#bill scully jr

[television-overload]

beautiful (X-Files fanfic)

Rating: G

Word Count: 4,985

Summary: Weakened by her latest round of chemotherapy, Scully doesn't feel much like herself. Mulder helps her find the strength to keep fighting.

Read on AO3

“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this, Mulder,” she says out of the blue, drawing his attention away from the magazine he was idly flipping through at her bedside. Immediately, he sets it aside, dropping his feet to the ground from where they were perched up on the hospital bed.

“What do you mean?” he asks, grabbing her closest hand and running his thumb over her knuckles.

Scully sighs. “Don’t make me say it,” she responds. The answer looms over them both, and she’s right. He doesn’t like hearing it spoken aloud.

Dana Scully is wasting away, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

This latest round of chemotherapy has hit her harder than the first, and he’s starting to see the physical changes. She’s thinner, paler. There are dark circles under her eyes. The doctors have noticed it too, recommending that she stay in the hospital for a few days or even a week rather than recover at home.

Of course, she had refused on principle until Mulder told her he was being forced to take a few days’ leave anyway to use up some vacation time, which wasn’t exactly true, and she probably knew it.

But either way, she had let him accompany her to her appointment, which was more than he could say for her previous round of treatment.

“I look like the night of the living dead,” Scully mumbles, fiddling with the scratchy blankets on her lap.

Mulder tries not to show a physical reaction to her choice of wording. “Don’t say that,” he pleads, shaking his head. “Please don’t say that.”

Scully smiles wryly. He’s as predictable as ever.

“I just mean, I don’t look like myself. I don’t feel like myself.” She says this with such an unaffected voice, that anyone less familiar with her tells would think this was just some passing annoyance, but Mulder knows. He can see the way this has grated at her, and he just wishes he could take this all pain away from her. “I can’t even do my makeup,” she adds, throwing a breathy laugh in for good measure at the end of her sentence, as if to say, ‘but why should I care about that?’

Mulder tugs on her hand, and she follows his unspoken cue and meets his gaze. “I like you just fine without makeup,” he says, his eyes communicating the sincerity of his words. “Besides, who is there to impress anyway?” he asks, gesturing at the empty room over his shoulder to emphasize his point.

Scully gives a tired smile. “You’re a guy, Mulder, you wouldn’t understand.” Squeezing his hand once, she adds, “But thank you,” and he gives her a smile back. He wishes he could do something to help her.

She hasn’t had the strength for much, ever since they began the treatment two days ago. She’s having a better reaction to it than she could be, but he knows the fatigue is frustrating her. She’s told him a thousand times that he doesn’t have to stay here with her, but he does anyway, even when she’s sleeping for hours on end. When she’s awake, he reads to her, or they watch something on TV, whatever she’s feeling up to. If it weren’t for the harrowing circumstances, he might even be really enjoying this time spent together outside work.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Scully speaks, drawing his attention back to her. “But you’re not looking so great yourself.” Her teasing tone is softened by her genuine concern for him, but he can’t help but play along.

His eyes narrow at her in mock offense. “Just what every man likes to hear,” he says sarcastically. “Scully, you wound me.”

This earns a patented Scully Eye Roll.

“Go home and take a shower at least,” she amends, looking at him fondly. “You could use one.”

He simply stares at her, challenging her to more of this banter.

“Are you gonna just keep insulting me until I finally leave?” he asks.

“If that’s what it takes,” she answers. “I could touch on your poor posture next, if you want.”

Mulder laughs, waving a hand dismissively as he stands. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He looks back at her, pauses, and pointedly straightens his posture before grabbing his bag and taking a step toward the door. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone?” he asks, unable to help himself.

Her gaze softens, her playfulness turning back to seriousness. “Yes, Mulder, I’ll be fine. I probably won’t stay awake for much longer anyway.”

He nods, shifting to take another step, but on looking at her again, changes his mind. He turns back, crossing the floor to her bed and leaning down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. The hand that isn’t busy holding his briefcase gives her left shoulder a squeeze before he pulls away.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, tucking her blankets back up to her chin.

She smiles, her eyelids already growing heavy. “I know you will.”

-.-.-

True to his word, Mulder makes a stop at his apartment to shower and change, trading out the books they’d already finished with new ones that she will probably roll her eyes at. He has to admit, he feels like a new person as he steps out of the shower. He needed that more than he thought he did. There was something to what Scully had said earlier, about feeling like yourself. It gave him an idea.

As much as he wants to get back to her, Mulder knows she’ll be out like a light for at least a few hours. He decides to make another stop before heading back to the hospital.

It’s still fairly early in the day when he knocks on the door and waits for a minute. He hears the shuffling sound of someone approaching on the other side before the door creaks open.

“Fox?”

“Hi Mrs. Scully,” he says, giving her an awkward half smile, his hands jammed deep into his front pockets.

“What are you doing here? Is it Dana?” The woman is understandably worried; it’s not like Mulder to show up out of the blue like this unless there’s some kind of terrible news to convey.

He is quick to reassure her. “No, no, nothing like that. I just had something I—I wanted to ask you, if it’s no trouble.”

Maggie’s brows pinch together in that distinctly Scully way as she pulls him into her home, shutting the door behind him.

“What is it?”

Sheepishly, Mulder rubs a hand over the back of his neck, feeling less and less certain of what he came here to ask.

“Well, it’s just—Dana mentioned something earlier about wishing she had her makeup on, and I wondered… You know, her strength isn’t what it usually is, so I thought maybe I could—”

Maggie’s hands wrap around his forearm, halting his rambling speech. He looks up to see tears glistening in her eyes, and she nods in understanding.

“That’s very sweet, Fox.”

He nods, hoping his cheeks aren’t turning pink. He doesn’t do well with motherly praise.

“So, are you wanting me to show you how?”

He lets out a breath, relieved that he doesn’t have to find the words himself. “That would be great, actually.”

Mrs. Scully smiles, jerking her head toward the stairs so that he would follow her. “Come with me, I’ve got some stuff we can use.”

He dutifully follows after her as she leads him up the stairs. This is the furthest he’s been inside Maggie Scully’s house. He wonders how much of her belongings are mementos from Scully’s childhood, whether a certain painting hanging on the wall appears in her family Christmas photos or if it was bought recently.

In his perusal of the house itself, he nearly collides with someone he knows by name only. “Mom, who was that at the door?” the man is asking, and the moment their eyes meet, the air in the room thickens. “What’s he doing here?” he demands, looking to Maggie for answers.

Maggie is quick to come to Mulder’s aid. “It’s none of your business, young man,” she says, shooing him toward the stairs they had just come up. Despite his protestations, she continues, “Why don’t you go to the drugstore and pick up some eyelash straightening cream for Dana, we can bring it to her when we go visit later this afternoon.”

“But—”

She swats him on the arm. “No buts. Dana would really appreciate it if we brought it.”

He grumbles all the way down the stairs, but does as she told him. As soon as he’s grabbed his jacket from the coat closet, he’s out the door and starting up the car.

“What was that for?” Mulder asks, breaking the silence that had settled after the front door shut.

Maggie gives a pleased little smile. “There’s no such thing as eyelash straightening cream. Bill will be there for thirty minutes at least. As I’m sure you can imagine, knowing my daughter as you do, he doesn’t like asking for assistance if he can help it.”

Mulder lets out a surprised laugh. This woman runs a tight ship, and he has to respect her for it.

“Alright, now sit right here, Fox,” Mrs. Scully orders, pulling out a small stool from the vanity in her bathroom. She quickly leaves and returns with another chair from the bedroom, placing it across from him. She hums quietly as she rummages through her drawers, extracting several mystifying objects and setting them on the counter. “Now, let’s start with the foundation. I’ll show you how, and then you can do the other side of my face, sound good?”

Mulder nods, sitting up straighter to watch as she blends the creamy substance onto her skin. She’s narrating as she goes, and Mulder commits her words to memory, hoping his ability to replicate them will be as good as his ability to remember her instructions.

“Here, now you try,” Mrs. Scully says next, handing the brush to Mulder. He pushes aside any lingering feelings of awkwardness or embarrassment and sets in on applying the makeup. Maggie’s lips curl in a smile as she watches him, tapping ever so gently on her face as if he might break her. She wonders if he’s done this before. “You’re a natural,” she praises, “Are you sure this is your first time?”

He lets out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “I’m no expert,” he answers. He’s silent for a moment, not breaking concentration, and then adds in a quiet voice, “My sister had this play makeup set, real cheap quality stuff. She’d sometimes force me to be her test subject.” His eyes grow distant as he remembers.

It wasn’t all that long before her abduction, he thinks, the last time they did this. It always went the same way. He’d sit patiently—or as patiently as an eleven- or twelve-year-old boy could—while she clumsily dabbed colorful eyeshadow onto his eyelids. He’d learned early on that it was better to just go along with it, having suffered the wrath of Samantha Mulder once before for refusing to be her dress-up doll. The makeup rarely stayed on for more than a minute after she declared him done, scrubbed off like some kind of deadly germ in the sink, but it was enough to appease her.

When she was finished, she’d beg him to help her with her makeup, putting that pouty lip out that she knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Stop blinking, Sam,” he’d say, focusing intently on brushing on the mascara she’d stolen from her mom’s makeup bag. “You’re gonna mess it up.”

He remembers these times fondly, of rare moments where he managed to be a good big brother, instead of pretending to be annoyed by her like he often did. He’d give anything to be teased by his peers for spending time with his kid sister, if it meant having her back.

With the utmost care, Mrs. Scully walks him through the remaining steps, patting him gently on the cheek once he’s put on the finishing touches.

“You’re a good man, Fox,” she says, her fondness for him evident in her smile. “Dana is lucky to have you.”

Once again, Mulder shrugs, uncomfortable with the compliments, no matter how sincere they are. “I’m the lucky one, Mrs. Scully.” He thinks he’s never meant something more in his life. “But I appreciate you saying so. Thanks again for showing me everything.”

She pulls him into a hug. “Of course, you call me if you ever need anything. We’ll be by sometime this afternoon.”

He nods, and is thankfully out the door with time to spare before Bill can get home.

After a brief visit to Scully’s apartment to grab some of her things, he drives back to the hospital. When he arrives, Scully is awake in her bed, her upper body elevated so she can look out the window. She greets him with a warm smile, and he can’t help but grin back.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says in apology, “Had to make a quick pit stop.”

This catches Scully’s attention, and she watches as he produces a bag from behind his back, setting it on the tray table in front of her and starting to take items out. She recognizes it immediately, and looks up at him in wonder.

“Mulder,” she says, her tone jokingly admonishing. “You didn’t have to bring me this.” She’s smiling still as she starts to sit up, reaching out to grab a tube of lipstick, but he stops her.

“No, no,” he says, gently lowering her hand back down to the table and urging her to sit back and relax. “You take it easy, I’ll take care of this.”

She gives him a look with a furrowed brow, but eases back, watching him suspiciously as he selects a bottle of liquid foundation and a brush.

He sits sideways on her hospital bed so that he is facing her. With the limited space, his thigh brushes up against her blanket-covered one, but it barely even registers. This kind of closeness is nothing particularly unusual for them. If nothing else, it is an added comfort to them both.

“You ready?” he asks, makeup brush poised to start.

Scully searches his eyes for a moment and, deciding she trusts him, gives a nod. “Okay.”

With a pleased little smile, Mulder begins applying a light layer of foundation, leaning in closer to reach as he gently blends it into her skin.

Scully can only watch him, his brows drawn together in focus as he works to meticulously apply the makeup. Her eyes wander over his face, over the sharp lines of his nose and the roundness of his lips. Occasionally his tongue peeks out in concentration, and she can’t help but fall a little more in love with him.

She didn’t ask him to do this. If he thought her needless grousing earlier was a request, she felt terrible. He isn’t her servant. He doesn’t exist to make sure she has all the niceties of her normal life in this cold, sterile place. The last thing she wants is to be a burden, especially to him. He’s had enough to deal with in his life without having to look after his terminally ill coworker.

But that isn’t all they are, is it? They’re friends—the closest of friends. This isn’t the first time he’s gone out of his way to do something nice for her, and she suspects it won’t be the last, no matter how little time she has left. For some reason, he’s taken it upon himself to be with her throughout this whole ordeal, even when it means holding back her hair as she heaves into a trash can or when she can’t adjust the covers over her cold feet.

The words jump into her mind unbidden: “In sickness and in health.”

It’s funny, in a distinctly unfunny way. She supposes she should be thankful that someone cares enough for her in that way, even if they are nothing more than friends and coworkers. In some ways, their partnership is more of a marriage than many people will experience in their lifetimes, and for that she is exceedingly glad. She couldn’t have asked for a better person to have in her life than Mulder.

He’s moved on now to powdering her skin with translucent powder, beginning with her forehead. As he brings the soft brush down between her eyebrows, she scrunches her nose up, hiding a smirk from him. His sloping green eyes soften from their earlier focus and he lets out a chuckle, playfully tickling her nose with the brush.

“You’re not gonna sneeze on me, are ya?” he asks, getting back to work on her cheeks and chin.

Her only answer is a quiet, affectionate smile.

After a careful application of blush on the apples of her cheeks, it’s time for her eyes. She watches him open her eyeshadow palette and rub a brush over one of the colors, and she quirks an eyebrow in concern. As he brings the small brush closer to her face, she draws back and looks at him doubtfully.

“Don’t put too much on,” she says, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Mulder rolls his eyes. “Relax, Scully, I got you.” He starts in again, shifting a few times to find the best angle before gently brushing over her eyelids in an arc.

“I like the brown color,” Scully informs him, her eyes fluttering in an effort to stay closed.

“I know,” Mulder answers. He pulls back just long enough to show her the tip of the brush, which is covered in a tasteful brown, exactly the right shade.

Before she has time to process that he knows what color eyeshadow she likes, she’s being told to close her eyes again and she complies, soaking in the feeling of being taken care of in such an intimate way.

“How did you know what eyeshadow I wear, Mulder?” she asks during a moment’s respite, while he returns the brush to the palette to pick up more of the colorful powder.

Now it’s his turn to glance at her disbelievingly. “I look at you every day,” he answers, as if it were obvious.

She takes in a breath, willing her heart to start beating normally again. The look on his face makes it clear that he’s laughing at her, amused by her lack of self-awareness in this respect.

“And…” he adds amusedly, “this one has clearly been used more than the others.”

Of course, she laughs to herself. There’s no way he was looking at her close enough to guess what shade of eyeshadow she wears. Although his perception of the finer details is greater than that of the average man. He has his Oxford education and eidetic memory to thank for that.

“Who knew a background in profiling could come in handy as a makeup artist?” she says as he finishes blending out the color.

“It was actually one of the main selling points when the FBI recruited me,” he deadpans, enjoying the banter. He could almost forget why she wasn’t able to do her own makeup.

The mascara comes out next, and it requires Mulder to encroach on her personal space even further, to the point where she can feel his breath on her face. He smells of peppermint toothpaste and hazelnut coffee, and she even catches the scent of his shower gel, like fresh rain water. All of this she counts as a marked improvement to the antiseptic smell of the hospital. It smells like their office. It smells like home.

When he’s done all he can to her eyelashes with her eyes closed, he asks her to open them so he can give them the finishing touches. Her eyes flutter open, and she is mildly startled to find him hovering only inches away.

“Do you have to be that close to my face, Mulder?” she asks, carefully hiding her nervousness behind a laugh.

Mulder chuckles and goes back to work, gingerly running the brush over her lashes. “That depends, do you want to be poked in the eye, Scully?”

Resigned to their positioning, she fights the urge cup his elbow with her hand, steadying him as he completes arguably the most delicate part of this routine.

“There,” he says, leaning back at last. “I think that about does it. Except—”

He pauses, reaching onto the tray table to grab the lipstick she’d picked up earlier.

“I knew I was forgetting something.” Before she can prepare herself, he’s removing the lid from the tube and drawing closer again, his hand finding its way to the back of her head to hold her still. She hardly dares to breathe, feeling his fingers threading through her hair as he carefully runs the tip of the lipstick over her lips, depositing the bright color on their surface.

She looks more alive than she has in a while, even if it is a false image.

She wants to avoid eye contact, being this close, with him doing this thing for her, but she can’t. Her eyes are locked on his as they focus intently on keeping the color within the lines of her plump lips. A few times, his eyes flick up to hers, and she catches the way the corners of his mouth quirk up when they do. She wonders what he’s thinking.

In no time at all, it’s done. Every last detail has been tended to, and he pulls back to survey his work. The hand that was resting on the back of her head drags forward along her jawline, and ever so lightly, his thumb comes to rest over her newly-painted bottom lip.

“There’s my Scully,” he says quietly. Proudly.

She feels the tears pooling in her eyes, but there’s nothing she can do about it. He, thankfully, doesn’t mention it.

“Can I see?” she asks, her voice managing not to waver too badly.

He smiles and nods, reaching for a handheld mirror and holding it out to her.

She’s not sure what she was expecting—clown makeup, maybe—but that’s not what she sees at all.

“Oh, Mulder…” She’s finding it very difficult to withhold the tears that are trying to escape. “You—you did a great job.”

Aside from perhaps just a little too much blush, everything is as it should be. She looks healthier, more confident. Her makeup is a mask. It is comforting to her, makes her feel like she can face whatever it is that lies before her. Mulder has always been able to see past that mask, and if it were anyone else, it might bother her. But not him.

“You didn’t cover my mole,” she says, reaching up to touch the offending spot beneath her nose.

Mulder takes her hand and pulls it away from her face. “Cause it’s cute,” he answers simply, smiling at her almost reverently.

She’s surely blushing now.

“How do you feel?” he asks. What a loaded question that is.

She tilts her head, surveying the surface of her face from every angle in an effort to stall long enough to regain her composure. It’s a placebo, she knows, but she feels reinvigorated. Ready to fight another day.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt like myself,” she answers, her voice thick with emotion. “I… I look beautiful.”

He nods, an unnamable look in his eye, and she swears she hears a mumbled, “You’re always…” before he trails off, dropping his gaze to his lap. He subconsciously squeezes her hand once before letting it go, instead occupying his hands with putting everything away.

“You really did do a good job, Mulder,” Scully speaks after the somewhat awkward silence had persisted long enough. “Have you done this before?”

With a zip of her makeup bag, Mulder looks up at her with squinted, suspicious eyes and jokes back, “What me and the Lone Gunmen do on our boy’s nights is none of your business.”

Scully laughs, amused by the imagery that conjures. Never one to be thrown off, however, she persists. “Well, someone must have taught you,” she declares, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Who was it?”

She gets a devious look in return. “I’ll never tell.”

-.-.-

As Bill pulls into the driveway after his wild-goose-chase trip to the drugstore (“You made me look like a fool, Mom!”), Margaret Scully greets him, sliding into the passenger seat with a bag full of goodies for her daughter.

He seems to finally be getting over his mother’s betrayal by the time they arrive at the hospital. They walk in, accepting visitor’s badges which they stick on their shirts before taking the elevator up to the oncology ward.

Bill’s admonishing tirade, which had persisted throughout most of the car ride, lingers on between intervening silences as they make their way down the hall. Once they approach Dana’s room, however, Maggie shushes him, holding out an arm to stop him.

Through the window, she sees Mulder setting a tube of mascara aside and exchanging it for lipstick. Bill’s curiosity gets the best of him, and he leans over his mother’s head to see for himself what it was that made his mother pause.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” she says, putting a guiding hand on her oldest son’s arm.

Inside the room, Mulder pulls back, and Bill can see even from this angle how his cheeks widen in a smile. His sister looks like herself again, and he doesn’t miss the shine of tears in her eyes, or the wobbling smile on her lips. Since they were children, he has kept a careful eye on her, monitoring her emotions, the protective big brother that he is.

And that’s why now, he understands. He hadn’t realized before, his own fault for not wanting to believe it.

His sister isn’t being dragged through hell by a sadistic partner, bent on destroying her life and everything she holds dear in one fell swoop. No. The truth is that she does it willingly, walks by his side through even the darkest shadows.

Because Dana is in love with her partner.

And he is undeniably in love with her.

The pieces slowly come together in his mind, everything he knows about Fox Mulder. His mother must have seen it long ago, hence her willingness to help him this morning. And he would have stood in the way.

The thought fills him with shame.

Mulder’s love for Dana goes so far beyond what Bill himself knows about love, that he had almost missed it entirely. What a blessing it is for his sister to experience it, for however brief a time.

With one final glance into the hospital room, Bill allows himself to be pulled away and toward the cafeteria.

“You see now, don’t you, Bill?” his mother asks as they walk, her eyes looking to him hopefully.

He nods, feeling his throat close up with unexpected emotion.

“Yes,” he answers. “I do.”

-.-.-

An hour into Mulder’s in-depth explanation (and diagramming) of the anatomy of dinanthropoides magnipus, otherwise known as “sasquatch” or Bigfoot, someone gently taps on the door.

“Come in!” Scully calls out, thankful for the reprieve.

“I hope we’re not interrupting…” Margaret Scully says as she enters, followed closely behind by Scully’s brother.

Mulder scoots back in his chair, shuffling the papers he’d strewn about and trying his best to fade into the background to provide them some privacy.

“Not at all,” Scully says, and she’s sounding better already than she has since they’d gotten here. “I’m glad you came by. Bill, I didn’t know you were in town.”

Bill clears his throat and steps forward, looking a little uncomfortable but otherwise happy to see his sister.

“I had a few days’ leave. Tara and I decided to make a weekend of it.”

Scully nods and looks between her brother and Mulder, realizing they’d never actually been properly introduced. She hopes they’ll both behave. Lord knows she’s told Mulder enough about Bill over the years, and she’s very familiar with her brother’s opinions about her partner.

She coughs. “Oh, uh, Mulder, this is my brother, Bill. Bill, this is Mulder.”

The two exchange an odd look before Mulder stands, and Bill meets him in the middle with a firm yet friendly handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Mulder,” Bill says with a pointed look, not at all unfriendly.

Mulder nods with a funny half smile. “Likewise.”

There’s another look exchanged briefly before they let go, returning to their respective awkward stances.

“We wanted to bring you some new magazines,” Maggie speaks, carrying a tote bag over to Scully’s bedside. “And Tara sent us with some crayons and coloring pages, in case either of you gets bored.”

Scully smiles, her fingers dragging the corner of Mulder’s silly sasquatch diagram out from its hiding place under a stack of other papers.

“I’m sure Mulder will appreciate being able to enlighten me on the specific coloring of Bigfoot’s spleen,” she says teasingly, and Mulder briefly wishes he could disappear, fearing the look on Bill’s face.

When he looks up though, both son and mother are smiling in amusement, not a hint of malice on Bill’s face.

Maggie leans in to place a kiss on Scully’s cheek, holding her daughter’s hand in hers.

“You’re looking like you feel a bit better,” she says as she pulls away, brushing her fingers over her brow and pushing back a lock of hair. “Lovely makeup, too.”

 With these last words, she looks to Mulder and—discretely—winks.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, Fox?” Maggie asks, goading him knowingly.

He rises to the challenge, his eyes finding Scully’s and holding.

“Beautiful as always.”

-.-.-

The TikTok video that inspired this made me sob uncontrollably, so I hope I captured some of those same emotions here. I beg you to go watch the video too, but have tissues at the ready. It seriously hasn't left my mind since I saw it the other day. I hope we all have the chance to find a love like that in this lifetime.

Tagging some people: @today-in-fic @teenie-xf @cutemothman @queenlovett @tygertygerfoggybright @baronessblixen

If you ever don't want to be tagged by me, just let me know! You won't hurt my feelings. Alternatively, if you want to be tagged if/when I write more X-Files fics, let me know and I'll make a list!

[agent-troi]

Dana: Where is Charlie? Melissa: I'll do you one better, who is Charlie?? Bill Jr: Here's a better question, why is Charlie?

[alexa-crowe]

Fox Mulder | Bill Scully, Jr.

[virtie333]

Last chapter!

[medicaldoctordana]

Remember bill Scully jr in charmed 1998 as a witch hunter politician?

[spookysexy]

I can’t stand Bill Jr.

Frankly, I want to punch him in his snooty lil nose, or push him down the stairs!

I wished Dana would just yell at him to just FUCK OFF , yet I know why that would never happen.

Mulder loves Scully so much, and he blames himself already! So on some level he believes, he deserves the Shit Bill gives him.

[randomfoggytiger]

Gethsemane, Bill Scully Apologia, and Maggie the Emergency Contact

Dialogue and Play-By-Play Analysis:

Bill: "I picked up the phone when they called Mom. I thought you could use a change of clothes."

Scully: "Thank you... where's Mom?"

Believing her cancer is still a secret, Scully automatically places Bill's importance below her mother, wanting to talk freely with Maggie (without Bill.) Bill sees and understands this; and is hurt that she still won't open up to him despite being here, now, for her. As of yet, he doesn't act on that hurt.

Bill: "I didn't tell Mom what happened...."

Scully: "...But I'm okay. Luckily."

Bill: "You're not okay, Dana."

Scully: "I told Mom not to tell you."

Bill: "Why?"

Scully: "Because it's very personal. Because I don't want sympathy."

For all of the just criticism against Bill later in this arc, here he is holding back his anger (an expression of his hurt) and listening, really listening to his sister. He keeps quiet, giving Scully room to fully explain herself; and even sympathetically locks eyes, giving her his full attention.

Another thing of note: he is staring at Scully with the exact look of sympathy she wanted to avoid. Mulder and Maggie know her enough to acquiesce to her "I'm fine"s; but Bill is her life-long peer, and siblings can't hide truths from each other as effectively as they can their parents or partners.

"You think you can cure yourself."

Bill realizes that his sister never told her own family-- him-- about her cancer because she does, even now, believe she can cure herself. He's stunned, shocked, even appalled; and that leaks into his voice, coming across as judgmental.

Scully doesn't deny it, caught; and sighs, frustrated, that he divined and overly-simplified something she hadn't expressed to anyone and probably would not have been able to without a beautiful speech prepared ahead of time.

"Mom tells me that you've gotten worse. That your cancer's gone into your bloodstream."

This explains why Maggie told Bill in the first place: she cracked under the strain Dana's edict of secrecy put her under, watching her daughter slowly die without any apparent attempts to circumvent that death or even to bond over their shared tragedy. Bill became her only recourse... and Bill spilled the beans (as he does, again, in A Christmas Carol.)

Scully is shaken by his bluntness, unable to shy away from the truth spoken so baldly to her face.

"What are you doing at work getting knocked down? Beaten up? What are you trying to prove-- that you're going to go down fighting?"

Scully: "Now, c'mon Bill--"

Scully is deferring back to an old sibling dynamic: Bill misunderstanding, or only understanding enough to feel she's acting out of turn; and her attempting to draw him away from his preconceived notions. In this case, however, he's right; and she's avoiding the truth of that (subconsciously.)

Bill stops her by slapping down the clothes, getting her full attention.

"Y'know what Mom is going through? Why do you think I didn't tell her when they called?"

"What should be doing?"

Bill: "We have a responsibility-- not just to ourselves, but to the people in our lives."

And he's absolutely correct here: Scully has been so focused on work and its promise of a cure that she's forgotten to give space to those suffering alongside her.

"Just, just because I haven't bared my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God, it doesn't mean I'm not responsible to those important to me."

Here Scully reveals she thought emotional distance and soldiering on was her way of protecting her loved ones from her burdens, providing them strength in the face of her worsening health. In reality, it worsened their fears and burdens; and furthered their isolation... except for, ironically, Mulder, who wasn't ready to face the implications of her impending death, anyway.

"To who? This guy Mulder? But where is he, Dana? Where is he through all this?"

Bill is less right here: from his perspective, Dana has (once again) wrapped herself up with a man whose authority and work ethic supersedes Bill's love and concern for his sister-- another in the pattern of their late father and Daniel Waterston and Jack Willis. Bill isn't stupid: his above reproach also reveals he knows Mulder knows about Scully's cancer; and the fact that her partner did and still left her alone to deal with it to "pursue his career" while Bill hasn't been able to be there to support her at all eats away at him, makes him hate the man. (And still he's civil when he meets Mulder, even talks with him in terms he believes a workaholic will understand-- "Let's keep the work away from here"-- only getting rough when he misinterprets Mulder's blank face in response-- "Let her die with dignity.")

Despite being wrong here, Bill still hits the mark; because Mulder did wander off on a quest. But Scully can't argue for Mulder without betraying her own reticence, her own need to keep Mulder in the dark for Mulder's sake-- because that would betray her feelings in a way that she doesn't want to discuss with Bill, especially after Mulder has consistently dodged that serious conversation for years now. So, she picks up her clothes and ends the conversation.

In-Depth Analysis

Maggie Was Scully's Emergency Contact

The hospital called Maggie when Scully was rushed in, unconscious; and while this doesn't outright disprove the theory Mulder might also be an emergency contact, it certainly fits in with the pattern of him being called to the hospital and let into Scully's room by Maggie and not the other way around (i.e. One Breath and Wetwired.) Furthermore, Mulder isn't alerted (that I know of) to a missed call from the hospital after his return to civilization, meaning the hospital didn't notify him at all.

Bill the Bully?

Is Bill a despicable figure? Most definitely... in a deleted Memento Mori scene-- which is why I think they cut it. Though his words are brusque, even cruel in their blunt honesty, Bill, apart from that scene, doesn't seem to willfully inflict or weaponize guilt against his sister, wielding it only as a reminder of how much her family is left out of her life, how much they want to be there for her and don't understand why she won't let them in. It's a fundamental difference in how they approach life; and both are forceful about their insistence on doing things their own way.

Scully is used to being everyone's source of strength (Maggie places her on a pedestal even above her brothers in Memento Mori), which hinders her from opening up or betraying her weakness. Being "the strong one" for so long turned into a fear of failing others; but this reticence has the opposite effect, ostracizing and distancing her family (and Mulder) in her struggles to keep them unaffected. Their divide grows as the years go on (though it seems an equilibrium of sorts has been reached after Emily, since she mentions them fondly in How the Ghosts Stole Christmas and indirectly in Millennium.)

Bill Is Right (in This Instance)

On its face, Bill's speech is unrelenting and out of left field... but is it, really?

Bill is told about his sister's cancer only when it has become irredeemably terminal. He arrives on land, either before or after Maggie's revelation, and finds the rest of the family ignorant and his mother having to shoulder that burden, alone, because his sister refused to let her tell anyone else the news-- meaning, Maggie has been suffering in silence the entire cancer arc, trying to abide by her daughter's terms for space and silence on the topic. However, Scully's definitive terminal diagnosis broke her; and Maggie, having no one to turn to support because Dana still refused to talk about it, finally confessed to her priest and reached out to her son for strength. Bill sees how hard this has been on her and tries to alleviate that burden by adopting his sister's methods: keeping Maggie in the dark as much as possible. It honors what he knows to be his sister's wishes and his mother's fears.

In this scene Bill is absolutely in the right. He and his sister, while not incredibly close, have no ill will between them; and he finds out that not only has she been slowly dying for months and sworn their mother to secrecy but she also still refused to tell him, even when he dropped everything to bail her and Maggie out with this act of kindness. This is wrong-- it is-- and his speech rebuking his sister is as deserved as Scully's are to Mulder whenever he acts only in stubborn self-interest.

Bill is hurt, Bill is grieved; and Bill drives that home, peeling back his sister's denial by exposing her true intent: "You think you can cure yourself." The ludicrous nature of her expectations-- cure incurable cancer and never tell a soul so she won't have to 'suffer' the shame or embarrassment of their sympathy or pity-- galls him; and he's right. It's Scully's struggle and her burden; but it's not just her struggle or burden: her family and loved ones are losing her, too, and that pain is just as powerfully frightening. Bill wants more from her than an immovable pillar of strength-- and that's a good thing. Maggie needed her to be "the strong one", and Mulder needed her to keep fighting; but Bill just wanted his sister to tell him the truth and let him in.

A last note: Bill grew up with Dana-- he knows her propensity to get lost in father figures and demanding authorities. He probably sees Mulder as another Daniel Waterston or Jack Willis, an extension of her undisguised adoration for their late father. He's naturally protective (as we see in Redux II, though grossly misplaced) and thinks Scully is losing that stability in herself the more engrossed she becomes in her work (ex. Gethsemane-Redux II and A Christmas Carol.) These fears and concerns are expressed in overbearing finger-wagging and anger rather than communication, a (sadly) common affliction in a family growing a more distant with time and lives necessarily apart.

Scully Believed She Could Cure Herself

Since Memento Mori, Scully's modus operandi has been to avoid, avoid, avoid the topic of her cancer (and the death of her father, her abduction, etc.) The following cases rarely touched on her illness unless she had a concerning diagnosis or needed further treatment, i.e. Zero Sum and Elegy. Radiation was likely ruled out as ineffective since the skirmish with Dr. Scanlon (and was a drain of her valuable energy and health without any chance of helping, regardless); so, Scully probably opted for more obscure treatments, buying time while she and Mulder chipped away at their work.

In the back of her mind, she believed, truly, that she wouldn't die: that her cancer could be tucked away from her family and cured before Bill or the others ever found out. As we know, Maggie bore the brunt of her daughter's edict of silence alone, finally caving when the cancer reached Scully's bloodstream. When Bill waits for an explanation-- staring at his sister's defiance and stubbornness and pure conviction that she's fine and that the family shouldn't be worried about her at all-- he figures out her blind expectation and avoidance-bordering-on-denial and says, appalled: "You think you can cure yourself." Scully dips her head, exposed and embarrassed.

The beginning of Gethsemane proves Scully was still denial: "my dying wish" she professes on the one hand only to reject the priest and shake her head at Bill with the other. No, Scully did not expect to die alone without her family there. When Bill demands, "We have a responsibility-- not just to ourselves, but to the people in our lives", she parries, "Just because I don't bare my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God." Scully thought she was doing her duty by keeping her loved ones in her thoughts while carrying out her solitary battle. When Bill strips her of her further excuses-- "Who? To this guy Mulder?"-- it peels back her hyper-focused perspective, reminding Scully that it's not just her and Mulder fighting the world.

She did her family and Mulder and herself a disservice by pushing them all away to "protect them", as she realizes in Redux II: being "strong" stripped them of the ability to support each other and was damaging in the long run. In this, Bill is undeniably correct. However, where Bill is wrong is that he doesn't see that Scully believes in Mulder's ability to save her, that by following him she is doing what is best for herself.

Her partner's fervor and hope give her strength; and his inability to break under defeat keeps her fighting even in her darkest hours (and does end up saving her life.) Scully put such faith in Mulder and his abilities and his theories that she kept council only with herself (as much as possible) to keep him going, to keep the weight off his shoulders (and her mother's and her family's) so that they could move forward as a well-oiled machine, ready to snatch the cure whenever they got their hands on it. And Mulder did get his hands on it... and then it failed.

She's dying; but it's not until the cure fails that the dam breaks: everything Scully had been fearing comes rushing out of her. She gives in, crying to her mother about her crumbling lack of faith-- because the miracle cure didn't work, because her months of waiting and hoping in private were all for naught, because she's going to die and there's no possible way to escape. But it's also freeing: she can own her fear, hold onto her mother, clutch Mulder's hand, cry with the priest, finally lean into and start to heal from the weights she's been holding on her back, alone.

And she prays: death is near.

Scully Wanted to Please Bill, Too

As she told Ed Jerse in Never Again, "There are other fathers."

The ouroboros twirls on and on in her personal life, goading her to both make a stand for herself and to placate Bill's expected reactions. In this situation, she did deserve his anger; however, this dynamic continues to play out in Redux II and A Christmas Carol, separate circumstances that are outside Bill's scope of understanding or perspective. After each confrontation, her brother always backs off and begrudgingly acquiesces his sister's boundaries; but it's easy to see why he clings to his late father's behaviors-- viewing them as the only way his sister will confide in him-- and why Scully automatically responds to-- albeit with more guilt than openness-- and rejects his methods.

It's an aspect of their relationship that fell to the wayside as the series barreled onward; but there are hints of resignation on his part after the events of Emily unfolded the way they did (silent support in the courthouse and true remorse in the church.) Scully, however, is locked in grief and unwilling to open back up, yet. We're never shown on-screen what happens next; but he seems to have caused her no further problems in spite of her professional and personal scares in the future (including almost being burned alive, an unexpected trip to Antarctica, job demotion, and getting gut shot all within the span of a few months.) Perhaps he gave her up for loss, perhaps he stayed close but distant, perhaps he withdrew from the drama all together. We'll never know; and, ultimately, it's up to individual interpretation.

Conclusion

This scene sets up the hinge upon which the cancer arc (and any future Scully family drama) twists and turns.

I don't believe Bill is bad, or even malevolent: he, like any other person in a family strained with distance and death, doesn't seem to blame Scully entirely or for long; and only wishes to get through to her somehow. We saw him bully her as a child but we also saw him gift and teach her how to use a bb gun. Scully, meanwhile, balks at and softens over Bill's bluster and overstepping, always effectively putting him in his place after courteously listening to his opinion. We saw her yell and shove him as a child but we also saw her gleefully play alongside he and Charlie.

In conclusion: like all sibling relationships, there are headbutts and there are fights; but it seems, at least by their conversation here and succeeding ones in the future, that any hitch or bump in the road is smoothed over, ironed out, or fixed before it becomes permanent. Bill makes excellent points that Scully takes into consideration, changing her future dealings with Maggie and Bill and even Mulder (namely, her willingness to open up in Detour); and Bill, having said his peace, supports his sister in her decisions the rest of this arc and later in S5.

That we know about.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[baronessblixen]

Stolen Christmas Moments

Day 4: Stolen Mistletoe Kiss

I'm doing the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge that msrafterdark posted!

Summary: Scully is celebrating Christmas in San Diego and Mulder? Misses her so much that he decides to take a few chances. (wc: 1,701, fluff)

Tagging @today-in-fic

He hasn’t thought this plan through at all. The only problem is that he doesn’t realize it until it’s much too late.

“What are you doing here?” Bill Jr. asks him and his grouchy face doesn’t fit at all with the whimsical Christmas sweater he’s wearing. Mulder wonders if Scully is wearing a similar one. Whether Mrs. Scully got all her children matching sweaters. He wouldn’t put it past her. But now is not the time to lose himself in thoughts.

“You couldn’t have called?” Bill goes on. “You have to ruin another Christmas by showing up here?”

He should defend himself. But how? Bill is right. He has no right to be here. Scully left a few days ago, smiling brightly from ear to ear, reminding him that she would be in San Diego for the holidays. He had wished her a merry Christmas like the good partner he is and promised himself – and her – that he wouldn’t call her.

Well, he hasn’t called her. In a moment of pure insanity, he booked a flight to San Diego and here he is, standing in front of her big brother, who is crossing his arms in front of his chest like a bodyguard.

He really should have thought this through.

“Sc- Dana said not to call her.” Of all the things he could have said, he chooses this. Bill blinks at him, seemingly surprised. “I- she forgot something and I thought I’d… bring it to her."

“What did she forget?” Maybe Bill should start working for the FBI. He’s asking all the right questions and making Mulder squirm. What could she have possibly forgotten? What could be so important that he had to fly out to San Diego to bring it to her?

“What,” and Bill’s face comes dangerously close to his, “has she forgotten that is so important?”

“Um,” Mulder says, taking a step back. This was a dumb decision. He’s made a few of these in this life but this one ranks high. Very high. He decides to change course. Bill already hates him anyway and no matter what he says, that won’t change.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Bill,” he starts and surprise flashes on the other’s man’s face. Much like his sister, he is easy to read; Mulder is fluent in Scully expressions.

“Dana didn’t forget anything. The reason I’m here is simple.” As simple as it is, it’s damn difficult to admit it. It’s one thing to admit it to himself while sitting on the couch in his apartment, his fish his only company. It’s another to admit it to Scully’s brother who’d rather he disappeared from his sister’s life.

“Is that Fox?” Mrs. Scully appears at the door and she, too, is wearing a reindeer sweater with a blinking red nose. Mulder smiles sheepishly. “Oh, what a surprise,” she says and sounds honest. “Bill, let Fox in. Dana will be so excited to see you.”

“Mom, he wasn’t invited,” Bill says.

“There’s enough room here and food. It’s cold, Bill. Let Fox in and close the door.”

“It’s San Diego,” Bill says, “it’s anything but cold. But I guess I have to let you in,” he says turning to Mulder. He nods, swallowing.

“Thank you.” Bill trots off as Mulder takes off his shoes and his coat. He still hasn’t figured out what he’s going to say to Scully. People he’s never seen in his life are walking around the Scully house. Their hair colors and shapes look vaguely familiar, so he figures they’re all somehow related. He’s crashed into a full-blown Scully Christmas celebration.

“Mulder?” And there she is. The reason he flew across the country without a single thought. Or even a present. Fuck. He did this all wrong. But her face lights up and she smiles up at him as if genuinely happy to see him here. “What are you- why are you in San Diego? Please tell me it’s not another case.”

“No,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “Not a case. I know you said not to call you but-”

“I meant not to call me about work, Mulder. You know that. So why are you here? You were just in the neighborhood?” She’s teasing him. She’s honest to god teasing him. With him showing up here out of the blue, she could be angry, she could be sending him away. She’s doing neither. Instead, she’s smiling softly at him. As if she wanted him here as much as he wanted to spend Christmas with her.

“I- I was just in the neighborhood,” he confirms with a grin. “Unless you want me to leave again.”

“Don’t you dare. Though we need to find something for you to wear.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“We’re all wearing these,” Scully says, pointing at her Christmas sweater. There’s a huge smiling snowman on hers and it looks so soft that Mulder wants to touch it. “We’ll find you one.” When she takes his hand, he marvels at how warm her skin feels.

“Come on upstairs. My mom always has at least one extra sweater.”

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, ask her?” Mulder lets himself be dragged up the stairs, well aware that this is Bill Jr.’s house. He doubts the other man wants him up here. Or anywhere, really. Scully, however, doesn’t seem to care. She’s still smiling, going into one of the bedrooms and leaving the door wide open. Mulder remains outside, scared to follow her.

“I’m sharing with my mom,” she lets him know. “I knew it.” She returns a few moments later, holding another colorful Christmas sweater.

“You’re not serious.”

“If you want to spend Christmas with the Scullys, Mulder, you must look the part. You can go change in there.” She points at what he supposes is the bathroom. He takes the unbelievably soft sweater and closes the door behind him to catch his breath.

Did not think this through, he reminds himself as he takes off his own sweater to put on the Scully Christmas sweater. It’s a bit snug but it will do. He looks at himself in the mirror and smiles. He looks as ridiculous as the rest of them. He needs to thank Scully for this. For accepting him into her brother’s home and making him a part of this.

Just as he’s about to leave, he sees it: mistletoe. Who would put mistletoe in the bathroom? He doesn’t even think about it. He leans up and unties it, stuffing it into his jeans pocket. Maybe it will come in handy later.

Mulder doesn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. Even Bill Jr. is friendly to him, bringing him a glass of punch.

“You don’t think it’s poisoned, do you?” Mulder asks Scully, smelling the fruity concoction.

“He wouldn’t dare do that to Mom on Christmas.”

“So you do think he would poison me?” Mulder takes a sip, reveling in the sweet taste.

“Not on Christmas.” Scully winks at him, making him wonder how much punch she’s had. Seeing her this happy is a dream come true. This is what he wanted for her. This is what he wanted to witness, too.

Last year he almost fucked it up by taking up too much of her time. Always unable to let her go. Bill Jr. is right when he calls him a selfish bastard. He wants to spend time with Scully like this, too. Carefree. Happy. Christmas is not the only thing he almost ruined last year. The kiss that never was. Blurting an I love you in the hospital after she once again saved his ass. The whole Diana business. This year, he wants to do everything right.

“Scully, I didn’t bring any presents.”

“No one will notice, Mulder.” She pats his hand.

“I don’t have a gift for you either.”

“I don’t need a present.” When she turns to him, her cheeks are pink and her blue eyes are sparkling. “I’d like some company while I get some fresh air though.” This is his moment. This is it. He follows her outside as if in a trance, the mistletoe poking his thigh. It’s dark already, but it doesn’t feel like it with the Christmas lights surrounding them. It’s not cold here in San Diego, but there’s a cool breeze and Scully stands close to him, sharing his warmth.

“I do have something,” Mulder says after a moment of comfortable silence. “I’m not sure how original the gift is or if it’s something you like, but…” He puts his hand in his pocket, winces when his skin gets caught on the mistletoe, and takes it out.

“Is that- Mulder, is that mistletoe?”

He nods, smiling softly. “I have to admit that I stole it.”

“From where?” Scully is smiling too.

“Upstairs bathroom. I saw it and- Scully, the reason I came here isn’t that I was looking to steal mistletoe and kiss you. But maybe it’s part of it. I was sitting at home and I was missing you. I was thinking about last year and how much fun we had.” She raises her eyebrows. “It was fun, wasn’t it? In hindsight. Anyway, it made me realize that I didn’t want to spend Christmas without you.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I should have. I know I shouldn’t have flown here but- I thought I’d take a chance.” And he’s doing it again, offering her the mistletoe. She takes it, turning it around in her palm.

��Guess it’s my turn now, hm?” Scully looks at him and then lifts her arm, barely reaching over his head, but it doesn’t matter. They meet in the middle and when Scully lets go of the mistletoe, it lands in his hair, and as their kiss heats up, in the snow.

When they go back inside a few minutes later, Mrs. Scully asks if it’s cold because they’re both pink-faced. Their pinkies meet out of Mrs. Scully’s sight and they both nod in unison. Mrs. Scully probably doesn't believe them - if her face is an indication - but nothing else matters tonight. Scully kissed him. His Christmas wish has already come true.

[nachosncheezies]

People like Bill Jr. got all kinds of things wrong about Scully but probably none moreso than thinking it was tragic that Mulder was dragging her along on some descent into madness, when actually the real tragedy was how few of the people she loved ever realized it wasn't a descent.

(It couldn't be bc 1. it's not madness and 2. she was already there.)

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"Come with me, hurry."

Day 17 of Fictober brings us the cooler Scully brother.

Prompt #13 - "Come with me, hurry."

Find the rest of my stuff here

As family dinners with the Scullys go, tonight’s was pretty easy. Maggie had it catered, Mulder had really hit it off with Charlie and his partner, and Bill was away at sea. 

Easy. 

The family gathered in the living room after dinner, satiated and happy, passing too many wine bottles around, chatting carefree. Scully pressed firmly into Mulder’s side and things felt right. He was no longer a wanted man. His family was, once again, growing.

“We need another embarrassing Scully children story!” said Charlie’s partner, Rob.

“Maybe one about Bill,” Charlie suggested. “Since he’s not here to defend himself.”

“Oh my goodness,” Maggie laughed, “One time, when Bill Jr. was about 3, he went out with Dad. I forget where they went, but… oh, geez I feel terrible telling this story, since he isn’t here.”

“Come on, Mom!” Scully encouraged.

“Okay, okay! So Bill and dad were out, and it must have been a preschool function. Bill and Dad went to the bathroom and when they came back out, Bill shouted to everyone, all the kids and parents there, ‘Hey guys, guess what! My dad peed in the sink!’” 

A raucous laughter erupted in the room. 

“What?” Charlie asked.

“Bill had never seen a urinal before!” Maggie explained through laughing tears. “And that’s how he described it to the other kids.” She took a breath and composed herself. “Well, Dad was so embarrassed that he took Bill and left immediately. Never did a school function again until Bill was in middle school and we were several states away!”

“That is the best story I’ve ever heard!” Mulder declared. 

Scully leaned in, whispered, "Come with me, hurry," clutching his arm and leading him into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, Scully?” Mulder asked. 

She stood close, rubbing herself on him. “Nothing…” she replied. “I just… I miss your body.”

Mulder stepped back a fraction of an inch. She felt amazing and that was a problem with her mom and brother within hearing distance. Neither one of them was quiet during sex. 

“Maybe we can go upstairs,” he whispered in her ear, against his better judgment.

“Mulder,” she purred into his neck. “I like the way you think.”

“Guest room?”

They rushed up the stairs, laughter echoing below. 

Safely enclosed in the guest room, they were all hands and mouths and tanged tongues. Mulder rubbed between Scully’s legs until her knees gave out, then guided her to the bed. She rubbed his cock through his pants until it ached and he had to set it free. She lay on the bed and he hitched up her skirt, hid under like a secret fort blanket, kissed her through her soaking undies until she shuddered and then relaxed. 

“One more time,” Mulder said, stroking his throbbing member. He slipped her panties to the side this time, his tongue working her crevices diligently. 

Just as Scully began to arch off the bed, as she bit her hand to stifle a groan, the door burst open. 

“I knew it!” Charlie exclaimed and shut the door.

[deathsbestgirl]

sick of the "bill isn't that bad" sure, he hates mulder. that's annoying af like when scully's in the hospital with cancer for the second, third time?? and he's like WELL WHERE IS HE DANA as if mulder wasn't the first person she told, as if he didn't call her mother, as if he wasn't the one searching for answers.

but really, what i hate him for most is the way he talks to her when she finds emily. he is so incredibly condescending. psychoanalyzing her as if him & his wife didn't desperately want children. just straight up being so insulting, and constantly treating her like she makes bad decisions when she's *living her life* but it isn't up to his standards so it's lesser. he's an ass and i hate him.

i really do not care if it's all from a place of love & concern, that isn't how you treat someone you love.

[sleepyscully]

why is every male relative in both mulder's and scully's family called William ;-;

[agent-troi]

Maggie, teaching Bill Jr to drive: Okay, you're driving and Fox and Dana walk into the road. Quick, what do you hit? Bill Jr: Oh, definitely Mulder. I could never hurt Dana. Maggie, massaging her temples: The brakes. You hit the brakes.

[the-spooky-alien]

Day 25 of Fictober !

Fandom : X-Files with the prompt "You know I'd do anything." (This fic is also heavily inspired by a deleted scene of Memento Mori where Bill visits Scully.)

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2022

-

When she woke up for the first time in her hospital bed, she hadn’t expected to see her older brother standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. Bill looked more tired than she ever remembered him being. His hair was cropped short in that military way she hated, and while he was wearing casual clothes, there was a stiffness in his posture.

He was standing more like a soldier than a brother, ready to confront rather than comfort.

She unexpectedly wanted to cry. ‘’Hey, Bill. It’s good to see you.’’

A small smile, faded and empty, made its way on his face. ‘’Hey, Dana.’’ Crossing the room to her bed, Bill gave her an awkward pat on the arm, before sitting on the chair beside her bed. ‘’You look good.’’

Was it what they were reduced to ? Small talk ? Lying straight to each other’s face ? She blinked back the burn in her eyes.

She was facing a stranger.

‘’Thank you,’’ she said, struggling to answer his polite smile.

Bill nodded, deflecting his gaze. For a long moment, neither talked. Then, as if remembering something, he raised his head and said, ‘’Charles couldn’t come, but he’ll try to call you tonight, if you’re up to it.’’

This wasn’t unexpected. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had last seen Charlie. Once, he had been her favourite sibling, when they were still young enough to huddle together on the couch, heads pressed together in conspiracy. Now, she barely remembered what he looked like.

Sometimes, the only face she could conjure when thinking of him, was the face of a seven years old boy brightening in delight as she shared her candies with him.

‘’Sad cause for a family reunion.’’

Bill tensed. His teeth made this irritating sound that she hated so much. ‘’Can’t be a family reunion without dad and Melissa.’’

He could have slapped her and it would have hurt less. She wasn’t blind. She could clearly see where he was going with this and she knew how much it would hurt to heart his words. She wondered when it became easier for him to hurt her than comfort her.

Once upon a time, Bill had been good with it. Holding her when she was sad, rubbing circles on her back, promising to hurt the motherfucker who made her cry. But somewhere on the road, they became distant. He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him.

Strangers with a blood bond. An ersatz of a once happy family. Ghosts playing the part, until the curtain’s fall.

She hated it.

She hated herself for hating it.

It was family.

Wasn’t it ?

‘’I didn’t choose this, Bill,’’ she said, because this was the only thing she could say when he was dangling Melissa’s ghost between them. ‘’You know I’d do anything-‘’

He smiled. It was sad on his face. ‘’You made your choice when you decided to join the FBI.’’ His hands fell on his lap, large and calloused. If he wanted to, he could cradle her whole face in his hands. But Bill had always preferred hitting things. ‘’You could have had a great life. Saving people. Making mom and dad proud.’’

You could have spared Melissa.

It hung between them, unsaid words bringing acid on her tongue.

‘’It wasn’t my fault.’’ It sounded empty. She didn’t believe it herself. How could she convince him ? ‘’Dad- Mom said he made peace with my choice.’’

‘’He wouldn’t have if he had seen what happened with Melissa,’’ Bill snapped, and for the first time since he entered the room, his face betrayed the cold anger lurking in the shadows of his face.

Her heart crawled from her chest to her throat, the taste of blood springing in her mouth. Cancer, she reminded herself. She is dying.

‘’I didn’t choose what happened with Melissa.’’

The eyes of her brother fell on her, weary and cold. They both shared the same icy blue color in their irises. Briefly, she wondered if Mulder ever felt unnerved by the intensity of the color when looking at her.

‘’Didn’t you ?’’

She felt her face crumble. She had to look away, focusing on the dust swimming in the sun’s rays to keep the wail building in her throat from tearing her vocal chords. ‘’I didn’t choose this,’’ she repeated, like a broken vinyl, curling her fingers around the sheets.

When she looked back at him, Bill had closed his eyes. He seemed like an old man.

‘’It was good seeing you, Dana,’’ he muttered, standing on his feet without looking at her

She watched him leave, something heavy crushing her stomach. ‘’Bill,’’ she called, unable to help herself, unable to completely stop reaching out for the big brother she used to love so much. He stopped but didn’t turn. Her words tasted like blood. ‘’Will you ever forgive me ?’’

Bill stood there for a moment, quiet. She waited.

She waited until his footsteps echoed harshly in the corridor, until the door closed with a muffled click, leaving her alone with the growing lump in her head and the urge to cry.

[medicaldoctordana]

I FORGOT ABOUT THE MISHA COLLINS CHARMED EPISODE

[randomfoggytiger]

I have a prompt idea! Any character reacting to the episode of COPS that Mulder and Scully appear on when it finally airs.

Decided to make this part of the Bill Scully POV series (on Ao3, or Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, and Part V.)

Charlie hadn't bothered to call or catch up since New Years; nevertheless, the phone went off an hour after Matthew's head finally hit the pillow.

"Bill, you catching the COPS episode night?"

Bill, wrist-deep in receipt sorting, was not.

"Dana and her partner are on the air." And Charlie laughed and laughed, tears mingling with his wheezes while Bill yelled "What?" and stumbled from the kitchen to the couch.

Agent Mulder. He should have known. "Catch... catch him?" Dana's partner mumbled, pointing diffidently at a sketch of.... No.

Bill's stream of consciousness must have broken a new record because Charlie was now guffawing and Tara was whispering violently from the other room. Meanwhile, his eyes remained glued to his sister's awkward mannerisms while she relayed their superior's directive.

"'Nothing to hide'?" he exploded. "Wasn't Skinner the assistant director at the--" Bill caught the word back before the moment soured over past cancers and absences. "Why's he-- why's Dana still participating in this--"

"C'mon, Mulder, do the werewolf stance again!" Loud slaps echoed through the wire: Charlie was either smacking his thigh or the wall in unbridled ecstasy. "She hid behind the EMT door, Bill, you should have seen it."

Bill, unable to contain himself after Mulder's irrepressible ramble over werewolf technicalities, bellowed, "OH, for crying OUT--"

"Bill!" Tara hissed, head shooting through the doorway. He jolted, mouthed a sorry, and miserably watched her eyebrows scrunch skywards in recognition. "Hey, isn't that Dana on the tv?"

"Always wanted to be a cop when I was younger," his brother drawled, voice touched with regret. "Just couldn't trust 'em after their behavior during my truancy period."

"And you thought Wall Street was a more honest profession?" Bill scoffed. The anger of losing a hundred-dollar sure investment-- how many years ago was that? Too many-- would burn until his dying day.

"Can it, Bill."

But Charlie said it like he used to; and they hung up friends.

***** Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic