#dana scully give me one chance just one please

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 7/34 - pocket bow tie

[Read on AO3]

She looks excited. At least, he thinks she does.

The good news is, she doesn't look like she's about to bolt out the door, and he calls that a win.

They may not be committing themselves to each other in the way a marriage is typically supposed to go, but this is a big commitment all the same. If she changes her mind now, their plans for adoption are as good as gone. The idea of family, as foreign as it has been for the last 26 years of his life.

He’ll admit he’s gotten rather attached to the idea. Perhaps a little too much so, considering how unique their situation is, and how often they've been dealt blow after blow of disappointment.

He looks down at the woman to his left. Any worries he might have had melt away at the sight of her. She's calm, her lips quirked up in a quiet, content smile as they wait to be called into the courtroom. Her shoulder brushes against his arm, and he resists the temptation to touch her, to hold her hand in his, knowing he will have his chance later.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he says, having held on to that one all morning. She smiles up at him, looking every bit the blushing bride she is, despite the absence of the big white dress and veil.

"I think Bill was intimidated by how nicely you were dressed," she teases back.

He looks down at his fine-cut suit. "What, this old thing?"

Scully has never been the kind to care how expensive one's clothes were, but even she has to admit that he looks good in Armani. And judging by his smirk, he knows it too.

"Did you have that bow tie stuffed in your pocket all morning, Mulder?" she asks, reaching up to straighten it.

"Had to look nice for our special day," he answers cheesily. "Plus, you told me to ditch the colorful ties. Figured I'd get a head start on the whole 'happy wife, happy life' thing."

Wife. Husband. Those words sound so foreign, and yet, in just a few moments time, they will apply to them.

'Excuse me, table for me and my wife, please.'

'Yes, I'm her husband. That's me.'

The insanity of it all makes him want to laugh.

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?" a clerk asks, popping her head out of the courtroom door.

He feels Scully's hand grasp for his, and a thrill runs up his spine. "That's us," she says, stepping forward. He gives her hand a squeeze, following after her like a lost puppy.

Here we go.

Once they’re inside, the judge gestures for them to approach the bench, and they stand side-by-side in the center of the chamber. The dark oak wood is daunting, bringing back memories of not particularly enjoyable times they’ve been in courtrooms.

This time is different, though. The judge is smiling, for one, looking down her thin, half-moon spectacles at them. And, for once, their time in court will serve to unite them, rather than split them apart.

Yes, this would be a very nice change, indeed.

“What a beautiful couple you make,” the older woman speaks, her eyes crinkling in joy. Scully smiles, and Mulder clings a little tighter to her hand. “Are we ready to get started?”

They nod, and Mulder has to focus to keep his knees steady under him. They’re really doing this. He can hardly believe it has come to this point.

“We are gathered here to join Fox and Dana in the blessed union of marriage,” the judge starts, reciting her opening statement to the mostly empty room. One clerk stands by as their witness, a camera in hand to capture their memories of the day, probably with the intent to sell them back to them at an exorbitant price. 

It doesn’t matter. Mulder will pay it anyway, whatever the cost.

“This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly,” she continues. “A marriage ought to be founded on mutual respect, affection, and a desire to see through any challenges that may come your way. If you speak your vows in truth, this union will strengthen your bond, serving as a constant reminder of your unwavering love for one another.”

Mulder swallows, holding fast to the comfortable weight of Scully’s hand in his. The judge’s words only reinforce his belief that this is the right decision, that this is meant to be. Mutual respect, affection, going through life’s challenges… how else would he describe what he and Scully have? What they’ve had for over half a decade?

Unwavering love . He’s got that in spades. He feels it from her too, that fierce loyalty. “Love…” Well, he’d like to think so. At least some form of it.

“Fox,” the judge speaks, calling him to attention. He fumbles for Scully’s other hand, the way he remembers seeing at a friend’s wedding once in Oxford. “Will you take Dana to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Easiest yes in the entire world.

Green eyes meet blue.

“I will,” he says.

“And Dana,” he feels his throat close, choking back a sudden rise of emotion. “Will you take Fox to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

It’s the ‘forsaking all others’ part he feels like Scully shouldn’t be agreeing to, but they’ve talked this over. He still can’t quite believe she picked him. Him! Out of any man she could have.

“I will,” she answers, squeezing his hands once. He nods, and feels—not for the first time—that she’d known exactly what was going through his head. They certainly are spooky like that, sometimes.

“Excellent,” the judge praises. “Now, do you have your own vows, or—”

“The standard is fine,” Scully says, smiling up at Mulder.

“Standard it is,” she says. “Fox, repeat after me. I, Fox, take you Dana.”

“I, Fox, take you, Dana.” He leans in close and adds, for her ears only, “Scully,” with a conspiratorial smile, whispering the name he gave her that first day they met. It’s the only one that feels right coming from his lips, and he needs her to know that this isn’t just for show. This isn’t ‘Fox’ making promises to ‘Dana.’ This is them—Mulder and Scully. It’s real. As real as anything she can prove with her beloved science. 

The judge, oblivious to his unprompted addition, continues. “To be my wife,” she says.

“To be my wife.”

His. He would have a wife, and it would be Scully. His Scully. He runs his thumb over her knuckles in circular strokes, swallowing back emotion. She shudders under the intensity of his gaze.

“To have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

It feels good to speak these promises aloud. For so long, he’s taken and taken and taken from her, watched her life and her dreams be stolen from her grasp, powerless to stop it. Now he can finally give, starting here and now, with his solemn vow to be there for her in every way the judge described. He hopes she can see the truth in his eyes. How much he means these words, from the bottom of his heart.

Judging by the way her eyes glisten, he’s coming across loud and clear.

Then, it’s her turn, and she looks up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “I, Dana,” she says, smiling coyly in preparation for what they both know comes next. “Take you, Fox.” His name is spoken with a teasing lilt, and it sounds just as unnatural as it always does coming from her mouth. He breathes a laugh, jostling her hands playfully between them. “Mulder,” she whispers, just as he had, and his heart melts. “To be my husband.”

The rest of her vows follow, equal to his, just as they are equal in all things. The weight of what they are promising lands squarely on their shoulders, at once harrowing and freeing. Mulder can hardly believe the ceremony is almost over.

“Now, do you have rings to exchange?”

Scully goes to answer that, no, they don’t, but movement from Mulder stalls her. He fishes something from his pocket, facing her with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he says, dropping a plain silver band in the palm of her hand. She sees his fist clenched around what must be her ring, and tilts her head in fond exasperation, a silent whine of ‘Mulder…’ that he looks forward to hearing every time they exchange gifts. 

The judge waxes poetic (as poetic as city hall can get) about the meaning of rings, their significance in a marriage, symbolism—but Mulder and Scully are barely listening. All they hear is her instruction to place the band on each other’s left ring finger, which they happily do, taking their time to slide it into place. The weight feels heavy, but right, on Mulder’s hand, and Scully’s… Scully’s sparkles just like he’d imagined it would when he picked it out at the jewelry shop.

They won’t be able to wear them in public most of the time—he’d known that from the start—but for now, in this room where everyone is privy to the legal bonds being established between them, they are free to do whatever they wish. 

“Well then,” the judge speaks up, beaming from ear to ear. “Having consented to enter into this union and pledged your vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State of Maryland and the circuit courts of Anne Arundel County, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She reaches up and takes off her glasses, setting them down in front of her. “Mr. Mulder, you may kiss your bride.”

Blood rushes to his ears, and for a second all he can hear is the pounding of his heart.

Somehow, in all the weeks they’ve been planning this, he’d never considered this particular part of the ceremony. A startling oversight, considering how thorough he’d been with everything else.

Scully is looking up at him, the only sign of her own internal turmoil being the way she bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He wants to kiss her, oh, does he want to kiss her. But this is where the line between real and fake goes gray. 

‘Is this okay?’ he asks with his eyes, his hands suddenly sweating a fair bit more than they had been before. He gets an almost imperceptible nod in return, and makes up his mind.

It’s chaste, the way his lips first meet hers. His hands land on that place on her back that she thinks of as belonging to him, and he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She turns and catches him with her lips, her hand coming up to lay flat against his chest. It barely lasts more than a few seconds, but it leaves him feeling dizzy nonetheless, breathless. He smiles a lopsided grin.

Of all the ways he imagined their first kiss going, in front of two complete strangers at their wedding was not one of them. 

The air feels awkward when they pull back, not quite able to meet each other’s eyes, but the silence is quickly filled with congratulatory remarks from both the judge and their witness. In an act of boldness, he captures her hand again as they are ushered out of the room, holding tightly to it. As he predicted, their witness-slash-photographer takes Mulder’s money, promising that the prints from their ceremony will be delivered to his address in a month’s time, and he thanks her.

Step one is complete. They have officially started the process that would have them labeled the craziest agents in the FBI.

For once, he doesn’t really mind being the crazy one.

~~~

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[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | How the Ghosts Stole Christmas (6x06)

‘Twas the night before Christmas on Larkspur Lane;

Ev’ry corner held loneliness, sadness and pain.

The house reeked of sorrow beyond all compare.

Indeed, ‘twas a time of dark, dark despair.

For many a moon we stayed dormant and still,

Awaiting some guests to our house on the hill,

For this singular night, yes– the one night all year

We’d be given a chance to spread holiday cheer.

But as the clock ticked further into the eve,

We worried that there might be none to receive;

Maurice in his topcoat and I, pale and gaunt, 

Lamented a Christmas with no one to haunt. 

When, what to our wondering eyes should appear 

But two such lonely souls (also suckers, my dear)!

They searched through the mansion, as their flashlights beamed

For ghosts —but in truth, for each other, it seemed. 

Our grayed, ghoulish faces grew flush with delight

As they crept through the hall —how delicious a sight!  

Foolishly thinking themselves to be brave,

They were perfect, exactly the targets we craved!

The one with red hair, spouting theories a-flurry

Was doing her best to get out in a hurry,

While her partner (so handsome!) wanted not a thing more

Than to keep her nearby for just one more dark floor.

In eighty long years, I’d never quite seen

Two hearts locked at impasse like these two had been;

Denying their feelings, year after year

Out of loneliness, pride, and a good dose of fear.

At eleven o'clock, the grandfather did chime,

Giving we two just an hour of time

To trap these poor souls in their own lovers’ pact —

Like Maurice and me, there’d be no going back.

Maurice took the tall man; I, Lyda, the dame,

As we worked to uncover their secrets and shame.

You see, ghosts can’t do much but mess with the mind,

And these two were a challenge with so little time.

Maurice began prodding him– Mulder, his name —

To help find the answers he couldn’t explain;

Run down his issues, a glum inventory

(All of them paramasturbatory)

I, Lyda, found Scully, the lass of the two,

A bundle of pent-up neuroses, ‘twas true;

Her unconscious yearning, though present, was faint

For her partner, displaying impressive restraint.

I had to give credit, for weakness she lacked;

Resisting that man was a heroic act!

But… in love with a gent who would only see ghosts?

A lovers’ pact? Please. These two had no hope.

We considered retreating back up to our beds

While the agents ran into brick walls in their heads.

But something about them had told us instead

These two star-crossed lovers were better off dead.

(You might fairly ask why a couple of ghosts

Would decide to become such abom’nable hosts,

But ‘ere you judge us for what happened that night,

Remember: they trespassed, thus earning our spite.)

A wee little push, then, was all they would need,

And eventually they’d watch the other one bleed.

We’d need all our tricks, it was well understood,

To get Dana and Fox ‘neath our floorboards for good.

Getting him to believe was a simple first leap,

Then surely she’d follow, like a redheaded sheep;

‘Twas easy as shooting two fish in a barrel

Or singing a well-trodden old Yuletide carol.

With glee we did watch as they squirmed on the floor,

Covered in blood, all trust broken, for sure.

Our events set in motion that one day they’d see

How amazing a true partnership could be!

But then, in a twinkling, we heard Mulder speak

In a voice that grew strong after starting out weak:

“You’re not shot,” he told Scully, to greatest avail,

And they both got up, leaving our fine plan to fail!

Grabbing her hand, they took off like the lark,

Sprinting away, lost to us in the dark.

Maurice was upset, and I, Lyda, distraught;

Our scheme to turn foursome had all been for naught.

But the spirit of Christmas, alas, was not lost

As my love took my own hand, whatever the cost;

‘Twas a night to remember, although it was done…

What more’s there to say? Even ghosts should have fun!

Read the Rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@admiralty-xfd

[drghostwrite]

dana scully x fem!reader

prompt 'you remembered'?

ehehe

ty xoxo

I'm so happy you asked, kudos for being the first to ask, you're the best! I was so excited to write this and I so hope you enjoy it, though I will be honest it started as fluff and then turned into its own thing so if you want a rewrite just let me know. ;)

Dana Scully x fem!reader

Prompt: "you remembered?"

TW: fluff turns to smut [Minors DNI]

Summary: It's their two year anniversary and Dana was upset that she has to work and can't be with you but little does she know you have bigger things planned. The reader is a doctor, head of the Emergency department at a level 1 trauma center so she doesn't always have time and can be forgetful.

********************************************************

Dana sat at her desk, leaning her forehead into her hand and letting out a frustrated sigh, and scribbled something into the case file laid out in front of her. Today was your two year anniversary and though you loved her and she knew that, and vice versa she just wished she could be with you right now, instead of sitting at this desk doing paperwork.

Her phone lit up revealing the cute selfie of the two of you from when you traveled to your cabin last winter, you had gone hiking and skiing giving you both the chance to escape your hectic lives and one morning you found yourselves sitting on the couch, watching the snowfall curled up next to one another under a mound of fluffy and soft blankets, Dana was leaning on your chest laid between your legs while you were drinking coffee and just talking when you saw her raise her phone in front of you and snap a picture, you leaned forward smiling into her strawberry blonde hair and that's the picture she snapped and then another as she turned halfway so you could place a kiss to her temple keeping eye contact with the camera.

She grabbed the phone quickly hoping it was you but instead, it was a message from Fox reading, Need you to come upstairs to the office, ASAP.

"Damn you Mulder, I'm never getting out of here," she grumbled getting up from her desk to make her way from the morgue office to the little setup in the local police department. She really wanted nothing more than to order takeout that she knew would get cold because she had other activities planned, and put it on the island as soon as it got there to be warmed up later but instead, she was stuck at the local police department in Virginia on a wild goose chase while she knew you were running your emergency department saving lives, and she knew that you would be so tired and a part of her worried that you might even forget that it's your anniversary.

She looked at the clock, 5:24pm, and quickly shot you a text saying, Hey Love I'm going to probably be home late but I'll order takeout and have it sent to the house, so don't worry I got you covered.

Read 5:27

She let out a small depressed sigh, slipping her phone back into her blazer pocket as she made her way upstairs gathering the files she had laid out and putting them under her arm. She heard the elevator doors ding and felt the cart jolt into place as the doors opened, she stepped out onto the first level and didn't spot Mulder just yet. She scanned her surroundings, peaking her head into the small office on the side only to find him looking at a bulletin on the wall covered in red thread and pictures scattered about, Monica Reyes was leaning back in a chair feet up on the table with headphones in and John Dogett was passed out on the couch.

"Scully look at this I think I figured out where its been hiding."

"Please tell me you didn't pull me from something important to tell me you think there's another mythical creature out there."

"No look I think it's the sewers."

"Mulder you think the Chupacabra is underground hiding in the sewers, there's nothing to prove that, we caught the kids, it was just a hoax a bunch of frats boys thinking they were being ritualistic but in reality, they were brainwashed by their charismatic leader into a killing spree." Monica sat up watching you two but still had her headphones in only slightly listening enough that she knew what was going on.

"Mulder she's right we're wasting resources at this point, if there were more attacks after the arrest maybe, but I think the boys were using that system to get around without being caught and to stash costumes and weapons." Monica finally spoke up taking Danas side.

"Come on Mulder," Dana rubbed her forehead, "I think were all tired and just ready to get in the car a drive home." He looked around seeing John stirring from his sleep and seeing the frustration on Dana's features, he gave the go-ahead command to pack up and go home but informed them that he was going to have everything faxed over just in case. Dana grabbed her things and basically ran out of the building, but as she got outside the door she dropped her keys and heard a voice.

"Hey Beautiful need a hand?" she quickly shot up and turned around hand on her gun, but she took in the sight before quickly realizing it was you. she jumped wrapping her arms around your neck as you held her waist, she pulled you into a chaste kiss not caring who was around you or who witnessed this moment.

"Hey you two!" yelled John as he and Monica laughed to each other, Mulder was still inside oblivious, Dana turned bright red and pulled away from you, she saw her coworkers a lot and they've been in pretty dire situations but they've never seen her like this before so dependent on one person. You tuned giving all of them a wave, you picked up the keys to the Tahoe that they all drove there in a tossed them to John as he gave you a nod of approval.

"I think I'm gonna take my wife home now, have a great night guys." You smiled pulling her closer to your side and walking her towards your SUV, you opened her door and helped her in, walking back around and jumping in the driver seat. You had gone picked up coffee and put her favorite playlist on, she kicked her shoes off reclined her seat, and grabbed your hand as you pulled out to make your way home, she talked about the case and her day but never mentioned what day it was because she felt bad and she didn't want to make you feel worse, she was just amazed that you drive 3 hours after a crazy ED shift to come pick her up yourself. 3 hours later and you pulled into your driveway, saw the lights still on, and thanked God that your sister got the message, she cleaned, got the takeout from your favorite Italian restaurant, and set everything up so that you could leave right from work and drive to Virginia to pick up Dana. As you walked in the house you guided her right upstairs.

"Baby aren't we gonna eat I'm starving and I doubt you got a break at the hospital today, with the full moon and all."

"Oh trust me you're going to want to wait." You stepped into your master bedroom and that's when she saw it, dimly lit candles with her favorite scent, you made the bed but changed the sheets to black satin with a deep maroon blanket, and she realized that you weren't wearing scrubs and that you had nothing but a lace bra under your cream boyfriend button up, you had left the top three buttons open just enough that she could see down your shirt making her go rabid but not enough for anyone to notice from a distance, you also had on the skinny jeans that she loved they accented your butt and thighs so well.

You turned and looked at her expression, chuckling you kissed her forehead.

"You remebered?" she asked almost confused but amazed, she looked into your eyes seeing the compassion and the small smirk you had.

"Dana Catherine Scully you’re the love of my life of course I remembered. Now let me show you just how much I love you."

You turned closing the door behind you and leaned down to kiss her lips backing her up against the door. she played with the buttons pushing your shirt off your shoulders, and you started the buttons on her shirt revealing the blue lace underneath, she undid the button of her pants let them pool around her ankles revealing the matching panties, she stepped and kicked them to the side. “Mm baby you look amazing.” You grabbed the back of her thighs picked her up and pressed her against the wall, you started working your way down her neck and onto the exposed skin of her chest leaving bites along the way as she threw her head back against the wall letting out low moans, moans that went straight to your core. You unclasped her bra and pulled a nipple into your mouth, she gasped at the action but then you felt her hand in your hair telling you to keep going, you could feel her muscles taut against you.

“mhmmhm, maybe we should move this to the bed.”You quickly made your way to the bed laying her on the edge and she pulled you down with her.

"Y/N I want to touch you, to feel you, please."

"Whatever you want baby." you slipped off the rest of your clothes and then crawled back up the bed hooking your finger in her panties and sliding them off tossing them to the side. You leaned forward placing yourself in between her legs, you could feel her start to grind against you, kissing her again and stayed there for a minute before snaking a hand down between her legs and sliding it through her folds.

"Oh my God Dana you're so wet for me baby."

She moaned at the touch letting out a small pained laugh into the kiss, "Y/N I've been waiting for this all day."

"Well, then you shouldn't have to wait any longer." You pushed your first finger in and then another gently kissing down her body, you could already feel how close she was as she bucked against your hand, you kissed down her stomach and stopped right where she needed you most, kissing up and down her thighs, slowing down your hand and watching her squirm. Before she could say anything you attached your lips around her clit sucking harshly and starting your hand back up. Her back arched and before she knew it you had her seeing stars. You pulled your fingers out but coaxed her through with your mouth tasting all of her, you climbed back up her body, letting her catch her breath and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself.

"I'm sorry for thinking you forgot about our anniversary." She apologized in between kisses.

"Love, there's nothing to worry about, and by the way I would never forget the day I married the most gorgeous, smart, and badass woman in the world."

"Mmmm, in that case," she moaned looking into your genuine green eyes, she hooked her leg over yours and flipped you both other, her sapphire blue eyes blowing bigger with lust as she positined herself above you.

"I guess I better show you how loved you really are," as she deepened the kisses.

[daystarsearcher]

Partner and I were trying to decide what to watch next, and I was like, "I've never got around to the final season of X-Files" and Partner was like "Should we just watch the entire X-Files from start to finish, then?" and I was like "sure."

Anyway, rewatching Season 1 now and Dana Scully is so constantly begging Mulder with her eyes to say something normal so she can fuck him. Oh god, he's about to speak. Please let him not mention aliens. That's normal enough for me to fuck him, right? A whole sentence without mentioning aliens?

And then he mentions aliens, and her face is just, goddammit, Mulder, you had ONE JOB

unfortunately I am still attracted to you so I will give you another chance

[sunflowernyx]

He knows who she is the moment she steps through the door. And it isn’t just his doctor.

Dana Katherine Scully, age thirty-three. Short, slim, with short red hair — though he only knows the last part from the file — she is the youngest doctor in the oncology ward of the Holy Cross Memorial Hospital.

What the file doesn’t describe, what her black and white photo does not credit her with is elegant features, as if she were carved in marble by an ancient Greek master, or wide blue eyes that swim with the right balance of heavy respect and sympathy to make it genuine, personal. What the file doesn’t prepare him for is the aura of professionalism and kindness that makes Mulder want to trust this woman with his life.

And, to his credit, it isn’t that she is breathtakingly stunning — there is too much at stake in this small room, with its bright LED wall and sterile equipment, and not just his life. No. It isn’t even all the competence that radiates out of her exemplary scientific journal entries displayed on his shelf at home. Though those two facts do make him think of staking more than his life on this impossible, predestined, chance meeting.

It is simply the way she narrows in on his face with humanity and says his name like she already knows him, knows the burden he is carrying.

“Fox Mulder?” He nods and receives her hand. “I’m Dana Scully, one of your oncologists. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. It must seem disorienting to come face to face with a new doctor in the middle of the process.”

He finds a smile so easily in the face of her. “Not all that disorienting,” he assures her. “Nor surprising. As you may have noted from the file I’m very eager to fight this thing, so inviting in new doctors has been a recurrent decision.”

And he has the means to do so, he doesn’t add.

She’s difficult to read, Doctor Scully. When she presses her plumb lips together, he can’t tell if it’s to keep back condolences that he has come to the end of his rope and is now being treated by someone young and comparatively inexperienced, or a note on the funds he’s using, looking for a cure.

But the fire he sees in her blue eyes gives him hope that the young and comparatively inexperienced may be more willing to risk and be reckless.

“Well,” she says, “let’s see if we can’t meet your expectations somewhat today.”

Scully flips open the file she has on him and produces several x rays, newly minded and fresh off the press.

Even in her white lab coat, she is a foreboding black silhouette  against the white LED wall surrounded by a series of sculls, and even without her translation it is clear that the cancer has yet to leave him alone.

She distracts herself momentarily, looking around for a chair, and Mulder is struck by the consistency in her kindness. He has been invited to sit enough times to know from the gesture that this will not be an optimistic delivery on her part, but a cursory look around the room should have made her note the lack of chairs, and Scully taking her time to doublecheck tells her all he needs.

With nothing tangible to offer him, Scully gestures instead for him to take a step closer.

“Don’t worry,” he assures her, taking advantage anyway to fall into her field of gravity. “I won’t faint at bad news.”

She finds his eyes then, attention drawn, and Mulder is pleased to see a smile crinkle at there corner of hers.

“I don’t think you should try to catch me anyway,” he adds, keeping his voice low.

Another spark, defiance, crackles in her impossible eyes. “That’s my job, Mr Mulder,” she admonishes him. “So I will.”

He grins, a flash of teeth.

Oh, Doctor Scully is interesting.

She doesn’t like being reminded of her short stature or the expected strength difference inherent in their bodies, but it doesn’t matter. Because right this moment, Scully seems the most formidable, most powerful defender of his life that he could ever entrust his fragile body to.

“So,” he says, with real cheer. “Cancer.”

Closer now, he can see the red circle she’s marked a white growth with. Right between his brows.

“Yes,” Scully confirms, her voice shifting to one of complete medical professionalism. “It’s a Nasopharyngeal mass,” she says. “It’s a small growth on the wall between the superior concha and the sphenoidal sinus. A tumor, in other words. But you already knew that.”

“I did,” he admits, rubbing the soft skin between his brows carefully.

Seeing it confirmed right in front of him like this once again sends a burning sensation through his body, his grief like a phantom pain his brain cannot yet express in any other way.

It’s been his constant companion for five years now.

“It doesn’t look like it’s grown since last time,” he observes, keeping his eyes glued to the profile x ray.

If it pushes into his brain, he knows, he will have no chance of survival. 

And no matter his hatred towards himself, the odd sensation that the planet has found a way to punish him appropriately for his betrayal, he cannot die. It is simply not a possibility he is willing to entertain or humor.

Beside him,, Scully shifts silently. A distraction that draws him.

“I hate to have to correct you, Mr Mulder,” she says. “But, while it hasn’t grown towards your brain, it has widened its reach horizontally and vertically.”

She produces another frontal x ray from his file, the one from a couple of months ago. Silently she places the two x rays beside each other, and shows him with a specialised electronic ruler how it has grown. Almost nothing to the naked eye, but there it is in clear digits, black-on-green.

Mulder keeps very still right at her side.

“What can you do?” He murmurs, when he can no longer simply stare at the evidence of his body having taken up his habit of self-destruction. 

He doesn’t ask if surgery will solve it. He already knows what the answer will be.

When she turns the full front of her body to him, it’s like she’s dragged him out of a trance, freeing him from having to face himself. And Mulder mirrors her, the easiest thing in the world.

“The truth is that the type and placement of the tumor makes it difficult to the extreme to treat and impossible to operate.”

Mulder stares down at her, and is reminded of another set of wide blue eyes, another bob of hair, the colour of which he can’t accurately discern. Vertigo hits him so powerfully, his hand flies out to steady himself.

The LED war buzzes under his hand like a thousand bees, unsteadying him further.

It’s a slow thing when he falls apart. The crumbling of his limbs like an ancient building that loses its foundation across history. The strength goes, and he glides down the electronic wall like a man sitting himself in the chair.

His sigh falls between his fingers, warming his palms.

“I have to refuse to believe that.”

There’s a tiny rustle, as his tiny doctor kneels at his side. A warmth on his shoulder as she connects their bodies, touches him for the first time since their introduction.

“Of course, you have to fight this,” she says. “And I’ll do everything I can to help you live—“

“No,” he corrects her, looking up from the darkness of his own hands. “This isn’t about me.”

Lit by the LED wall behind him, Scully is a flame of light that gives life to his shadows.

“I have a daughter,” Mulder tells her. “A tiny, four year old sprout of a girl. I have to live for her.”

That is it. That is all. Everything that defines Fox Mulder is the child entrusted to his protection and care, gifted to him to keep him in line. And he will do anything, sacrifice anyone, to keep her healthy and smiling.

If that means keeping his sorry ass alive, then so be it.

“Okay.”

Mulder doesn’t know what he looks like, but he sees the moment that he becomes less of a hollow of a man and much more a fire alike to hers in Scully’s eyes. He sees the shift in the blue when he becomes more human than patient, when she understands what gives him a reason to live.

“Okay,” she says again, nodding, as if his quest has become hers. “Of course. Let’s start with that.”

Find full chapter here!

[dzthenerd490]

File: X-Files S2 E3 Blood

SCP#: AIQ

Code Name: Kill ‘Em All!

Object Class: Somnum

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AIQ ceased after Person of Interest: Fox Mulder received the message “All Done, Bye-Bye”. Though this implies whoever created SCP-AIQ is done, it doesn’t deny the fact there is nothing stopping them from doing so again. Foundation field agents working within government, especially lower governments, are to ensure that pesticides or ones similar that helped activate SCP-AIQ are to never be released again. 

Description: SCP-AIQ is an event class anomaly that requires several components in order to work. First a victim must be exposed to [data expunged] an experimental chemical that increases the fear response to whatever phobia they have. Second they must fall into a situation where they are deeply afraid such as someone being placed in a small area with Claustrophobia, someone being around spiders with Arachnophobia, or someone being exposed to blood with Hemophobia. Then on whatever device is close to them will start displaying messages that further increase their discomfort followed by the phrase “Kill ‘Em All!”

This horrible mix causes the victim to go insane and start killing everyone and destroying every piece of technology around them. They only stop when they are subdued or killed, though killing is better as often once they are driven to such insanity that there is little chance they will recover and live a normal life again. Though it is possible for a victim to ignore the messages, the messages unfortunately persist and follow the victim wherever they go until they eventually go insane regardless. 

SCP-AIQ was discovered in 1994 in Franklin, Pennsylvania when a Person of Interest: Fox Mulder started investigating a string of murders. Agents assigned to watch over Fox Mulder noticed the anomalous elements within the murders and immediately contacted the Foundation. However, they were given orders to continue to monitor Mulder and Person of Interest: Dana Scully as they investigated. By doing this they were able to find out how SCP-AIQ worked thanks to Mulder and allowed him to be the one to subdue the final victim. Once the event anomaly finally ended all data was sent back to the Foundation. However, despite keeping their distance Agent Mulder found one of the agents and confronted them leading to another unnecessary conversation. Please see Addendum X-73 for details

***

AddendumX-73

The following is a recording between Agent [data expunged] and Fox Mulder after he confronted him when the SCP-AIQ incident finally ended. For context Agent [data expunged] is dressed and is to act as a normal civilian.

Begin Recording

Fox Mulder: Ah, I figured I'd find you somewhere around here.

Agent [data expunged]: Huh? Who are you?

Fox Mulder: Save it, I know your form the SCP Foundation.

Agent [data expunged]: I... don't know what that is, I'm sorry I'm not to familiar with FBI investigations so am I being interrogated or something? I'll have you know I am not involved with this incident.

Fox Mulder: Alright if you not going to fess up then at least look at this.

Person of Interest Fox Mulder gives the disguised agent his phone with the words "All Done, Bye-Bye" written in it in text.

Agent [data expunged]: What the hell is that?

Fox Mulder: I was hoping you could tell me.

Agent [data expunged]: Sir, I really don't know anything about any of what your talking about. I'm just a regular guy who works at the local store.

Fox Mulder: ... Okay then, well. Can I at least ask what you've been doing to Scully that makes her forget everything.

Agent [data expunged]: I don't know who that is.

Fox Mulder: What are the greys after?

Agent [data expunged]: The what? Are- Are you talking about aliens? You know those aren't real right?

Fox Mulder: What does the Foundation want with me and my family.

Agent [data expunged]: Okay, you know what I may be a civilian, but I know my rights. If I'm not under arrest, then I'm leaving.

Fox Mulder: What is the Foundation's connection with the Syndicate?

Agent [data expunged] lets go of his previous demeaner and looks at Fox Mulder with an almost blank expression.

Agent [data expunged]: ... You may not consider the Foundation allies but never confuse us with those traitors in the Syndicate.

Fox Mulder: he finally speaks.

Agent [data expunged]: I was under orders not to so don't be so shocked.

Fox Mulder: So, the Foundation has nothing to do with the Syndicate? If that's the case, why do you keep taking these oddities without telling the public.

Agent [data expunged]: ... All you need to know is that the anomalous world is much bigger than you realize, and the public is better off not knowing any of it.

Fox Mulder: You're hurting more people by keeping it a secret you know that right?

Agent [data expunged]: There's never going to be the perfect answer to everything, even your father knew that. Shame he used that logic to become a traitor to his own species.

Fox Mulder: Wait what? What the hell-

Agent [data expunged]: That's all Fox Mulder, I believe your partner Scully is about to arrive. Do be sure not to tell her of this interaction, lest we'll have to give her amnestics again.

Fox Mulder tried to speak out, but the agent turned away and did not respond to him even when Fox Mulder tried to grab him.

Recording Ends

***

The O5 Council shockingly considered Agent [data expunged]'s interaction with Person of Interest: Fox Mulder acceptable so he was not punished.

It is unknown who was the one that orchestrated the anomaly as it was obviously an experiment. PENTAGRAM denied any cooperation with the experiment and agents within have confirmed there was no involvement. None of the enemies or neutral GoI’s of the Foundation have claimed responsibility for the experiment either and as of late the Foundation has no leads. It is for this reason that SCP-AIQ is labeled as Object Class Somnum. However, this is not declared as a Foundation failure as now we know how to combat SCP-AIQ should it ever appear again.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[ghostpunkrock]

dana scully I could fumble you harder than any of those deranged and pathetic men you like to sleep with please just give me one chance

[spookyshipperfics]

Bigger Boat

Find it: a03 / Fandom: The X-Files / Rating: Explicit

*The fic is (finally) complete!

What is it About? In this Jaws-inspired fic, Scully and Mulder investigate a mysterious pair of shark attacks off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard, but things aren’t exactly as they appear.

Read a Sample: Mulder stepped onto the ferry’s upper deck, the wind greeting him with a forceful slap. A group of tourists clustered to his right. To his left was Scully, forearms on the railing, her gaze on the water below as her auburn hair billowed around her. She turned toward him, that uncanny awareness of each other never failing. The sunlight illuminated her face, revealing freckles and a smile he didn’t get to see quite enough of. She was gorgeous.

If they were two different people, he’d come up from behind and wrap his arms around her waist. “God, you’re beautiful. Let’s get dinner later,” he’d say. But they weren’t different people. He was Special Agent Fox Mulder; she was Special Agent Dana Kathrine Scully, punctuated with an MD.

“Did you look over the case file yet?” His hands found the railing next to hers. He was close enough that their arms brushed but not close enough that it meant anything more.

“I did,” she responded. “I must admit that I don’t really see the X-File here, Mulder. We have two missing boys that are victims of supposed shark attacks based on witness testimony alone.”

He reached into the pocket of his trench coat, retrieving a packet of sunflower seeds warmed from his body heat. “It’s not the cause of death that gives me pause. It’s the pattern.”

“The pattern?” Her eyebrow cocked, ready for battle.

Once again, he’d managed to get her on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard with pure enthusiasm and the promise of beachy air. He owed her an explanation; he just wasn’t excited about the pushback.

“In 1975, a Great White Shark killed five people within one summer. That shark was later killed, and the attacks stopped until now. Two days ago, high schoolers Miles Hooper and Peter Bush were both allegedly killed by a shark within one day of each other. In both cases, witnesses on the beach confirmed seeing a fin in the water before the boys were pulled under.”

“Mulder,” she sighed. “Are you implying these recent deaths are linked to the shark attacks that occurred twenty-two years ago?”

“Would I have you on a ferry to the Vineyard if I wasn’t?”

“I just don’t get it.”

“Come on, Scully. I’m sure you’re familiar with the statistics of shark attacks.”

She nodded. “They are extraordinarily rare. Unprovoked attacks result in less than a hundred cases per year, with very few being fatal.”

“So what are the chances that seven people would be killed by sharks between Martha’s Vineyard and Amity Island in the past two decades?”

“It’s definitely a statistical anomaly.”

“Not to mention, each set of deaths was clustered. 1975’s attacks all happened within one summer. These recent attacks both happened within a day of each other.” He plopped a sunflower seed into his mouth. “That must be one pissed-off shark.”

“It just doesn’t add up. Sharks can go months without eating. In extreme cases, they can even go as long as a year. For two boys to be eaten by the same shark within twenty-four hours of each other seems—”

“Spooky.”

“Spooky is an understatement, Mulder. Yes, Amity had a man-eating shark problem back in ’75, but it’s dead.” She paused, eyes widening. “Please tell me you aren’t suggesting this is a ghost shark?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Ghost shark, Scully? What kind of nut do you think I am? No, I’m suggesting there could be some type of genetic testing going on. Perhaps in an attempt to create a weapon or maybe just science gone wrong.”

“Ah, the next logical leap after ghost shark is a marine biologist playing Dr. Frankenstein.”

He shrugged and tossed another sunflower seed into his mouth. “That’s what I aim to find out.”

Both her eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

On impulse, he reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze. “I grew up here, remember? We can make it more than a work trip. I can show you the best ice cream shop in town.”

“How charming,” she mused. “A vacation where I’m twiddling my thumbs while you’re off talking about ghost sharks.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, throwing up his hands with a smirk. He was delighted she had even indulged him with the word “vacation” while discussing their trip. “You’re the one that keeps bringing up ghost sharks, not me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You better not forget about that ice cream.”

[alliedbiscuit]

msr fic / s7 post-closure but pre-all things / wc: 3398

Scully takes Maggie out for a birthday dinner, and you'll never guess who they run into.

************

“So, how are feeling about dessert?” the waiter asks hopefully.

Maggie Scully scoffs. “Oh, no. I couldn’t eat another bite. Maybe just a cup of coffee? Decaf, please.”

“Mom, are you sure? You should get dessert,” Dana Scully prods, stopping herself short before she could let it slip, “It’s your birthday!” The last gift her mother would appreciate is a gaggle of underpaid waiters singing some public-domain-compliant version of a birthday song while the whole restaurant turns its attention toward her. Like mother, like daughter.

Well, the daughter made an exception and found that kind of thing charming exactly once. But at least she got a nice keychain out of it. All her mother would get was humiliation and a chocolate lava cake.

As soon as the waiter leaves to fetch their after dinner coffees, Maggie reveals her true intentions.

“I was thinking we could go to that ice cream parlor down the street. If I’m going to indulge, I think I want a hot fudge sundae. Or maybe we could split a banana split?”

“Or you could get a hot fudge sundae and I could get a banana split, and we could split both,” Scully suggests.

“See, that’s why you work for the FBI.”

“Dessert Conflict Resolution was part of my training at Quantico.”

Both Scullys giggle.

“Does Fox have the same specialty? Or is that what you bring to the team?”

“Mulder’s dessert strategy is just to eat everything and then swim a mile and run five the next day. No, he’s a Takeout Menu Marksman, though. He knows where to order from and what to order so it travels the best and doesn’t get cold and congealed by the time it arrives. Might sound like a trivial skill, but it’s a lifesaver on movie night.”

Maggie continues smiling but cocks her head slightly. Dana realizes why almost instantly.

“You have movie night?”

“It’s not a set thing or anything. We just…if we’re not busy with a case.”

“You just watch movies? As coworkers?”

“As friends.”

“Just friends?”

Dana lets out a long sigh as she stares her mother down. Her mother, maintaining that gentle yet challenging grin. Dana considers her response carefully. She could offer a simple yes because that is the fact of the matter. They are just friends. She could criticize the wording choice. “Just” friends? Why does it have to be “just” friends? As if friendship isn’t somehow enough or isn’t valuable?

She could realize it’s her mother’s birthday and she’s the only other Scully woman left to confide in about matters of the heart, and although she doesn’t want to bring up the New Year’s kiss because she still doesn’t really know what it meant, maybe they both need this little gift of honesty, filled with tempered excitement and promise.

“For now,” Dana Scully finally admits.

Maggie’s grin grows as Scully just shakes her head and manages to keep her slight eye roll from reaching embarrassed teenager level. The waiter does bail her out a bit by choosing that moment to deliver their coffees.

“How is Fox doing? After his mother…” Maggie trails off, but her daughter knows not to expect any more specifics.

“Better? I mean, as well as can be expected. The thing is, right after that, he found out some more about his sister. About what happened to her. It was just so much all at once. I was really worried…”

Maggie reaches across the table to lay a hand on hers.

“But, it was almost like he was ready for it. He finally had some answers. Like it brought him some peace.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. He needed that.”

“We all do.”

*************

Maggie is the one to spot him first as they’re heading for the door.

“Is that- is that Fox?” she asks her daughter.

“What? No, he wouldn't…” Dana trails off as she looks straight ahead to where her mother was indicating and confirms that it is indeed Fox Mulder, standing with his hands in his pockets and his eyes trained to the floor as he appears to be waiting near the vestibule for the restrooms.

“Mulder?” Scully questions as she approaches, her voice giving away her confusion and growing concern.

His head darts up in surprise, but a beaming smile of recognition quickly overtakes his face.

“Hey, Scully! Mrs. Scully, it’s so nice to see you!”

“You too, Fox,” Maggie kindly replies, although a quick glance to her daughter confirms her suspicion that Dana is still very confused by his presence.

“Did you…did you need something?” She suddenly feels silly for presuming that he must have come there with urgent news or a case or something, but why else would Fox Mulder be at Petrino’s on a Saturday night? Did his informants trade in clandestine meetings in parking garages for family-style Italian?

“Hmm?” Mulder asks.

“You didn’t come here to find me? I told you I was bringing my mom here for her birthday, didn’t I?” He didn’t look like he had rushed to the restaurant from the office or his apartment as she had originally assumed. He had clearly shaved and combed his hair nicely. He wore an olive green sweater with dark blue jeans and a black wool pea coat rather than his leather jacket. He had definitely made an effort.

“You did, but I thought you were going out tomorrow night on her actual birthday. Happy birthday, by the way, Mrs. Scully.”

“Thank you, Fox. I’m going to have lunch with some ladies from church after mass tomorrow, so I asked Dana if we could do Saturday night instead.”

“Ah. What a weird coincidence then. I can’t believe we didn’t see you at all during dinner.”

We.

Oh God.

Mulder was on a date.

Mulder was on a date in this restaurant on the night he thought Scully wasn’t going to be there. Mulder was on a date right after Scully had confessed to her mother (and herself) that their “just friends” status was in the process of changing. Mulder was on a date right after he’d been through so much pain but seemed to come out lighter and more open and he wanted to share it with someone…who wasn’t Dana Scully.

“So, you’ve already eaten then?” Maggie asks since her daughter appears unable to form a coherent statement at the moment.

“Yeah, we just finished. I’m just waiting for her…” he seems to trail off just to motion towards the restroom rather than say anything indelicate, but then he notices Maggie’s poorly masked look of concern toward Dana, and then he notices Dana’s completely unmasked look of shock.

And then he gets it.

“Oh, no! It’s not…I want you to meet her,” Mulder insists as he grabs a hold of both of Scully’s elbows and then glances anxiously toward the restroom door.

Dana Scully looks like she might be ill.

Thankfully Mulder only stammers a moment longer until the restroom door opens and he finds reprieve when a tall, thin woman appearing to be in her mid-60s walks through the door.

“Aunt Helen,” Mulder calls.

Somehow Scully’s eyes manage to get even wider as some of the color returns to her face.

“Aunt Helen, there are a few people I’d really like you to meet. This is my partner, Dana Scully, and this is her mother, Margaret Scully.”

Aunt Helen smiles widely in recognition, first shaking Maggie’s hand and then Dana’s. “It is such a pleasure to meet you both. I’ve heard such wonderful things.”

She lingers with her hand holding Dana’s while she says this, and the younger Scully is left blushing. She hazards a look at Mulder, but he doesn’t look embarrassed by this revelation. He holds her gaze with nothing but pride.

“This is my aunt, Helen Briggs. She’s my mom’s sister. She’s visiting for the weekend from Charlotte.”

They all kind of marvel over the fact that they were in the same restaurant and what a coincidence and oh, we were seated near the back bar, that must be why we didn’t see you and Scully is just starting to feel her pulse return to normal as Aunt Helen laments not having a chance to talk with the Scullys.

“Well, Dana and I skipped dessert so we could go to The Big Dipper for some ice cream. Would you two like to join us?”

“Oh, that would be lovely. As long as we’re not intruding,” says Aunt Helen.

“Not at all,” Scully assures her. “There is one catch, though.”

“It’s not real ice cream. It’s that Tofutti nonsense, isn’t it?” Mulder groans.

“It better not be,” Maggie insists. “I don’t know how she eats that stuff.”

Scully ignores her mother and her partner’s bad mouthing of her frozen treats as she returns her attention to Aunt Helen.

“I’m afraid if you want to come along, you will have to reveal a few good Young Mulder stories. And by ‘a few,’ I mean as many as you’ve got. And by ‘good,’ I mean the more embarrassing the better.”

“I’ll start thinking now,” Aunt Helen laughs.

“I knew I should’ve picked a different restaurant,” Mulder says regretfully.

***********

They’ve just sat down to a small, round table for four with their ice cream when Mulder stands up to get them all more napkins, and Aunt Helen retrieves a small, rectangular piece of paper from her purse that she then deftly slides to Dana.

“Oh my god!” Scully exclaims with joy.

Staring back at her from the paper is a very young Fox Mulder. She guesses he must be around 8 or 9 in the school photo. His long, sandy brown hair falls just above his eyebrows. He doesn’t have his distinctive nose yet, but his bottom lip is already a little pouty. The real give away is the eyes. He’s grinning for the camera, but his eyes still have that soulfulness, that slight sadness.

She’s surprised. She knows she shouldn’t be. His eyes didn’t suddenly change when Samantha was taken. His eyes were probably always like that.

But she had always assumed that the great tragedy had flipped a switch for Young Fox Mulder. That before that single event, he had certainly been a perfectly happy child. Funny and athletic, popular for sure. But the humor developed as a defense mechanism later in life. And the sports were a great physical release as well as an excuse to be out of the house as much as possible. She didn’t actually know what he was like before, but now that she thought about it, home life was probably never all that great if it eventually led to a father sacrificing one child and leaving the other to always live with the guilt and loss.

It was very possible that Fox Mulder had always been a little boy with a lot on his mind.

In contrast, present day, adult Fox Mulder looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he returns with extra napkins, ready to tuck into his chocolate peanut butter ice cream in a waffle cone – that is until he realizes what his friend and partner Dana Scully is looking at.

“Oh come on. I was gone for thirty seconds, and you have the visual aids out.”

Scully continues to beam as Maggie finally gets a glimpse of the photo in her hand.

“Oh, Fox!”

“Okay,” Mulder said exasperatedly. “Does this meet your embarrassment quota?” he asks, looking pointedly at Scully.

“Not even close! This isn’t embarrassing. It’s adorable!”

Mulder rolls his eyes but can’t hide his bashful grin at her comment.

“It’s only fair, Fox. I know you’ve seen family photos of Dana at my house,” Mrs. Scully says, sounding like a mother well practiced in settling disputes between children.

“Just a couple. I do like that high school graduation picture, though. I still don’t know how you kept your cap on with all that hair.”

“That was the style back then. Everybody teased their hair and used a ton of hairspray.”

“I thought it might be a religious thing at Catholic school. The higher the hair, the closer to God,” Mulder teases.

Maggie and Aunt Helen chuckle, though the latter gives him a good-natured swat on the arm in admonishment.

“See, this is what I need, though. I need something from the teen years. That’s peak embarrassment fodder,” Scully says.

“If you ask our colleagues, I think my peak embarrassment fodder would come from about 1991 to present,” Mulder points out.

Aunt Helen just looks slightly regretful. “I’m afraid I don’t have many stories from those years, Dana.”

Mulder makes eye contact with Aunt Helen. “You didn’t miss much,” he insists. She looks like she wants to debate him, but he just places a hand on hers reassuringly, and they seem to make a silent agreement to not argue the point any further.

Mulder had never really mentioned any other family before. She knew his grandparents had all passed before she met him, but she had assumed, just like with everything else, that any other extended family connections had disappeared along with Samantha. That no one would know how to comfort and console The Mulders in a situation like that, with no explanation.

His aunts and uncles must have had questions, probably even had their own theories. Did his mother’s side suspect his father’s involvement, or did his father’s side blame his mother somehow? Did any of them blame…no, she couldn’t go down that route. Besides, did anyone ever suspect horrific things like that before the days of cable news and supermarket tabloids?

The point is, it was a tense situation, so Scully assumed they had all done what wealthy white people in places like Martha’s Vineyard and Boston and Raleigh did with any uncomfortable subject – they avoided it completely.

And that meant avoiding the little boy with a lot on his mind as he became a teenager with even more on his mind.

Scully had accompanied Mulder to a small burial service for his mother in Raleigh a few months ago. It was just the service. No gathering or dinner after, or at least not one that Mulder told her about. The attendees at the service were all pretty spread out, not much mingling. Again, it was another sudden loss shrouded in mystery. They all avoided particulars as much as they could.

Scully didn’t remember seeing Aunt Helen that day, but maybe she was there and just couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Maybe she wasn’t there because she couldn’t bring herself to go and then regretted it. Dana Scully didn’t know, and it didn’t actually matter. The point is that she’s here now. And that’s exactly what Mulder’s look of reassurance and acceptance seems to say.

It seems to help her perk up because she offers playfully, “Oh, what about that summer on Quonochontaug? I think you were 9 or so, and you were collecting leaves for one of your Indian Guide badges.”

“Oh god!”

“I’m hooked already. Not to jump ahead, but please tell me there’s poison ivy involved,” Scully says gleefully.

Aunt Helen’s bark of laughter and Mulder’s exaggerated eye roll are all the confirmation she needs.

“It was heavily involved! But that’s not the worst part. While he was working on his Leaf Collecting badge, he also earned credit towards his Wildlife badge when he came across a skunk in the woods.”

“No!” Scully shouts.

“Ivyed and skunked at the same time,” Mulder admits.

“Oh you poor thing,” Maggie adds sympathetically, but with barely contained laughter.

“He had to jump right from a tomato juice bath for the skunk smell…”

“Which didn’t work!”

“…into an oatmeal bath for the itching.”

“Which worked better, but I still smelled like a Grateful Dead concert.”

Both Scullys are full on giggling at this point.

“Do you remember what Grandpa Ralph said when he walked in and saw you and mom dunking me in a tub of oatmeal?” Mulder asks.

Aunt Helen pitches her voice deeper and amps up her Southern twang, “Why don’t cha dip him in some egg and flour next? We toss him in the frying pan, we got supper! We’re havin’ Fried Fox tonight!”

Now they’re all in hysterics. Even the man who usually hates his given name can’t help but laugh along, especially when it makes his lovely company so happy.

*****************

Scully enters the basement office Monday morning to find Mulder already there, flipping through an open drawer in the filing cabinet.

“Good morning,” she says cheerfully.

He looks up and smiles. “Good morning. Long time no see.”

“How was the rest of your weekend? Did you guys do any sightseeing or anything?”

“No, we just had a late breakfast yesterday before I took her to the airport, but it was good to catch up some more. She told me to thank you again for letting us tag along for ice cream. It was really nice.”

“It was,” Scully agrees.

Mulder appears to be considering something for a moment before he crosses over to the desk and picks up a small envelope.

“She also told me to give this to you,” he says almost bashfully, extending the envelope in Scully’s direction. “She told me I couldn’t look inside, and I didn’t. But I think I know what’s in there, and if I’m right, you don’t have to keep it. You can just leave it here on the desk.”

Well, now she’s intrigued. Scully opens the envelope to find a small handwritten note at the top.

“I thought you might like these. I have plenty more too, if you’d ever like to see them or want any more stories. Please don’t be a stranger.”

Scully lifts up the note to see the remaining contents inside and finds a small stack of photographs, a mixture of more school photos along with a few wallet-sized family portraits and a couple candids taken on the beaches of the Vineyard or Rhode Island, she can’t tell. But she sees the same set of eyes in all of them.

She looks back to read the rest of the note.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you, Dana. Take care!”

Below Aunt Helen’s elegant signature, she has also written her home address and phone number. Scully will have to call and thank her.

“She tried to give some to me,” Mulder explains, “but I didn’t really want…and like I said, you don’t have to…”

“No, I’d like to keep them,” Dana insists.

Mulder lets her statement hang in the air for a moment, but he can’t help but diffuse it.

“You just want more blackmail material.”

“Something like that,” Scully says teasingly, but there’s no bite behind it.

“I knew I should’ve picked a different restaurant.”

She chuckles lightly as she shuffles the photos into a neat stack to place back in the envelope, thinking that this is the point where they get back to work. Mulder stays standing in front of her and appears to be considering something again. Does he have another envelope that he’s afraid to give her?

“You know it was pure luck that we ended up at Petrino’s the same night as you. I actually gave Aunt Helen a few options and let her choose. I was pushing more for that Thai place in Arlington, just off Old Dominion. The one that’s been there forever,” Mulder explains.

“Oh, the one with the secret menu? I’ve still never been there. Can’t say I’m surprised that Aunt Helen wasn’t up for Thai food, though.”

“Yeah. Fair point,” Mulder nods for a moment too long before continuing. “Would you like to go there sometime? Like this Saturday? With me?”

Scully slowly looks up from the envelope to see Mulder’s face because in all matters, other than the divine, Dana Scully needs to see to believe. And the slightly nervous yet gentle grin that she finds allows her to believe it to be true – Fox Mulder has just asked her out on a real date.

“I would like that,” Scully says gently.

“Good. You wanna say 7:30? Or we can always figure out time later,” Mulder states, aiming for practicality to keep him from grinning like a complete idiot. He ends up grinning like a moderate idiot, but he’s okay with that.

“Sounds good.”

Yep, Scully will definitely have to call Aunt Helen and thank her.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Pearl, Ch. 6: Having and Holding

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Too much is happening too fast.

The little room is stuffy, and Mulder just called her honey, and she’s sweating beneath his palm at her back. The ugly filigree carpet beneath her feet rolls like a tide, and Scully briefly wonders if she’s going to pass out. She should have eaten more for breakfast.

The officiant, who introduced herself as Linda, is saying something to her.

“Miss Scully, do you have the license?” she prompts.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Scully replies, handing her the manila envelope she’s been unwittingly creasing in her nervous fist.

“You’ve been practicing your lines,” Mulder jokes, finally taking his hand off the small of her back. Scully misses the contact and is simultaneously relieved.

Linda glances up from her lectern to smile at him. “He’s a funny one,” she says to Scully.

“Mhm,” Scully hums stiffly, wiping her hands on her skirt for the fiftieth time today. She feels the bulge of a ring box in her pocket, and her pulse accelerates.

The officiant adjusts her glasses. “Alright, it looks like everything is in order, so we can begin,” she says, shuffling a few loose papers on the lectern. “If you have anyone joining us for the vows-“

Scully feels a pang of misplaced shame at the question, glancing down at her feet.

Mulder reaches out and takes Scully’s hand. “Just us today,” he says, giving the woman a tender smile that’s just the right amount of bashful. “We’re eloping.”

He’s an artist, Scully thinks absently, watching him work his subtle magic on the officiant. He could almost pass for lovesick.

The woman smiles back, looking touched. “Very romantic,” she enthuses, glancing between them. “Well, then let’s begin, shall we? Please face each other and join hands.”

Scully turns slowly; despite the crisp layers of fabric covering her body, she feels strangely exposed as she moves to face Mulder. She takes a deep breath and reaches out. Mulder takes her hands in his, his palms wide and warm around hers. He gives her arms the gentlest of tugs, requesting her attention.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

She tilts her chin up and looks into his eyes, and a whisper of peace passes her by.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

His hands anchor her, hold her in place, keep her from drifting away. “Yes,” she says through parched lips. It’s not really a lie if she wants it to be true.

Mulder gives her a soft smile, and Scully feels the room shrink around them, sucking the air out of her lungs.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate Fox and Dana, and their commitment to each other,” Linda announces, even though they’re alone in the room. “Usually at this part of the ceremony I’d say a few words, but-“

“No need,” Scully says softly. “It’s just us.”

“Right,” the woman replies. There’s an awkward silence before she clears her throat and continues. “Do you, Fox William, take this woman, Dana Katherine, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health-“ Mulder squeezes Scully’s hands then, and she feels a prickle of tears in her eyes. “-until death do you part?”

Mulder must have noticed Scully’s eyes watering, because his brows furrow in concern.

“Mr. Mulder,” the officiant prompts gently.

“I-I do,” he says, almost an aside. He leans closer to Scully. “Are you alright?” he whispers.

His attention is overwhelming, like the lightest touch stinging an open wound. She nods.

“Can I offer you a handkerchief?” Linda asks.

“No, it’s fine, I have tissues,” Scully replies. She composes herself, glancing at the officiant. “You can continue.”

“Do you, Dana Katherine, take this man, Fox William, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Mulder’s right thumb circles briefly over her knuckle in a calming gesture, and Scully feels the contact go straight to her heart.

Please let this be real, just once, she prays nonsensically. “I do.”

Mulder gives her a reassuring nod, and she lets out a half breath.

“Please present the rings,” the officiant says. “I assume you have them?”

“In our respective pockets,” Mulder confirms. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a little velvet box, snapping it open.

“Please place the ring on the third finger of Dana’s left hand, and say ‘please accept this ring as a sign of my commitment’.”

Mulder murmurs the vow as he guides the ring onto her finger; gold, with a dainty pearl and little diamonds clustered together in the center.

It’s beautiful and perfect and exactly what she would have wanted if she ever had the chance to choose, and they’re so close to doing this right. So close and yet miles off target.

This may not be a real marriage in many respects; she and Mulder will be living a truth no one can see. But for her, it would be real. Even if he never held her hands again, she has them now; and she can promise everything she has left if she wants to.

This may be her last chance; so she lifts his left hand, slides his band onto his finger, and pretends.

“By the power vested in me by the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant states. “You may now seal your commitment with a kiss.”

Oh.

Scully had somehow gotten through the entire morning without realizing this moment would actually come, and she’s suddenly embarrassed. She glances at Mulder to telegraph to him it’s okay, you don’t have to, you can kiss my cheek or forehead, my lips are so dry-

But her Mulder always commits to an act, consequences be damned. He sways momentarily, as though he can sense her hesitation, then leans down and guides her closer by their clasped hands.

His lips are so soft and warm on hers, the kiss tender and familiar. He kisses her with the ease of a practiced lover, placing his mouth against hers in exactly the right way. She feels her entire body relax, pins in a lock yielding around the perfect key.

He draws back, and she returns to the heaviness of the room and the tension in her spine, clarity cutting into her.

That was no cautious, dry peck of a dutiful friend. That was the kiss of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, and Scully immediately wants him to do it again.

If only this were real, that there was no tumor slowly pushing into her brain, that she could take this beautiful man and his pillowy lips home to her bed. Her face heats up at the thought, and she looks down at the hand clasped in his.

They’re married, but he’s not hers.

[anders-hawke]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

[atths--twice]

Secret Santa

Working in an office building, Mulder runs into Scully-literally, bringing about a new friendship, and a one-sided crush. Or is it?

Christmas music played, people laughing and drinking, some flirting and standing too close, especially the married ones who should not be doing so.

Fox Mulder watched them all, sipping from his glass of wine. He saw Marge, who worked at the front desk, telling a joke to Jake, who worked in accounting, both of them laughing hysterically. Lola and Reggie were both nodding in agreement to whatever they were discussing. Paula and Tanya were whispering and looking over at Ryan who was speaking to the newest hire to the company.

The one who happened to be Fox’s secret Santa recipient.

And the one whom he had fallen for the moment he ran into her just over a month ago.

Coming out of the copy room, his arms full, eyes down as he read and made sure the paperwork was correct, he had been hurrying to get back to his desk for a call, when he ran into someone. Bouncing back, his papers had flown everywhere as he heard a loud gasp as well as a splash of liquid.

Catching himself on the corner of a cubicle, he had slammed into it with his back, closing his eyes with a grunt. Opening his eyes, he had seen a woman covered in coffee, her blue blouse dripping onto the floor, his papers, and her shoes.

She had stood open mouthed, her coffee mug still in her hand, raising her eyes to his.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he had said, not knowing who she was or from where she had come. “Let me… let me find a towel.”

“Oh, I don’t think a towel will really offer any assistance,” she had said with a chuckle, shaking her head and her empty hand, coffee flying from it.

“I…”

“Fox! Your call!” Ryan had called from across the room.

“Yeah… I… Give me a second,” he had called back and stared at her. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have a call. Go. Not much you can do to help me at the moment.” She had smiled and shrugged, looking down at herself, laughing with her arms stretched wide. “They won’t wait and this can. Go.” Smiling at him again, her blue eyes dancing, he had walked past her, apologizing again.

His mind had not been on the call, instead thinking about the woman and how she had looked covered in coffee, yet had not been angry. She had not yelled, but smiled and laughed.

What kind of person did that?

A week prior, he had been out on a date with a woman who had gotten angry at him because the sleeve of her coat had twisted as he attempted to help her put it on at the end of their evening. She had huffed and told him she could do it herself and how did that happen, anyway?

He had fumbled with an answer and watched her leave in a cab, knowing they would not be having a second date.

And yet, the woman he had left standing covered in coffee, with every right to yell at him, had instead laughed and shrugged it off.

He had not seen her again that day, but his papers had been brought to his desk, coffee stained and crinkly, with a note that had once more left him floored by that woman.

Sorry for the stains. Hope you didn’t need them right away and you had a chance to print them for when you did.

No name had been added, but he had been determined to find out who she was, asking Marge after work who the new redheaded woman was and where he could find her.

With a knowing smile, Marge had told him more about her than he had anticipated. When she had finished, he explained to her what had happened earlier, not wanting it to be misconstrued as to why he had been asking.

“Oh, so you’re the one who did that to poor Dana,” she had laughed. “She left to go home for the day, as the coffee had gotten… well, she just needed to go home.” He had blushed at that information, stammering words he did not remember. “She’ll be back tomorrow though, hon.”

And so she had, and he apologized again.

“Please, it’s not a problem,” Dana had said. “And hey, I got a half day out of it, so that’s not so bad.” He had chuckled when she smiled, though he had apologized again.  

It had then become a joke between them when they crossed paths, for Dana to hug the wall and give him a wide berth. She had smiled every time and his heart had done a little flip flop, his tongue annoyingly tied and unable to speak.

He had hated himself in those moments, when his own body betrayed him and stopped him from having a proper conversation with her.

Then Marge had come around with the secret Santa list the first day of December, making sure everyone signed up. Two days later, she had brought around a Santa hat with the names written upon strips of paper inside of it. Cheers had gone up as she made her way from person to person and the recipient's name was chosen.

Fox had smiled as he put his hand in the hat, moving his fingers over many pieces of paper, before he had pulled one out and smiled at Marge. Waiting until she had walked away to see who he had chosen, he took a deep breath and opened the paper.

He had stood stock-still, his ears ringing as he had stared at it, the name written in Marge’s perfect penmanship.

Dana Scully

Glancing up, he had seen Dana standing with a smile as she had taken her turn to reach into the hat. Taking out a name and looking at it, her face gave nothing away.

As the gift was meant to be thoughtful, and would not be exchanged or traded, the limit was set at $100. Panic had set in nearly immediately, his mind racing as to what he would get for her.

He had thought about it every day, debating many ideas: a nice bottle of alcohol, a scarf, chocolates, perhaps a gift certificate to a nice restaurant.

She was not married or dating anyone, as he had heard her discussing a bad date while in the break room, Tanya and Paula joining in with their own stories. Hearing them and not joining in the conversation, he had crossed a restaurant certificate off the list, not wanting her to feel an obligation to ask him to join her.

So he had brainstormed every day, until he had the perfect idea. It would be silly, but then under the silly, he would put the true gift.

Purchased and wrapped, he had added it to the gift table the morning of the party, then feeling nervous for the remainder of the day.

Now, the party in full swing, the time for passing out the gifts was getting closer. Part of him wanted to grab the gift and remove the silly one, but he also wanted to hear her laugh as she opened it, knowing it was from him.

And he did love hearing her laugh.

“Okay! Okay!” Bernie Adler, their boss, shouted with a laugh. “If everyone can pause what they’re doing for a second, and if my assistant could join me, we can pass out these gifts.” Marge danced over to him in her horribly ugly Christmas cardigan she wore every year, everyone laughing as Fox forced a smile, his stomach feeling as though it was full of knots.

Gifts were handed out, conversations and laughter recomensing as they were opened, cheers and shouts sounding around the room. Fox was handed his gift and he smiled his thanks, not opening it yet, his eyes watching Dana's gift on the table.

When Marge picked it up, he let out a breath as she carried it to her and placed it into her hands, her smile wide as she thanked Marge. He took a few steps closer as she untied the smooth silver ribbon, his mouth dry. She put the ribbon into her pocket and then opened the lid of the box.

Not wanting to be too close, but also wanting to be able to see her, he stopped far enough to not be in her direct gaze. Peeling open the tissue paper, he watched her frown as she lifted the item and set the box and lid onto a desk.

As she opened it, her frown turned to a huge smile and then she laughed, her eyes searching the room until she found him. Shaking her head, she looked back at the bright rainbow colored poncho as he walked over to her.

“Just wanted you to be safe and avoid another catastrophe,” he said quietly. “And also so you can cross my path without becoming one with the wall.”

“I love it,” she giggled, taking off the Christmas tree headband she was wearing and sliding the poncho over her head. Spreading out her arms, she opened it fully, laughing as she spun around. “And look at that, it’s a perfect fit.”

He laughed as she spun again and he fell for her even further.

“There is also another gift in there,” he said.

“Another? Oh…”

She picked up the box and lifted the tissue, finding the small gift card envelope. Opening it, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“For new, non-coffee covered, blouses,” he said. “Or anything else you may want to get.”

“Thank you.” She put it back and motioned to her poncho. “Although this is more than enough.” He laughed softly and nodded with a shrug. “What did you get?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Hmm… maybe you should.”

He tilted his head and she mimicked him, smiling as she raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the box in his hands. Nodding, he ripped the paper off the shoe sized box. Lifting the lid, he found a pair of red clown shoes.

“They squeak when you walk in them, so we will always know when you’re walking around. Especially in the ‘splash zone’ of the office,” she said and he laughed, taking them out of the box, quickly replacing his own shoes with them.

He walked past her, the shoes squeaking as she laughed hysterically, and he grinned. Walking back to her, he stared at her in her rainbow poncho, covered head to mid shin, and then down at his shoes.

What a perfectly odd pair they made.

“There is also another gift for you in there and it’s to use however you wish,” she said. He picked up the box and took out the gift certificate to his favorite steakhouse. Looking at her, she shrugged, licking her lips with an uncertain look on her face.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked, surprising them both, and she froze before nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Good.”

They hurried to get their things, his shoes squeaking rapidly as her poncho flapped behind her.

When he helped her put on her coat, her sleeve got tangled and she laughed, waiting patiently as he corrected it. Walking to the elevator, his shoes squeaking and his own dangling from his fingers, he smiled happily at the evening's turn of events.  

“How do you feel about Shaw’s Steakhouse?” he asked, pressing the down button, and she grinned at him.

“It just so happens to be my favorite restaurant,” she admitted and he hummed.

“That is extremely coincidental. I happen to have just been given a gift certificate for it.”

“That is incredibly coincidental,” she said, stepping inside the elevator as the doors opened.

He smiled, pressing the lobby button as she smiled back at him; the hood of her poncho lying on the collar of her jacket and poking out the bottom. He shifted, causing his shoes to squeak, the doors closing as she laughed and he joined in.

[misslilli]

Thank you guys, for going on this adventure with me 🥰 I'm having such a blast reading your comments!

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13 - Fantastic Mulders And Where To Find Them

[ DS ]

“Well, little lady, you’re pretty young and inexperienced, you’ll learn to distinguish when it’s appropriate to call in parents and when it’s clearly not necessary.” Stunned, I stare at the father of a girl in my class sitting across from me, trying to control my flaring temper. ‘What a misogynistic, condescending asshole!’

“I can assure you, sir, when a child comes to me with a concerning story from home, I will always want to clear it up with the parents. Now that we’ve cleared it up, I think we’re done here. Thank you for coming.” I get up and hold out my hand, hoping to end this nightmare of a conversation on a positive note.

Once he left, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, anger boiling in the pit of my stomach. There’s not much that I hate more than being belittled and I yank my book bag off my table angrily, spilling the cup of pencils in the process, scattering them everywhere. I want to scream. Okay, now I’m Pissed. Royally.

I pick up the pencils and shove them back into the cup before turning off the lights and leaving for today. As I head outside, I notice a small gathering of women down the front steps and they’re giggling and laughing at something Fox Mulder had said. At the sight of him, my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh that’s just great. I’ll keep my head down and walk by quickly, I’m in no mood to be dragged into a conversation with the PTA brigade.’

I try to pass them by inconspicuously, walking briskly down the stairs and keeping my head down, but I’m stopped with a hand on my arm and a “Miss Scully, do you have a moment?” I turn to him trying to hide my exasperation. ‘Ugh, why do you have to be so damn handsome. And please, get your hand off my arm before I burst into flames. Victim: Dana Scully, cause of death: Spontaneous human combustion from being touched by Fox Freakin’ Mulder. Try and put that on a headstone.’

My mask of professionalism only slips for a brief moment, though, and I smooth out the frown on my face. “Yes, Mr. Mulder?” ‘Why is your hand still there? And why is it so hot all of a sudden, it’s freakin’ September.’

“I was hoping you could give me another opinion on something.” He leans into my personal space conspiratorially and I raise my eyebrow in a silent question. ‘Mmmh he smells really good too. Why, God, why? Ugh, that low tone of voice is driving me insane.’

“Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” The women around me giggle and I blink at him slowly. ‘What the fuck kind of question is that?’ I draw myself up to full height - don’t you dare laugh - thankful that I wore my heels today and gather the few braincells I have left that are not occupied with wondering how that broad chest would feel under my fingers.

“Logically, I would have to say No. Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft’s capabilities.” I can tell that my answer somewhat surprises him but he’s not done yet.

“But there are obviously unexplained phenomena out there, now when convention and science offer us no answers might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?”

‘What I find fantastic is your ass in those jeans…’. “What I find fantastic is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there, you just have to know where to look!” The other moms watch our argument as if they’re watching a tennis game.

He flashes me a wry grin. “That’s why they put the ‘I’ in FBI.” ‘Huh, so he’s with the Feds? I wonder where he keeps his gun. Well, I know where I’d check first but… Okay that’s enough. I wonder how many Hail Mary’s Father George will make me say for what’s going on inside my head.

Felix comes running down the stairs at this moment and wraps his arms around his dad’s legs. “Well thank you for this fantastic point of view, I’ll see you tomorrow ladies. Miss Scully.” He tips his imaginary hat to us and walks Felix back to the car. The little boy turns and waves at me, briefly. I smile and wave back.

My mood has miraculously improved during this odd bit of conversation and I bid the PTA moms goodbye as well, walking over to my bike to head home.

----------

[Felix]

“Hey dad, what did you and Miss Scully talk about back there?” I need to know. Please don’t let it be something embarrassing. Dad smiles at me in the rear view mirror.

“I asked her if she believed in aliens!”

“Noooo DAD, please tell me you didn’t!” ‘This is even worse than I thought. Can I give him up for adoption?’Dad shrugs his shoulders.

“She was having a pretty bad day, I just wanted to cheer her up. I think I did a pretty good job, too, she did smile at the end didn’t she?” Okay that is kind of sweet and yes she did, maybe I’ll keep him after all. I decide to change the subject.

“Dad, can we go to a soccer game sometime?” I just found out at recess today that our school has a soccer team and I really want to see that game. There’s another reason, too, but I keep this bit of information to myself.

“Sure, just tell me when!”

----------

[ FM ]

During the week, I’m treated to various stories from Felix’s school day on the car ride home, but his favorite daily segment of the Felix Show is “Dad, Do You Know What Miss Scully Did Or Said Today?” I’m bat-shit crazy about her too, so I get where he’s coming from, but he’s downright obsessed and I worry that this kind of attachment is not healthy for a kid.

I talk this over with our therapist on Thursday, in a one-on-one session and she thinks that maybe because he lacks an emotionally available mother, he looked for a suitable substitute and found it in his teacher. I shouldn’t worry too much about it, she’s sure when it’s too much, that the teacher is capable of handling the situation. She also promised to talk to Felix next time, to maybe tone it down just a little.

Our time is up before I can tell her about my own concerns about this situation. How I’d like to ask her out on a date but I don’t know if I should because I don’t want my son to get hurt in the process. I’m too inexperienced in dating to know the proper ways to handle this and frankly, the thought of getting back into dating terrifies me a little too. Okay maybe a lot. Felix is not the only one who has been scarred by the divorce.

----------

[ Felix ]

“Dad! Do we have any glitter glue in the house?”

It’s Thursday night and I’ve been working on my project for hours, wanting to get it just right. I had asked dad to write out a text for an invitation for me and I copied it onto the paper carefully. Pleased, I look at the two invitations I made, I can’t wait to hand them out. I really really hope they’ll accept the invite. My dad’s voice is getting louder while he talks, he’s coming upstairs. He enters my room and looks over my shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s in one of the drawers in the office. Tell me again why you’re making extra invitations when we had official ones made this week?” For someone who spends the whole day at work getting into other people’s heads, he’s not very good at understanding people.

“Because I reallywant them to come, dad! They’re my special guests!”

“Well, if there’s glitter glue, they won’t be able to say no! You did a really good job, Felix.”

“I hope so, dad. I’m pretty sad that mom’s out of the country and grandma can’t make it either.” He strokes a hand over my head.

“I know, son. I’m sorry!”

Chapter 14 - Last Chance For Spotting A Rainbow

Notes:

I stole some lines from the pilot. Please don’t sue. They’re just too good. Asdldlgdf

Also, the scene in the beginning is not entirely made up, a version of it happened to me last year.

[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (4/13)

If you would like to read this on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER FOUR

“It should not be far now,” Mulder sighed from beside her.

He had his head bent down to look out the window of the coach, rain beading down the glass on the other side. The whole of the day had been dreary, and they had each been fitfully dozing for the last several hours, sitting opposite each other.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked her.

In truth, she was not. Stiff and tired and in dire need of a bath, she wanted nothing more than to never see the inside of another carriage.

“Of course,” she said instead.

The coach was beautifully appointed — one of the finest she had ever traveled in. Plush velveteen seats and a rich lacquered interior, it was obvious that Mulder had spared no expense.

She moved from her bench to sit next to him, peering out the window herself, jostling into him  as the wheels of the coach hit a rut in the road.

In the carriage behind them rode Prudence and Mr. Valadeo along with their luggage. Two of their grooms, Peter and Terrence, rode behind with their personal horses (Mulder’s stallion Hercule, whom he entrusted to no one but Terrence, and her wedding gift, a beautiful silver mare named Queen). Their newest footman Alexander sat up with the driver as added security against brigands. What a sight we must make, she thought.

As a child and the daughter of a marquess, she had traveled with an even bigger entourage between London and their country estate, but as the years passed and their fortune dwindled, she had grown accustomed to traveling with less and less, eventually journeying by the mail coach when she went to Town at all.

“I think you will like Miss Modeski, John’s fiancée,” he said. “She is almost as well-read as yourself.”

She smiled at him, and he leaned in to kiss her, chaste at first, but lingering, as though he had other plans. She pulled back when the coach turned onto a gravel-lined lane.

“For a man who claims that his reputation is unearned, you kiss like an unrepentant rake, sir,” she said.

He grinned at her.

“You grin like one, too.”

“And what experience do you have of rakes, Lady Dana?” he asked, strumming his thumb along her cheek.

“It’s rumored that I married one.”

“Your wit is as sharp as your teeth,” he said complimentary.

“You would know,” she said cheekily, and he ran his hand once over his left pectoral, where Scully had placed a love bite only that morning.

He shook his head at her, a little in awe, and then glanced once again out the window. “We’re here,” he said.

She dipped her head to look out the window once more. The granite facade of the manse was almost silver in the grey, overcast light of the late afternoon. It must have had nearly a dozen large windows just on this side of the estate alone.

“I thought you said Sir Byers had a small estate,” she said.

Mulder shrugged.

“Your father is a marquess,” he said, simply “I would imagine his entitled estates are vast.”

They were, though they had fallen into disrepair when the funds to keep them dwindled. Perhaps now they could be restored to their previous grandeur.

“Nevertheless, I’m not a little intimidated to be the mistress of Henwick Priory if you consider this to be a small estate.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“I have no doubt you will excel at it, and that it will be the very least of your talents.”

The carriage pulled to a halt in front of the large french doors and she heard the footman Alexander jump down onto the shell drive. A moment later the carriage door opened and he extended his white gloved hand to help her out.

An average-sized gentleman with an average face came walking out the door of the estate, a pretty blond woman following him only a step or two behind. The man had kind eyes, brown hair and a short cinnamon colored beard.

“Byers!” said Mulder from beside her, and the two men clapped one another on the back.

“So good to see you! Suzanne, you do remember Lord William Reynard Mulder, the Ninth Earl of Wexford?” the man said, turning from his friend and smiling.

Mulder cut him a look while Suzanne dropped into a low curtsy. “Of course I do. Lord Wexford, it is so good to see you again.”

“One last bit of formality before we drop all pretense of it, I hope?” Mulder said, his eyebrows up. Sir Byers and Mulder both turned to Scully.

“May I present my bride, Lady Dana, the Countess of Wexford,” he said, and Sir Byers bowed at her.

“Enchanted, my lady,” he said, then paused for a moment before turning to the woman who had been standing next to him.

“And may I present Miss Suzanne Modeski, my betrothed,” Sir Byers said, and the lady next to him once again lowered herself into a dignified curtsy. When she stood up straight, she smiled at Scully and threaded her hand through Scully’s arm, leading her up the steps and into a modest foyer.

“I was thrilled when I learned Lord Wexford would be bringing a wife with him on holiday,” she said sweetly into Scully’s ear. “My betrothed is a wonderful man, but his associates are all men, and while I’ve been looking forward to hosting this sporting holiday, I daresay I was near to dreading the lack of female company.”

Scully smiled at her as the gentlemen came up behind them and closed the door on the bustle of servants outside unloading the carriages.

“John’s housekeeper won’t forgive me for the impropriety, but I do hope you’ll let me personally see you to your chambers. They’re the best in the estate,” Miss Modeski said proudly.

Scully demurred and Miss Modeski led her, arm-in-arm, up a grand staircase toward the rear of the manse. Mulder and Sir Byers followed behind, murmuring to each other all the while.

Miss Modeski stopped in front of a large oak door at the end of the hall and waited for Mulder and Sir Byers to draw even with them before she opened the door and swept into the room, letting the rest follow her.

The room wasn’t overly large, but was beautifully appointed, with two large windows that looked out over the garden and hills spreading off into the distance in the back of the estate.

“What an absolutely stunning view,” Scully said, turning to smile sweetly at Sir Byers who had moved to Miss Modeski’s side and was standing quite proudly.

“Capital,” Mulder said, “Just capital. It will be a fortnight to remember.”

Sir Byers and Suzanne turned and left them to give them some time to freshen up and rest from the journey. They found themselves alone in quiet peace for the first time in hours. Mulder stepped up to Scully and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, and then leaned in to give her a sweet kiss on the forehead.

“Felicitations on the start of your honeymoon, Lady Wexford,” he said quietly.

Scully smiled into his touch.

“And yours, Lord Wexford.”

“Whatever will we do to fill the time?” he asked.

“Oh,” Scully said, “we’ll think of something.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Later, when they had come downstairs to join the rest of the party in the drawing room, Mulder was surprised and pleased to find that Sir Byers had invited his business associates to join the holiday as well. The men, both bachelors, he had met on several occasions before, and while he found them a bit odd, had liked them immensely. One of them, Mr. Frohike, was currently holding court with Scully, and seemed to be as smitten with his new wife as Mulder was himself.

“It’s a small publishing firm,” Frohike said, staring at Scully intently.

Mr. Langly, the third of the triumvirate, was leaning against the fireplace mantle, looking  bored.

“Oh, how interesting,” Scully said politely. Mulder wondered how long she’d give the little man, who wore a garish pinstriped suit with a bold blue ascot.

“Indeed,” Frohike went on.

"And what do you publish?" Scully asked him.

At this Frohike exchanged a look with his other two associates -- a look that Suzanne caught -- she let out a peal of laughter. "What don't they publish?!" she laughed. At this, she leaned into Byers side and hugged him affectionately. He smiled back at her.

"Investigative journalism," Langly said from the mantle.

"Now there's a term that'll never catch on," muttered a gentleman who was taking a turn about the room with his female companion.

Mulder sought out his wife's gaze and found himself falling into their blue depths. Poor Mr. Frohike, Mulder thought, he never stood a chance.

“I find it refreshing hearing many different viewpoints,” Mulder said, if only to be a contrarian to the turning gentleman.

“Hear, hear,” from Suzanne.

“I am not used to hearing such things from a peer of the realm, Lord Wexford,” said Langly.

“Perhaps the love of a good woman has changed me.”

Scully watched him, intent.

“Were you so heartless before marriage, Lord Wexford?” asked Suzanne.

“Nay, but I am heartless, now,” he said. “You see, my heart walks outside my body, just there,” he gestured to Scully. “It flits about with ginger hair and Cupid's Bow lips and it spouts scientific facts as though it were an encyclopædia.”

One of the women flapped out her fan and began using it.

Scully caught his eye and her tongue darted out to wet her aforementioned lips.

“It must be inconvenient, going about your day with your heart engaged in other ventures,” said another seated gentleman — a Mr. Green, if Mulder’s memory served.

“Ah,” said Mulder, “but you see, it always returns to me at night.”

Mulder smiled at the shocked intake of breath from Mr. Green’s wife, and walked to the sideboard to pour himself a brandy. He could feel Scully’s eyes on him all the while.

XxX

A few days pass ed, filled with hunts and picnics and lazy strolls around the ornamental lake, Mulder and Scully frequently breaking off to murmur sweet nothings out of earshot of the rest of the party. There was breakfast in the library, rumours of a minor spat between the blended retinue below stairs, and a handsy rendezvous between the new Lord and Lady Wexford in the mock gothic folly at the far end of the grounds. The bed was spacious and soft, and the honeymooning couple made excellent and copious use of their time together. Scully sent postcards home complimenting the food and the company, and Mulder was delighted for his friends to get to know his new bride. The game was plentiful and the weather was fine. It was an enchanting time.

Mulder should have known… that was usually the part of the fairytale when the hero had to earn his happy ending.

[mldrgrl]

Lately I've been all about reconciliation. For some reason, I want all the Mulder-and-Bill-Scully-finding-some-peace fic I can get. I'd love to see your take on this, maybe in the IWTB era? Or even revival era.

One Sorry Sonofabitch

By: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: See above - but be advised Mulder and Scully aren’t in this story a whole lot.  Please send all complaints to @perplexistan and I’ll be filing a lawsuit shortly for pain and suffering for having to turn Bill Scully into a sympathetic character. (Set post-IWtB)

He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year.  He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event.  And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years.  He can’t even remember the last time he saw her.  He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born.  Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.

Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays.  It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend.  He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.

He loves his sister.  He truly does.  He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made.  Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him.  He would never.  He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas.  And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.

Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up.  One that implores him to please behave.  His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is.  He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her.  It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.

“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.

His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.  

“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.

“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.

Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her.  Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.

“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.

“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder.  He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy.  “As you can see.  Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!?  And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”

Matthew’s cheeks darken.  He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat.  Both his boys are soft, like their mother.  He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them.  A regular mother lion.  He doesn’t get it.  When he was a kid, he idolized his father.  Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best.  He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it.  His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.

“Maureen is napping,” Tara says.  “You’ll meet her later.”

His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story.  She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa.  She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father.  She sasses.  She rolls her eyes already.  She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants.  She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers.  Tara calls her their little threenager.

“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says.  “Why don’t we head to the family room.”

“We brought pies,” Dana says.

“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says.  He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him.  They seem to hold some silent conversation.  To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house.  He doesn’t know why she’s here.

They gather in the family room and make small talk.  Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations.  Dana nods and smiles through most of it.  Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.

A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap.  Tara is on her feet in an instant.

“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says.  “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”

“I’ll help you,” Bill says.  Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.

Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in.  She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.

“How’s my girl,” Tara coos.  “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”

“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.

“Oh, Bill.”  Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her.  “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”

“It still is.  You know that.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart.  Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”

“I’ve been cordial.  Hell, I shook his hand.”

“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says.  She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail.  “No hair up, Mama.”

“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”

“No.”

“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.

“Okay, hair up.”

“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know.  Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother.  Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”

“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.

Tara gives Bill a weary look.  “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”

Maureen laughs and bounces.  “Daddy in trouble.  Daddy in trouble.”

“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty.  And so are you.  Get down.”  Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed.  “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure.  Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”

“No.  Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”

“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?”  She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door.  “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason.  You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was.  Think about that.”

“Hmph.”

Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention.  His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.

“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.

The women laugh.

“Where are the boys?” Bill asks.  “And Mr. Mulder?”

“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.

Basketball.  They should be playing a real sport like football.  The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears.  Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.

Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window.  There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling.  They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.

“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy.  “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.”  He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own.  “That’s it.  Let’s try it again.”

Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.

“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells.  “Nothing but net.”

Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder.  He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.

“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks.  Bill cringes.

“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”

“Did you like being part of a team?”  Matthew asks.

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.”  This is news to Bill and he’s surprised.  Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.

“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school.  You should ask her for some tips.”

“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says.  “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”

“Glorified,” Matthew corrects.  “Not glory fried.”

“Glorified, whatever that means.  He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”

Bill grits his teeth.  He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it.  He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.

“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says.  “She’s a great doctor.  But, you know what?  Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”

“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.

“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”

“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says.  “But, now I think it’s boring.”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“My favorite is SimCity.  Have you ever played that?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.  

“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes.  “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”

“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says.  “But I’ll give it a shot.”

“Cool!” Both boys yell.

Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch.  Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.

“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says.  “It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.

“Yes, Sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm.  “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”

“You can keep playing,” Bill says.  “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen.  Come on, Mikey.”

Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder.  “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.

Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside.  Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket.  He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.

“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.

“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.

“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games.  Think they can keep it up?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”

“Were you on the team?”

“No.  We won all four years I was there though.  Tied one year, actually.”

“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”

Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully.  It makes no goddamn sense.  “1957,” he answers.  “14-0, Navy.”

Mr. Mulder nods.  The conversation stalls.  Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens.  Bill turns and sees his sister in the window.  She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.

“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says.  “Everything alright?”

“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says.  Dana stands close to him.  He puts a hand on her back.

“It’s good to see you, Dana.”

“You too, Bill.”

The three of them stand in awkward silence.  A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet.  Bill shoves his hands in his pockets.  Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.

“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers.  He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably.  He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.

“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says.  Straight to the point.  His sister has never been subtle.

“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here.  You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table.  I have to say I agree with her.”

Dana stares at him with a cool gaze.  “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”

“All her children?”

“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”

“I’m not fighting.  I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably.  “That’s between them.  Charles is…”

“Charlie is married.  His husband’s name is-”

“Patrick.  I know.  I do speak with him on occasion.”

Dana gives a brief nod.  “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps.  Be just like Dad.  Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids.  Everything in ship-shape order.  They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”

“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”

Dana snorts.  “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill.  He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”

“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”

“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”

“Exactly.  Where was he?  Not with his family.  You can be sure I would-”

“You would, what?  Step away from the Navy?  Reject a deployment order?  What would you do, Bill?”

“It’s my job,” he says, curtly.  “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected.  Tara understood that when she married me.  The kids understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom?  Dad’s namesake, Dana.  My namesake.  How could you?”

“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses.  “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder.  Named after Mulder’s father.  Not you, and not Dad.  And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice.  None at all.”

“Then why did you do it?  If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”

Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth.  She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum.  He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.

“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks.  “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old?  Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him?  Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him?  Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son?  Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever?  Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”

Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy.  He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult.  She’s like fire.  Hot and terrifying.

“No,” he says.  “How could I?  Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous.  “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”

“Do you even have any friend, Dana?  Aside from Mr. Mulder?”

“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”

“Including your family?”

“Mulder is my family.  A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”

“That man has poisoned you against your family.”

“That man is the reason I’m here today.  You’re right.  It is me that doesn’t want to be here.”  She turns and walks away.

“Dana.”

She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone.  He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different.  He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.  

When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation.  Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her.  She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.

Bill turns away and heads back to the family room.  The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction.  Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation.  He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed.  Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she says.  “Mulder is going to take me home.”

Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.  

“What is it?” his mother asks.  “Do you need to lie down?  You can use the spare room.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner.  I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”

“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.  Can’t you just…”

“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says.  “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”

His mother wrings her hands together.  He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either.  The hugs goodbye are awkward.  The kids are confused.  

“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.

“Some other time,” Tara tells him.  “Go wash up for dinner.”

Dinner is somber.  His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears.  Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose.  Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.

Bill shrugs.  “Mom, stop.  Tara and I will take care of the dishes.  Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”

The boys looked relieved.  Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room.  After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.

“Bill…”

Bill raises his hands in surrender.  “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits.  “It didn’t go well.”

“Is that why she left?”

“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”

“This really meant a lot to Mom.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.”  Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen.  It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her.  She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.

“I don’t want to accept it, Tara.  I can’t.  She’s my sister.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls.  “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two.  I’m...going to go out there.”

“You should take the boys with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”

That hurts because it’s probably true.  He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter.  He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room.  The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.

“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”

They look at each other and then look at their father.  “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.

“No, son.  We’re just going to take a drive.”

He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do.  Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”

“Really?” Michael asks.

It’s an hour-long drive.  Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long.  They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.

“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”

“She was?”

“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year.  They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old.  And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.”  Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.  He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby.  He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.

“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.

“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”

“Oh.”

“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”

“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers.  “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”

“I see.”  

“I want to hear it,” Michael says.  “I want to know the story.”

“Me too,” Matthew adds.

“She learned to shoot pretty young.  My Dad had taught us.  She was the best out of all of us, even Dad.  She just never missed.  Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them.  They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew.  Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target.  She whipped those boys good.  Six older boys against one little girl.”

“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.

Bill thinks back on that day.  He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger.  He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys.  Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win.  She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause.  He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.

“Respect,” Bill says.  “She won a lot of respect.”

“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says.  He and Michael chuckle together.

“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa.  Dana was a real tomboy.  She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”

“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.

“How come what?”

“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago.  But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now?  Or Uncle Charles?”

“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.

“Who told you that?” Bill asks.

“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”

“She said that?”

“Mmhm.  She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”

Bill is quiet.  He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church.  Good for her, he thinks.  Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family.  He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.

“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says.  “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”

“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”

“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says.  “So you can relax when you’re home.”

Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror.  “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me.  Not ever, alright?  You can come to me with anything.  You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say.

“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome.  That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”

“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.

“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”

“Cool,” Matthew says.  “Three new uncles and an aunt.”

The roads start to become more rural and desolate.  It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars.  Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.

“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.

“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks.  “It looks like a farm.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun.  He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting.  Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light.  When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate.  Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.

“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard.  “What’re you doing out here?  Everything alright?”

“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.

“Uh.  Okay.  Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.”  Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate.  “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.  Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”

Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight.  He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.

“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand.  “Do you have cows?”

“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers.  “I think there might have been horses here at one time.  There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”

Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out.  Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.

“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says.  He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him.  Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael.  Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.

The interior surprises Bill.  It’s cozy, almost cabin-like.  There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner.  They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going.  His sister is wearing slippers.  

Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill.  “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.

“I will.”  There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister.  “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”

She hesitates and glances at the boys.

“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers.  “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.

Bill nods.  Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment.  The boys cheer.  Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.

“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says.  “I just want you to know that up front.”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“Because I don’t like the way we left things.  I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt.  Or supporting you when you needed it.”

Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined.  Her eyes water a bit.  She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet.  “Thank you,” she says.  “That means a lot.”

“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”

She snorts softly.  “You were so mad at me.”

“No, I was proud of you.  I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have.  Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”

“Maybe.”

“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.”  He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little.  “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us.  They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”

“You probably will.”

“I think you might too.”

Dana raises her brow.  Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.  

“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says.  “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment.  “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long.  I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people.  Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”

“You were like that as a kid.  Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”

“And a quick temper.”

“Yeah, that too.”  Bill chuckles.  Dana smiles slightly.

“I’m sorry I left like that.  I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”

“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow?  The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”

“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks.  She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.

Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest.  She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little.  “I can’t imagine, Dana.  What you must feel.”

“Some days are harder than others.”

“Does he help you through it?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes.  Bill stops her before they go back inside.

“One more thing,” he says.  “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything.  Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no.  That’s her son.  I would never.  The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”

“I know.”

“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem.  I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas.  I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”

“It’s just Mulder.”

“You guys are so weird about your names.”

“That’s how we like it.”

Bill puts his hands up in surrender.  Dana opens the door and he follows.  The boys are laughing at something.  Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms.  He rubs her back and nods at Bill.

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.

“Sure.”

“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.

“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends.  “We only caught half of him.  The tail end, unfortunately.”

“Gross!” the boys cry.

“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.

Mulder shrugs.  Bill sighs.

The End

[emmapills]

Comfort and Warmth

Mulder finds comfort in Scully’s breasts.

Based off of this tweet

Thank you SO much to @msrafterdark for letting me use this wonderful photo for this fic! Her art is amazing and you should check it out!

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Thank you so much to @gaycrouton for being able to beta on such short notice! You are amazing!!!

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tagging @today-in-fic

There were many things for which Fox Mulder had given up hope. Ever since Samantha was taken, his world became hard and cold. The unconditional love he’d heard all parents were supposed to possess had morphed into resentment within his own, and so he hopped on a plane to England and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in psychology. If he was being honest with himself, he chose the field because of his want… no, need for the truth.

He was able to use his degree and become a highly sought after profiler for the FBI. However, what he really wanted was answers. Who took Sam? And why? Who would do these things? Were there more? What was their motivation? When he stumbled across the X-Files, it felt like Christmas day and winning the lottery combined. Finally, finally, he could start his search.

What he didn’t expect was to fall in love with the very agent who barely two years after his official beginning of searching for the truth was sent to be a spy, an enemy (or so he thought). To his surprise, she never looked down on his theories, even if she thought he was losing his marbles. Of course, they had misunderstandings, but they treated each other with respect and professionalism. Unfortunately for her, what started as just an assignment to debunk his work turned personal, and she would have just as much at stake as he did. Her pent-up frustrations with all that had been done to her by government men soon manifested until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her tryst with Jerse left Mulder with a sense of jealousy, but also a sense of bewilderment. He couldn’t believe it. Not only was he falling in love with her, she chose not to take her anger out on him when she had every right to. While he wished she hadn’t used sex as her outlet, he couldn’t blame her. After everything, she never did anything to lessen her devotion to their work.

Dana Katherine Scully stole his heart, but she never once stole his trust.

“Mulder?”

His thoughts were interrupted by movement and he felt Scully’s silky smooth hair under his chin.

“Hey, Scully.”

“I can feel you thinking.” Nothing ever got past her.

“Nothing… everything,” he answered.

“Hmm, I think you need to go to sleep,” she said as she moved her head to kiss just under his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Well, we already tried one option,” he stated with a grin.

She gently swatted at his chest and giggled.

They had been taking turns spending the night at the other’s apartment, and most nights at his place turned into passionate nights of lovemaking. Mulder very rarely received visitors, and the chance for interruption was slim to none. While she had argued the same, he had brought up the one and only time her mother had entered her apartment unannounced and walked into her bedroom right as Scully tilted her head back in ecstasy, using her hands to balance herself as she orgasmed with Mulder right on her heel.

Maggie Scully never entered without knocking again.

“I don’t think I have it in me for another round,” she stated. “Although, I do have another idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, lately, I noticed your admiration of my breasts,” she paused and smiled, “and how you like to hold them.”

“Oh, um,” he scratched his head self-consciously.

“Hey,” she ran a hand through his hair, “don’t be ashamed. I get it,” she chuckled.

“It’s just…they feel comforting?” Real smooth, Mulder.

“I know,” Scully chuckled. “I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

“Mm hmm.” To prove her point, she shifted and rested her back against Mulder’s chest. She took his hand and brought it under her pajama shirt to cup her breast.

Mulder sighed and rested his cheek against Scully's, letting the movement of her breathing, the beating of her heart, and the comfort of her body lull him to sleep.

X

What started as a one-time thing became his only way to sleep peacefully. Sometimes it was over clothing, sometimes he got to hold the soft, creamy skin directly. Either way, he was grateful. Scully was an angel, always letting him hold her in whatever way he pleased, which was usually like that first night, holding her breasts from behind. When Mulder went missing, she mentioned how different it felt without the feeling of his large hands comforting her as she held their baby, whispering sweet nothings about their daddy. Their first night together after he came back from the dead, he cradled their child inside her with one hand and held a breast with the other - the two most important people in the world resting in his embrace. While he went away for their safety, his nights were fitful, longing for her touch and she his. When they were reunited and on the run, he cried with her when he felt the release of her milk through her nursing bra, her having adopted out their son less than a week before. She had told him it may take several days until she dried up and so until then, he held them to relieve some of the pressure. Apologies were made as well as love, Mulder telling her over and over how strong she was and her doubting every word.

At the Unremarkable House, the had settled into a sense of normalcy as she was able to let go of her fugitive status and become a doctor for children. As always, he held her breasts as they slept, sometimes with her hands atop his. When the FBI asked for his help, he was eager to jump back in and help, but soon they drifted. He still held her.

While they were apart, his nights were very much like the first time, although this time was his fault. Scully had mentioned how he had started to hold her rougher than she liked, and while he tried, he couldn’t help but feel angry over the events of the year the world was supposed to end. She, rightfully so, couldn’t take anymore, and she packed her bags two years later with a promise of her love for him.

Their first intimate night together after four years apart was a new awakening. Mulder realized how much of his life was wasted without her and never wanted to give it up again. However, he wanted to respect her boundaries, so he didn’t hold her breasts in comfort like he had done so many times before, and consequently couldn’t sleep.

When Scully announced her geriatric pregnancy after thinking William was gone, there were feelings of confusion, elatement, love, and sorrow. That night was spent at the Unremarkable House and while Mulder held her, she had a vision. William was alive. They professed their love for each other and their children. During her pregnancy with their second miracle child, Scully had moved back into their home. One night while she couldn’t sleep, she moved his hands on her breast, telling him it was okay. They were okay.

After Lily was born, Mulder expressed mild annoyance at not being able to be comforted by her breasts like he was recently reaccustomed to due to the fact Lily was breastfeeding. Scully smiled and said, “just a little while longer.”

After Scully nursed their child for the last time, they cried like they did almost everything: together. For the life they could’ve had, the life they did have, and the hope that one day their beloved son would feel safe enough to find them and meet his sister, able to feel the comfort and warmth of his biological parents who still loved him and never forgot about him.

He placed a hand on her left breast, feeling the dum dum, dum dum of her heartbeat. Physical, ever-present proof of her love for him and that she was alive. She was alive and they were together. For good this time.

Mulder held her breasts and she welcomed it, never wanting him to let go.