach again and started talking.

She leaned her head back against the back of the couch and smiled. She muted the television and instead listened to him tell their baby about a trip in the woods that had almost killed them. Well, another trip in the woods, as there had been many. But she could hear him telling this little miracle about how brave she had been, how she tried to light a fire with gunpowder-really smart your mom, how she had held him, kept him warm, when he was hurt.

She ran her fingers through his hair over and over, reveling in the feel of it. So soft and so familiar. She had missed him so much. Had missed nights like this, lying on the couch and watching movies. Now, his attention was on her and the life growing inside her. She loved him so much, her heart ached with love every time he laid like this and talked to their child.

She raised her head and looked down at him. He was talking about how she had sung him a song and it had been the most beautiful singing he had ever heard, when the baby moved, right against his mouth. He pulled back stunned and Scully laughed and laughed at his expression.

“Oh Mulder, I think either he or she is telling you to shut up, or calling you the liar that you are. Remember, I am with him or her all the time. My singing has been heard.” She laughed again and he put his mouth back against her.

“Don’t listen to her little bean, her voice is beautiful, because it’s hers. I love everything about her and her singing voice is part of the package.” He put his hand on her belly, moving it around, trying to feel the movement again. “She didn’t have to sing, but I asked her to and she did. That’s how it works with us, my bean. We ask of each other and we oblige. It’s a partnership. Give and take, push and pull.” He put his head back and looked at Scully. She smiled at him and stroked his face.

“I got incredibly lucky when they sent your mama to me, little bean. They thought she would be my undoing, but she was what I needed. She was my saving grace. I don’t tell her that enough, but it’s the truth.” He was telling the baby but looking at Scully. Her eyes filled with tears, but he was not done. “I almost lost her, my sweet bean. I was so close. I made some bad mistakes and I almost lost the one person I love most in this world.” He was still stroking her belly, staring in her eyes. Her tears spilled over and ran down her face.

“But, we found our way back,” his voice was lower now, the one that gives her the shivers. “We fought through the bad and the darkness to find the light again. You are part of that light, my sweet bean. You would not be here if we hadn’t fought like hell to get back to each other. I am so grateful for you. You are a testament of our love and our hope for the future." He put his mouth back on her stomach and she resumed stroking his hair. “We are going to have so many wonderful adventures. I can’t wait to experience them with you.” He kissed her belly and closed his eyes, his cheek resting against her.

As he lay there quietly, the baby moved again, right on his cheek. His eyes flew open and he looked up at her. She smiled, tear stains on her face. They both laughed at what appeared to be the baby giving him a kiss goodnight. He pressed his face against her and whispered goodnight.

The sun had set and it was the beautiful moment in the day, when the crickets and nighttime insects started their mating sounds. The males calling for their females. Mulder empathized with them tonight. He understood their hope and pain, he had felt in himself. But his female, his mate, his love, was there and his heart was happy, so very happy. They sat in the silence of the house, listening through the screen door. They began to breathe in unison.

Mulder shifted and sat up. He moved to the end of the couch, and reached for her. She went to him and laid her head on his shoulder, on her side. He shifted again, lying on his side wrapping his arms around her. He lifted his leg, allowing hers to slide between his. He pulled his leg up close to her hip, holding her close. One hand moved to her hair, the other low on her waist.

“Pretty soon we won’t be able to lie here like this,” she said as she nestled into his neck, smelling his scent and closing her eyes.

“What do you mean? Feels pretty cozy to me,” he said as he scratched her head with his fingers. She hummed and kissed his neck. He hummed back and pulled her closer.

“Right now, we fit perfectly with, as you call it, the bean between us. Give it a month..” She trailed off and he scoffed.

“Then we will just have to cuddle like this in bed. Problem solved.” He ran his hand up her back and she sighed.

“If we stay here too long, I’m going to fall asleep,” she said, her eyes already feeling heavy. His fingers in her hair was like a sleep aid. She felt so relaxed, content.

“Sleep then, Scully. Sleep.” He tightened his hold on her and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, my angelic songstress.”

He felt her laugh against his neck. “I love you too, you absolute liar.” He chuckled and kissed her again as she sighed and relaxed further into him.

The crickets sang and the summer air was warm. It created a peaceful atmosphere as all three inhabitants rested in a cocoon of love. Love created on the outside in the tangle of limbs, and love created on the inside. Swirling, growing, and preparing for the adventures her father would take her on.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Family Series #Post MSIV #Happy and Content #Pregnancy #Love and Adoration #The Unremarkable House is full of love once again

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impulsive-astrophile · 4 years

Text

Fic recs for days

@dnscully ask and ye shall receive...

Recs will be sorted into arbitrary categories (in bold) and below the cut in order to save your dash because there will be a lot of them :) (final count came in at 103, give or take). All fics will have MSR in one form or another unless otherwise noted.

I also have post-episode recs for days but that would have to be an entirely separate post (which I can do if you’d like, just let me know!)

As always, make sure to read the work tags to filter for content you don’t want to read (sorry I’m not including them in this post, but it’s already 3 miles long and tags would make it even longer).

MulderTorture

Shakespirited (multi-chapter)

Summary: When the members of a small Shakespearean company start dying, Mulder and Scully go undercover to investigate. But will they discover what is killing people, or will they be next?

Rating: Teen

Words: 13670

Surface Deep (multi-chapter)

Summary: An out of town case leads Mulder and Scully to resolve some complicated issues...and make a few startling revelations.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 19105

Man's Best Friend (multi-chapter, not tagged MSR)

Summary: Injured and trapped inside a moving freight train car, Mulder depends on Scully and a new four-legged friend to rescue him. This was written many years ago as a tribute to my four-legged best friend, Dynamite a Husky/Shepherd mix. Spoilers for Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose and Quagmire.

Rating: Gen

Words: 17657

It Burns (multi-chapter, also ft. a casefile!)

Summary: It was no surprise that Mulder’s soul was damaged goods. Years of past trauma and delving into the mind of evil over and over has taken its toll. Scully intervenes, the killer is elusive, and pain awaits.Also they're in love ok.

Rating: Mature

Words: 20078

Lost (also ft. a casefile!)

Summary: When three little girls go missing, Mulder's expertise as a profiler is needed but Scully is more worried about how a case like that might affect him.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4967

Greenwater (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder set off to meet with an informant - alone. Allison has visions about an FBI agent being in trouble. Can she convince Scully and Skinner to find Mulder?

Rating: Gen

Words: 8442

In Between

Summary: A car accident sends half of the FBI’s most unwanted into a coma. The other half of the whole stands vigil at their partner’s bedside as one singular moment changes both of their lives forever.

Rating: Teen

Words: 7820

amor non reciprocatus. (multi-chapter, also ft. AU)

Summary: hanahaki disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. it ends when the beloved reciprocates or the victim dies. Mulder and Scully investigate an X File in which the victim is found with flowers sprouting uncontrollably from their lungs and Mulder can't stop coughing. Hanahaki AU MSR. Completed.

Rating: Mature

Words: 19291

Empty Words (multi-chapter)

Summary: “It doesn’t matter, Mulder. They’re all just… empty words. We can understand each other without all of this, just, please.” Mulder and Scully are diligently working a case in downtown Seattle when Mulder is injured. Hospitals, frustration, and an inability to speak test the strength of their new relationship. Featuring art by cryptidneet!

Rating: Mature

Words: 24958

Casefiles

Claws of the Beast

Summary: Mulder and Scully deal with their relationship as they are called to Texas to investigate a series of slayings.

Rating: Teen

Words: 3297

Brumal Harvest

Summary: Mulder and Scully are trapped deep in the wintry Ozarks while something stalks them from the shadows…

Rating: Teen

Words: 2371

Returning the Past (multi-chapter, not necessary to have seen IWTB)

Summary: Set post ITWB, Mulder and Scully are honeymooning in Far North Queensland. Much to Scully’s chagrin, Mulder has delved headlong into a mysterious case of strange lights, Tasmanian tiger sightings and abductions. It’s not long, before they run into trouble…

Rating: Mature

Words: 18772

Succumbing to the Truth (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder and Scully are called onto a case where men are being seduced and attacked in their sleep by an unknown force. This force usually disguises itself as the person the victims most desires, so what happens when the case starts to get a little too close for comfort for our agents? MSR Casefic

Rating: Explicit

Words: 33453

Thin Air

Summary: Mulder discovers a case where a person appears to disappear into thin air. Scully, of course, sets out to prove him wrong.

Rating: Teen

Words: 9772

Vice (multi-chapter)

Summary: A weekend assignment gets out of control with Mulder undercover. Things come to a head, dragging Scully into the picture with unexpected consequences. Part 1 PG, Part 2 NSFW

Rating: Mature

Words: 7200

Wood Creek (also ft. MulderTorture)

Summary: Mulder comes down with chickenpox while away on a case. As always there are complications. In this case - cannibals. S6 - one week after 1st Person Shooter (mentioned in the story) - not necessary to have seen the episode

Rating: Mature

Words: 32255

Utu (multi-chapter, novel-length, also ft. MulderTorture)

Summary: Mulder convinces Scully to take a holiday in New Zealand. Can they stay away from cases and keep out of trouble? Don't be silly.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 103466

Manitou (multi-chapter)

Summary: It's perfect weather for frolicking with a serial killer!

Rating: NC17

Words: 30922

The Basket (multi-chapter, also ft. MulderTorture)

Summary: Following the aftermath of the Ed Jerse case in Philadelphia, Mulder and Scully investigate some unexplained deaths in Northern California. It soon becomes a race against time as Mulder becomes more involved in the case than he bargained for becoming the next target.

Rating: Teen

Words: 24043

The Disappearance of Bruce Speta (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder and Scully get the chance to investigate "a good old fashioned haunting," but the case ultimately takes Scully somewhere she never intended to go.

Rating: Gen

Words: 16048

Procedures (multi-chapter, also ft. MulderTorture)

Summary: Summary - Shortly after their return from Antarctica, the X Files are on hold while Mulder and Scully are assigned to assist the Seattle FBI Office in catching a bizarre serial murderer before a young runaway becomes his next victim

Rating: Mature

Words: 27335

Achluophobia (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder and Scully are called on a personal favor by Maggie Scully, to investigate a seemingly haunted house.

Rating: Mature

Words: 27447

Homesick (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder and Scully are investigating a case in the suburbs of Chicago, where several victims have been found completely dehydrated.

Rating: Teen

Words: 10473

Speechless (series, WIP)

Rating: Mature

Words: 24967

Dryad

Summary: Family fic, meet casefile. Casefile, meet family fic

Rating: Explicit

Words: 15396

Not Alone

Summary: Scully warns Mulder that someone is going to kill him...but is her prescience correct about the target?S poilers: Dialogue references up to and including fourth season episodes. Originally posted November, 1996.

Rating: Mature

Words: 14090

Twelve Days (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate a case over Christmas Takes place sometime during Season 5 after "Emily" but before "The End"

Rating: Explicit

Words: 15553

So Sweet You Might Need to See a Dentist

Stargazing

Summary: Mulder takes Scully stargazing in the middle of the night while they're working on a stressful case. Inspired by the conversation Scully has with Skinner in This Is Not Happening (s08e14).

Rating: Gen

Words: 2253

Maybe Not As His Partner

Summary: “Coffee, then? There’s a place at the end of the block there.” “We could get married. County clerk’s office is in the same building.” “Oh, OK, let’s get right on that,” she says mildly.

Rating: Gen

Words: 3906

The Patron Saint of Doomed Stakeouts

Summary: Mulder might have a point about which days of the year defied productive surveillance. It’s February 14th. Of course stakeouts are romantic. They usually are. Sometimes they can be? Okay, not ever— no. Fluff and friendship, season 3.

Rating: Gen

Words: 1861

Level of Concern (multi-chapter)

Summary: What would happen if Dana Scully and Fox Mulder were currently experiencing the 2020 pandemic. That's it. Just fluff and trying to make quarantine seem a little less awful with some MSR.

Rating: Gen

Words: 7243

How to Care For Your Mulder in Quarantine (multi-chapter, WIP)

Summary: Scully and Mulder are quarantining together, and Mulder's starting to lose it. A series of scenes of mostly Mulder losing his mind while being trapped inside for eight weeks. (part 2 to my first quarantine fic, Level of Concern)

Rating: Gen

Words: 3808

If this is what it feels like

Summary: Scully stood resting against the wall while Mulder was pacing up and down the room, rambling without as much as taking a breath. “I love you.” Oh no. She felt her blood run cold. She hadn’t just said that out loud, had she?

Rating: Gen

Words: 760

Two In A Bed

Summary: "and then... there was only one bed" that's it. that's the plot.

Rating: Teen

Words: 1616

Boys

Summary: Scully’s boys go to the store. Mulder comes back with a lot more than was on his list. NOTE: This story pretends that Scully and Mulder got a happy ending.

Rating: Gen

Words: 1378

She's There Waiting For Me

Summary: Then he felt an idea arise from the depths of his heart, and it made it pound violently. Mulder wondered what his medical doctor partner thought of his heart’s current, deniably obvious, condition, but she seemed to pay no mind, probably out of politeness.

Rating: Gen

Words: 1009

And, You Thought You’d Never Stand Out

Summary: Mulder can’t sleep so he calls his person.Pure cotton candy fluff. Without the actual cotton candy. MSR. S7.

Rating: Gen

Words: 918

On the Rise

Summary: Mulder and Scully get their sweet tooth on in the X-Files office at Halloween. In other words, this story is achingly sweet. Plus there's a slide show.

Rating: Not Rated

Words: 1246

Jealous Scully

Afternoon Delight

Summary: Prompt - 'Jealous Scully'

Rating: Explicit

Words: 9666

Sickfics

The Lovers Will Go Down Together

Summary: Mulder is sick, so Scully takes him to her apartment to take care of him. A fluffy sick fic full of friendship with hints of possible romance. Based very, very loosely on the song "HELP" by The Front Bottoms.

Rating: Gen

Words: 3686

House Calls: a Sick!Fic

Summary: Our favorite puppy of an FBI agent isn’t feeling very well. Luckily, his doctor makes house calls.

Rating: Gen

Words: 1076

How to Cure a Bad Patient (not hosted on Ao3)

Summary: Mulder's a horrible patient, Scully's beside herself trying to help him recover and get her work done, but maybe Maggie can help them both.

Rating: Gen

Words: 10938

soup

Summary: Mulder is sick. Scully wants to help.

Rating: Gen

Words: 2790

Fever

Summary: Mulder cares for Scully when she gets sick on a case.

Rating: Not Rated

Words: 3767

Featuring: Kink

The Perfect Partnership

Summary: Smut with a submissive-but-feisty Mulder in handcuffs, a dominant Scully, and their usual banter. Inspired by the following exchange in Season 11, Episode 2: Scully: Why do you operate so well with your hands cuffed behind your back? Mulder: As if you didn't know.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4768

Kinks featured: D/s, bondage, edging

dana scully stiCkS it uP fOx MulDer'S BUTT

Summary: Mulder gets pegged. That's sort of all there is to it, honestly. Shameless porn with a little bit of banter and tenderness.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3833

Kinks featured: Light D/s, pegging

The Wait

Summary: Mulder has so many ties. Scully finds a good use for them.

Rating: Mature

Words: 2267

Kinks featured: Bondage, humiliation, praise kink, light D/s

First Name Basis

Summary: What sort of name was Fox anyways? Nobody ever called him Fox. Especially not Scully. Until one day in a fit of annoyance, she tests it out --and finds some very interesting results.

Rating: Mature

Words: 3214

Kinks featured: Light D/s, slapping

yes ma'am

Summary: Mulder might be into something a little bossier than anticipated.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2006

Kinks featured: Pegging, D/s

The Game Is Afoot

Summary: Mulder and Scully have a game they like to play. It includes handcuffs.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1786

Kinks featured: Bondage, light BDSM

Little Toys

Summary: handcuffs dude

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2881

Kinks featured: Bondage, dominance

That Includes All The Ass Beatings

Summary: The first time she spanks him, it’s because there’s a mosquito on his ass.

Rating: Teen

Words: 704

Kinks featured: Spanking

Plaything II

Summary: Scully gets hers. Sequel to Plaything.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2935

Kinks featured: D/s, orgasm delay/denial

Untouched (multi-chapter)

Summary: 18. Coming untouched 61. Multiple orgasms 66. Orgasm delay/denial 24. dom/sub

Scully relaxes after a day of being pissed at Mulder.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4293

Kinks featured: Light D/s, orgasm delay/denial

A New Side To The Story

Summary: Scully's being a bit obstinate. Mulder realizes she wants him to take her firmly in hand. Around the 4th season somewhere

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5436

Kinks featured: Dominance, spanking, orgasm delay/denial

Playtime

Summary: "Mulder, you have never yet asked me to put anything up your ass." Scully is sure she can fuck Mulder better than Krycek did.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3239

Kinks featured: Pegging

Obedient

Summary: Porn Battle prompt number 8: Dom Scully, reverse cowgirl, slow sex

Rating: Explicit

Words: 645

Kinks featured: D/s

Set Free

Summary: A dirty little MSR fic with a bottom Mulder. Written in response to a conversation with the lovely, talented @settle-down-frohike Thanks to her for the word smithing advice!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1111

Kinks featured: Pegging

bruise me

Summary: My girl wanted some MSR smut so that's what she's getting. Definitely PWP.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 334

Kinks featured: Light D/s, breathplay

Scully, Strap Up

Summary: S11, Scully's moved back into the unremarkable house. She pegs the absolute fuck out of Mulder.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4129

Kinks featured: Pegging

Pure Smut (all explicit, obv)

Fourteen Days and Here He Stays (multi-chapter)

Summary: What happens when Mulder and Scully are quarantined in her apartment for two weeks? Originally, these were posted on Tumblr. Basically they are just quick drabbles that I write and post every day before bed. I'll be adding all of them here as well.

Words: 15828

The bumpy ride

Summary: Scully has to sit on Mulder's lap in the car.

Words: 2548

Tit for Tat (multi-chapter)

Summary: Prompt: Mulder catches Scully masturbating to/about him, or somehow sees that she's really wet. She's embarrassed, he's amazed. (XF porn battle)

Words: 4416

Midnight Snack

Summary: Dialogue Prompt: “You know, there wasn't a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.” No plot, just porn

Words: 2032

Window Dressing

Summary: Mulder needed to tell her. He had to tell her. But in this moment he felt inexplicably frozen. His feet were lead, his legs heavy, the only perceivable movement in his entire body was the blood starting to pulse through his veins and his eyes frantically absorbing the sight in front of him, unsure which point to land on.

Words: 4450

The Buck Hills Cave Incident (also ft. a casefile!)

Summary: Written for the 50 States of Sex challenge: Virginia. NSFW, obvs. This is based on a real newspaper report in the Bells Cove Coronet about the Buck Hills Cave in Virginia.

Words: 4738

Eavesdropping

Summary: Mulder overhears something

Words: 2453

That's What He Said

Summary: Some not so idle chit chat in the office.

Words: 4232

That's What She Said

Summary: A not so idle car ride.

Words: 3554

Temptation (multi-chapter)

Summary: When a houseguest puts a damper on their extracurricular activities, will Mulder be able to convince Scully to make an exception to her “no sex in the office” rule?

Words: 5236

Wind Sprints and Physics, An Excerpt

Summary: “Do that thing,” Scully said, while she could still talk.There’s a couch and two agents and they get hot and heavy and try but fail to slow down. Smut n’ love, season 6.

Words: 1524

Pre Menstrual Scully (multi-chapter)

Summary: N/A

Words: 6947

Fairies, Skip Hence

Summary: Bubbles floated like dust motes silently through the living room, catching the color from the lights on the Christmas tree and turning the room kaleidoscopic. She sat in front of the fireplace amongst Matthew’s scattered stocking stuffers, looking young and small. She held a small Santa-shaped bottle, blowing bubbles quietly into the room from a wand protruding from Santa’s hat. She looked like a fairy in the festive space, and his heart clutched at the sight of her.

Words: 7917

again, and again, and again

Summary: He slept best like this, she knew – when she was naked and curled against him like the frond of a new fern, tender and spreading from how he had coaxed her open and unfurled and grasping till she glowed with the green ache of being alive. After, her eyelids always grew heavy as the weight of him against her, and he would keep his mouth pressed against her shoulder, her hair, her stomach, a kiss that didn’t linger so much exist timelessly, an anchor in her flesh to keep himself moored to her as a ship to the shore. [in which Dana Scully is learning how to let herself want.]

Words: 6651

Homecoming

Summary: “Sorry,” he panted. His lips were red and swollen, his chest heaving and she knew she looked exactly the same. The emptiness between her thighs throbbed with the need to be filled by him. Only him. “Sorry, you were saying?” “Nothing.” She replied, shaking her head to make sure the message got through the thick fog of lust that surrounded them. Her ears were ringing with it. Everything was hazy, blurry at the edges, expect him standing strong and clear in front of her. “I wasn’t saying anything.” She said whilst launching herself back into him. M & S reunion, season of secret sex style.

Words: 3231

a conference of importance

Summary: prompt: sex in public where other agents might hear them. Set in s7!

Words: 1765

the door was open (just a crack)

Summary: Dana Scully is the voyeur in this one.

Words: 1687

the best that i can

Summary: this one's for her.

Words: 3477

march 6, 2000

Summary: eight years.

Words: 1901

The Darkest Places

Summary: *This is not a new fic.I'm creating a series of works called 'Secret Sex'. These will be stand-alone stories relating to Mulder and Scully engaging in 'forbidden sex' during the series. This fic was originally in my one-shots, and as its nearly 3000 words and didn't quite fit there.

Words: 2992

Misc

I'll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours (multi-chapter)

Summary: Mulder and Scully wake to find themselves in the wrong apartments, and in the wrong bodies. In a desperate search for answers and a way back to their old selves, can they keep their feelings in check? Or will their minds, and eyes, wander?

Rating: Teen

Words: 7979

How Many Tropes Can One Story Hold?

Summary: You want one bedfic? You want snowed in? You want sick!fic? You want drunken confessions? You want a plot twist? You got it.

Rating: Gen

Words: 6325

give me all that you can give. (ft. UST)

Summary: 'Partner. Spy. Taken. "Now, now, Agent Mulder, there’s no need to take my words out of context in such a way,” her grin is sweet and teasing. His heart pangs rebelliously. “I merely suggested that Skinner might take you more seriously if you came in with a fresh haircut.”'early x-files, somewhere in seasons 1-3. scully gives mulder a haircut in her kitchen and there is an unforgivable amount of UST.

Rating: Teen

Words: 2751

Human Credential

Summary: "People think, well, if *she* can stand him, he must have some humanity within him. Sometimes I think about Scully as Mulder's human credential. It's the only thing that makes him not crazy in many ways." -David Duchovny

Rating: Gen

Words: 2995

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: Forgetting to pay your rent has consequences. Consequences that Fox Mulder is about to become very familiar with. He just needs to remember that he doesn't have to be a stranger when it comes to his best friend, his Scully. Forgetting to pay the rent wasn't all bad. He did figure out where his home really was.

Rating: Gen

Words: 9538

Four Days of Me and You

Summary: Mulder and Scully spend four days together in quarantine. Oh yeah, there's only one bed.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4021

Maintaining Social Distance

Summary: A virus threatens everyone’s livelihood, thus forcing a stay in place, self quarantine situation. How will Mulder and Scully handle being apart?

Rating: Teen

Words: 4400

Road to Fresno, The

Summary: Mulder's first birthday after he and Scully became partners.

Rating: Gen

Words: 1196

For Better, For Worse

Summary: Mulder accompanies Scully as a surprise wedding date.

Rating: Mature

Words: 13032

QUEER

Summary: In the face of Scully's everlasting resistance, Mulder starts to question his own sexuality. Don't panic. It all turns out okay in the end.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 11399

Taking Liberties

Summary: One night while on a case, Mulder and Scully find themselves in her motel room, just talking and maybe - just maybe - taking the next step in their relationship.

Rating: Mature

Words: 2635

Nothing Like Doing Nothing (multi-chapter)

Summary: After Scully gets taken by Donald Pfaster, Mulder can't sleep and decides to give Scully some company. This leads the two to begin a tradition of spending the night after particularly hard cases. Can Mulder and Scully keep it purely friendly, or will their secret feelings end up getting the better of them?

Rating: Teen

Words: 7805

If You Had To Choose?

Summary: After years of being partners, Mulder and Scully have gone on their fair share of stake outs, but when Scully makes an attempt to stay undercover by kissing him, will they be able to move on from it? Or will the tension between them finally break?

Rating: Mature

Words: 4384

Letters Lost in the Fire

Summary: early s6, off the x-files, extracurricular investigations" She supposes Mulder is her job in a larger, cosmic sense, but that idea doesn’t bear thinking about for too long.” (originally posted at my livejournal 3/23/08)

Rating: Not Rated

Words: 2571

a cabin in the woods

Summary: Her spine arched and swayed, reminding her of the curving evergreen trees in the whipping wind. She could see her hair cascade down her back like a waterfall in the shadows of the flickering fire, and she let a primal moan rumble through her at the sight. Being stuck in this rustic cabin, clearly left to age among the wilderness had Scully feeling wild herself, and it felt as if their bodies danced to an ancient song among the elements.

Rating: Mature

Words: 6913

A Baby Is Forever (multi-chapter, ft. high school teen pregnancy AU)

Summary: • Prompt request for AU where Mulder gets Scully pregnant in high school and they are ‘forced’ to marry but fall in love.

Rating: Mature

Words: 15421

Oh my god, they were roommates (multi-chapter, ft. roommate AU)

Summary: This whole thing is based on a trope/AU mashup prompt I filled on tumblr: Roommate AU/Erotic dream. AU where Scully and Mulder are roommates and hoo boy is there something brewing in that two bedroom.

Rating: Teen

Words: 7408

The Great Pretender

Summary: Written for @slippinmickeys, whose prompt was “Maggie Scully invites Mulder to the Scully family Christmas gathering but doesn't tell Dana. Lots of UST ensues, and then RST. First time? If you're not comfortable writing smut, totally fine! Just have fun with it, and IMPLY smut. Haha S06/07, UST to RST, smut, fluff” In my rendition, Scully is dating a surgeon with a God complex and a refusal to commit. Suspecting he’s going to flake out on coming to the Scully family Christmas shindig, Maggie invites Mulder. Very, very, very mild Scully/Other (no sex scenes) that goes directly to MSR without passing go or collecting any money. =)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5616

The Seventh Night

Summary: Mulder spends Christmas with Scully.

Rating: Teen

Words: 3099

The Newlywed Game (multi-chapter)

Summary: While going out for dinner, Scully runs into an ex and Mulder valliantly pretends to be her husband. However, that little lie traps them into having to play the Newlywed Game in front of a bunch of strangers and they have to navigate admitting feelings they haven't even admitted to themselves.

Rating: Teen

Words: 8498

How They Met (multi-chapter)

Summary: This Series is Complete Check out ther beautiful dust jacket: https://gemikanxiii.tumblr.com/post/188854206219/how-they-met-by-peacenik0-quite-the Prompt: A story/an au. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully met at her fbi academy graduation party. They have an instant connection. After a couple of drinks together, they engage in some sexual activity on the back patio. She writes down her number for him. He kisses her under a streetlamp. On his way home, he drops the slip of paper with her number. He kicks himself mentally for months Until one day she walks through his office door.Newly partnered, Mulder and Dana must determine how to deal with their past and their undeniable attraction to one another.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 19689

Spider

Summary: Mulder calls Scully in the middle of the night asking for her help and she fears the worst. MSR.

Rating: Teen

Words: 1753

On The Couch

Summary: Is it a date? Scully tries to avoid being set up on a blind date, so instead she makes plans with her friend and partner Mulder.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4271

#fic recs #fics #The X-Files #x-files #x-files fics #I wasn't kidding when I said I had a lot

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scullysexual · 4 years

Text

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

You can read chapter’s One Two and three here or alternatively you can read all four chapters on ao3.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @improlificinsarcasm @enigmaticxbee Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this!

- - -

Chapter Four

It’s not often that Scully feels self-conscious. It’s not often she cares what other people think of her; she’s happy to live her life if she’s able to live it in peace.

But standing here now does she realise just how much she stands out. This spontaneous trip meant most of her belongings got left behind at that filthy inn she was staying in. Clothes didn’t matter, she was going home. Even when she got on the ship, nobody downstairs cared what she wore, for the week she was here, the two sets of items would do her.

Until now.

She stands outside the dining room, back against the wall as she attempts to blend in. The people who pass her, those who notice her (the women mostly) glare at her, stare at her with confusion, repulsion. One even asked the door man what she was doing here. The door man had just shrugged, told the woman he was told she was attending dinner with the Mulders. The woman shook her head, turning to the man beside her to loudly ask what these people were doing affiliating themselves with people like her.

Scully kept quiet. She stood in her spot and waited.

“Scully?” Relief spreads through her when she hears Mulder’s voice. He walks a little ahead of his family, unlinking his arm from Phoebe’s. Scully doesn’t miss the offended look Phoebe gives her.

“How long have you been waiting?” he asks. He takes hold of her arm, leading her away from her hiding place.

“Not long,” Scully answers, just happy that she’s no longer standing here alone.

“We sent Krycek down to escort you up? Did he not come get you?”

Scully shakes her head.

“Right,” says Mulder, looking towards the group. Scully follows, finding Krycek to be nowhere.

“We’ll speak to him later. Come on.”

He takes her arm again and just as Scully is about to ask about Phoebe, Mulder looks at her, a sorry smile across his face as he drops her arm and moves to back over to Phoebe instead.

She doesn’t miss the woman’s smug smile.

Scully falls behind the group as they walk in, Mulder and Phoebe leading. Her eyes stay fixed on their linked arms, feeling a pang of what she can only rationalise as jealousy at the sight. Scully scolds herself, reminding herself that Mulder isn’t hers.

She thinks about that. She’s known the man for two days, when did she begin thinking of him as something that was hers anyway?

Tearing her gaze away, she looks around the room. A lot of money went into making this place look as grand as it does, from its high ceilings, to the massive chandelier in the middle of the room, to even the pristine carpet. Charlie could work for his entire life and still not make up the earrings equivalent to the cost of this room.

She looks to the people already seated at the tables, probably unaware to the money they are standing in. They’ve probably never once given it thought but it’s all Scully can think about.

That is until her eyes fall to a dog that sits in its own chair, eating its own scraps of better looking meat than is served downstairs.

Even the dogs eat better than us, Scully thinks as they sit.

She sits opposite Mulder and Phoebe, wishing they were sitting next to each other but at least she can look up and see him. Mulder smiles at her, kicking her foot beneath the table and Scully smiles, reassured as she places her foot on top of his.

His smile drops as he gazes at her and the look in his eyes steals her breathe away. She could be the only person in this room right now.

Scully breaks the eye contact, her eyes falling down to look at the plate and the cutlery that sits either side. Three spoons one side, two forks and a knife the other. Scully stares at it, bewildered and wondering why the need for so many utensils. She’s gotten through life fine with just a spoon and the occasional knife every once in a while.

She feels a nudge against her foot and looks up to see Mulder smiling at her with an amused look on his face, barely lifting up the normal looking fork. Scully kicks his foot, unimpressed with his finding enjoyment in this.

Dinner begins and despite Scully’s initial fears the conversation doesn’t gravitate to or about her. They discuss the engagement, of what their lives will be like back in New York again, they gossip about people of the ship, so-and-so being seen with so-and-so whilst married to so-and-so. Scully doesn’t listen much, she eats her serving which is a lot more than she usually eats and plays footsy under the able with Mulder. She’s fine and somewhat happy here, eating decent food and no longer feeling like she’s out of place.

That is until the dreaded words exit Phoebe’s mouth.

“Miss Scully…”

The chatter around the table stops as all eyes fall Scully. She stops the game she’s playing with Mulder, shifting her own eyes towards Phoebe.

“How are you finding all this?” the girl asks. “Not too overwhelming, I hope.” Her voice is laced with false concern.

Scully looks around, taking in all the faces that have gathered around the table.

She swallows her food before speaking. “It’s not too much different to downstairs, actually,” she says, her eyes moving back to Phoebe. “Better food, though.” It gets a few awkward laughs.

“How is steerage, Miss Scully?” Mrs Mulder asks to the side of her. “I heard the accommodations were well on this ship compared to others.”

Scully shifts in her sit, putting her fork down on the table as she leans forward to see the older woman.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry,” Scully says with a smile. “A lot less rats here, too.” She looks pointedly at Phoebe. The woman seethes.

“Miss Scully is joining us from third class,” Mr Mulder explains to the new people on the table. “She met my son the night last night on the back of the ship.”

Scully sits back, caution of the reactions around her. Some make inquiring faces towards Mr Mulder and Mulder and to each other.

An older man begins to speak. “Do you often find yourself conversing with…” he looks unsurely at Scully. “third class passengers, Fox?”

“Not usually,” Mulder admits and Scully watches with curiosity at how he handles this situation. “Though I would consider doing it again,” he looks to her then. “They are quite interesting people.”

Scully smiles, impressed.

Of course Phoebe has to ruin it.

“How is it that you’re here, Miss Scully?”

You asked me here, you eejit is just on the tip of Scully’s tongue before Phoebe herself saves them both from embarrassment and elaborates.

“I mean, how did you get on the ship with so little money?”

Scully begins to play her own game. These people want to degrade her, drag her down and make a mockery out of her, so be it. She’ll be honest.

“It was my brother, really,” Scully says. “He won the tickets when he won a game of poker. We were on our way home actually and instead we ended up here.”

“And where is home?” another man asks.

“Belfast,” she answers. “Or just outside of it to be exact.”

“Titanic was built in Belfast, wasn’t it?” Mulder asks but it’s clear he already knew the answer.

“It was,” Scully says proudly. “It’s the city’s pride and joy. We don’t have much but least we have Titanic.”

“Do you and your brother travel around together a lot?” Mrs Mulder asks.

“Only recently.” She thinks to Charlie who is probably wondering where is she. Or he’s too drunk to care. “He’s fifteen, see, so he’s only just been allowed out of my mother’s eye. He’s never been one to stay put and has wanted to leave Ireland for a while now. Ma wanted me to watch over him, make sure he didn’t get into trouble and that.”

“Looks like all mothers are the same regardless of class,” Mulder says and Mrs Mulder smiles though it looks like it takes a lot of effort.

“How is Ireland given the, er…circumstances?” somebody asks.

Scully pauses. Her battle-worn country wasn’t doing so well lately.

“It could be better.” she says truthfully.

“They should leave Ireland alone,” Mulder says seriously. The table falls quiet minus some disgruntled grunts. “It’s obvious they don’t want to be under the union, just give up and leave it be.”

Scully sits back in her seat, enamoured with Mulder’s statement.

“Doesn’t work that way, son,” Mr Mulder says.

“Why not?” asks Mulder, sincerely.

Before Mr Mulder can answer, Phoebe cuts in.

“Do we have to talk politics tonight? It grows heavily tiresome.”

And just like that the conversation drifts to something else, something other than Scully or Ireland. Scully looks to Mulder, shrugs and mouths at least you tried.

Dinner moves on, course after course, full from her firsts Scully declines another and soon grows bored. Her mind wanders to downstairs, to the party that is no doubt commencing down there and how much she longs to be there with them not up here with sore ears from the piano music and her head hurting with trying to keep up with these people.

Mulder catches her attention with a tap against her foot as he mouths, You want to go?

Looking around, nobody paying attention to her, she nods.

“Father,” says Mulder. “I’m going to take Dana back to the gate.”

Mr Mulder looks towards Scully, “Have we tired you out already?”

Beginning to stand, Scully replies, “I’m afraid so.” She turns to Phoebe. “Thank you for the invite, Miss Green. I’ve enjoyed it.”

Phoebe smiles, an act for the people. “My pleasure, Miss Scully.” She turns to Mulder then, grabbing his arm. “You won’t be too long?” she asks.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

No with kiss goodbye or anything of the sort, Mulder leads Scully out of the dining room.

The cool air is welcoming, as is the freedom, too. She’d done well, Scully, even with the less-than-appealing questions. He was proud, though he had no right to be.

“So, how did I do?” she asks, as if reading his mind, a habit they had seemed to fall into.

“Wonderful,” he says. “Dress you up a bit and no one would have been none to wiser.”

She smiles bashfully at the decking. He likes it when she grows shy.

“Did you enjoy it?” Mulder asks. He knows what the answer will be but just out of curiosity really.

Her answer is as expected.

“Does anyone enjoy that?” She giggles to herself and it’s a sound Mulder finds himself wanting to hear again. “I think one night is good enough for me.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He thinks back to that dinner, to the one pressing matter he’s most anxious for her to hear.

“I meant what I said in there, about Ireland, it should be its own country.”

They stop just outside the third class gate. She looks up at him, searching, woefully. “I’m afraid you’re preaching to the choir.” She looks down then, to the stairs, to where the sounds of a party are escaping through the cracks in the door. It sounds appealing, fun, something Mulder has yet to experience of this ship, save from his meetings with Scully.

“Come down with me,” she says suddenly, her eyes big and asking.

Mulder begins to shake his head. “I- I can’t…” he begins, though he wants to protest. “I promised Phoebe…”

Scully sighs, big and heavy, exasperated. “And how many of those promises have you actually kept?” She sighs once more, calming herself down and shaking her head. “Whatever. You go back and have fun in there.” She spins, beginning to unlock the gate. Mulder stands there, watching, his heart heavy, his heart telling him to go down there and just have some bloody fun, it’s not going to hurt.

“Scully…” he says and she turns. “Will I be okay down there?”

“They’ll be too drunk to care.”

It’s loud and busy. A band composed of various instruments play in the corner, their music floating around the room, upbeat and celebratory. It’s a celebration of life down here, people dancing with whoever, others who drink, play poker, darts, laugh. It’s alive. There’s no need for talking, no need for language or verbal communication, they communicate through dance and laughs, everything is clear and there are no lies. They’re just people. Just people living.

He sits on a stool, a Guinness beside him and watches Scully dance in circles with a little boy who stared imploringly at her hair, not that Mulder can blame the boy, he too has often found himself captivated with it.

He likes it here, likes how he has this corner to himself and he can just appreciate everything- appreciate Scully more so- how much happier she looks down here. He can be a voyeur here, too. He can watch her without feeling like he’s intruding or looking at her like a creature of wonder. He never has but when it’s just them, and when she looks back at him, he feels like he is.

The boy yawns and the two stop what they’re doing. She wanders back over to Mulder once she’s sent the boy off, a full smile doing its own dance across her face.

“His name’s Willem,” she says as she picks up his drink and drinks from it. Mulder doesn’t protest, they can share everything if she wants.

“Come dance with me?” she shouts over the noise and Mulder had been distracted with the thought of her saliva on his glass that it had taken a moment for him to process her request.

This he protests.

“No…no…” he says, shaking his head.

Scully rolls her eyes, outstretching his hand. “Come on. I’m sure a rich fella like yourself learned how to dance.”

The truth is, his parents had tried to teach him, put both him and Sam in lessons when they were younger and while Sam had naturally excelled (even though she protested originally) he’d lumbered about like a giant (it got worse when he actually grew into a giant)

“And even if you cannae,” Scully continues. “Neither can anybody else here.”

Mulder thinks about that for a second, before looking around the room to see that the ‘dancing’ was really just jumping in time to the music. Somewhat less nervous, he takes her hand and pulls himself up.

His hand naturally gravitates to the dip of her waist, and only then does he become aware of how close they are. They bask in the moment of just being free to touch each other, away from all those who might say otherwise. They can do as they like down here and nobody upstairs would know any different.

The tension is broken when a smile breaks out across Scully’s face. “We’re essentially in a tavern, Mulder,” she tells him. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

Mulder doesn’t feel formal; his tie off, buttons undone, sleeves rolled up (he hadn’t missed Scully’s look when he’d done that) He takes his hand out of hers, missing the feeling of it, as it joins his other one at her waist.

There’s a break in the music and Mulder, nervous once more, leans down towards her.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Scully shrugs, “Just do what everything else does.”

And with that, there’s the change of music. Instantly he spins her and then begins jumping around the room, weaving their way in and out of people who are also doing the same thing. It’s fun, Mulder thinks, dancing is actually fun, he could spend the night doing this if he wanted to.

Time speeds up and he has no idea how long he’s been gone for. They know where he is and who he’s with and Mulder couldn’t care any less. He’s six beers in, ready to spend all of Daddy’s money in one night, and in the middle of an arm-wrestling match with someone he thinks is from Belgium.

He refuses to lose, that competitive school-boy coming out of him. His opponent seems to be the same. There’s no winnings at the end of this- no money or even a free drink. They play for the fun of it.

Mulder loses and he shakes Mr Belgium’s hand and moves on.

Later in the night, losing count of how many beers he’s drank but knowing he’s drank enough for the room to be a wee bit out of focus, he gets into a conversation with an American about baseball. Barely anybody in England really knew what he was talking about half the time.

He explains the rules to Scully with a promise that they will play as soon as the ship docks.

The party slowly comes to an end with people slowly drifting off to their rooms, the bar closing and the band packing away. Mulder sits back in the corner, slouched against the bench, head down, as the room spins around him.

“Think we need to get you to bed,” he hears Scully say.

Lifting up his head, his stomach lurching slightly, a heavy loopy grin crosses his face as he sees two Scullys in front of him.

“Only if I get to go in yours,” he answers back, too happy and drunk to care about the consequences.

He sees her bite her lip and it’s incredibly attractive.

“There are hits and there’s misses,” she reminds him, reaching for his arm and helping him up. “And then there are misses.”

Worth a try.

He tries his best to get himself up the stairs but all he wants to do is shut his eyes a sleep, the world spins and he doesn’t like it, the ship rocks back and forth making everything worse and he doesn’t like it. He just wants to curl up next to Scully, she’ll make it all go away.

They get up the stairs and he stumbles against the wall, needing a moment to just breathe in the salty air and hope he doesn’t throw up.

“Jesus Christ, how much have you had to drink?” Scully asks.

“A lot more than I usually do,” Mulder says, shutting his eyes against the spinning and the rocking and the overwhelming idea to just throw up.

He opens his eyes and she’s incredibly close to him, concern littered across her features. He focuses on Scully, wills himself to see just one, to use her as a way to calm his twisting stomach.

But something changes as the two Scullys become one Scully, his Scully and he’s had so much fun tonight then he can remember having, he wants this fun for the rest of his life.

He moves forward, ready to capture it, to take that fun and make it stay, make it never go away.

But her hand falls to his chest and all she needs to say is one name.

“Phoebe…”

It sobers him up. Or he sobers himself up. He nods slowly, bringing himself to full height. Phoebe, he thinks over and over again. Phoebe doesn’t deserve this.

Content that he now isn’t going to throw up, or pass out, or whatever Scully moves away from him, taking her hand off his chest and he immediately misses the contact.

Phoebe…Phoebe…Phoebe…

“Goodnight, Mr Mulder,” Scully says, she opens the gate, allowing him to leave.

And Mulder goes, against everything he goes, back to Phoebe, back to his life.

He makes sure to watch Scully go back down the stairs, however, until she disappears from sight.

Goodnight, Miss Scully, he thinks sadly.

With a sigh, and a hand rubbing his face, Mulder prepares to leave it all behind and savour the fun he’s had, the world Scully’s opened up to him. Just as he’s about to walk, a voice stops him.

“Had a fun night, Mulder?”

And Mulder’s blood turns cold.

#a jewel beneath the moonlight #chapter 4 #updated #i write

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msgrumpygills · 3 years

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Why wouldn't it fly, lol? I have said that this sort of 'shipping' and 'headcanoning' has always been a thing and is a thing among the fans. It doesn't matter if it's a heterosexual or a homosexual ship.

Examples: Arrow and the relationship between Felicity and Oliver. The showrunners/writers at the start didn't intend to make them a couple and never wanted to write them as such. But many of the fans were shipping them and saw a chemistry between their characters, and wanted them to be romantically involved. There were many fans asking questions about their relationship at the cons. Neither of the actors/actress were like ''no, that's not how we play the characters''. At some point, the writers decided to just go with it and make the characters a couple.

Rick Grimes and Michonne. The writers never intended their relationship to be romantic, but the there were fans who wanted them to be a couple because they considered their dynamic to be interesting. Then the writers just went with it and decided to make them a couple. I've never seen the actor and actress being against the idea of it. If you have, please do show.

The most known example: Scully and Mulder. The showrunner/writers have always said that they never wanted to write them as a couple. Seasons of seasons they denied it. But there were also many fans that wanted them to be a couple romantically, they were asking questions about it as well. I didn't see any sort of gaslighting, there were not saying stuff like ''no, these characters aren't in love with each''. And then what happened after seasons? The writers just decided to make them a couple.

Clarke/Lexa was the same case, the difference that it wasn't a heterosexual pairing. The actresses weren't harsh on the fans, instead they have accepted the headcanoning and 'shipping'. The characters got together at the end.

Marvel and DC have the same issue.

I could go on, really. It's a thing and it happens everywhere. Yeah, it's annoying but people/fans do it all the time. I've never seen any another actress/actor on the other shows/movies/franchises reacting in the same way Jensen did. Doesn't matter if they have been playing their characters for years, or that they 'know' about how they play their characters. That's not the issue here. It's about how the actors/actresses react.

I've never cared about these sort of stuff in any of the shows, anyway. I do actually find it pointless and annoying, I was never on board with Oliver/Felicity, Destiel or whatever. That's the point here.

I think real actors/actresses kinda know how to deal with such asks and that's a part of professionalism.

I didn’t say it wouldn’t fly because it’s not possible, but you know Jared and Gen wouldn’t let that happen, mostly Gen. She can’t stand when other women are paired with Jared or his characters, just look at how hard she clutches onto Ruby/Sam being some power couple. She couldn’t stand it if people were shipping Jared and Lindsey, the gorgeous lead.

If they were smart, they’d stop with the force-feeding of the Padalecki Couple Tour and start capitalizing on Jared/Lindsey.

Also in regards to Rick/Michonne (super huge Walking Dead fan up until Rick left tbh) I think both actors were THRILLED to have it happen and that definitely helped the chemistry on and off screen I think.

#grumpy answers #anti walker #jared padalecki #anti genevieve #Anonymous

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madcxp · 4 years

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𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖞 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖘 : XENOPHILIUS LOVEGOOD is a twenty - one year old muggleborn . he is currently working as an intern at the daily prophet , and is suspected of siding with the order. nicknamed the madcap , they're described to be - distrait and + perspicacious . wherever they go , they leave the scent of vanilla pudding , half - finished experimental potions , & dirigible plum , and the memories of when the moon is visible in daylight hours , freshly shorn strands of flaxen hair fluttering into a bathroom sink , & an obscure symbol strung onto a glistening gold chain behind . ( rudy pankow . cis male . ) | ooc sam , 23 , est , she / her .

hello ! i’m sam and it’s been a loooong time since i’ve been in a marauders rp, so i’m super excited for this and i hope you enjoy my quintessential ‘70s vegetarian hippie !

STATS

FULL NAME: xenophilius ? lovegood ( he’s pretty sure he has a middle name, but he can’t remember what it is. ) NICKNAMES: xeno GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis male + he / him DOB + AGE: october 13th, 1955 / twenty - one ZODIAC: libra HOMETOWN: killarney, ireland OCCUPATION: intern at the daily prophet BLOOD STATUS: muggleborn ( sort of — squib father, muggle mother )

HISTORY

tws : death, mention of drugs, neglect, mental illness. i tried to be as vague as possible, but please proceed with caution !

xenophilius ? lovegood is an irish muggleborn wizard … sort of. the lovegoods, while not a strictly pureblood family, have existed in the wizarding world for centuries. his father was a squib, homeschooled all his life until he finally ran away from home in order to join muggle society. his mother is a muggle. a free - spirited future flower child at the time of their first meeting, she found his eccentricities charming and quickly fell for him. in fact, the two eloped the very day they met. ( yes, in somewhat of a drunken, drug - fueled haze. ) their first and only child was born exactly nine months later.

in the muggle world, their son would experience as typical of an upbringing as anyone could hope for. his father never spoke of his background, and his mother always assumed that his eccentricities could be attributed to a mixture of recreational drug use and a sheltered upbringing.

the domestic bliss came to a sudden, screeching halt when xenophilius was just five years old. his father had slipped out of their home in the late hours of the evening, sneaking out to explore the muggle world just as he had countless times before. he knelt down in the middle of a busy street to examine a pothole and was struck by a speeding bus.

he was so young when it happened, but xenophilius was an unusually perceptive child and besides, he imagines that it was difficult to miss the drastic and almost immediate change in his mother. the once - ebullient young woman had transformed into a skittish agoraphobe in a matter of mere weeks. she would sit in the attic for days on end sometimes, sifting through boxes of her husband’s belongings and discovering old books with strange titles : things like quidditch through the ages, fantastic beasts and where to find them, and of course, the tales of beedle the bard.

she would scream and scream if he tried to enter the attic, so xenophilius would sit on the topmost step of the rickety staircase with tall stacks of books that he usually got through in a few short days. his mother forbade him from the leaving house, but he was never exactly sneaking out and yet she never seemed to notice that he was gone. he would go to the library and a few local shops, but most of the time he just went out to their backyard and laid in the grass for hours and hours.

eventually, his mother only ever left their attic to read him passages from one of his father’s strange books or tell him about the magical creatures detailed within their pages. she would get the important bits wrong so often that most of the time, she was telling xenophilius about creatures that she had practically made up all on her own. of course, he had no way of knowing that. he retained every word she said and he always, always believed her.

xenophilius learned of his magical abilities & roots at the age of eleven like most muggleborn wixen. his mother was hysterical at the mere thought of him stepping beyond the front door of their dilapidated hub of hoarding. the ministry of magic had to step in and ( almost literally ) drag him out of the house.

he attended hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry where he was sorted into ravenclaw house beginning in the year 1966 and completing his studies in 1974. considered a surprisingly bright student ( albeit a chronic class cutter ), he received perfect grades in herbology and care of magical creatures and received near - perfect grades in all of his other classes … except for potions. too absentminded and easily distracted to remember the ingredients and brewing instructions, he just barely managed to avoid earning straight trolls every year.

he usually stayed at hogwarts over the winter holidays, only returning to his home in ireland during summer breaks. his mother seemed to grow further and further from reality with every passing year. by the time he was returning from his fifth year at hogwarts, she was practically comatose. she no longer ventured up to the attic or rambled on and on about nargles and the swedish crumple - horned snorkack. in fact, she never spoke at all. she sat in a rocking chair in their living room, staring blankly out the window. if her son wanted to bathe her or feed her or get her into a fresh set of pajamas, then he had to move her completely by himself.

he doesn’t care about money himself, but wishing to recruit a full - time caretaker for his mother and holding a longtime interest in journalism, xenophilius decided to accept an internship offer from the daily prophet. he hates it. all he does is fetch pumpkin juice and refill inkpots for “journalists” who write whatever the ministry tells them to whether it’s true or false. he gets laughed out of the room whenever he tries to present ideas for articles, so he’s recently stopped trying.

he’s currently living in a small apartment above one of the shops in diagon alley for the sake of his job that he’s been thinking about quitting since a few months ago, when his mother passed in her sleep ( peacefully, he hopes ). he joined the order of the phoenix because a friend dragged him into it * wc ! as a devout vegetarian, the mere sight of blood or a living creature in pain absolutely turns his stomach, but as a ( sort of ) muggleborn, he ultimately supports the cause so he doesn’t mind it all that much. he’s attempted to reach out to his father’s family a few times, but even the notoriously open - minded lovegoods want nothing to do with a squib or his child.

PERSONALITY

is he really a muggleborn or is he technically a halfbood ? or is he just a disgrace to his father’s family as those he’s reached out to seem to believe ? as someone who’s always been certain & unashamed of who he is, struggling with his identity in regards to his blood status makes him uncomfortable so he tries to avoid the subject altogether.

vegetarian and environmentalist. the kind of person who scolds his friends for littering and stops what he’s doing to pick up random bits of trash in the street because he absolutely cannot bear to leave it there. blood makes him squeamish and it turns his stomach to see any living thing in pain.

he always means well. i don’t think he has it in him to be malicious or petty, however ... he’s not the most reliable friend. he’s forgetful, he can’t keep track of time ... basically, he’s t*na in this meme & he’ll flake out on plans because he distracted with reading or eating a pudding cup or climbing a tree or climbing a tree to read and eat a pudding cup on one of the branches.

friend with least amount of shit together now reading tarot cards if you're interested !

the type of wizard to spend three hours looking for his wand only to realize that it was tucked behind his ear the entire time ... multiple times a week.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

the friend who convinced him to join the order

someone who looks out for him

the scully to his mulder ( or the hermione to his luna, if you will )

his long - suffering potions partner from hogwarts ( i think they’d have to be a ravenclaw or hufflepuff age 20 - 22 )

a roommate or two could be fun !

all of the usual stuff : best friends, exes, family on the lovegood side or the muggle side, friends who drifted apart, etc !

these are just a few base ideas, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here !

#mordre:intro #death tw #drug mention tw #neglect tw #mental illness tw #i might've written a novel

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greekowl87 · 4 years

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Fic: Picking Out Patterns

A/N: It was meant to be a short fic but over the past couple of weeks, it took on a life of its own. Pre IWTB. Angst and stuff. And some smut. Sorry for all the typos; no beta. Enjoy :) Tagging @suitablyaggrieved @baronessblixen @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm

The summer night air was sticky with humidity. Scully laid on her side, watching the open window in inky blackness. The unremarkable house’s air condition still needed to be fixed, so until then, it was fans and open windows. The large box fan near the window hummed as she pushed the sheet covering her to her waist. She was sweating without even trying. The idea of taking a cold shower was appealing but she didn’t want to wake Mulder. Instead, she would try to sleep, despite how uncomfortable the summer night was.

With a new resolve, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The sounds of their new home were something she was still growing used to. Two years on the run with Mulder and she had come accustomed to noisy streets, sirens, shouting, and the odd couple in the next room riding the bed. The quietness was something that was going to take getting used to. If she really focused, she could hear the orchestra of tree frogs outside, the hooting of a lone owl, and humming of crickets. She also heard Mulder’s even breathing. She sat up and rolled over to check on him and feel some relief. He was on his back, the sheet covering them also bunched around his waist. She watched his bare chest rise up and down rhythmically with sleep.

It was good to see that their new home was doing him good as well. Maybe it would bring some sense of peace or grounding. Too long had he known instability. She remembered after he had come back from the dead how she wished they could settle down and start a family after William was born. But no. She had urged him it was safer to leave than risk being with her and their son. Was she as much to blame for the predicament they had suffered along with his never-ending quest for Truth? She blamed herself for where they were. Scully tried to push the thoughts out of her mind as she tried to focus on the outside noises in order to fall asleep. But sleep would remain elusive.

She heard Mulder moving in the bed next to her. It wasn’t the normal shifting in bed but more frantic struggles that came with nightmares. Not again, she thought. Scully sat up quickly and placed her hand on his bare shoulder. “Mulder,” she whispered. She shook his shoulder gently. “Mulder, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

He sat up suddenly, like a jack-in-a-box, startling her. He looked around in alarm as Scully turned on the lamp next to their bed. “Scully!” He called her name in a whisper as if he couldn’t see her still. “Scully…”

“I’m right here. We’re safe,” she whispered, trying to get him to look at her. “Mulder, you had another nightmare again.”

He looked around, his shaggy hair swishing side to side. “We’re safe?”

She nodded and caressed his cheek. “Do you remember? We have a home now. We aren’t on the run anymore.”

They both hated nights like these. They had just recently purchased the house in Farrs Corner after spending nearly two years on the run. It wasn’t just Scully who was having trouble adjusting to this new lifestyle. Scully was cautiously looking for employment in medicine in order to give their cover some sort of normalcy but had yet to find anything. So, they stayed home together, just trying to adjust to this new normal.

“We aren’t.” He repeated it like a mantra rather than a question. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He seemed to come back to his senses. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, unable to form words. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled signaling the start of a summer thunderstorm. “I’m going to go downstairs for a bit. I don’t want to keep you up.” He placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek before jumping out of bed. “Go back to sleep.”

She looked confused at what he had just said. Unable to formulate an answer, she watched him retreat from their bedroom. What had just happened? Her brain was still trying to process it. “Mul--” Her voice fell silent.

The nightmares were not anything new for either of them. Scully had them as she tried to deal with her abduction, they appeared again after she chose to give up their son in order to protect him. For Mulder, his nightmares never truly went away. She remembered the nights she would spend with him after he returned. When they reclaimed each other in the Quantico brig and went on the run from the federal government, she found out the extent of his own nightmares that had plagued him since he had left her in Georgetown. And then Scully’s own nightmares returned with fervor.

They acknowledged each other’s demons and nightmares but they would not discuss it. That was their unspoken agreement.

But Scully was tired of that agreement. She thought that since they weren’t on the run anymore, that their nightmares would dissipate. Maybe they could find something of their old groove that existed when their physical relationship evolved and the brief month they embraced the idea of having a family together. She sat back against the mountain of pillows and the oak headboard. She could stay here, let him mope, and fall back into his old patterns or do something about it. She had lost him once before and once was already too many times to count.

Scully got out of bed, the wood floor, cool to the touch. She reached for an old National’s sweatshirt her mother had gifted Mulder last year for his birthday. The shirt smelled of him and she hugged herself as a reminder of better times. What constituted better times now?

She walked down the stairs silently, carefully avoiding the squeaky stair towards the bottom. He had already claimed the couch they had bought at a small furniture store and turned on the TV to a late-night ‘Twilight Zone’ marathon. She remembered when they got the couch. It was after they visited a farmer’s market out by Aldine. She had urged him to turn off so they could see it. For fun, she told him. They needed to purchase the other half of missing furniture that her mom had failed to save when they went on the run. Scully remembered specifically when they had found the couch. He had jumped on it, extending his long body as he used to when he would sleep on the leather couch in his old Alexandria apartment. This is perfect, he had declared that day in Ikea.

Maybe he had insisted on that couch for that same reason. Scully stood by the staircase and watched as he returned to his similar routine. The only light came from the light on top of their stove. It cast the room in an eerie green glow, reminding of the movie ‘The Matrix.’ He picked up the tv remote and flipped it to a ‘Twilight Zone’ episode (how on Earth did he know what channel to turn it to?) and settle down on the couch. For a second he sat before he took the extra pillow and put it behind his head, lounging his long body awkwardly.

She stood there for a few moments longer. He lowered the volume and dropped the tv remote on their coffee table. The blue glow from the television became a welcome gateway to his past. Scully did not want him falling down that rabbit hole again. “Mulder,” she called softly.

“I’m okay, Scully. Go back to bed.”

He made no effort to face her or acknowledge her presence other than speaking to her. Mulder still refused to face her. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the low rumble of thunder and the beginnings of a summer storm. The downstairs was just as muggy with all the windows open. After a moment's thought, she silently closed all the downstairs windows that weren’t sheltered by their porch. She jogged upstairs and did the same. Closing the windows made their house even more suffocating in the July heat. “Shit, Scully, leave the windows open.”

“There’s a storm coming,” she replied from top of the staircase. She made her way back down. “I don't want our house getting wet.”

“Well, it’s even hotter now.”

She continued to watch him from a distance. “Well, what do you want me to do, Mulder?”

“Stop staring at me for starters.”

“Then acknowledge me instead of running away.” Bitter memories of her own mistake plagued her; she should have never urged him to go into hiding. Things might be normal. They would still have William. “Mulder?”

“I’m not running away.” He turned up the volume on the television to tune her out. “Go back to bed.”

She ran a hand through her long, red hair. She was frustrated, tired, hot, and in no mood to argue. In a few quick strides, she stood in front of the television with her arms crossed. Mulder frowned and tried to look around her. “You’re blocking the view.”

“There used to be a time when you would say I was the view.”

He physically winced. “Well played.” She reached for the remote and turned the tv off angrily. Mulder sighed and sat back up on the couch. “I was watching it.”

“Were you or were you using it as an excuse to tune me out?”

“I wasn’t aware we were having a conversation,” he replied flippantly.

Scully bristled. She could take his barbs in stride; she was used to dealing with a pissy Mulder who didn’t get his way. The last few months on the run had become this...verbal war between them and each word became a lob of artillery across their relationship of no man’s land. But his reluctance to even communicate with her fume even more at this moment and deep down, she didn’t know why. “You woke up from a nightmare. What do you expect me to do, Mulder? Not care? Not do anything? Not love you?”

He shrugged. Another rumble of thunder sounded closer. Scully looked out the window as a stray lightning bolt lit up the night; she half expected a cryptid out there watching them. “I don’t know.” He paused. “The storm sounds close.”

“They were calling for rain tonight.”

There was a ping on the metal roof of their porch. Then a second. Then a third. Then a steady stream of pings and dings from rain hitting their roof. “So they were,” Mulder acknowledged. “Scully, save your energy and go back to bed. No use in both of us losing sleep.”

“Mulder, I’m up because I care about you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I do! Has the fact that I’ve been on the run with you for the past two years mean nothing? The fact I’m still here and want to build a life with you? We have a house. We have furniture. We, Mulder,” she stressed the pronoun. “Not yours. Not mine. Ours.”

He sighed and sat up. “But I don’t want to bring you down.”

“Mulder, I lied to congress for you for starters. I will kill anyone who would dare touch you. What else do I need to do to prove myself to you after eleven years?”

“Nothing.”

Another clap of thunder made their house shake and then darkness. “Shit!” Scully snapped.

“I got it, Scully.” She heard him stumble around, a beam of a flashlight, and then he was digging through their pantry. Mulder produced an additional flashlight and an oil lamp. “It was left with the house,” he offered uselessly. “It still works. When you found the house, you really meant out in the middle of nowhere.”

Scully shrugged as he lit the oil lamp and brought it into the living room, sitting it on the coffee table next to the TV remote he was just using a second ago. Scully watched him stare at the dancing flame then meet her eyes. “I just don’t want you to feel more guilty than you already do, Scully,” he whispered. “I know you do.”

“I could say the same. Mulder, you aren’t a burden.” The summer thunderstorm continued to rage outside. After a moment’s thought, he got up, took her hand, and led her outside to their covered porch. “The lamp…”

“It’s fine.” The screen door shut behind them and Scully stopped in her steps as he came behind her. Mulder pressed himself against her back and whispered, “Come sit with me.”

When they bought the house, the porch had a rusted chair swing and two, somewhat new if not sturdy adirondack chairs with a small table that sat between them. Mulder led her to the chairs. He sat down, sighing briefly before he tugged gently on her hand. “Mulder, no.”

“Who’s going to see you? Come here, Scully.”

She huffed, pretending to be annoyed, as he pulled her into his lap. But this was the first time in weeks he had made a physical advance towards her. In the darkness, save from the little light from the oil lamp inside, she allowed herself to relax as his arm came around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder, despite her own initial reservations. “We need to get the air condition fixed tomorrow.”

“I’ll call them first thing.” She closed her eyes as his hand snaked up under the sweatshirt she was wearing and gently began to rub her back. Goosebumps erupted as he caressed her bare skin. “This would be easier without this on.”

“I know,” she murmured.

Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed this moment. “I don’t want to burden you because I love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“You have nightmares almost daily,” she whispered back. She opened her eyes and kissed the curve of his neck. “I hear you wake up and it breaks my heart that I can’t help you. You hide from me or won’t let me in.”

“You hear me, huh?” She hummed in acknowledgment. He sighed and kissed her. “Did you have nightmares after your abduction?”

“Yes,” she whispered without hesitation. Mulder could remember a time she would never admit or discuss her vulnerabilities. “I also had them after you were abducted, before you came back, and when you were gone.”

Mulder admired her quiet strength of which he tried to draw from daily. “My nightmares started with the abduction. When I came back, I felt left behind.”

“I didn’t…”

“It wasn’t you.” He was quick to his defense. “At first maybe, but never you. Please know that. I never blamed you. I just was so unsure of everything. When you had the IVF treatments, do you know I used to daydream about you telling me I was going to be a father? Lamaze classes, the nursery…” His voice faltered. “And for 72 hours, it was good.”

“It was my fault.”

Scully had her eyes closed as the memories played in her head like a broken type; it kept repeating the same scenes over and over again. She felt Mulder’s fingers dig into her skin lightly, massaging her. “Relax, Scully. What’s done is done.”

“It’s my fault. All this is my fault,” she confessed. She choked on her own words and suddenly tried to pull away. Mulder’s other arm had coiled around her waist. “Mulder, I’m not okay. We’re not okay.”

“No.” He agreed after a long moment. “We aren’t, are we?”

Lightning lit up the sky and the rain grew heavy. It sounded like God was dumping everything on them. How fitting. The few pings on the metal roof of their porch sounded like someone was dropping a bucket of gravel on top of them. The air suddenly seemed cooler and the summer humidity vanished. She shivered slightly, unused to the sudden change in the weather. Mulder brought her legs up so she sat comfortably in his lap. “I should go inside,” she whispered to him.

“Why?”

“I thought you wanted to be left alone.”

“I find the company rather pleasant.” Sitting in the darkness with him, Scully wished she could see his face. She saw his faint outline from the light the oil lamp was casting from the window. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. She pushed an errant piece of hair behind her ear and rested her head against his shoulder. “Just thinking.” He hummed and watched out into the darkness. Lightning lit up their property followed by another loud clap of thunder that shook their house. “The angels must be one hell of a time bowling,” she whispered above the din of rain.

“Angels bowling?”

“That is what mom used to tell us when we were kids. I have this memory of when I was four and there was a really bad thunderstorm. I woke up and the power was out. Missy was at a sleepover. Bill…” She chuckled. “Well, he was a big nope. Charlie was still a baby. Dad was out to sea so I crawled into my mother’s bed. She told me every time there is thunder, the angels are bowling and getting strikes.”

“Must be a lot,” he whispered.

She hummed. “How come we can’t talk like we used to?” She asked him. “Why can’t we find our way out of the darkness?”

“Maybe we just need a little light on the subject.” After a moment’s thought, he pushed her onto her feet and got up behind her. “You left the windows down here open?”

“Just the ones covered by the porch,” she replied. “Why? Pushing me away again.” After a moment, she whispered, “Sorry.”

“No,” he said, “but I want to see your face.”

Scully was clearly confused as he led her back inside, safe from the storm raging outside. Even with the windows open, she could still hear it. But the room was slightly cooler as the storm took away the summer heat. Mulder went back to the couch, leaned forward, and adjusted the light on the oil lamp so the room became brighter. Scully stood in her spot as he held out his hand. “I’m not going to bite, Scully.”

Taking his gesture as an olive branch, she grasped his hand and sat next to him on the couch. “We did pick out a nice couch,” she whispered softly.

“We did but I don’t want to go to Ikea ever again. The bookcase for the bedroom was a nightmare to put together. Why don’t we go to that farmer’s market next weekend and see what they have? I doubt anyone will care to look for a fugitive there.”

We. She nodded slowly, unsure of where the conversation was heading. “I would like that.”

“Good.” He paused for a beat. “I can’t undo the past. Neither can you.”

“I wouldn’t let you go,” she whispered, “if I could do it all over again. I wouldn’t let you leave. We are weaker when we are apart.”

“And stronger together.” He licked his lips. “There is a lot of things that I would like a do-over with, Scully. I should have never gone to Oregon. That way, I wouldn’t have been abducted and I could have been there when you learned you were pregnant. There’s a lot of things we could have and should do. But something you taught me, we have now.”

“What are you trying to say, Mulder?”

“You want to talk? Know what my nightmares are about? Then let’s talk.”

“Okay,” she whispered, unsure where this conversation was going.

“Okay? Just okay?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I’m not sure.”

“The nightmares don’t change,” he said after another long moment. “I have the same ones that plagued me when I returned from my abduction. I regret the choices I made when leaving you and William.”

“The blame is just as much as mine.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming back,” Mulder told her. “The fact I got caught is the only reason you saw me again.”

“Fate.”

“I guess.” He leaned back and threw his arm on the back of the couch. “I don’t know, Scully. But I wish you didn’t have to go on the run with me. You would’ve been safer with your mother.”

“Mulder, I can’t live alone. Not without you. I thought I made that clear. Where you go, I go. What you do, I do. There is no me and you. There hasn’t been for a long time. It’s us. There’s only us.” She waved her arm around the darkened room. “We have a future now. I know it isn’t ideal or how we wanted but we have a home, Mulder. The fact that you are wanted by the FBI means nothing. I want us to have a life together, Mulder.”

He rubbed his chin and asked, “How much of that will change when you finally find a job at a hospital. Will you talk about me? About us? Or will you keep me a secret?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can’t exactly take me out.”

The rain continued in its intensity. Scully rested her head on her arm. “So? Does that really mean so much to you, Mulder?”

“I just...you know how you stress ‘us’ and ‘we,’ Scully? Well, it feels like I would be left behind. I don’t want to be left behind again.”

She felt her heartstrings pull. “I’m not. As far as everyone knows, I’m taken.”

“Except Bill Jr. He refuses to acknowledge me.”

“Bill’s an ass.”

He smiled slightly. “But what’s stopping you?”

“I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

He nodded. “I’m just as insecure as you are, Scully.”

“Are we that broken?”

“I feel like I’m playing poker with you,” Mulder said. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Like we used to in the beginning of our partnership. You would let me see glimpses of who you were but never the full picture. When our relationship evolved, it got a little better.” Scully frowned as he continued. “But when you were pregnant with William when I came back...I felt like I didn’t belong. It felt like the whole world had moved on without me. You were just humoring me to make me feel better.”

She closed her eyes, a familiar pain welling up in her chest. William was also one of the other unspoken agreements they had. “I wasn’t humoring you, Mulder. I wanted you to be in his life, in my life. You are still his father.”

“Even though you sent him away,” he whispered.

His voice carried no accusations; he was merely stating a fact. But it still didn’t stop it from hurting any less. “I didn’t know what else to do, Mulder. I was failing our son. I couldn't keep him safe. I had let him getting kidnapped by a UFO cult. I had a moment where I truly thought William had passed. I saw this giant explosion and I feared the worst. But as I rushed to the site and there he was, Mulder. Wrapped in his blue blanket and crying up a storm, but he was untouched. Not even a scratch.” She stared at the flame of the oil lamp, lost in memories. “It just added to my fears. I thought I was crazy but more than once I thought I caught him moving things with his mind. Then he sent the alien artifact across the room...the same one that caused you condition…” She choked back a sob that came from deep within her. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t keep him safe. Maybe if I hadn’t pushed you away too, we would be in a better place today. So if you’re looking for someone to blame, look no further.”

Mulder was dumbstruck by her confession. She looked away and saw tear glimmer in her blue eyes. She shook her head and brought a hand to her mouth.

“Excuse me.”

He watched her rush back outside to underneath their porch. Her silent cries were drowned by the raging storm. He threw his head back in frustration. “Shit,” he murmured.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a series of photographs Mrs. Scully had put up over their fireplace when they moved into their new home. He could make out some of the images in the dim light. One of his favorites was taken by her mother shortly when they bought the place. He had spun her in his arms. He remembered how her long hair twirled with him. He had brought her into a kiss. Mrs. Scully had captured them right before that as both their foreheads pressed together and he felt nothing but love for Scully.

That’s all he had for her, nothing but love. So why was he out here hurting her instead of loving her? Hell, what was their relationship anymore?

He got up, carrying the oil lamp with him. He pushed open the screen door and it slammed behind him. Carefully, he set the lamp on the table between the two chairs he was sitting on earlier. She wiped her tears away hurriedly. “I’m okay, Mulder.”

“Are you though?”

She shrugged and he took a moment to take her profile dancing in the firelight. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

She crossed her arms and laughed half-heartedly. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it, Scully.”

She took a deep breath and sighed, turning her head to look at him. His five o’clock shadow was pronounced in the low light and he still chose to run around without a shirt and wear nothing but his sleeping pants (she wasn’t complaining). He sat back down in the chair and held her gaze. She turned away. While they were on the run, sex between them had taken on many different meanings. Some days it was a band-aid, others, a fix like a drug. There were special moments too but those seemed few and far between. “I’m sure you do.”

He rubbed his face and hunched over, resting his elbows on his legs and burying his face in his hands. “What do you want me to do? What can I do to make this right?”

She shook her head, refusing to answer him. “I used to think, once upon a time, we could have a happy life. That we would get our happy ending. But now, I’m not so sure.” She laughed awkwardly and whispered, “I’m going in and back to bed. Goodnight, Mulder.”

She disappeared like a ghost in the night. Mulder was reminded bitterly of the earlier years of their partnership when they always seemed to be on the cusp of something greater. Then that night they made that next step. And for a bit, everything seemed perfect. Then his abduction. Pregnancy. Chaos. Anger. Being on the run. An entire cluster fuck.

He was always surprised each morning that she still woke up next to him. And also thankful. Oh so thankful.

Mulder walked to the edge of the porch and leaned against a post, listening to the storm. He could feel the peeling paint against his shoulder. He straightened his stance and ran his fingertips over the chipped, yellowing paint and tried to think what she wanted. What they wanted. He remembered having that dream too. A happy handing that included her and William. But William…

She did the right thing, he decided. He couldn’t change the past but he could still do something about the future. Their future. His mind played with the idea of painting the porch with her and going to the home improvement store with her and picking paint colors. Their trip to Ikea had been an experience. While they did bicker, he found their new turn to the domestic refreshing and he loved it.

The unremarkable house could be something special. They could make it a home. He looked out to the darkness and the lightning lit it up followed by a clamp of thunder. It sounded more distant. He turned slightly and could see the stairs on his mind. He imagined Scully climbing back up the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky ones, going back to their bed, unable to sleep. She would be crying perhaps but definitely hurting from their exchange. Something he had caused. And maybe something he could fix it.

He picked up the oil lamp again and went back inside, shutting it behind him. He blew out the oil lamp, and in the dark, carefully navigated back up stairs. He saw candlelit coming from their bedroom. As he stood in the doorway, Scully was sitting up, looking through something. “I brought the candles from the bathroom,” she answered before he could ask.

“What are you doing?”

He paused short before the door frame and she closed it. “Something silly.”

“What?”

“Home decor magazine,” she whispered. “I like to imagine what we could do downstairs.”

“You do that a lot?”

“What? Think about becoming an interior designer? You would be good at it,” he replied.

His bare feet padded softly to their bed where he lounged on the other side of her. He propped up his head. Scully smiled sleepily and caressed his cheek. “It’s a silly dream.”

“Well, we have a house...a home.”

“Doesn’t feel like it, does it?”

The storm outside grew with not intensity. A clap of thunder made Scully jump and he calmed her by putting his hand on her knee. “A bit jumpy?”

She smiled tightly and shook her head. “Just a little caught off guard.” Mulder took the magazine and turned it towards him. “I like the green in that picture. Maybe we could paint the kitchen that color.”

“No, no, no...sea foam green. We could do that bathroom, the one downstairs.” She turned a page as her hair fell forward. Mulder smiled and pushed it away so he could see her face. “It’s good to see you smile.”

“It’s a surreal feeling,” she confessed softly. “I keep expecting someone to burst through the door or the FBI to take you away again. Or something else. It’s weird…”

“Not being on the run?”

She shrugged. “I would still do it again you know? Anything for you.”

The past two years had been difficult for the both of them. The wounds between them festered: William, broken trust, fears of the future, and fears of the present. They seemed lost in the ghosts of the past. “I know, Mulder. I know.”

“I like this.” He pointed on a picture of a room full of old oak furniture that made it feel warm and welcome. “Reminds me of your place in Georgetown.”

“Strange. It reminds me of yours.” She dog-eared the page and set it aside. “So what do we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where does this leave us? I can’t pretend all this tension between us means nothing. You have nightmares every night. I don’t sleep much either.”

“I know.”

In the muggy room, they sat in silence, carefully watching each other in the candlelight. “I am trying to get used to this, Mulder.”

He nodded and thought for a moment. “Do you remember that night when God spoke to you?”

She held up a finger and whispered, “I didn’t say necessarily that God spoke to me. I said I had a vision.”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “But all the roads, all the choices lead to this one moment. Isn't that what you said?”

“Using my old words against me.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“I regret nothing,” she said. “I’ve told you that.”

He smiled sadly. “I know, I know.” He grabbed the magazine that she had been reading and flipped it back open. “I mean, what we can always pick out china patterns.”

She chuckled slightly and put away the magazine. “Would it really matter?”

He frowned. “What is wrong?”

“Do you feel like we’re just playing house? Like roles in a play?” She leaned back, shifting slightly to adjust to the oak headboard. “And I’m not talking about what we did in Arcadia. That wasn’t playing house.”

“What do you mean?”

She focused on her hands and tried to imagine a wedding ring on it but couldn’t. She tried to imagine a future where her, Mulder, and William were one big happy family but failed. She tried to think of the future now in this little unremarkable, run-down farmhouse they had bought but came up with nothing. “Like we’re just going through the motions. We haven’t really been honest and open with each other in a while.”

“I think we’ve been relatively open with our relationship.” He frowned. “I am a bit confused here, Scully.”

“How do you define relatively open, Mulder? Why won’t you tell me about your nightmares?” She finally asked. “Why do you keep everything so secret?”

“How come you keep your emotions so close to your chest?” He countered. She looked down at the blue blanket covering her knees. “I’ve never met a poker player who bluffed better.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. She rolled her head backward, stretching her neck muscles that suddenly seemed tighter.”Well said,” she whispered.

“Scully, I’m not trying to purposely hurt you with my words just like I know you aren’t trying to with your little...thing.” He waved his hand uselessly. “So where does that leave us, Scully?”

“Up the creek without a paddle?” She smirked at her own joke. “I don’t know, Mulder. I don’t know where this leaves us.”

“How about the future to start?”

Mulder watched her sad face in the candlelight as he leaned forward to kiss her. She breathed softly as his first kiss was gentle before he deepened it. He cupped her cheek and their tongues dueled. She broke away and whispered, “Mulder, how is this different from everything else?”

He blinked back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She was frustrated with the whole thing. “What I mean is we’ve fallen into this pattern of hurt, sex, and it acts as a band-aid. But we really don’t solve the problem?”

“And what’s the problem, Scully?” He was afraid to know. “Me?”

She shook her head and confessed. “I don’t know. We both hurt, Mulder,” she began, watching his face, “we both carry wounds that haven’t healed. We both have done things we’ve regret. It is like we’re both a glutton for punishment. We fight, have sex, and we’re okay for a bit before we fall into that dangerous pattern again.”

“Dangerous pattern.”

“We both have so much emotional baggage,” she continued. “So much pain.”

“I think we deserve a bit of a break, don’t you?”

The room was becoming insufferable with the muggy air. The storm outside had lessened to a slight drizzle and thunder could have been heard in the difference. She looked out the window at the fading thunder but despite it, the lightning remained. “The rain is coming from the east from the sound of it. If you open up the window that faces north, I think we could get some air in here and not worry about the weather.”

“I got it.”

He opened the window halfway, checked the screen to make sure it was still there, and the cool air rushed in. Scully watched the candles flicker with the rush of air. “That’s better,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He sat on the edge of their bed and watched her.. “What do you wish for, Scully?”

“A do-over,” she told him. “If I could change one thing, I wouldn’t have made you go away. All of this is my fault really if you think about it.”

“Then stop thinking that,” he told her. “You want to know what my nightmares are about? I’m not good for you, I fail you, I break your heart...I do everything and ruin your life.”

“But, Mulder, you didn’t.”

“What are we to do?” He laughed hollowly. “We both are a mess, huh?”

She nodded and moved closer to him. She rested her head against his bare back, listening to his heart. She wrapped her arms around his waist and felt her take his hands. “But I belong with no one else but you.”

He whispered, “Aw, Scully, you’re killing me.”

“I do love you, Mulder. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I don’t,” he whispered. He twisted his head slightly so he could see her face. He nuzzled her softly, almost teasing her. “Scully, I know things haven’t been easy for us.”

“See,” she whispered, “we’re falling into our old habits.”

“'This is what got us through for the past few years. Even then, just being with you was enough for me.” He rested his hand on top of hers. “This is just another brick in the road.”

“Don’t you mean brick in the wall? Pink Floyd?”

He closed his eyes, smiling, and shook his head. “I love you, Scully, and that won’t ever change.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, kissing his shoulder. “The storm is easing up.”

“I’ll open up the other windows.”

“In a bit.” She relaxed against him. “We might want to think about a generator.”

“I don’t mind the candlelight,” he teased. He nipped at her nose. “You look beautiful in it.”

“As much as I love your compliments,” she whispered, “I do value running water. Remember, we have a septic and pump now. If we lose power, we lose running water too.”

“I’ll look at it first thing in the morning,” he murmured. “But we have that rain barrel should we need it.”

“Full of tadpoles,” she continued, “and many tree frogs.”

“I’ll build you a new one.”

He nipped at her nose and she smiled, claiming her lips. Scully’s kiss was soft and gentle reminding Mulder of the soft rain he could hear outside. Her arms tightened around him, her hands expanded up and down his chest. He hummed in approval and tries to turn to face her. She stopped him and whispered. “Not yet.”

He stilled but didn’t let their lips break contact. The way she moved around him reminded Mulder of her examining him and claiming him. He could feel himself responding to her caresses. In the back of his mind, he suddenly began to feel insecure. He had always been comfortable and confident in his own body; he had brought the same out in Scully as their physical relationship evolved. But her words of them just physically using each other like an addiction rang like a bell. “Scully,” he whispered. “Stop for a moment.”

“What?” She looked surprised. Her icy blue eyes iced over with anticipation, gazing at him and making him shiver. “What’s wrong, Mulder.”

“We’re not doing this thing that you were talking about, right? Falling into that same pattern?”

He felt her take a deep breath and sigh. She held up her right hand and held out her pinky. He formed a small pinky promise by interlocking his pinky finger with hers. “I, Dana Katherine Scully, hereby promise my other half, Fox William Mulder, that I love him more than anything and that I would never use him like that. I do it because I love you, Mulder.”

“You promise, Scully? That’s the closest you’ve come to wedding vows.”

“Yeah, well, give me some credit.”

“Moments like this,” he whispered, brushing by her hair, “I wish I could freeze. You are so beautiful, so perfect.”

“You’re a love-struck fool.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

He laughed again and captured her lips. The task of opening the other windows became forgotten as Scully became more insistent. She was pushing him onto their bed, already moving to straddle her hips, and he was already responding to her. “It feels weird here,” she whispered, taking off her shirt. He sucked in his breath at the gorgeous view of her bare skin in front of him. “We aren’t having to run, we’re safe, and we finally have a home together, Mulder.”

“Scully, all you’re dirty talk,” he teased, “keep it up.”

She leaned forward, skin on skin, and he melted. “Shopping for furniture, picking out paint and china patterns, grocery shopping, meal planning.”

His hand cupped the back of her head so she couldn’t pull away as he kissed her so hard, her toes curled. For both of them, they become lost in the sea together. She teased him and led them in their dance. Their rhythm came together as easy as breathing. Both hearts raced together. Mulder held her tightly as she came first, crying his name. He worked harder until they were both falling together of the top of the wave, crying out, and still holding each other tightly as they came down from their high.

She was laughing as she rolled to the side, bringing his arm with her. “Mulder, do you remember that night in Bellefleur when I came to you saying I was cold? And you said somewhere, it just has to stop. You and me. This is something that I pictured.”

“This?” He asked. He brought a hand to her cheek and caressed. “With the all bad?”

“With all the bad, there is good too,” Scully reminded him. “I told you I would do it all over again, with you, in a heartbeat.”

He nodded and brought her close again. “I’ll get the candles in a second. And the windows. What do you say to christen the rest of the house tomorrow?”

“After we go to Lowe’s to pick out paint colors for our bathroom. And breakfast.” She brought the sheet around them. “I don’t care what the future brings. We’ll face it together.”

“While picking out china patterns?”

“I’d settle for a paint scheme first,” she murmured. She watched him in the candlelight. “We did it, Mulder.”

“Not in the way we thought of it, but yes, we did it.”

“Good enough for me.”

She curled up next to him and Mulder held her as they listened to the fading storm outside.

#xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #msr #msr fic #mulder and scully #pre iwtb #the unremarkable house #mulder #scully #domestic! mulder and scully

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scullyfemme · 4 years

Text

Timing -- Ch. 3

“You’re not Mulder.”

Dreamland time baby!!!

Tagging @today-in-fic | Read it on Ao3

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---

“Is this supposed to be a date?” Scully cocked a brow at the dusty Nevada road they were driving down. “You know Kersh will have our asses if he finds out about this.”

“Depends on if you want this to be a date,” he ignored the second half of what she’d said. They passed a mile marker. “Two more miles to go.”

“I’m all a-tingle,” She deadpanned.

She asked about his supposed “source,” who he claimed worked at Area 51, and she found herself thinking about his constant search for proof. For truth. Before they had embarked on this new phase of their relationship, it had started to drain her. But everything had a slightly new feeling to it now that they were together. Like when you finally clean off an old pair of earrings or shine an old pair of shoes and realize how much potential they’d had. To be honest, she was a bit excited to be out on the road with Mulder again like this, though she refused to let him know that. They hadn’t worked anything resembling an X-File in a while.

Still, her mind wandered to thoughts about the people who lived near here. Raising families and buying homes while they drove on, endlessly.

Will that ever be us?

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She realized she’d spoken out loud. “I mean, uh- There are people who live around here. People who live normal lives. Nine-to-five jobs and a cookie-cutter house with a white picket fence and-” she stopped herself from mentioning kids, not wanting to re-open that wound for a casual conversation.

He glanced over at her. “Are you saying you want a nine-to-five job and a cookie-cutter-”

“No, no,” She cut him off, shaking her head. She couldn’t imagine a life in suburbia. “I just mean, like...settling down,” she sighed. “Something resembling a normal life.”

“Well, this is a normal life,” He argued. Seeing her look, he continued. “Normal for us, at least.”

“That’s true,” She said. They didn’t really have lives that lent to normalcy.

“But if you want something normal, then we can try something normal,” He said, reaching over and taking her hand in his, resting them on the center console. “What is it you want? The white picket fence? I can get one for my apartment, but I don’t know where I’ll put it.”

She smiled, her mind slightly more at ease. He’d made a joke, but she knew his sentiment was real. It had always been clear that that sort of life didn’t quite fit him, but he’d be willing to try it. For her.

The sound of tires squealing and the blinding headlights streaming through the car disrupted their moment, and they pulled their hands apart.

“Mulder.”

“I don’t know if we’re going to meet that crackpot after all.”

---

“Come on, Mulder, let’s go,” She tugged on his sleeve, shooting a glare at the man who had confronted them, who had an odd look on his face.

Mulder was uncharacteristically quiet as they drove away, and Scully repeatedly glanced over at him. She didn’t say anything, assuming that he was just stewing about not being able to meet his contact.

When they pulled up to the gas station, she decided to try to pull him out of his funk. “Are you okay, Mulder?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you haven’t said anything since we left those men on the highway. Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine. Gas cap’s on your side.”

She frowned. He always got the gas. He’d even once made a joke about chivalry while she argued that pumping gas was hardly chivalrous. “Okay...if you don’t wanna talk about it.” She got out and started pumping the gas.

Still in the car, Mulder turned the radio on, fiddling with the dial. Her phone rang, slightly muffled by the noise and the confines of the car.

“Mulder?” She called through the window. He didn’t hear her. “Mulder.” She repeated.

No response. Was he ignoring her? Maybe he just couldn’t hear her. She closed her eyes with a sigh of frustration, then left the pump to open the door and get her phone. The music blasted out of the car at deafening levels, but she got in anyway.

“Hello?” She asked, but couldn’t hear over the radio. Her lips pursed, she reached over and turned it down. “Hello?” No response. Whoever was on the other end had hung up. “Ugh.” She hung up and got back out of the car.

“Oh, Dana?” Mulder leaned over. “Want to pick me up a pack of Morleys please?”

Dana? “Since when do you smoke?” She eyed him with doubt. Was this some sort of joke?

He heaved a sigh. “Well, you’re not gonna be a Nazi about it, are you?”

The question genuinely stunned her and she didn’t know how to respond. Slamming the door shut, she went inside, lost in her thoughts.

Mulder didn’t smoke. He’d never smoked. In fact, they’d had multiple conversations where they’d talked about how neither one could even stand the smell of cigarettes after all their dealings with the Cancer Man. So why did he request a pack? He hadn’t seemed any more stressed than usual or anything, so she didn’t understand what could be driving him to smoke.

She recalled their conversation in the car. Was that it? Had her questions about normalcy set him off? He’d seemed receptive enough to it at the time. Maybe it was actually bothering him and he was lashing out in some weird way, trying to push her away before she could ask about it again.

She pursed her lips, feeling a flash of anger. She put back the bag of sunflower seeds she’d grabbed on instinct and stalked out without getting the cigarettes. If he wanted to be a child and not talk about what was wrong, so be it. But she wasn’t going to encourage him. When she got back in the car, Mulder looked over at her expectantly.

“They were out,” She said shortly as she buckled in.

“Of Morleys?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes forward. She was very clearly mad at him and he knew her well enough to pick up on that, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

They drove for a while before she turned to him. “Mulder, if I said something that upset you-”

“God, this again?” He looked at her as if disgusted. “I told you I’m fine, Dana. Jeez, you’re just like my wife.”

“Excuse me?”

A panicked look crossed his face. “A wife,” He corrected. “You’re like a wife.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she had no words. So that was what this was about. One discussion about settling down and he was pushing her away. She hadn’t even said anything about getting married. So much for no regrets.

Scully had half a mind to yell at him, to argue with him. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want him to know just how hurt she was, so she sat back in her seat and sulked, staring silently out of her window for the rest of the drive.

---

“‘I’d give you his name if I had it?’” Scully repeated Mulder’s words back to him in an incredulous tone. Their meeting hadn’t gone at all like she’d expected it to. “Whatever happened to protecting our contacts? Protecting our work?”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “He asked. Hang on a second.”

She watched in disbelief as he went over to chat up Kersh’s assistant. Right in front of her. Scully stood up to her full height in indignation, her lips pressed in a thin line. She’d hoped that whatever streak of pettiness Mulder had displayed last night would be gone by now so that they could have a proper discussion about it, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

He noticed her anger this time as he got back to her. “What?”

“What is going on with you?” She couldn’t help but ask, despite not wanting to discuss this at work.

Mulder scoffed. “Will you please stop trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Mulder, you are acting bizarre!” She hissed.

He turned and looked back at Kersh’s assistant through the office windows, then looked back at her with a gloating smile. “Jealous?” He asked, then slapped her ass before walking off.

Scully’s jaw dropped in shock. Her face burned a bright red with the amount of embarrassment and anger she felt. Her hands curled into fists; she was absolutely fuming now, and she’d had it with him. Once they were off work, she was going to confront him. She might even need her gun.

She angrily chewed her lip as she sat at her desk, occasionally looking up to glare at Mulder as he played some golfing game on his computer. It was strange that he was playing a game at work, much less a golf game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now.

Her phone rang. “Scully,” She answered.

“Oh thank goodness. Scully, it’s me.”

She frowned. The phrase was a familiar one; she’d heard it from Mulder countless times. But Mulder was right there. And this voice didn’t sound familiar.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s me, Mulder.”

“Mulder?” From his desk, Mulder waved dismissively, clearly thinking she was talking to him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner," the voice continued. "Look, something really weird happened last night when that UFO passed over us.”

“UFO?” Her frown deepened. That was certainly a very Mulder thing to say, but there hadn’t been a UFO last night. And again, Mulder was right there.

“You don’t remember?” He asked. “You don’t remember. Okay, the man that you’re with, that’s not me. His name is Morris Fletcher. He’s an Area 51 employee.”

“Morris Fletcher,” She repeated as she wrote the name down. A thought crossed her mind. Was this Mulder’s contact? But why would he call her? And why would he claim to be Mulder? She considered getting Mulder’s attention so he could listen in on the call and let her know, but she decided against it. If he could be petty, so could she.

“That’s right.” The man said. “Everyone else seems to think that I’m him, but I’m not. I’m me. I’m Mulder.”

“Look,” She sighed. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but-”

“It’s not a game, Scully, I can prove it. I-” He stopped and was silent for a moment. “Well, I don’t know if this is a secure line. I don’t want to say anything too risky. Are you telling me that Mor- that Mulder hasn’t been acting weird?”

She opened her mouth to defend him on instinct but realized she didn’t have any defense. He had been acting weird. “Well, he-” She stammered, then turned in her chair to prevent Mulder from hearing her. “He, uh, he asked for cigarettes. And...flirted with some woman,” She added under her breath, unable to believe she was confiding in this random man.

“Flirted?” The man sounded disgusted. “See, Scully? I would never do that, you know that. First of all, I wouldn’t want to, especially not now. And second of all, I know you’d probably murder me for that.”

She hesitated. He was right, and it seemed like he was alluding to her and Mulder’s relationship with his comments. But it was just too crazy to believe. “I don’t know…”

The man sighed. “Scully, I love you, but things would be a lot easier if you just believed me sometimes. Look, just get out here as soon as you can, and I’ll prove it to you. I promise.”

I love you? “W- How will I get in touch with you?”

“You won’t. I’ll get in touch with you.” He hung up.

Scully hung up too, staring at the name she’d written down. Morris Fletcher. She’d look him up and have that call traced.

Mulder turned back to her. “Who was that?”

She shot him a glare. “None of your business.”

“Jeez, lady.” Mulder reclined back in his chair. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Scully shot up from her seat, fully intending to lash out at him, but stopped when a few of their desk neighbors looked up at her in surprise. She remembered where she was. Smoothing down her skirt, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, needing to cool off.

---

At the sight of Kersh’s assistant leaving Mulder’s apartment (giving Scully a catty look, to boot), she’d decided it was time to commit murder. She could excuse some of his behavior as weird immature lashing out because he was uncomfortable, but this was taking it way too far. She rapped at his door.

“Just can’t get enough, can you?” His voice sounded from inside.

She fumed at his audacity. “It’s me.”

The door opened and Mulder stood just inside, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his shirt half off. He looked completely unfazed by her anger. “Oh, hey, Dana.”

Dana again. Since when was he calling her Dana? That was low-priority compared to everything else, though. She burst into his apartment and whirled around to face him as he shut the door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was forceful, and she was grateful it wasn’t wavering.

He looked confused by her tone. “Oh, you know, just a little lunch break. What’s up?”

“A lunch break?” She whispered, so mad she couldn’t even speak. “A lunch break?” She repeated, louder. “You have the gall to tout some woman around right in front of me and then play it off as a lunch break?”

He raised his arms in surrender. “Jeez, Dana, I didn’t know I owed you anything.”

“Owe me anything,” She mouthed the words in anger, then took a deep breath, trying to calm down so she didn’t actually murder him. “Mulder, if you- If you wanna break up, this is far from-”

“Break up?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oho! That’s what this is about?”

“Excuse me?” She asked. What else would this be about?

He ignored her, though, his hand going to his chin in amazement. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been wasting my time with that bitch when you and I were an item this whole time?”

Scully stepped backwards, looking and feeling like she’d just been slapped. She’d never heard Mulder call anyone a bitch before. And why was he acting so surprised that they were together? Was this some sort of ploy? Some sick game? A way to act like they’d never been together?

It’s not Mulder, a small voice in the back of her mind said. She instinctively brushed it off, but then thought back to that phone call. That man — Morris Fletcher — had almost made a convincing argument. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t encountered Mulder imposters before. She recalled the shape-shifting man who’d showed up at her motel room to try and kill her years ago. And Eddie van Blundht.

“Well, Dana,” Mulder started speaking again. “I’m real sorry.” (he didn’t sound sorry at all) “I think I just, uh, haven’t been myself. Whaddaya say we start over?” He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” She stepped back from his grip, her anger flaring up again. She wasn’t going to turn to some crazy theory to excuse Mulder’s actions. And a half-assed apology like that certainly wasn’t going to fix anything. “We’re done.” She spat, then turned and stormed out of his apartment.

“Done?” He called after her. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer.

---

Scully blinked in surprise as Morris Fletcher’s wife slapped him and called him a son of a bitch. Not a good day for relationships, huh?

Still a bit stunned, she tried to get her bearings. “I’m sorry, um, Morris Fletcher?”

Fletcher — who looked strangely excited to see her — closed the door and guided her away from it. “Scully, it’s me,” He spoke quietly. “It’s Mulder.”

“Uh,” She shrugged off his hand and stepped back. Why was this man so close to her? “You’re the man from the other night? From Area 51?”

He opened his mouth to answer but was distracted by his wife shouting “Liar!” from the house.

“You phoned me,” Scully continued. “What is this all about?”

Fletcher looked frustrated. “I'm Mulder. I'm really Mulder. I switched bodies, places, identities with this man, Morris Fletcher. The man that you think is Mulder, but he's not.” He added, then seemed to notice his reflection in the window of the car. “Of course you don't believe me. Why was I expecting anything different?” He said, mostly to himself.

She just looked up at him, wondering if this man was crazy. If she was honest, part of her wished he was right, if not to have some reasoning for Mulder’s recent behavior.

After a beat, he turned to her. “Your full name is Dana Katherine Scully. Your badge number is…” He thought for a moment. “Hell! I don't know your badge number. Your mother's name is Margaret, your brother's name is Bill. He's in the Navy and he hates me.”

He does hate Mulder, She thought to herself. But anyone could know that. Her brother would probably buy a billboard if he could.

He continued. “Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt — plain yogurt — into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick, even though I tell you you're a scientist and you should know better.”

She blinked at that. How did he know that? She didn’t even register his wife shouting something else.

“Look…” She floundered for something to say, some reasoning. It was just too crazy to believe. “Any of that information could have been gathered by anyone.” They often ate lunch in the bullpen, now. Tons of people saw her do that.

“Even the bee pollen thing?” He asked, incredulous. “That is so you, that is so Scully. Well, it’s good to know you haven’t changed.” He was nearly ranting now. “That’s somewhat comforting.”

Scully opened her mouth to retaliate. Whatever was going on, it was uncomfortable hearing some strange man act like he knew her.

He took her by the shoulder and guided her even further from the house before she could speak, though. “Look, what about this?” His voice was nearly a whisper, as if he was afraid someone would hear. “We’re together. Only you and I know about that.”

She stiffened. Shrugged off his hand again. “Mr. Fletcher, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but lots of people tend to assume that my partner and I are romantically involved. I can assure you that’s not-”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the crap, Scully!” His voice rose in frustration. He gestured as if searching for something to say. “I can- I can get more specific!”

“I don’t-”

“I told you I loved you in the hospital after you saved me from that ghost ship,” He charged ahead without letting her stop him.

That got her attention. At least enough for her to listen.

“You didn’t wanna believe me,” He continued, slightly calmer now. “You thought it was the drugs. You drove me home after I was discharged and we had an argument about it, and then we-” He stopped and glanced behind himself, as if worried someone would hear. When he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper. “We slept together. For the first time.”

Her heart pounded with panic. How could he know all of this? “Mr. Fletcher-”

“Afterwards, we ate Chinese food and talked about how we shouldn’t tell anyone. You spent the night and woke up so sore from my couch that you said you’d never do that again, but you have.”

She was about to argue, but paused. He was missing something. “Something happened between those things.”

He smiled. “The Gunmen dropped by. You hid in my room like a teenage girl whose boyfriend’s mom just came home.”

She knew her face was flushed now. It was all too accurate. She shook her head. “Mulder and I have both been bugged before. Spied on. How do I know that’s not how you learned all of this?” It made her deeply uncomfortable to think of someone spying on her and Mulder during such intimate moments, but it was more likely than body swapping.

Fletcher sighed in exasperation. “You really do make me work for everything, don’t you, Scully?” He ran a hand through his hair — the same way Mulder did, she realized — then looked back down at her. “Okay. Ask me anything.”

She licked her lips in thought, trying to think of a good question. “What was our first date?”

He smirked. “Depends who you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The cemetery,” He said with a small smile. “You laughed.”

Her throat tightened. Part of her wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that all of the craziness between her and Mulder today was because it wasn’t Mulder. But the investigative part of her brain pointed out that they’d had that conversation in a public place. Someone could have overheard. She searched for a memory, something she could ask him about where she knew they were totally and completely alone.

Try any of that Tailhook crap on me, Scully, I’ll kick your ass, Mulder’s voice sounded in her head.

She looked up at Fletcher. “What did I sing to you?” No further explanation.

He frowned for a second, as if confused by the question. Then recognition crossed his face and he smiled. “Joy to the World.”

Her lips parted in shock and she leaned forward, searching his face as if half-expecting it to open like some sort of skin suit, revealing someone else. “Mulder?” She whispered, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Yeah,” He smiled, breathless with relief and nodding emphatically. “It’s me, Scully.”

Her gaze wandered, her mouth agape. “I don’t- How?”

“Something flew over us the other night,” He explained. “A UFO or something. No one else seems to remember it but me. And Morris, I’m assuming. I don’t know how it did it, but all of a sudden I was watching you get in the car with Morris, only you thought he was me.”

She didn’t seem to be fully paying attention to him, though, still reeling at this discovery. After a moment, she looked away in thought. “I was so mad at him,” She murmured quietly, as if to herself.

“Morris?” He asked. “What did he do?”

“He-” She ducked her chin in embarrassment. “I caught him...fooling around with Kersh’s assistant,” She muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

“He what?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise, which quickly turned to anger.

“I don’t- I don’t know if they actually slept together-”

“Oh my God,” He buried his face in his hands.

“But I saw her leaving his — your — apartment,” She said, looking thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. “She wasn’t fully dressed.”

Fletcher — Mulder, she reminded herself — lifted his head up to look at her. “Scully, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t do that, you know that.” He looked genuinely contrite, knowing how she must have felt witnessing that.

She nodded thoughtfully, feeling relieved despite the fact that she still wasn’t fully sure she believed him. That was more like Mulder. After a moment, she spoke. “So...what do we do now? I mean, how do we fix…” She gestured to all of him. “This?”

“Unfortunately, I’m still looking into that,” He said. “I’m gonna go back to ‘work’ and try to get ahold of something — a piece of evidence.” He leaned a bit closer. “Can you meet me tonight? I’ll need you to take it to the Gunmen and have it analyzed.”

She hesitated, not exactly excited for yet another four-hour flight back to Washington (and probably another flight back here). She thought for a moment. “Is that going to help us change you back?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “But it’s at least a starting point. Can you meet me, Scully?”

“Hold on, Mulder,” She lifted a hand as if to stop him. It would take both parties to switch bodies back. “We have to think about this. Even if we find a way to fix this, there’s no guarantee that we can do it without Fletcher’s cooperation. He might even know how to do it. But he definitely doesn’t seem interested in giving up your life anytime soon.”

“What are you saying?”

She chewed her lip. “I’m saying that...as much as it’ll probably kill me, I’m gonna have to gain his trust. Go along with his charade. I might be able to get some information from him in case we don’t find anything with this ‘evidence.’”

He smirked, and she thought she could see a ghost of Mulder’s smirk on that ugly face. “You’re not gonna kiss him, are you?”

Her face scrunched up with disgust, which was all the answer he needed. “Where do you need me to meet you?” She asked.

“I’ll get in touch with you.”

---

Mulder — Fletcher — had followed her. That was the only explanation. How else would he have known that she went back to Nevada? Or that she’d talked to “Fletcher?”

She’d been backed into a corner. Kersh had threatened her job, and there was no knowing how much she could help Mulder if she got fired. Plus, she needed to gain Fletcher’s trust.

Mulder approached her in the gas station, a paper bag in his hands. “Scully, I got it. I got the proof.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him, instead only looking up at him with guilt. He registered it a split second too late as multiple vehicles pulled up, nearly blinding him with their lights.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before turning away, unable to watch as the soldiers barged in and took the bag from him before cuffing him.

“Scully?” His voice was more urgent now.

She looked back at him, her expression saying what she couldn’t out loud. I had to, Mulder. I’m so sorry.

She thought she saw understanding register in his face, but they were both distracted as Fletcher walked in, flanked by two other men. “Damn it, Morris,” One of them said to Mulder.

Mulder ignored him, though, completely losing it at the sight of Fletcher in his own body. “You! You son of a bitch!” He fought against the soldiers who were holding him. “You orchestrated this whole thing!” He continued struggling — fruitlessly — as the soldiers dragged him out of the store. “You bastard! Tell them the truth! He’s not me, Scully! Would I do this?”

At the sound of her name, she had to turn away again, pressing her lips together to fight the tears in her eyes. Did he think she didn’t believe him? That she’d willingly helped Fletcher do this?

I didn’t have a choice. She kept repeating that in her head as if it could shake away the feeling that she’d just betrayed her best friend. Her partner. The person who trusted her more than anyone else in the world.

She would fix this. She had to.

After a few moments, she felt Fletcher’s hand on her shoulder and had to resist the urge to shrug it off.

“You hate me now, right?” He asked. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Dana, I’m sorry I narced on you to Kersh, but I was afraid you’d lose your job. I mean, when you stomped out of my apartment and I found out you were going to Nevada, I was worried you were going to do something crazy.”

She bit back a million retorts that built up in her mind, instead setting her jaw and turning to face him with a carefully even expression. “You did the right thing, Mulder.”

He blinked in surprise. “I did?”

She gave a tight smile. “I’ve been telling you for years you should play more by the book, haven’t I?”

He smiled with relief, unable to read her body language the way the real Mulder could. “Hey, it’s the new me.”

---

Two weeks suspension without pay. And on top of that, she couldn’t believe she’d agreed to dinner with Fletcher. Or that he’d asked. Was it really that easy to win him over after she’d nearly ripped his head off? A simple “you were right” and he thought everything was okay? She’d been even more stunned when he suggested a home-cooked meal. As far as she was aware, Mulder wasn’t exactly a master chef. In fact, she wasn’t sure what he could cook. Everything he did further squashed any doubts she had that Mulder — the real Mulder — had been telling the truth.

Still, she had to get Fletcher to cooperate. And she had a plan. She double-checked that she had her cuffs and gun before knocking on the door.

The sight of Mulder wearing an apron that said “something smells good” would normally be enough to make her bust out laughing, but unfortunately there was little to be found funny about this situation.

“Perfect timing,” Fletcher said. “Welcome.”

It wasn’t until he moved aside that she noticed how clean the apartment was. “Wow.” Her eyebrows shot up, genuinely impressed. A small part of her noted what a shame it was that it took some weird body-switching scenario for Mulder’s apartment to be cleaned. She was so stunned that she barely even noticed Fletcher taking her coat.

“You like, huh?” He asked a little too close to her ear. “Yeah, I thought it was time I stopped living like a frat boy.” He shrugged. “Come see the rest of the place.” Taking her hand, he led her through the living room and into the bedroom.

If the sight of Mulder’s clean apartment stunned her, then the sight of his bedroom — completely spotless and now including a bed — nearly overwhelmed her. Her jaw dropped at the sight. She was surprised to find a part of her actually missed the boxes and dusty Playboys. It may have been annoying, but at least it had been Mulder.

“Come. Sit.” Fletcher excitedly patted the bed.

“Um, no,” She started to back out, worried he was trying to trap her into something. There was a difference between going along with his act and going so far as to sleep with him.

“Seriously, just check it out.” He reached out and pulled her by the wrist and sat her down on the bed. It moved under her way more than a normal mattress should.

Oh, God. A waterbed? she thought, trying to hide her disgust. He sat down beside her and the movement of the bed knocked her off balance, falling back onto it. Her jaw dropped again as she saw her own reflection staring down at her, and her face flushed at the thought of being able to see herself during... certain activities.

Fletcher propped himself up on his elbow. “D’ya hate it?” He asked, grinning devilishly.

She hesitated, trying to calm herself. “No, I don’t hate it,” she said, and unfortunately it wasn’t a complete lie. As awful as a waterbed was and as horrifying as an above-bed mirror was, at least Mulder had a bed now. Once this was all over, she might be able to actually stay the night here without stiff muscles. Perhaps just mild nausea from the waterbed.

His grin widened. “Well, alright then. Don’t go away.” The bed shifted nauseatingly as he got up and left the room. When he came back with champagne and accompanying flutes, Scully couldn’t stop her eyebrows from shooting upwards. Big plans.

He handed her a flute and she stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, deciding it was time for one last test. She was already certain that this man wasn’t Mulder, but as a scientist she needed all the evidence she could gather.

“Mulder,” She kept her voice light. “Remember that time we were lost in the woods down in Florida? And you got injured?”

He frowned, looking a bit panicked. “Uhh, vaguely. Why?”

“I just-” She shook her head with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t seem to remember the name of the song that I sang to you. Do you remember? The tune’s been stuck in my head all day,” She added, then started humming the chords to “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown” to throw him off.

“Oh, that’s the, um-” Fletcher snapped his fingers a couple times, trying to remember. “The Jim Croce song. Leroy Brown.”

“Thaaat’s right,” She said as if she’d just remembered. “And that was what I sang to you?”

“Of course,” He turned his attention back to the champagne bottle. “I vividly remember that part.” He winked.

“Mhm,” She nodded, her jaw tight. She licked her lips and then turned to him. “Do you know what would really be fun?”

“What?”

She pulled out her handcuffs and dangled them in front of him with a cocked eyebrow. Fletcher looked like he’d nearly come on the spot. “Oh, yeah. Me first?”

“You first,” She smirked.

Excited, he couldn’t seem to take the cuffs from her fast enough. While he cuffed himself to the bed, she stood up and pulled out her gun. “Now what?” He asked, turning back, but flinched in surprise when he saw her gun aimed at him.

“You’re not Mulder.”

The panicked look on his face was nearly comical. “What?” The champagne cork popped at that moment, and Scully could already imagine laughing about that with the real Mulder in the future. “Baby-”

“‘Baby’ me and you’ll be peeing through a catheter,” She said, lowering the aim of her gun. “Your name is Morris Fletcher. It was Mulder who was arrested in the desert. Now, how do we get things back to normal?”

---

Fletcher had turned out to be completely useless and somehow knew nothing, but luckily Mulder’s source called while Scully was interrogating him. And after two more flights to Nevada and back — along with a nearly unsuccessful bar adventure — they arrived at the Lone Gunmens’ lair, flight recorder in tow.

Scully pressed on the buzzer. “Open up,” She called out. After a few moments, she started hearing the clicks and clanks that meant someone was unlocking the various locks.

Frohike opened the door. “Mulder.” He let them in, and Scully tried to brush off the fact that she hadn’t been greeted. It wasn’t even really Mulder, after all. “If I had known you were coming, I would have made more salsa.”

“We need your help right now,” Scully said, offering up the flight recorder to Langly.

“Who crashed?” He looked it over with interest.

“Who, what, why,” She said. “I need to know everything that’s on that data recorder.”

The three rattled off technical terms that she didn’t care to remember, then Byers turned to Fletcher. “Where did you get this?” He asked him.

What am I, chopped liver? “Groom Lake,” Scully answered. “Outside Area 51.”

“Dreamland.” Frohike raised his eyebrows. They had a brief discussion about some spy plane before Fletcher — browsing through an issue of the Lone Gunman — started giggling to himself.

“What’s with him?” Frohike asked.

“Ignore him,” she said.

“Mulder-”

“He’s not Mulder,” She corrected with exasperation.

All three Gunmen turned to her with questioning looks.

“This aircraft.” She pointed at the flight recorder. “When it crashed it somehow resulted in a…a body swap. Between Mulder and…” She gestured to Fletcher. “This asshole.”

The three looked confused, both by the situation and by the fact that Scully was the one saying these sorts of things. They laughed nervously, but stopped when they saw she wasn’t laughing along with them.

“Asshole?” Fletcher sounded offended, putting down the paper and approaching her. “Listen here, lady, you probably wouldn’t have even realized I wasn’t Mulder if you two weren’t banging.”

Scully stiffened, feeling three pairs of eyes slowly turn to look at her.

“Banging?” Langly asked.

She clenched her jaw, thinking quickly. “No, he’s just trying to rile me up because I embarrassed him when I caught him with Kersh’s secretary.”

“Kersh’s secretary?”

“Ah,” Fletcher nodded in understanding. “Keeping it a secret, huh?”

“There’s no secret to keep,” She bit back, her eyes threatening murder. Fletcher seemed more amused than fazed, though, which only angered her more.

The Gunmen exchanged looks, unsure who to believe. Scully inwardly groaned. Great. Now the three most suspicious men in the world had reason to wonder if she and Mulder were together. That'll be fun to deal with.

“Who the hell are you?” Frohike asked him.

Fletcher explained who he was, then managed to rile the three of them up by claiming to be the one who came up with most of their stories. Scully let it continue at first, simply grateful that they were distracted from the topic of her relationship with Mulder. But then Frohike brandished his spatula.

“The name’s Frohike, you punk ass. What the hell did you do with Mulder?”

“Shut up, all of you,” Scully stepped in, then pointed to the flight recorder. “If you guys want Mulder back, then get me these results.”

---

“You don’t look too happy. Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to put two kids through school.”

Scully looked up at Mulder, hugging herself. She still couldn’t quite believe it was him. “I just got off the phone with Frohike.”

She explained how the whole thing had been reliant on completely random variables — ones that they had next to no chance of replicating. And even if they could, there was no guarantee that it would work.

Looking completely downtrodden now, Mulder glanced over to the car where Fletcher sat. “What about him?”

She followed his gaze and sighed. “‘Agent Mulder’ has become Kersh’s new golden boy. The son of a bitch confesses to Kersh more than I do to my priest. I’m just tagging along for the ride.”

He turned back to her. “What do you mean, ‘just tagging along?’”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m out of the Bureau. I’ve been censured and relieved of my position.”

“No.” His voice was nearly a whisper. “You can explain it to them like you explained it to me,” he said urgently “You have the data. You can make them understand. You can get your job back.”

She looked back up at him affectionately, appreciating his sympathy. But she felt no desire to continue at the Bureau without him. Or worse — with a fake him.

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly,” she said, and meant it. By far one of the worst parts of this situation was that she wasn’t able to give him a proper goodbye. They’d known each other for years, but their relationship was still so new. Ever since it started, she’d been afraid of how it might end, but she’d never imagined it would be like this. Forced apart by some weird, random X-File. Not even a conspiracy, just completely random variables within a nearly impossible feat of science. She supposed it was some sort of poetic justice, maybe they even deserved it. Like so many other times before, a chance for happiness was being stolen away from her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Mulder smiled wistfully at her and nodded, looking like he wanted to kiss her anyway. They stared into each other's eyes the way they always did, and she wondered if he was thinking about the same things she was, but the moment was interrupted by Fletcher honking the horn.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He called out, his head hanging out of the window.

“If I shoot him, is that murder or suicide?”

“Neither, if I do it first.” She squeezed his arm, then turned towards the car.

“Hey, Scully.”

She turned back, and he held out a closed hand in offering. She held out her own, and he dropped some sunflower seeds into it before taking one back to put in his mouth. Yep, she thought, looking up at him. That’s Mulder.

She got in the car and watched him get in his. What kind of lives would they have now? She didn’t know what she would do when she got back home. She couldn’t even teach at the academy anymore. Maybe she would turn back to medicine, finally returning to what would have made her parents proud years ago.

She only knew two things for certain: she wouldn’t stop searching for a way to fix this, to bring Mulder back. And she wouldn’t stop investigating X-Files. What was his life’s work had become hers as well, and she could only hope that continuing to investigate them would help heal what was being broken at having to leave him like this. Maybe she would even find a solution to this problem buried in a random case.

And what about Mulder? She indulged in wondering what he would do with his life as she drove. He had a wife now. And kids. And a more regular job than theirs had been. That normalcy that she’d asked about, he was now forced to experience without her. No doubt he’d try to repair Fletcher’s marriage despite the fact that he wasn’t him and didn’t love his wife. That was just the kind of person Mulder was. He’d learn to like the kids, probably even grow attached to them. Despite his insistence on being a misfit and an outcast, he had a knack for dealing with others. When he tried.

He’d go to work, probably using it as a way to get the inside scoop on some X-Files. She knew he’d never stop investigating them, either. Maybe someday, by complete coincidence, they’d meet up again on the same case. They’d catch up, and it would be nice, except it wouldn’t be. Because it would still be Mulder, but it wouldn’t be him, not fully.

She wiped away a stray tear as Fletcher started talking, telling some story about the motel manager.

---

“Come on, Mulder, let’s go.” Scully tugged on his sleeve, shooting a glare at the man who had confronted him. She saw him light a cigarette as they drove away.

For some reason, the four-hour red-eye back to Washington felt like it was nearly the tenth one she’d made. She brushed it off, assuming it was just because they were always flying. Mulder — in the seat next to her — looked like he was trying and failing to sleep.

“Sorry your confidential source didn’t pan out,” she murmured, not wanting to wake anyone who was actually sleeping.

He turned to her with a smile, then took her hand. “Well, I guess you were right, Scully. Just another crackpot who watches too much Star Trek.”

They managed to get back in time to change clothes at her apartment and go to work, where the two yawned all day and barely got any actual work done. Luckily, their unauthorized trip to Nevada seemed to go unnoticed by Kersh. At one point, Scully opened her desk drawer and noticed what looked like two coins fused together. Where had that come from? She considered getting Mulder’s attention to show it to him, but decided she was too tired to hear a conspiracy ramble today.

After work, they walked to her car (not having had time to drive him by his place to pick up his car before work). She yawned. “It’s Friday,” -which was strange. Wasn’t it just Monday? Maybe she was more tired than she thought- “are you staying at my place tonight? Or would you rather sleep alone?”

He yawned back. “I don’t know, Scully. After being treated to the comforts of your bed, it’s been getting harder and harder to fall asleep on my couch.”

“You should get your own bed, then,” she quipped, putting her car into gear.

“Then what would be my excuse for spending the night at your place?”

She snorted. “I can think of a few.”

They dropped by his place so he could grab some things, and she begrudgingly followed him up to his apartment, sleepily leaning against the wall next to his door as he unlocked it. His jaw dropped when he opened the door, then he checked his apartment number as if unable to believe he was at the right unit.

“Mulder?” She straightened up. “What’s wrong?”

Wordless, he gestured into his apartment, and she turned to look. Her own jaw dropped at the sight of the spotlessly clean apartment with a few new tasteful decorations. They both stepped into it, mouths agape, and looked around.

“Mulder, did you...hire someone?” Her voice pitched up higher than usual due to her state of shock.

“No, I-” He stammered, then looked at her. “You aren’t joking with me, are you? Was this you?”

She shook her head, her eyebrows raised in innocence. “It looks nice,” she said, then turned to him with a cocked brow and a smirk. “But where will you put the white picket fence?”

He smiled and put an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, I was thinking right about here, in the middle of everything.”

She grinned at him, but he looked away, distracted. He’d noticed that his bedroom door was open and went over to it, peering inside.

“Scully.”

“What?” She rushed over to look, following him into the room, but stopped short at the sight of a new bed. Standing proudly in the middle of his now-clean room. “Holy crap, Mulder. How- How did this get here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it was a gift. Maybe someone overheard you badgering me to get one,” he joked, but she wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Mulder,” She muttered, leaning towards the bed and looking up. He followed her gaze and saw his own reflection looking back. Slowly, they both turned to look at each other with equal amounts of incredulity.

“Well,” He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “I guess...gift horse and all that.”

“Mulder, you’re not at all suspicious about how this happened?”

“Right now, all I care about is getting some sleep. And now I’ve got a bed.” He sat down on it and was startled by how much it moved.

“A waterbed?” Scully’s eyebrows looked like they would just about shoot off her forehead.

He groaned and flopped back fully. “Just when I thought my back would get a break.”

#kai.fic #xf fanfic #msr fanfic #timing fic

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 15

After shooting Mulder to prevent him from implicating himself in his father's murder, Scully takes Mulder & Melissa on a road trip to Albert Hosteen's Navajo reservation in New Mexico.

TW for mentions of guns/shooting, death, funerals

----------------------------------------------

His eyes flutter open to some place like Heaven, which pisses him off cause that’s not supposed to exist, and if it does, then how in the hell did he make it here? A fiery-haired angel lays a gilded hand upon his chest, her touch made out of air. Tendrils of hair fall against her face, and Mulder wonders where one gets haircuts in Heaven.

He must be floating on a cloud, so close to the sun that it is stained an earthly golden-yellow. His sky accommodation is not as comfortable as all those Renaissance painters made it look, and for that he feels deceived. Is the soul so solid that it is weighed down, even in Heaven? And if it is, well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a soul?

He is fatigued, and it’s bullshit, in his opinion, that he could be dead and still feel anything but blissful numbness. He’s about to voice this particular grievance when he realizes where he is, and sure English is turning into a lingua franca of sorts, but something tells him that God isn’t spending his spare time teaching the angels the difference between too and to. So he keeps his mouth shut, unnerved by not knowing whether he’ll ever be able to speak his mind again.

“Hey,” a soft voice breathes, and he’s surprised to understand it, but not altogether upset. He tries to respond, but his tongue has tethered itself to the base of his mouth.

“Mulder…” the voice says, and it registers in his mind that it’s not an angel--not technically--but Dana Katherine Scully, and my god, what atrocity has dared to send her to Heaven so damn soon?

He coughs, then grumbles from deep in his throat. He’s got to be the most undignified person in this joint, and he can only hope his welcome dinner with God isn’t anytime soon. The angel’s hand that is actually his partner’s drifts over his forelock, her fingers guiding his hair back into its part.

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

He nods, hungry for some sense of things.

“You were shot, Mulder. By me. Because you were acting very stupid.”

She killed him?!? Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked by this, but he can’t help himself. And she’s here too, so how did that happen? Murder-suicide?

Her hand sweeps his shoulder, and he looks down to see the space where her bullet must have pierced him. Patched up right above his heart. He didn’t expect to carry wounds into the afterlife.

Her eyes meet his, blue as ever. “I’ve been taking care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”

His lips form an O, but no sound follows.

“Let me get you some water.” Scully disappears from his line of sight, and he realizes that his cloud has a roof and an open door. You can’t see those from the ground.

Scully returns with a plastic water bottle. Deer Park, to be exact--another thing he didn’t expect to find in Heaven. She holds it to his lips, tilting the liquid gently into his mouth. He revels in it, vitality slowly being returned to him.

At last, his tongue functions as it should. “Where are we, Scully?” he asks, his voice creaky. He’s beginning to think it’s not Heaven after all, but the back of his partner’s Chevy. Which feels about as equally likely, if he’s honest.

“At a gas station In Texas, about two miles off I-40,” she answers, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “We’re headed to a Navajo reservation in New Mexico.”

Met with the realization that his life is not, in fact, over, Mulder tries to piece together the last moments he can remember. He squints, the sun outside the vehicle colliding with the darkness in his brain. He remembers a fever and a bed that was not his.

“Did I sleep in your bed?” he asks, fairly confident that more important things before and after have slipped his mind.

“You did indeed,” Scully replies. And before he can get to it--”Melissa and I shared.”

“Ah.” He pushes himself up, every muscle in his arms rebelling.

Scully pats his shoulder. “You should stay reclined.”

“I’m like a whale in a fish bowl back here,” he protests. And he’s not wrong, Scully knows this. To fit him in, she leaned his head against the driver’s side windowsill and let his bare feet push against the passenger side door, then said a silent prayer that there would be no potholes.

“Why can’t I come up front?” he whines. “I’ll lean the seat back.”

“Because Missy’s sitting there.”

Mulder glances into the front, his expectations of privacy shattered. Still, an empty passenger’s seat meets his gaze. “Well, where is she then?” he pesters, more pointed than intended.

Scully chuckles. You can put a hole in the man’s chest, but you can’t take the restlessness out of him. “She’s inside getting snacks.” Scully smiles at her partner, fondness flowing out in a way she rarely lets it. He’s been out for a couple days now--and while she was closely monitoring him and knew he was okay--she’s so glad that he has come back to her. “Do you want sunflower seeds?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

He nods. “Sp--”

“Spitz.” The moments that have gotten them there, that have indebted her with that knowledge, flash through her mind. “I know.”

And it feels almost prophetic, to Mulder, that she does.

--------------------

The plains of North Texas roll past them, headlights and moonlight meeting in a demure embrace. The two-lane road bears a great resemblance to many they’ve gone down in days past. There’s no one else in sight.

Mulder has been relieved of his back seat duties, taking Melissa’s place at the passenger side so she could get some sleep. He’s slipped on the shirt Scully swiped from his apartment, a Knicks 1990 tee that she must have found in the corner of the living room where he throws his dirty clothes. He wonders if she even packed anything for herself before she hightailed it out of the city.

He couldn’t have imagined that punching Skinner would lead to his father dead, him shot by his partner, and them on the run across the country. And yet, there’s no place he’d rather be. The desert gifting them with a stunningly clear night, he’s opened the car’s sunroof and kicked back to stare up at the stars. The radio having long turned to static, quiet permeates the car.

“I’d gladly live in the middle of nowhere if I got this view every night,” Mulder remarks, drinking in the night sky.

Scully glances at him. There’s a rogue part of her brain that hoped he’d be looking back at her. Alas, the sky is his mistress.

They continue barreling down the highway, about seven hours out from their destination. The speedometer reads 87 mph...Scully is prone to speeding when she can get away with it.

“Keep it up and we’ll beat the sunrise,” Mulder jests.

“That’s the plan.”

Mulder pulls his seat back into place, popping suddenly into Scully’s peripheral vision. “Hey Scully, can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Negative.”

“Go on, then.”

“Setting aside the why--though I’d be interested in that, too--how exactly did you decide that shooting me near the heart would be the safest bet?...Unless you wanted to kill me.”

“Well, I was pretty certain I’d be able to remove the bullet with what you had in your apartment, since the wound isn’t near a bone. That also makes it easier to prevent infection.”

“So you either have an insane amount of confidence in your shot, or you don’t value me very much,” he quips.

Scully smirks. “Lucky for you, I consider target practice a great stress reliever.”

“Does the Bureau psychologist know that?”

She bats his arm playfully, the car swerving as she does.

“Hey, that’s no way to treat a patient. Now I know why you’re not practicing.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention…? I’ve decided that I prefer Dr. Scully to Special Agent Scully, so this is the last you’ll be hearing from me.”

Mulder chuckles, though the very idea that there could be any truth to that gives him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There are millions of doctors out there,” he says, “and some of them aren’t even the cool type. Special Agent? That’s way sexier.”

“Oh, is that the metric we’re measuring at now?”

“That’s the metric I’m always measuring at,” he deadpans.

“Mmm.” Scully looks at the rearview mirror, her sister’s steady-breathed sleep reflecting back at her. Good. She’d never hear the end of it if Missy overheard this conversation.

Mulder rubs his eyes, the events prior to his blackout having flowed back to him through the waking hours. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he begins, “but am I a fugitive?”

Scully glances out the driver’s window, as if she were going to change lanes though there is nowhere to go and no one else around. “I took your weapon to ballistics and proved it wasn’t the one used in the murder.” She says it so casually, Mulder notices, distancing them from the fact that the victim was his father. “But you’re still the only one placed at the scene, and it doesn’t look good that you called the police then ran. Still, the evidence implies that it wasn’t you. Of course, there’ll be suspicion…”

“Especially since we’ve both disappeared…”

“Hey, we’re on FBI business,” Scully declares. “We didn’t go through the official channels, but this is related to the X-Files.”

“Maybe Skinner will believe that if he hears it from you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Mulder smiles. She’s using her reputation to pull off a ruse. And damn, does that turn him on.

He breathes in the scents of the car--the McDonalds fries they bought with Melissa’s credit card (just to be safe), his own eau de cologne from three days without a shower, but, above all, Scully’s sweetness. Her, just...her. A hint of strawberry, a swipe of gardenia perfume, and her honey-suckle skin. Smoke was never a fitting scent for her, and he is glad she has given it up.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you never caught up to Krycek,” Mulder mutters, balling up the fast-food straw paper and tossing it in the air. “Unless you’ve got him in the trunk.”

Scully shakes her head. “No stowaways besides you. He ran off after I shot and catching him wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

“So you do value my life…”

Scully flashes a brilliant but bashful smile. “You caught me.”

What a relationship they have. They are each other’s slayer and savior; a cut of the knife stitched by a meticulous hand. Hurt then healed on the other’s command.

“Fox…”

Mulder glances at the backseat. He finds Melissa sound asleep, snoring softly, and his gaze snaps back to the other Scully in the car. What glitch in the universe has led her to address him by his dreaded name?

He has never been so sure as in this moment---his partner is an otherworldly being, something supernatural. Not an alien, nothing so sinister...but perhaps the angel he imagined, or a fairy who has guided mankind for millennia, or a genie granting his wishes in freeze-frames. She looks through him...not in a way which makes him invisible, but one that takes the physical aspect out of it entirely. She sees his soul. He knows this.

“Fox,” she continues, layering on the vulnerability, “I’m sorry about your father. I know you loved him, above it all.”

Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something like that...I don’t know, honestly, that he ever loved me.” He looks at his lap. “He spent his last breath asking for forgiveness. You have to wonder what he’s done with his life to end up there.”

“It all becomes clear at the end,” Scully responds, not so much a hypothesis as a statement of fact, drawn from experience. “His regrets caught up to him, and he loathed some things he did while cursing himself for the things he left undone...And in that moment, an apology was all he could do to right some wrongs.”

Mulder looks at her through the corner of his eye, somewhat disturbed by the oracle she has become. “He asked me to forgive him,” Mulder replies. “That’s not the same as an apology.”

“Isn’t it, though?’

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest, the lumpy gauze of his wound rubbing him through his shirt. “Well, first of all, he didn’t even specify what I was supposed to forgive him for, so I don’t see how that can yield any sort of apology. And the very fact that was saying it at the end of his life means that it wasn’t actually about soothing my feelings, but lessening his guilt. Really, it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.”

“So you’re saying it was a selfish apology, and that doesn’t count.”

“Exactly.”

“So do apologies only work if the recipient accepts them?” Scully interjects. “Is there no value in the attempt?”

Mulder bites his lip.

“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate,” she clarifies. “I’m genuinely curious about what you think.”

He sighs. “I think...what matters is not necessarily if the apology is accepted, but the intent of it. Like in this case, it was ill-timed, and so I don’t accept it. Maybe if he had said it to me ten years ago, it would have mattered, even if I were too stubborn to accept it at the time.”

“So if your father had apologized to you ten years ago, you would accept it now that he’s dead…?”

Mulder shrugs. “I think I’d realize that he actually meant it, and so I should cut him some slack.”

“Interesting.” Scully says nothing else, keeping her attention straight ahead.

Mulder smirks. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

She pulls her lips into a tightly-knitted line. “No, no, that makes sense. I just think there are instances when a poorly-timed apology is accepted, and what then? Is the inevitable misunderstanding that will result the recipient’s fault for being so naive? Or do they get to place all the blame on the dishonest person?”

“How about a little bit of both, ey? Spread the blame out nice and evenly. A sprinkle there, a pinch here...”

Scully cracks a smile. Of course he’d make this conversation dirty. “You know, you scare me sometimes, Mulder.”

And just like that, they’re back to his preferred name. He lets out a sideways smile. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because I think that maybe you’re truly crazy, you’re not just faking it.”

He laughs, deep and sudden. Pulled from the trenches of his being. “Glad to hear it,” he snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

-------------------------

As the motorcycle rumbles over the desert dust, Scully wonders how she could be so stupid. Barely out of psychosis and she sends Mulder to a burial ground. She didn’t intend for it to be his final resting place.

Eric had tried to warn him before the helicopter men, as he called them when describing the scene to Scully and Melissa, burned the place. But Mulder couldn’t hear him over the whirl of the blades--that’s what Eric suspected. As he recounted to the girls, the smoking man had threatened him, had laid a grotesque hand on him and forced him to show the way back to his house. They interrogated his father Albert and bruised and bloodied him. The conclusion, all around, was that nobody knew where Mulder was. Regardless of whether he had burned in that boxcar or somehow disappeared into the desert beforehand, he was gone.

Scully has a pretty clear idea of who’s responsible, and she wishes she had a helicopter she could ram into their dumb black helicopter to wipe them off the face of the Earth... and prevent them from wiping anyone else off the face of the Earth. Thwarting their ambitions will have to be enough.

But how? Desert heat mixes with smoldering ash as she stands over what’s left of the boxcar, making the moment unbearable. It is obvious to her that if Mulder was still in the boxcar when the ignitor went off, he is now dead. No human can survive that magnitude of burning--he would, in fact, be incinerated. Not a piece of him left behind, identifiable even to Scully’s trained eye.

And if he wasn’t in the boxcar, if he heard the helicopter and gave himself over to the desert? What then? Surely he would have found his way back to where she was standing by now. Surely she’d be able to see him, hear him, touch him. There’d be proof he was something more than ashes. Maybe even, he might have made it back to the motel. But Melissa is keeping watch, and she hasn’t said a word. Missy would not play games about this.

Logic prevailing, as it often does with her, Scully lets Eric drive her back to the motel. If he’s not here, then he’s there. And if he’s not there then--well, she knows. And isn’t it just like Mulder to leave her enough evidence to point one way without giving her the proof she needs to conclude? She imagines a funeral sans a body and shutters.

When they get back to the motel and Missy opens the door and she is alone in the room, Scully is not surprised. She is shattered. It’s like learning the day you’ll die, then waking up on that day and recoiling at the calendar. What will be cannot be stopped. Not by any power of persuasion. Any.

She wants to scream, cry, file a personal complaint with God. Instead, she walks through the door, thanks Eric for his help, then asks her sister what she wants for dinner. Scully’s not hungry--she rarely is these days, and how could she be at a time like this?--but Melissa, she’s human, and she’s been waiting around all day, and all they have in the room is a quarter-full bag of gummy worms, so yeah, Scully decides, Missy probably is hungry. And that’s something she can take care of.

Missy looks at her sister like--well, like she said she just saw an alien. “Dana, you’re not well.” Then, after getting no reaction--”It’s okay to be upset.”

Scully throws her blazer over a chair. ”I didn’t say I wasn’t upset.”

Missy sits down on the bed and pats the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

Scully throws her hands in the air. “He’s gone, Melissa, what else can I say?” She paces through the room. “If he was in the box car, he burned to death. And if he wasn’t, then shouldn’t we have found him by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Missy counters. “Albert told me about the Anasazi, a tribe that lived here hundreds of years ago.”

“I know, I know. They disappeared, historians have no explanation for it.”

‘“That’s what they say. But, honestly, Dana--nothing disappears without a trace. Mulder included.”

Scully shoots her a look. “So what is your explanation? That he was abducted, despite there being multiple witnesses who didn’t see a thing?”

“He called you, he said he saw something in the boxcar.”

Scully nods. “Bodies...lots of them. He said they didn’t look human. And they all had smallpox vaccination scars.”

“What do you make of that?”

Scully shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the Anasazi.”

“So why did the men burn the boxcar?”

“It could have been because Mulder was in there, and they wanted to kill him. Or because what’s in there was damning to them.”

Missy bites her lip. “Did the boxcar blow up?”

“No, but it’s still smoldering.”

“Could you go in tomorrow and take a look? See what you can find?”

“Missy, I doubt there’s anything left. And besides, I’ve already ignored about thirty calls from Director Skinner. I need to get back to DC...I’m lucky if I’ll still have a job.”

“Fuck the job. Think of Mulder.”

“I need to consider both if I’m actually to uncover any of the conspiracies that Mulder--and his father and so many others--died as a result of.”

Melissa frowns. Dana’s already counting her partner out...that’s hard to come back from, being christened as a corpse. She sighs. ”Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying that I truly don’t believe that Mulder’s dead, and I know you will find him.”

Scully’s eyes narrow, intrigued by her sister’s shift in tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a technique that I learned from my therapist friend,” Missy begins, already setting off alarm bells in Scully’s head, “that is meant to help process complicated feelings about a person.”

Scully purses her lips as Missy continues--”It’s used to find clarity and--if it’s someone you’ve lost, literally or metaphorically--to give closure. I think it would help you establish a clear motivation to keep up your work on the X-Files.”

Scully’s forehead creases right between the eyebrows. “I just told you, I have one.”

“Yes, but if you go back to Washington, bureaucracy’s gonna get in the way of all of that. That’s why you drove out here in the first place, isn’t it? To avoid bureaucracy and push forward with the case?”

“I suppose,” Scully mumbles.

“And that’s exactly what Mulder would have done, and that’s what he would want you to do now.”

“This is beginning to sound like one of those ‘if x jumped off a bridge, would you?’ scenarios,” Scully retorts.

“But with the opposite sentiment,” Melissa clarifies. “You and Mulder have never been closer to finding the truth. Now do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

Hands on her hips, Scully’s silence commands Missy to continue.

“Let me remind you that Mulder is not dead, and this is just an exercise.”

Scully nods, more to keep her moving than in agreement.

“I want you to write a eulogy for him.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in protest. “And this is going to advance the investigation how?”

“By giving you emotional clarity. Essentially, you’ll realize how much he means to you, and it will push you to do whatever you can to complete the investigation.”

Scully scoffs. “You act like I don’t even like him or something.”

“You like him, but you’re afraid of imitating him. There’s a lack of...respect for his methods. And they’re the only way this case is gonna get solved.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Gee, apparently you should have gone to Quantico in my place.” It’s not that she’s afraid, per say, but that she doesn’t think Mulder’s unconventional approach will work. Two plus years in and she still believes herself more than him. She wishes she didn’t.

“You don’t have to read the eulogy out loud,” Missy coos, knowing full well that she’ll be sneaking around during the night to get her hands on it when her sister refuses to share.

“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” Scully groans.

Melissa squeezes her sister’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll find him, and this will help you know what to say when you do.”

Scully leans into the hug. “For the record, I think this is insane, alright? I’m only doing it because it’s getting too late to search the desert.”

“Understood.” Missy stands up. “Oh, and to answer your question, Albert invited us over for a traditional tribal feast at his house.”

“What?”

“You asked what I wanted for dinner. Those are our plans.”

“Oh.” Scully looks at her lap. It seems unfair to have to face the world at a time like this. Especially when her head is plagued with thoughts about what she would--will?--say at her partner’s funeral. And still, she continues.

--------------------

Crowding around Albert’s dining table, the party finishes the last bites left on their plates. It has been a long day--or days, more accurately--and the desolate black sky outside makes Scully feel like it’s 4am, though the clock only reads 7. She blinks toward her company, trying to remain present.

“I am thankful we could share this meal,” Albert says, nodding to Scully and her sister. “It is not often we get outsiders here, and even less often that we’re able to indulge in the foods of our ancestors.”

Missy reaches for the final piece of fry bread, biting into it daintily.

“There’s not a lot here,” Albert tells them, eyes downcast. “Nowadays, we take what we can get, and that means eating to survive...your processed foods and non-perishables have become the staples of our diets.”

Scully tries not to frown. “Well, we’re very glad that you prepared this for us. It was delicious,” she says, trying to inject enthusiasm into her downtrodden heart.

“Yes, thank you very much,” Missy affirms.

Albert casts his eyes in Scully’s direction. A shadow falls over her. From where, she is not certain.

“You are hurting, but you do not need to be. What is yours will find you. There is no such thing as disappearance.”

Scully pulls her lips into a solemn smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It is the truth. The desert acts in its own way, and it is never wrong.”

Scully nods, trying to believe him. Trying to have faith. “Thank you, Albert.”

From across the table, he extends his palms toward her. “Pray with me.”

She clasps his hands and closes her eyes. Prayer is not normally something she engages in with others around, but neither is grief.

Albert begins speaking in the language written on the Defense Department files. She doesn’t understand the words, but his sincerity transcends semantics. The spirit of faith--the spirit of God--is there.

She has been thinking lately of faith. The faith she has been feeling is not that of Sunday mornings and ‘forgive me Father for I have sinned.’ It’s something else entirely, something that has compelled her to do things she would never do... until she looked down at her hands and she was doing them.

So many transgressions to count, and yet she hesitates to even call them that. Injured her partner--a suspected fugitive--to keep him from implicating himself, tapped her sister as her sidekick to take him halfway across the country, and deserted her duties at the FBI, all in favor of the truth.

Maybe truth is faith that good will prevail.

--------------------------

When Scully sits down that night with the motel notepad and a pen, she becomes a conduit for everything she couldn’t say out loud. She copies the entire Mulder file from her brain, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t capture any of his essence, the unique flavor of humanity that he bravely faced the world with which made him so...him.

It is then that Scully realizes you can know all the details of someone’s life without ever really knowing them, and that scares her because she gets the inkling that she has never truly let Mulder in--though he has opened up to her--and what if he dies feeling like he never got further than the young woman whose physics thesis he read? That’s not fair, not when she knows him so well.

She takes a breath and puts the pen down. She can’t compose Mulder to life. Resurrection doesn’t work that way. What she can do--and what she realizes is what every person does in this situation, and there must be something wrong with her because it wasn’t her first instinct--is write about how the man she knows (knew?) made her feel. About the impact his life had on her life.

Her vision blurs as she works to consolidate her unauthorized biography of Fox William Mulder into a passage that suggests the joy their partnership brought into her life. Though Missy said she wouldn’t have to share, Scully can’t shake the feeling that she will need this at some point in time, that having a eulogy on call might not be such a bad idea. It’s a terrible thought, but a truth every agent knows. After all, she and Mulder witnessed each other writing their wills, and that was considered a customary work duty. Nothing is out of reach.

And so she wrote as if she’ll have to read it one day, letting her emotions flow within the confines of her finely tuned self-awareness. The end product turns out somewhat more sentimental than she envisioned, but she caps her pen and walks away, giving herself permission to take up space.

--Fox William Mulder--

As he despised being called by his first name, I must take the liberty of referring to my partner as Mulder one last time. I was lucky to know him. Not as Spooky or the alien-obsessed man in the basement, but for who he truly was. Nothing was more important to Mulder than the truth. And the truest truth I know about him is that he loved his sister, and he wanted justice for her. It’s what he spent his life on, and ultimately, what he sacrificed it for. I am honored to have played any role in his mission, and I hope to continue it in his memory.

If there’s one piece of Mulder that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life, it’s his tenacity. Mulder never, never let any obstacle get in his way. I can’t tell you how many times I wasn’t sure where he was, only to learn that he had flown to the ends of the Earth to investigate whatever lead he found promising that day. I doubt that I’ll ever encounter anyone who lives up to the passion and determination he contained within him. And it’s a shame because the world needs that...The world needed him.

I needed him too. He challenged me in ways I never dreamed of. Sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out, but mostly, I just kept thinking about how boring my life would be if I never met him. And now...I don’t know what’s next. There were so many possible futures ahead for us and the X-Files. This isn’t just a eulogy for Mulder, it’s a eulogy for all that could have been. He was my best friend. There’s nothing more I can say.

When she reads it back the next morning, she falls to her knees in conversation with God, pleading for a miracle to bring the man she has finally realized she loves back into her life.

#this got tender as hell #truly a labor of love <3 #thank you for reading as always #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #melissa scully #mine

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