#its just that i love scully and i love the way she cares about mulder 🥺

[lesbianjamies]

Before, I could only trust myself. Now, I can only trust you.

[sunflowernyx]

I keep having thoughts about Scully's immortality, because it's always sort of brought up as an afterthought. It's just an observation from Bruckman here, or Mulder mentioning the doctors were astonished at her recovery rate, or Scully herself joking about it in s10, but... 2's a coincidence and 3's a pattern, and Carter is well.. Carter so....

What if Scully's immortality plays in with Mulder's reincarnation?

Mulder is cursed to reincarnate until he gets it right, and Scully is now able to be there until he does.

But more than that...

Mulder suggests that "death finds you when you look for its opposite".

And I don't think that is about life. Because the character that was cursed with immortality was cursed because he turned his face away from the sufferings of others, from a person who cared for him when he was in pain. He rejected her pain and her death, callously, heartlessly, and so death cursed him.

And the moment he wanted to save someone, Scully; the moment he cared enough to not wish death upon them, and looked straight at her as she was shot, wished for her to have his gift, not so he could die, but so she would survive, death transferred the curse to Scully.

Even in mythology (and I think we can assume that Carter knows his mythology by now), the opposite of death isn't life. It's love.

The opposite to Thanatos is Eros

So if Mulder has to get it right to lose his reincarnation curse, and Scully has to look for [love] to die, then their solution would be each other. What they would've been searching for always would've been each other. The truth would be their love for each other.

So maybe together they'd be able to clasp hands and cross that final boundary of reason, and I think that is beautiful in a way that is also deeply tragic.

[cecilysass]

Milagro Fic Recommendations

These are good for any time of year, of course, not just February 14. But here are my favorite fics related to the season 6 episode Milagro, a long time favorite. (And @sisterspooky1013's favorite episode of all time: happy VD, girl!) I’ve been reading and sifting through these for some time, and I have tried to include some from all eras: newer AO3 fics, some written right after the ep aired, etc. But I'm sure I've missed some, so hit me with your own faves, please.

Because of Milagro's ending, this entire genre of fic tends to be heavy on the hurt/comfort and angst (which is fiiiiine by me), but that’s not all that’s here. Many of these are smutty, but not all.

Adagio - Terma99 A meditative, peaceful take on the aftermath of Milagro by a veteran author that includes both agents realizing something they had learned. Lovely.

Alma - 6hoursgirl (@sixhours) A lovely hurt/comfort Milagro piece. This one is Mulder POV, which is a little less common for post-Milagro, I think, and I like this characterization of Mulder as desperately wanting to help Scully, desperately wanting to protect her, but also a tiny bit scared of the intimacy and relationship he feels they’re on the cusp of. He’s so good-hearted and also a little dysfunctional here, and I love it.

Bated Breath - dreamingofscully (@dreamingofscully) This one has an original take on Scully's experience; it leaves Scully with clarity and new direction in her relationship with Mulder. DreamingofScully tends to write a more confident, in-charge Scully in the MSR than some do, and I appreciate it.

Beyond the Strokes of a Typewriter - storybycorey (@storybycorey) When Scully is stricken and ashamed that it’s been so long since anyone has seen her as a woman as Padgett did, Mulder is pushed to revelations. Mulder 3rd person POV. Very good smut build up. And nobody does a gorgeous feelings reveal from Mulder like storeybycorey, man.

I Believe - Diana Battis There are a lot of lovely, heartfelt hurt/comfort fics about the aftermath of Milagro (for obvious reasons), but this one is especially well done. Viewed from Scully’s third person point of view, it focuses on Mulder’s capacity for tenderness and guilt. Plus some smut.

Don’t Look Up - ArtemisX5 After Padgett's hallway revelation, Scully is horrified that she has no secrets left. But you know, Mulder is much slower on the draw than she gives him credit for. There is also such moving hurt/comfort in this.

Intimacies with Strangers -mldrgrl (@mldrgrl) This mid- and post- Milagro piece has Mulder and Scully simmering in tension and then boiling over. Their relationship is complex and painfully entangled, and I love how it plays out. There is also excellent Scully characterization. This one helps me to get more fully why she might have been drawn to Padgett initially, something I struggle with in the episode.

La Madrugada - h0ldthiscat A carefully told tale of RST that takes both characters seriously and is sincerely moving. Excellent.

Lacuna - Aloysia_Virgata (@aloysiavirgata) This is a longer work, not really a classic post ep per se. But I love this moody, angsty casefile set right after Milagro. This Scully has not come to terms with her emotions, is thoroughly freaked by how she reacted to Padgett, and hasn't even entirely worked out how she feels about Mulder. There is Scully/other here, but the ship is steering home. The end of this is so moving, but cw: dark themes in the casefile, extreme violence against children, traumatized agents.

Still Life - Seek_Its_Opposite (@seek-its-opposite) Ah, this is such a thoughtful and exquisitely written Scully character piece — and it contains some truly beautiful insights about Mulder, too. It suggests the heartbreaking idea that Mulder’s way of showing Scully respect (giving her distance) is continually hurting her. So tragic (and consistent with canon, e.g. Never Again.) One memorable line: “Every one of their fights is about how to care for one another, every last one.”

Alma Gemela - matchingfabric (@matchingfabric) After the events of Milagro, Scully (and Mulder) get accustomed to platonically sharing a bed for comfort. This is a slightly different take on post-Milagro. Exceptionally, irresistibly sweet. Oh, and smutty.

What did I miss? Tell me. And yes, I'm working on my own short Milagro fic that will be coming soon-ish.

[xf-cases-solved]

i wrote a fic inspired by this post i made, about how william should have been a girl named samantha and how i will die on that hill with honor. see below, or click this link to be directed to my ao3, if you so desire

Title: the bitter and the sweet

Rating: Gen

Word Count: ~2400

Back on the vineyard, before Samantha had been taken and the four of them had approximated something approaching a family unit, Mulder's mother would make homemade bread on Sunday afternoons.

The process had always fascinated him—the way she could parse out units of flour, sugar, water, and yeast and combine them together into something that, only hours later, would have the whole house smelling of an artisanal bakery, the atmosphere somehow made warm and inviting by the wafting scent of baking bread. When he was really little—when the biggest unexplained phenomenon to him was the Tooth Fairy—baking seemed like magic to him, and his mother was its wielder. 

How else, he'd figured, could she be able to take all those separate ingredients—banal and basic on their own—and turn them into something incredible?

Tonight, Mulder's feeling a little like how he did when his mother would make bread, only on a much, much grander scale. 

He's finding himself believing in magic, and this time, Scully is its wielder. It's no great surprise to him that she's powerful—he's known that from the start—but it wasn't until he'd found her drenched in sweat, tear tracks down her cheeks, blood staining the insides of her thighs, and a tiny child cradled protectively against her heaving chest that he'd learned that she was a magician, too. 

Out of two ingredients, Dana Scully has made a person.

Mulder has seen things in his lifetime that go far beyond the laws of nature. He's seen ghosts and ghouls; monsters, both bestial and human alike; he's seen proof of life outside this planet time and time again; he has died, his body buried six feet beneath the ground for months, and he's come back to life.

And yet, somehow none of that compares to witnessing the miracle of the most basic, fundamental tenet of existence: Reproduction. Something so innate—the instinctive need to replicate oneself so that one's lineage may live on in perpetuity. Hundreds of thousands of human babies are born a day; if he had known, like really known, how remarkable that is, maybe he would have decided that anything beyond it was simply above his pay grade and given up trying to understand the Universe long ago.

He hears the front door click shut as the Gunmen show themselves out, and yet he doesn't move just yet. He has to take a breath first—has to give himself a moment to shake his head in awe. On the other side of this doorway is his brand new life, and it's daunting to know you're about to walk into a fresh existence.

But no amount of anxiety can outmatch his need to see her. To see them. 

He'd had such little time with them before, and there had been so much chaos going on around them that he hadn't been able to appreciate what he did get, and he's trying not to feel resentful about it. The baby's healthy, Scully's healthy, and in the end, that's what matters most, but still, he can't help but feel robbed on Scully's behalf. On his own behalf, too, if he's being honest. 

After everything she has gone through—after the multitudes of hellfires she's walked through since the day she first stepped into his office—Scully deserved a beautiful pregnancy, with an equally beautiful birth. After everything he's gone through—after every chance he's lost to show the breadth of his love to the people who own his heart—he deserved to care for her, from week one to week forty, and to be by her side as she performed magic in a clean delivery room, with freshly laundered receiving blankets on hand, and the reassurance of trained professionals nearby should something go wrong. Something so precious should have never been shrouded in so much trauma.

It should have been different. They had earned different. 

But he's not going to dwell on it, at least not right now. Maybe in a quiet moment, when his family (his family!) is asleep and peaceful, he'll grant himself the space to feel the bitter in this sweet. 

But that's for later. 

Right now, he has to go to them; he can feel their thrall like the arrow of a compass being pulled north by the Earth's magnetic core, and this hallway suddenly feels a lightyear away from where he's meant to be, the space between them and himself a wormhole, where on his end there's the life he's led until now, and on the other side lies a brand new world he can't even begin to fathom the extent of just yet.

So he walks through the doorway, bending time, stepping out of one reality and into the next. He doesn't mourn what he's left behind—everything that matters now exists inside this room.

"How's everybody doing?" he asks, and if she can hear the thread of anxiety rumbling through his words like a shockwave beneath a tectonic plate, she doesn't mention it—merely smiles widely at him, the corners of her tired eyes crinkling. She's already so tiny, but the giant swaddling of blankets and baby in her arms covers half her torso, making her look even smaller. 

Small, but so incredibly, incredibly strong.

"We're doin' just fine," she says, standing up from the edge of the bed, a hand gently patting the baby's back through the cushion of blankets. As she approaches, he knows his face must look ridiculous—his head shaking in disbelief, his mouth slightly ajar, even as his lips are turned up into a smile, and eyes laser focused on them as though if he so much as blinks they'll disappear—but he can't help it. He's witnessing magic; of course he's awed. 

The baby snuffles grumpily at being jostled, as Scully moves the whole bundle into his expectant arms.

"Hey now," he mutters to the child. "None of that."

He gets the baby's head settled into the crook of his elbow, and the amount of protectiveness that swells within him is so sudden and intense that it almost takes his breath away. 

Words fail him; there isn't a language, on this planet or the next, that could ever properly convey the weight of his thoughts, so he just smiles at Scully and breaths a shaky, "Hi," before turning back to the baby, his body rocking to-and-fro gently on its own accord, and that's something, isn't it? That he instinctively knows how to soothe.

He surveys the baby's face with the focus one would use to parse out a magic-eye poster. He's searching for familiar features, and memorizing all the shapes and slopes and colors that have come together to create the breathtaking picture before him. A long time ago, he remembers calling his eidetic memory a curse, and at the time it had felt true, because in his line of work he saw so many horrible, wretched things, and it would have been a mercy to be able to forget them.

He doesn't consider it a curse now. He thinks that, maybe, he was actually bestowed a blessing, and he just hadn't realized it because it had always been meant for this exact moment in time.

This is... this is a lot. 

A lot, a lot, a lot.

Mulder has always known that he has a tendency to love at a magnitude so severe it is almost to his detriment; he knows that his heart has always been his biggest strength and biggest weakness in equal measure. Once, not long after a bullet had cracked his skull, he had found his way to Antarctica, armed with a vial of antidote, an unreliable compass, and a decent coat, and through the force of his love, he had brought Scully home with a clean bill of health, say for a bit of freezer burn on her cheeks. His love is so mighty, it is almost a type of magic in itself.

But he has never felt love like this before.

He's not even sure if it is love, the feeling so foreign and all-consuming.

He wants to cry with the might of it—feels so full of emotion that he could stand in the center of a field and scream it at the sky until his voice goes hoarse, and even then the precarious glass of his heart would still be dangerously close to overflowing. For all the things he's believed in his life, the hardest thing for him to wrap his head around is the idea that he is capable of loving this big.

"What are you going to call her?" he finds the words to ask. 

Her.

Somehow, the simple use of a pronoun tilts the world on its axis. He thinks it has to do with abstractions. Since he returned from the dead, they've only spoken about her in the abstract. "The baby." "This child." A nameless, faceless, sexless concept that they knew would come into existence one day, but they couldn't quite understand what that existence would mean. 

But she exists now, and she's a she. 

Boy, girl, both, neither—he'd had no preferences nor expectations, but the concreteness of the identifier has his pulse thudding wildly. Scully—the magician and, until very, very recently, the greatest love of his life—has done the impossible and created a person and that person is his... well, they haven't discussed that yet, have they? What he's entitled to referring to her as.

But then she says, "With your blessing"—she's quiet and shy about this, but still meets his eyes with her usual amount of confidence—"I wanted to name her Samantha." 

In some magazine a million years ago, Mulder had read about the art of human suspension. It originates as a spiritual practice that is thousands of years old, wherein people suspend themselves in the air by hooks embedded beneath their skin, and at the time he had been, of course, open and respectful of the concept, but did not particularly see the appeal. While he understood it in theory, without experiencing it, he couldn't quite see how one could endure such intense pain and be grateful for it. To feel revived by it. To feel complete. 

There are no hooks in his skin—he's not hanging from any banisters, trying to reach enlightenment—but he definitely has a better grasp on the practice now. In six words, Scully has taught him how to feel honored by pain. 

This is, he thinks, the utter definition of bittersweet, because god, it's so bitter, but god, nothing has ever been so sweet.

His instinct is to make a joke, because that's what he does when he gets overwhelmed. Maybe make a quip about seeing some of Walter Skinner in this little girl's face, is there something she wants to tell him...? But, unfortunately, it seems that his throat is closing up, so no jokes today, he supposes. Nothing to cover the rawness of his emotion as he blinks the tears out of his vision so that he can see his daughter clearly.

Because that's what she is—Scully just said as much. This is his daughter, named after an aunt she'll never get to meet, but whose memory will live on through her. 

"She deserved so much better than the short time she got," Scully is saying, and although he wants to look at her, he can't because that would mean looking away from his daughter, and that's not possible at the moment. "Mulder, every step we've taken that has gotten us to this point has been because of your love for her. Your search, your passion—everything that brought us together—it's because of her. And through you, I've grown to love her, too. She had no choice in making her sacrifice, but I want to acknowledge it anyway. I want... Mulder, I want our daughter to carry a name that symbolizes enduring strength, and unimaginable bravery, and, more than anything else, infallible, everlasting love." Her hand comes to rest on his wrist. "But only with your blessing, Mulder."

Mulder closes his eyes, a teardrop or two escaping and sliding down the bridge of his nose as he leans forward and presses his forehead gently against his daughter's. He breathes in deep, centering himself and righting his world with the scent of baby powder. Scully waits patiently, her thumb tracing small circles around the circumference of his wrist joint. Finally, he straightens himself out and looks at her.

Once again, language leaves him wanting. 

He settles on a whispered, shaky, "Thank you," that cracks his voice. 

He's thanking her for the in memoriam, certainly, but for so much more than that as well. 

Thank you, he means, for your magic that brought her into this world.

Thank you, for granting me entry into your body so that I could help you make this child, as much as I could.

Thank you, for saving my life, again and again and again and again, so that I can be here to experience true bliss for the first time.

Thank you, for stepping into my office the better part of a decade ago and, against all good judgment and reason, staying by my side ever since.

Thank you, for letting me love you.

Thank you, for loving me in return.

Scully gives a half smile and a nod; he has no doubt that she hears everything he doesn't say, because while all other languages are limited, they have long since created their own mode of communication that only the two of them speak.

There are conversations they need to have. The trauma of Samantha's birth is still shrouded in mystery; the fact that she wasn't taken from them has created more questions than it has provided answers, and that needs to be acknowledged. 

They have to talk about what happens next. What are their roles now? To the world. To their daughter. To each other.

That can all be discussed later, though, when language doesn't feel so useless, and his heart does feel so bruised and battered from all the bitter and all the sweet.

He does the only thing he could possibly do in this moment, and that's lean down and press his lips to hers. She kisses back, one hand holding him by the elbow, Samantha bracketed by their bodies, keeping her safe.

Since he was twelve years old, Samantha has been his driving force.

Today, she still is, but in a different form. A different life.

Mulder loves his baby sister.

Mulder loves his baby daughter.

He thinks he might go into the kitchen tomorrow, and bake Scully a loaf of bread.

[thursdayinspace]

Mulder in "Little Green Men" (s2ep1). He's so lonely. What's interesting to me is the contrast to Mulder from the pilot and Mulder here. We got an idea in the pilot of how lonely he must be, but he had been on his own for a while and that was his default. Seeing him at the beginning of s2 is heartbreaking. At the begining of s1 he was so used to being alone. But now . . . Of course the fact that the x files have been closed is getting to him, but it also becomes so obvious how much he has come to rely and depend on having Scully around, on working with someone. With her.

Their meeting in the parking garage -- he feels like he has lost his purpose, even doubts his memories and his experiences, he feels like everything they've been through hasn't been worth it because they've accomplished nothing. We don't know how or if he would have managed to surface from that eventually on his own. Most likely he would have. But it might have taken him a long time. It's Scully who doesn't let him give up: "During your time with the X-Files, you've seen so much." / "Even if George Hale only saw elves in his mind, the telescope still got built. Don't give up. And next time we meet out in the open." (Which becomes a recurring theme over the years, all the way up to the revival. But that would deserve its own post.) (The way she touches his hair before she leaves though. <3)

What kills me in this episode is Mulder recording his tape for Scully in Puerto Rico: "Deep Throat said "Trust no one." And that's hard, Scully, suspecting everyone, everything. It wears you down. You even begin to doubt what you know is the truth. Before, I could only trust myself. Now, I can only trust you, and they've taken you away from me." I mean, compare that to pilot Mulder? Not trusting anyone was what he did. That was Mulder. He may or may not have been showing off a little bit for Scully, but he seemed to have made quite a home for himself in his lone wolf existence (out of necessity). He can't do that anymore. He needs something to hold onto. And he had that in his partnership with Scully.

Also. THEY'VE TAKEN YOU AWAY FROM ME. Can we take a second to appreciate what that means? He knows she would not have chosen to leave. He believes that. He trusts her absolutely. She's become a lifeline for him. Put that together with his quote from the end of the episode: "I may not have the X-Files, Scully, but I still have my work. And I’ve still got you. And I still have myself." The order of those statements seems important: He thought he had lost his purpose in the beginning of this episode. He wasn't even sure whether or not he still believed in it. Now he has motivation again.

And he has Scully. She stuck around, not just because of the work. When he was at his lowest, she arranged secret meetings for them, told him not to give up, even followed him all the way to Puerto Rico. He doesn't believe she'd have chosen to leave if the x files hadn't been closed, but I don't think he was sure she'd stick around forever without a reason. But she's relentless in her loyalty and friendship -- a trait he recognizes because it's one they share. He will never choose to leave her, and is allowing himself to trust that she's still there because she wants to be.

Finally, he's also got himself. Among all the things he'd lost at the beginning of the episode, the biggest loss was himself. But he was mourning everything except that. Those "good riddance @ former me" vibes were strong at the beginning of the episode -- and of course they were a form of grief. But it almost feels like he wanted to punish himself, blame himself for everything that went wrong. (That is also something we keep seeing. The show has amazing continuity with things like that. Things get to him. He takes failure really hard. He's not gentle with himself.) So this is the culmination of the previous two points: he has his purpose back, and he has someone who cares about him, who has his back, someone he loves (and I am going to use that term here even if it's debatable how aware they are of their feelings at this point; there are so many forms of love, and I think it's not up to debate that they love each other in some way, possibly even a way they may not even know about yet).

It's such a strong episode for him, and I love all the ways it mirrors the pilot and contrasts the Mulder from back then with the Mulder a year later. So much has happened, and neither he nor Scully are the same people they were, and that's life. It's so well done.

[deathsbestgirl]

Pls, talk about how M and S where physically attracted to each other from the get Go. Thanks

oh man, i think they really are. but they're so interesting because they don't exactly care? i've said before they don't prioritize sex, or even romantic relationships. it really builds the tension between them (and for us) until it's unbearable. it colors so many of their interactions (and interactions with other people).

like. the pilot. mulder is ready to distrust scully, completely. he tries to be off-putting. he lets her know he believes her to be a spy. scully knows who he is, she's excited for a field assignment, but not exactly thrilled with what they want her to do. she isn't considered an open mind, but personally i think that's patently false. she just relies a lot on facts and science because they make her feel comfortable, safe. but she really thrives when she steps out of her comfort zone, and mulder is the reason she gets to do that.

they gaze at each other from the moment their eyes meet. to me, it's a soul recognition neither was prepared for. it's palpable. gentle & probing at first.

they immediately go head to head with their knowledge & beliefs & theories. and they enjoy it. they just like each other so much. it's the start of a dance they'll do for the rest of their lives. it's a challenge, but it's one they've craved their whole lives & never found until each other.

looks are noticed first, but what really gets them is the other's mind. they're both so attracted to other's mind. they spend their days learning the other. the paths their minds take, what makes the other tick, what makes the other crack a smile. it ends up being their compassion & dedication to the truth, the respect & authenticity, their honor & integrity. their goodness. that gets to them. their shared values, even if their methods are different. it's what moves their connection beyond attraction, turning it into its own presence.

mulder lets scully in when she exposes her vulnerability, a willingness to believe even if she fights it every step of the way.

like. not a single look they share in the pilot is uncaring or indifferent. skeptical, careful sometimes, yes. but they're all intense & heated, focused, underlined with attraction they feel & don't yet understand. attraction they won't explore in the ways they might have in the past.

after the motel room, he starts guiding her out of rooms, putting his hand gently on her back. and the touching only picks up between them. scully is always pulling him back, tethering him, trying to care for him. she never forgets the conversation in his motel room. his surprise, his openness, his pain. how caring & gentle he was, not daring or even considering taking advantage she probably would have willingly given him. (if not for their past experiences with relationships in professional settings lol)

the more they prioritize the work & their partnership, the more they come to trust only each other...they eliminate the possibility of ever being with someone else meaningfully. they don't know it at the beginning, but they make the choice over and over again.

(scully LOVES her job, you guys. she loves what she does with mulder, loves working with him & his brilliant mind, loves the adrenaline & danger, loves the crazy science she gets to see & do, loves speaking for the dead and being in the victims' side. and in a way, it's really all because of him. she followed him for his belief in the truth & his compassion for forgotten people, she stays because she believes in him. and everyday that's a miracle to mulder, though he would never call it that.)

mulder is territorial of scully by the time we get to squeeze, and she wants him to be. she says it then pulls back, believing she's being presumptive. i love that moment because mulder doesn't let her dismiss it. he tells her of course he is and plays with her necklace. he's flirty & intimate and he talks about their work, the only thing he cares about and he's been willingly taking her along, and this time she took him along.

mulder let her into his work in the pilot, the most personal part of his life. every case is a date even if he doesn't say it — barring maybe the ones that are deeply personal or dangerous, but scully is still there every step of the way. she bares witness and she helps him, she desperately tries to tell him what no one else ever has. stop looking for your sister. but he can't and she never really expected him to, all she can do is follow him and help him find his answers...when he's ready.

keeping boundaries only amps up their attraction. mulder is always in her personal bubble. sometimes it flusters scully — fox mulder's attention focused on you is always intense & meaningful, overwhelming & intoxicating. usually she just accepts it and enjoys it. he loves doing it to her. she never rejects him, so he never stops. never. and she really does bask in it. it becomes a habit, their norm.

they show off in their debates. mulder loves when she talks science, almost bludgeoning him with her logic & knowledge. even when he's just trying to have those late night talks with thoughts you don't share with just anyone. he loves who she is and doesn't want her to be any other way. he loves when she's tells him he's wrong. he wouldn't change a thing (despite his occasional frustration at her disbelief).

(all his flirty quips are real, but not serious.)

and scully, she's the only one allowed to tell him he's crazy (which he also loves, because she stays). she will defend her mulder & his theories to anyone else, she proves what she can (and if she happens to disprove his theory, it only helps him to refine it and sends them down a new path). when he stops believing, she tries so hard to reignite it. she's afraid to believe, but she depends on his belief.

mulder + scully are the only people who can keep up with each other — even when she thinks she's lagging behind & holding him back, that's never really true. it takes her a long time to verbalize it, and it takes him a while to figure out she needs (craves) his validation. to him, scully doesn't need anything from anyone but he wants to give her everything, whatever she will allow. he tries to desperately to be the shoulder she leans on and show her it's okay to be vulnerable. something he can tell she struggles with, despite what happened in the pilot. she values it so much in him and suppresses it so much in herself.

he honors her vulnerability in the pilot, he's gentle with her in beyond the sea (until she scares the daylights out of him), in lazarus her prioritizes her grieving over the truth. when she's abducted, he wears her cross around his neck. he asks her mom about her, tries to help maggie keep her faith. in firewalker he cradles her face, so similar to beyond the sea. in irresistible he tilts her chin up and holds her as she sobs into his chest, so similar to the pilot when she rushes into his arms. and on and on. he always fights like hell for her whenever she needs help.

all of this only makes their attraction more intense, and more scary. the easiest way to get to mulder is through scully. and all of the crazy things scully does are for mulder.

the attraction is always there. bubbling under the surface, making the room crackle. making others uncomfortable just being in the same room with them. it's always intimate & private. something no one else is invited to, making others intruders.

it's why they're mistaken for a couple most of their partnership. it's why missy yells at mulder in one breath, urging him to go to scully. they don't look at each other like simple coworkers or friends, they don't talk about each other like merely colleagues.

i am so so sorry, this is not how i intended it to come out so here are some pictures:

[carefulfears]

knowing you, you have probably talked about it before but i’d really love to know what you think about mulder’s savior/sacrificial lamb complex. i think it was csm that mentioned in amor fati that mulder’s hero complex would be the end of him one way or the other and it always reminds me of this essay “the gods show up” where the “tragic hero” is described as a human who’s by fate already dead, but keeps talking and trying for the sake of something bigger anyway (aka that post where you said mulder belongs to scully but that just ends up being the reason for her hurt because he also belongs to something bigger that doesn’t care for his well being). strangely it also reminds me of that interview where dd said “mulder is a guy who has been given the problems as jesus” lol.

this is such a beautiful question...the first thing that you have to understand is that i genuinely view fox mulder as a benevolent second coming of christ and every written word stems from the point of view of its author, so. the second is that i think duchovny had an understanding of the character that made that story/franchise what it was and his description of a "profoundly human model of christ" in writing the base-work of amor fati (a conflict between larger purpose and desire for normal life) is as unironically insightful as it is extremely funny. the third is that when mr. x shoves mulder against the wall of the hospital garage in one breath and tells him "i used to be you. but you're not me, mulder, i don't think you have the heart" - it's as much endorsement as it is damnation.

if you look at these two quotes from the amor fati dream

CSM to mulder: "You've suffered enough - for the X-Files, for your partner, for the world. You're not Christ. You're not Prince Hamlet. You're not even Ralph Nader. You can walk out of this hospital and the world will forget you."

and later, mulder to diana: "I have commitments-- to the X-Files, to Scully, to my sister."

CSM is meant to be playing the role of the literal last temptation, the snake-like figure that has to lead his prey astray. but those three things that mulder still has his sights on (the x-files, scully, samantha) are three things that nobody else is dedicated to. nobody else is going to keep those cases open and search for answers and care about those victims. nobody else is scully's partner: working with her, looking after her, fighting with and for her. nobody else is inspiring her. nobody else is remembering his sister, missing her, looking for her. the mother that leaves him in a hospital room in this episode, is burning last signs of life a few chapters later.

i've seen people argue that the problem with this episode and its larger arc is that "CSM is right and the episode thinks he's wrong" but i don't think he is right. i don't think he thinks he's right. i think he's doing a job and mulder is doing a job, both playing their roles, and his thesis is that mulder has done "enough" and suffered "enough" for his list of commitments- but what's enough when no one is gonna tag you out? when the speaker is waiting for a clear shot? (i'm reminded here of one of my favorite audries fic lines: "he sits on the bed, the line of his shoulders going curved and uneven. even hercules would have dropped the weight of this world.")

which is all to say (and remember my point#1 at the top), that i wouldn't describe mulder's "savior complex" as even really being a complex, i think it's just the world. i used to talk about sometimes how moving it is to me that mulder was born into this world and was always going to die for this cause and the story is about people who choose to follow. who have every opportunity available to them and want to do this work at any cost. who won't leave him in it alone, at any cost.

it's scully at the end of the road saying that she would do it "all over again."

it's skinner's "if given the choice between advancing my career by being blindly loyal to some faceless puppeteers pulling strings from the shadows, or to throw in with you two, make no mistake about it. i'd make the same decision every single damn time."

and anon i really love that quote you shared, which is from the gods show up by michael kinnucan: "The center of every tragedy is the image of a human being who has already died but keeps talking, someone whose face is a mask."

which, as you alluded, is what i define as the tragedy of mulder's character. that he was always going to die for the cause he was born into ("there is no other version of this story") and perhaps more tragic: that people depend on him, at any cost. that scully dedicates her life to someone who will list her as his tethering responsibility, but who doesn't belong to her. cannot be predominantly responsible to her, of her. harsh punishment for fruitful crimes.

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 21/34 - eggs benedict

[Read on AO3]

It’s strange, staying with Sheriff Adderly and his wife Ellen during this case in Vermont. If he had his way, he’d be checked into a motel instead of infringing on their hospitality, but he’d been given no choice. They even refused reimbursement for their troubles, which did nothing to lessen the feeling—however true or untrue it was—of him being a burden to them.

Ellen Adderly had pulled out all the stops for their guest, preparing decadent meals on fine china for every meal, claiming she’d have done it whether he was there or not. He has a hard time believing that. He can’t imagine living in such a way every day of his life. He and Scully barely manage to set out real plates to eat on when they order takeout at home, and he certainly doesn’t expect her to have a three course meal set out when he gets back from work. Besides the fact that she’s always at work with him, it’s just not something he thinks is necessary. Is that something she’d want to do? He doesn’t think so. 

The routine they have works for them, that’s all that matters.

But after getting a taste of his own personal brand of domesticity, it’s… odd… to see how others do it. He’d never have thought there were so many different ways to balance home life, much less enough that he’d start to form an opinion on them. His parents had been one way—not a particularly healthy relationship—and he and Scully are… well, they’re not really anything besides roommates, but that still counts, in his book.

Whatever they are, he likes it. Far better than this constant fussing, at least.

Mrs. Adderly must notice his discomfort, because at breakfast as she masterfully puts the finishing touches on his eggs benedict, she says “I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you,” and for some reason, that assumption grates on his nerves.

He takes a measured draw from his cup of steaming coffee, swallowing back his immediate retort.

“What makes you say that?” he asks instead. She probably hadn’t meant anything by it, but it still comes off as rude. He has someone to take care of him, thanks very much. Just not exactly in the same way as Mrs. Adderly insists on taking care of her husband… and apparently Mulder too.

“I’m sorry,” Ellen says, realizing her statement had come out somewhat offensive. “I just mean… I didn’t see a wedding band.”

She nods at his left hand sitting atop the table, and he follows her gaze to the bare ring finger.

“Do you have a significant other, Agent Mulder?” she asks.

Significant? Yes. Very. Other? That’s a good descriptor. Single, married, other. Yeah, he’d select other, if this were a multiple choice question. Although he’s pretty sure that’s not what she meant.

“I’ve– um…” he starts, wondering how best to describe his situation to this woman. “I’ve got a wife, actually.” He pulls out the ring on its chain to show her. “It can be dangerous in my line of work to have it on display,” he explains lamely before tucking it back into his shirt.

Ellen smiles. “Ah, well that’s good. Don't miss out on home and family, Mr. Mulder. I imagine with all the things you see, you need that refuge more than most.”

Her words hang in the air, a bit of sage advice from a woman he otherwise has very little in common with. But before he really has a chance to think about what she’s said, Sheriff Adderly makes an appearance, and it’s back to business. Ellen excuses herself to go check on their daughter, leaving the two of them alone to discuss the case.

Mulder remains seated at the table, staring down the sheriff with a knowing look. He’d begun to suspect—and now his suspicions are all but confirmed—that the man had been unfaithful to his wife, and it makes him feel sick. Here this man has it all; a loving wife, a sweet baby that they didn’t have to jump through a million hoops to get, and yet he’s willing to throw it all away for some cheap thrills.

He’ll never understand it.

The man is no more forthcoming about his knowledge of the case than he had been before, so Mulder lets it slide for now. The last thing he wants to do is show all his cards too early and spook him. He gives him just enough to leave him rattled. To let him know that he knows . 

He lets the unspoken threat hang between them until the sheriff folds, squirming away to take a shower, or so he says. 

He’s still seething in bitter disgust when Ellen returns, carrying her sleepy baby in her arms. It’s a well-practiced juggling act, Mulder can tell, as she goes about fixing herself a plate of her now lukewarm breakfast. With only one arm, she clearly struggles to transfer strips of bacon out of the pan, and Mulder gets to his feet.

“Here, let me help,” he says, joining her in the kitchen. What he’d meant was that he could help assemble her plate, but as he goes to reach for the spatula, he instead finds himself being handed a baby, and his eyes widen comically. “Oh, right,” he says, then plasters a forced smile on his face. Sure, this was what he’d meant to do all along. 

The little girl is heavier than he’d expected. Like a sack of flour, though with limbs jutting out everywhere. It takes him a moment to adjust, his hands holding her awkwardly beneath the armpits. 

“Hi,” he says conversationally, looking down at her like she’s a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment. The baby just blinks at him, a blank stare on her face. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, lifting her to his hip and returning to the table. He makes every effort to not look like this isn’t the first time he’s held a baby in—well, basically forever, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

Ellen smiles across the table at him and digs into her meal.

“Do you have children, Agent Mulder?” she asks, “You and your wife?”

It still makes his heart flutter to hear someone refer to Scully as such, but he supposes that to Ellen, it really is that simple. Scully is his wife, that’s all she knows.

He’d always thought conversations like this to be so dull. ‘So, Dave, how’s the ol’ ball and chain? Kids staying out of trouble?’  But, now… 

Well, it’s different now that he actually has something to contribute to the discussion.

“Yeah, actually, one on the way,” he says, giving a self-conscious little smile. 

He’s never told anybody about this other than Skinner, but he supposes there’s no harm in telling this random woman in Vermont. It almost makes him feel… normal. Like he can relate to other people over the simple fact of his impending fatherhood. A shared human experience. A milestone in his life that doesn’t involve aliens, ghosts, ghouls, or any manner of cryptozoological entity.

“We’re adopting,” he further explains. “Only a couple months left till the birth mother’s due date.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ellen exclaims, smiling up at him over her bowl of fresh fruit. “You must be so excited!”

“Very,” he says, looking down at the drooling baby on his lap. “We never really thought it was possible. That we’d ever—” 

He pauses, the shrill tone of his cell phone breaking into their conversation.

“Speaking of my wife,” he says, flipping open the device. “Hey, Scully. How’s the stakeout going?”

Her voice crackles over the other side of the line, drawing a genuine smile out of him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that, Mulder, so that I can give you the good news I just received.”

His stomach does a flip. “Good news?”

He pictures her nodding, sitting in that grimy, cold room surrounded by surveillance equipment, somehow brightening it with her smile. “Krista called and we had a little chat.”

Mulder looks up at Ellen from across the table, where she’s watching him with a knowing smile. “Oh?” he says.

“Mm-hmm. And you know what she told me?”

Scully is extra cheeky this morning, huh? He misses her horribly. This is the last time he’s letting Skinner split them up for a case. After this, no more. He’s putting his foot down. What are they going to do, fire him?

“What did she tell you?” he asks, turning to instead stare at the floorboards, giving himself the illusion of privacy despite the constant watch of Mrs. Adderly.

“She told me the sex of the baby. Would you like to know?”

His heart thumps in his chest suddenly, its rhythm erratic. This, he hadn’t expected first thing in the morning. He hasn’t even finished his first cup of coffee yet.

“She finally found out?”

“Yeah, Krista said she was a lot more cooperative at this appointment than the last one,” Scully explains.

Mulder freezes.

“She?” he says, his voice raspy with awe. “It’s a girl?”

He hears Scully release a shuddering breath before her voice comes back, with all the telltale signs of happy tears that he’s come to recognize in the last few months.

“It’s a girl,” she confirms.

It’s a girl. He’s gonna have a baby girl.

“That’s– that’s amazing, Scully! That’s… wow!”

“I know,” she says. “I’m– You’re not disappointed, are you?”

“Disappointed?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “Why would I be disappointed?” 

Disappointed is the absolute last thing he’d be feeling right now. Elated is a better word. Maybe a little scared, but he’ll get over it.

“I don’t know, I just thought… You know, you talked about coaching little league, and I’m sure you want someone to watch basketball with you…”

He laughs. He can’t help but laugh. “Just because you don’t like basketball doesn’t mean other girls don’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “And have you seen girls softball teams, Scully? They’re brutal. You try getting hit by one of those giant neon yellow ostrich eggs at 50 miles an hour. I volunteered to practice with the girls once in high school. Almost lost an eye.”

“But what if she doesn’t like sports at all?” Scully asks, and he’d bet good money that she’s chewing on her lip right now, the way she does when she’s worried. “What if she’s on the chess team or plays the violin or the piano?”

Oh, Scully.

“Then I’ll learn all the names of her concertos and cheer her on at every chess tournament,” he answers simply. “Look, Scully, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and I are both gigantic nerds. I think we’ll be prepared for whatever she’s interested in when she gets older.”

She . They can finally stop talking about her in abstract terms. A girl. A daughter.

“Your mom’s gonna flip,” he says when she doesn’t respond. Margaret Scully has a grandson, but no granddaughter. He can just see the little plaid dresses, frilly socks, Mary Jane shoes, and giant velvet bows in their future. She’ll be spoiled rotten.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Scully says, sounding wistful. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “When I get back, we’re going out shopping again. I think maybe this time I’ll be able to hold it together in the clothes section.”

That earns him a laugh.

“I’m willing to bet it will go the same way as last time,” she teases back, and she’s probably not wrong. Just picturing this baby, a little girl like the one he’s holding now, has him emotionally on edge.

“I– I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he says, glancing up at the clock. “Let the thought of warm baby snuggles keep you from freezing your butt off.”

She sighs, the annoyance of her less than ideal assignment returning. “Thanks for reminding me, ” she intones.

They stay on the line a moment more, waiting to see who will be the one to hang up. Eventually he hears a soft click, and he smiles down at the phone in his hand. Goodbyes have never been necessary between them. Maybe that’s just another way they’re weird, but he likes it.

The baby in his lap gurgles, and he sets his phone on the table to turn his attention back to her. He sees her differently now, with the knowledge that he has a little girl on the way too.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Ellen says, eyes shining as she watches him.

Mulder feels his cheeks beginning to burn. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No, really,” she says more insistently. “You seem to care a lot already. And wanting to be involved… Well, that’s everything. Your wife is a very lucky woman.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” he says, and he truly believes it.

He’s the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.

~~~

wife guy / girl dad mulder says you get another chapter :)

Chapter 22/34 - pizza boxes

The sound of keyboards clacking fills the dimly-lit room. A greasy bag that once held at least a dozen cheap tacos from the place across town sits atop a stack of empty pizza boxes, not that the inhabitants of this particular abode pay much attention to that kind of thing. 

“Hey, here's something weird,” Langly says, looking up from the computer monitor, the unnatural light of it reflecting off his glasses.

“What? Is it Krycek again?” Frohike asks, crossing the short distance to lean over the other man’s shoulder. “What’s that little rat up to now?”

Langly adjusts the bright, warm-toned desk lamp to minimize the glare on the screen.

“No, just something strange in my sweep of government records,” he says.

“Mention of a virus? Shadow government stuff?”

Langly shakes his head. “It flagged a document mentioning Mulder and Scully's names.”

This bit of information piques Byers’ interest from across the room. “What agency? Homeland? DoD?” he asks, joining the other two at Langly’s computer.

“County court in Annapolis, Maryland,” Langly reads off the screen. “Dated December 24, 1999.”

“Open it!” Frohike demands impatiently.

It takes only a few seconds to hack the database, which is a little alarming. What would the public think if they knew how insecure county records are? But that’s a concern for another day. 

The document slowly appears on screen, and three pairs of eyes take in the information all at once.

“That's… unexpected,” Byers says.

“Married? Since when?” Frohike exclaims.

Langly looks up at him with a condescending glare and smacks the older man in the stomach. “Since Christmas, idiot, haven't you been paying attention?”

“Not that, stupid,” Frohike says, quick to respond with a slap to the back of the blond man’s shaggy head. “Since when are they an item? Did I miss something?”

“You seen a rock on her finger lately? I haven't,” Langly comments.

“Get Mulder on the phone, that little sneak owes us an explanation!” Frohike snaps, pointing a finger at Byers.

The phone rings a few times before it connects, the voice of their friend coming through on speakerphone.

“Now's not a good time, boys,” he says. There's some kind of noise in the background, someone speaking, but they can’t make out who it is. It doesn’t sound like anyone they know. 

“Mulder!” Frohike yells into the phone. “What gives, man?!”

“Yeah, bro, we'd have thrown you a bachelor party if we'd known,” Langly adds.

A sigh crackles through on the other end of the line, and Mulder murmurs something indistinguishable to someone before finding somewhere quieter to talk.

“How'd you find out?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“Your marriage license record came up in one of our regular sweeps. No other threats, by the way,” Byers answers.

“Except maybe Frohike,” Langly jokes. “He might want to challenge you for her hand.”

Byers snickers.

“Shut up! I'm happy for them,” Frohike says, glaring at his friends.

Langly rolls his eyes. “You never stood a chance.”

“There's an explanation for this, I swear, now's just really not a good time,” Mulder says, insistent.

“What's there to explain?” Frohike asks. “You guys fell in love and got married without telling your best friends. No big deal.”

He’s not genuinely trying to guilt trip Mulder, but it does sting a little that they hadn’t said anything to them. Maybe just a little tiny guilt trip. A guilt excursion, if you will.

“It's not… really that simple,” Mulder says, his words hesitant.

“What do you mean?” Byers asks.

“I know you didn't knock her up, obviously, so what more is there?” Langly says, as delicate as a brick to the face.

“Well,” Mulder says, “I kind of did, in a manner of speaking.”

“Scully's pregnant?” Byers asks. This is shocking news. It should be impossible! “But—”

“No, Scully's not pregnant,” Mulder quickly corrects before the conversation can spiral out of control more than it already has. “But… we are expecting, actually. Hopefully.”

“IVF?” Byers asks.

“Not IVF. We tried that last year though, you're a little late to the party.”

Jeez, what haven’t they missed? Maybe the real conspiracy is whatever the heck is going on with Mulder and Scully.

“Then, what—?”

“We're adopting,” he says, interrupting them. They can almost hear his smile over the phone, all goofy and care-free. “There's a woman that selected us to adopt her baby when she’s born, so… I'm actually at this class for new parents with Scully right now. I should probably be getting back. Don't want the teacher to flunk me.”

“Wait wait wait,” Frohike says. “Adopting? How long have you guys been… you know?”

“Well we only started talking about it back in November. It's honestly moving pretty fast, but we're excited.”

“Not that,” Frohike says, waving his hands in the air. “You and Scully!”

“Oh,” Mulder says awkwardly. “Um, we actually aren't. A couple, I mean. If that's what you're asking.”

Frohike’s jaw drops. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.”

“But you're married!” Langly insists.

“A formality.”

“The IVF!”

“Favor for a friend.”

“Yeah, right!” Frohike says with a laugh, sharing a disbelieving look with the other Gunmen.

“You love her, don't you?” Byers asks, sincerity breaking through his friends’ incredulity.

“If you're just gonna harass me, I'm going to hang up.”

Okay, so he’s done sharing for now. They’ll just have to try to get more out of him later.

“Mulder… what are we going to do with you?” Frohike asks, shaking his head.

“Listen, guys, I've got to go. We're learning how to change a diaper and I'd really like to not make a fool of myself, if at all possible.”

“Wait,” Frohike says. “Tell Scully congrats for us. We're happy for you, Mulder.”

“Yeah, we just think you're a complete idiot too,” Langly adds bluntly.

“Thanks, guys. We're really happy. Sorry I haven't been around, it's been crazy.”

Well, now at least they know why Mulder has been missing their poker nights and D&D lately.

“Don't worry about it, Mulder. Just—maybe tell us what's going on next time?” Byers suggests.

Mulder puffs out a laugh. “Sure, next time I marry my partner with the purpose of adopting a child, I'll let you know.”

Frohike points seriously at the phone, despite the fact that Mulder can’t see it. “Watch it, buddy, you're already on thin ice.”

“I'll talk to you guys soon,” Mulder says. “Oh, and if you're ever looking for me, I'm staying at Scully’s apartment now, by the way. I gave up my apartment.”

“Dude…” Langly says. There's something seriously wrong with those two.

“Alright, I gotta go. I'll tell Scully you say hi.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving the three amigos to take in everything they’d just learned.

“Aren't a couple…” Frohike grumbles, repeating his words. “They're a couple of idiots, I'll tell you that.”

Byers nods his agreement, and Langly shrugs. 

“Lucky kid, though.”

~~~

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

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[baronessblixen]

O Holy No (4/10)

Today's prompt: Christmas carolers

Summary: Will Mulder and Scully finally kiss? (wc: 1,208)

Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder is in heaven. Or something very similar to it. He and Scully are running through the deserted Hoover building, giggling like children. Her hand is in his and it doesn’t matter where they’re going because they’re together. And after last night, he couldn’t have known it would turn out this way. As much as he’d hoped for it.

He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have a great night. At first, he considered sleeping in his car. It seemed reasonable. There was no way he was going back to his apartment. In case Diana hadn’t listened and was still there. Eventually, he went to the Gunmen who took him in without question and let him sleep on their couch. Except he didn’t sleep. He thought about Scully all night long. Trying to come up with ways to make her see what he was feeling. Just like he had been trying for months.

After their baseball date that one starry night, he was convinced he had succeeded. That was before someone decided to crack his skull open and play hide and seek with his brain. They got through that, too. Once again it was Diana who almost broke them. He doesn’t know what – or who – convinced Scully last night, but he’s thanking every deity in the sky for his luck.

He arrived at the Christmas party with the simplest of plans: find her in the crowd, confess his love for her and hope for the best. The best has happened without him having to lift a finger. He grins, letting Scully lead. That has always been the way to her heart.

“Where are we going?” he asks her.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Just- away.”

That’s enough for him. They’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting. Their hands till entwined, they turn to each other. They’re both slightly out of breath, but breathing in sync. The smile on Scully’s face is carefree and reckless. He doesn’t know what he looks like, can’t even begin to guess, but he knows he’s full of love for her.

She said she’s scared and he’s taking it to heart. He won’t confess his love for her now, or here. The words want out, but he can keep them inside a while longer. Until she’s ready to hear them and not give him another “Oh, brother”. He knows what she’s feeling. He knows it’s love. He’s seen it in bright colors, has heard it loud and clear when he could read her mind. For now, that’s all he needs.

“Away sounds good,” he says, stepping closer to her. The elevator is taking its time. Standing here in a hallway isn’t the most romantic setting for a first kiss. Her only stipulation though was for them to get away from their ex-partners. What were the chances of Diana and Ethan being there? They could have avoided this if only they’d talked beforehand. But they’ll never learn.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks, sporting a smile herself.

“You,” he says simply. “You make me smile.” She blushes furiously and it makes him hold her closer. Anyone could see them here but so far, she doesn’t seem to mind. He, of course, couldn’t care less who sees them.

“Where is that damn elevator?” she mumbles, slipping from his embrace and pressing the button a few more times. He follows her, needing to be close.

“Hey you,” he says quietly and it sounds loud here with no one around. She turns to him and tips up her face. He’s been reading her expressions for years. He knows this one; it’s impatience. She, too, wants this. Their first kiss. All they have to do is take that last step. But Mulder hesitates. Should he just plunge in or resist and wait until they’re out of here?

“Mulder?” He’s been thinking so hard, analyzing this to death, that he hasn’t noticed how close they’ve come. Like magnets, they’ve drawn close. Their bodies have no doubts or tribulations. They know exactly what they want. Their heads are the problems.

“I can’t wait,” he says, his eyes fluttering shut. Their heads move closer and there she is; he can smell her. Her breath comes fast, and so does his. Their noses bump together in their blind approach and they both giggle. Mulder cracks one eye open to see hers closed, and her mouth open slightly. An invitation. She, too, doesn’t want to wait any longer.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” she breathes and he can taste the word on his lips. This is the moment. This is it. His heart is hammering against his chest and his whole body buzzes. There’s music somewhere in his head, growing louder and louder. Their lips brush for the first time and then, in that same instance, the elevator dings and the doors open. They jump apart flustered and come face to face with the smiling faces of a group of Christmas carolers dressed as elves and reindeer.

“Silver Bells,” one of them sings, and the others join in, “It’s Christmas time in the city. Ring-a-ling, hear them ring.” Mulder stares at the carolers, dressed in green and red before his eyes find Scully. She’s biting her lip, her cheeks red as ripe tomatoes, and her eyes full of glee. He smiles, touching his lips absent-mindedly. They tingle in anticipation of what’s to come. But first, he takes a deep breath, and when the carolers are back on the chorus, he joins in.

“Ring-a-ling,” the carolers sing and Mulder answers with a slightly out-of-tune “ring-a-ling" of his own. He grins at Scully all the while, and she looks at him as if he’s hung the moon. They may not be kissing yet, but this moment is theirs all the same.

“Hey, you should join us.” One of the carolers shakes his hand after the song. “We’re here for the Christmas party.”

“Maybe next year,” Mulder says. “I have a date.” The whole group turns to look at Scully, who’s slipping away into the elevator, barely waiting for Mulder to join her.

“We need to get out of here,” she says.

“I will follow wherever you go,” Mulder says. The elevator takes them downstairs, and then, a few glorious moments later, they’re outside. “I took a cab here.”

“So did I,” Scully says.

“Should we-” He doesn’t get to ask his question because just then, a snowflake lands on his nose. Then another, and another, and another. Scully lifts her face to the sky, snowflakes catching in her lashes. He’s been waiting for the perfect moment, and he doesn’t know who he has to thank, but he knows he won’t wait another second.

He touches her arm and she turns to him, her mouth turned upwards. He pulls her close and she crashes into his chest. He lowers his head, their mouths meeting halfway. Finally. Their lips moving against each other, their tongues getting acquainted, he thinks he hears music again. But he only smiles, kissing her until they’re both out of breath.

“I’d ask to take you home,” Mulder says, not letting her out of his arms, “but-”

“I’m taking you home with me,” Scully says and it’s settled.

He’s going home with Scully.

[aloysiavirgata]

Dancing that ISNT the PMP scene. Fucking love you gorgeous. ❤️❤️❤️

3 AM finds him waking up stiff and disoriented in the vinyl chair of her hospital room, his feet propped on an upside-down plastic wastebasket. His tie is hanging from the IV pole.

Mulder tests his joints, grimaces at the left shoulder. He’d overstretched it at the pool, shredding 2000 meters in under 30 minutes. He’s been lifting more, been running until he vomits. He doesn’t know if he’s punishing his body for being fit or trying to radiate so much health she’ll absorb it.

Perhaps if it’s the second he’ll need to feed it something other than coffee, Diet Coke, and sunflower seeds. Must be the first.

He examines her narrow form in the bruised light. Scully’s breath snuffles a bit at the cannula and he scans for blood at it but sees none. Her cheekbones curve resolutely past her patrician nose, down to her full, dry lips. There is a small tin of Smith’s Rosebud Salve on the fake wood nightstand. He resists the urge to rub a layer over them. He resists the urge to kiss her beautiful, cracked mouth.

Mulder sighs a bit, runs a finger around the back of his collar. She looks warm to him, looks safe and cared for and utterly beyond his ability to be of use. But he stays anyway, like one of those dogs that sleeps at the grave of its master.

He roams past the nurse’s station, where Jane and Esther give him sympathetic looks. They aren’t supposed to let him sleep in Scully’s room, but Esther is from Yorkshire and calls him lamb and duck and love, and he’s pretty sure he could get the lithe Jane in bed if he wanted to.

He’s drowned his sorrows in lanky brunettes before though, and it never quite took. Turns out he’s a man for dainty gingers.

The radio at the nurse’s station plays “Carolina In My Mind” and he hums along softly, making a styrofoam cup of tea. His father was happy in Raleigh. He was too, as much as he was happy anywhere. He thinks he might move down when Scully goes into the ground, a truth he can only admit at 3 AM. At all other times he will save her.

“Nah then, duck,” Esther says. “Tea from the machine, yer daft ‘apeth, when I’ve a proper kettle ‘ere? ‘Ow’s thy lass?”

He shrugs, smiles vaguely. Jane smiles back. Vaguely.

Mulder presses his head to the faded green wall as his tea steeps. It’ll be terrible, but strong. That’s good enough for him.

He hears a soft shuffling and looks up.

Scully in her spotless white robe and soft slippers, Scully like a Willow Ptarmigan approaching winter. The skin around her eyes is the delicate color of sublimated iodine.

“Scully,” he says, at a loss. She is beautiful in the way of alabaster vases, of all things that can shatter.

She yawns, lips shiny with the salve. Her hands are very thin when she covers her mouth. “Wonderful Tonight” begins on the radio now.

Esther smiles, looks away. Jane checks her watch and walks down the opposite corridor.

“Tea?” Scully says. “That’s more my brand. Why are you still here?”

He gulps the bitter brew. Winces. “I fell asleep,” he says, which is an answer but no answer at all.

“Mmm,” Scully says. She prepares herself some tea as well. Her white hands on the cup, her lower lip snagged between her teeth.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Mulder says.

“You didn’t. I just woke up. I do that a lot. My circadian rhythm…”

They don’t talk about her suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus deep within her brain. Of what it might mean if it’s off kilter.

“I was noisy,” Mulder lies, looking at her nose again. He moves like a cat in her room. Like a thief in the night. “Banged into the bed.”

Scully smiles serenely. “It’s all right.”

Jane stalking the perimeter, Jane frowning at her clipboard.

The moon out the window like a scythe in the dark.

He loves her, does she know? Does he know what he would do to save her and how he’d do it and that he’d swim through blood and blood and blood for her, 2000 meters and back again in a heartbeat?

Scully puts her tea down, Scully looks at him with her late summer eyes in this month of her birth. Scully is dying.

On the radio, The Beatles begin “Let It Be,” and what the fuck, he draws her in, her tousled hair and fluffy robe and her rattan ribs.

“Mulder,” she says, peering up. She clutches his left hand with the pale garden spider of her right.

He twirls her beneath the fluorescent lights. He kisses her her forehead because if he kisses her mouth like he wants to she will die.

Jane does another lap and Esther pretends to read a chart and Scully murmurs along with Paul McCartney.

Mulder watches the flat light bounce off her hair, watches her sway, watches her smile for a moment. She tucks her head against his chest as the song ends, doesn’t withdraw.

“Angel Is A Centerfold” begins, which is hardly the mood he wanted, but they both laugh and the scythe of a moon fades away as they sing Na-na, na-na-na-na, Na-na-na, na-na-na-na in something like harmony.

He doesn’t know what song is next, but he holds her through it and the next one and a few more and Esther and Jane are replaced and the sun begins to burn the blackness away and Scully is warm and awake and alive in his arms for at least another day.

[oohnotvery]

Hand To Your Heart (Chapter 3)

Hi, friends. Thank you so much for your incredible patience with me on this chapter. When I started writing this story, I had noooo clue that I’d unexpectedly be stepping into a new chapter of life at the exact same moment. I don’t really want to delve into details yet, but I hope to give you the full story someday soon :) Like all of life, it’s a mixture of good and bad, but mostly good.

As always, please trust that this angst-fest will have a lovely resolution.

-E.

tagging @today-in-fic

Present Day

Scully isn’t sure what exactly she expects from Mulder after that awful night in his apartment. Apart from their slightly tipsy decision to become friends with benefits many weeks ago, they have never openly addressed their sexual arrangement. It is a frail, vulnerable thing. To put words to it would surely break it.

But after slipping out the door of his apartment, she does half-expect to receive a phone call later that evening. Hey, Scully, sorry I fell asleep, and sorry about . . .

Sorry about what? He fucked her, which was the agreement they made. No one ever promised anything about making sure the other person enjoyed it. For all intents and purposes, Mulder did nothing out of the ordinary. He can’t ensure she comes every single time they have sex; hell, he may not have even realized she didn’t come. In his mind, there’s probably no issue at all.

But Mulder isn’t any old caveman who sticks it in and finishes without thought to his partner’s pleasure. In fact, every single other time they’ve been together, he’s lavished her with attention, usually pulling one or two orgasms from her before he even begins to think about tending to his own needs.

She’s not crazy, then. That night was an anomaly. So what possible excuse could he have for treating her the way he did? She ticks off the possibilities:

Maybe he was drunk. She’s fairly sure she tasted alcohol on his breath, and she knows that even for a man his size, he has a relatively low tolerance. Or maybe he was getting sick. Maybe he was feeling bad. Maybe he just couldn’t stop thinking about his burning office.

Can she forgive him for it? If he comes to her and apologizes, will it be enough to lure her back into his bed?

Although her logical mind says no, no way, I won’t put myself in that position ever again, her emotional brain knows the truth. She would slip back into his arms like water cascading over sharp rocks. Although their arrangement hurts her, she loves it too much, even when it’s awful. She loves that she is the woman Mulder chooses to bring to bed. She loves that she is the person who gets to touch him and taste him. She loves that she is the one who gets to stare into his eyes as he comes.

When she leaves his apartment, she is full of fury and humiliation, but when she wakes the next morning—physically sore and emotionally wounded—some of that initial anger dies. She knows she has a tendency to forgive him too quickly, and that this tendency is borne from a deep-seated terror that he will stop wanting and needing her.

She wants so badly to be hard and cold towards him. She wants so badly to demand an apology, to stand up for herself and her dignity.

But when he walks into work the next morning and takes his place at his desk, everything inside her seizes up. If I bring this thing to light, she reminds herself as she watches him shed his suit jacket, I give myself away. Once he knows that I care, it’s all over.

And so she stays quiet, and apart from a quick hello, Mulder does too. In fact, for the rest of the day, he hardly acknowledges her. Days pass in this way and she starts to grow more and more concerned that she’s done something wrong. That maybe he fucked her like that because he’s angry at her.

Should she ask him?

She nearly works up the courage to demand answers, but distraction in the form of a bomb threat in Texas arrives. The distraction does its job, balancing out their equilibrium, lowering Mulder’s low-simmering frustration and softening Scully’s hard edges. Some of their normal camaraderie even returns. Mulder turns playful, a bit jokey, excited to get out of D.C. and turn his mind from the excruciating loss of the X-Files.

When they return to D.C., Scully swears she sees a new page turning for them. He almost kisses her right there in his hallway, and though they’ve done this act dozens of times before, this time feels different. Its approach is slow, deliberate, and weighty, and the affection in his gaze disarms her. Maybe sex isn’t all there is between them. Maybe Mulder does feel more for her than lust.

And then there’s a bee and an impossible journey to Antarctica. If anything were going to repair this broken relationship, it would be Mulder’s dazzling heroics.

And yet.

They return to D.C., frostbitten and exhausted, and Mulder turns angry and moody and inaccessible once again. He’s livid when she waffles on whether they saw a spaceship in Antarctica, and he’s furious to find out that Jeffrey Spender and Diana Fowley have been assigned to the X-Files.

Relegated to the bull pen, they interact less and less. A few weeks ago, humiliated and angry and unsatisfied, she vowed never to sleep with him again. But now, even if she wanted to engage with him in that way, there would be few chances to do so. All their earlier pretenses for getting together disappear. Without the X-Files, he no longer has a reason to drop by her apartment to “go over a file.” She no longer has a reason to invite him out for drinks to discuss autopsy notes. They stop traveling frequently, so there’s no conjoining rooms.  

Her heartbreak processes slowly. It’s been weeks since he fucked her like he didn’t want her, but she’s just now starting to feel like her world is falling apart. Because even though she will not pursue him, the sad reality simmers in her subconscious: she wishes he would pursue her. But weeks pass and time stretches between them, and he doesn’t make a move. There are days when she can convince herself that Mulder is just bored and unhappy and unmotivated, and that he doesn’t have the energy to work up a sex drive. But on other days, her steadfast sense of rationalism kicks in, and she is smart enough to discern that he simply doesn’t want her anymore.

It hurts. It hurts, but she doesn’t let it show. She dons a cold mask and watches as they grow more and more distant from each other.

Everything’s fine, she tells herself on repeat, day after day after day.

But at night, when she’s alone, she drops her face into her hands and cries. Because they’re broken. She’s broken.

And everything is not fine.

**

It is a hot, cloudless summer day when the elevator door slides open and Scully spies Diana Fowley walking through the bull pen. It’s been weeks since their paths have crossed, although Scully occasionally spies the other woman at security checkpoints during the morning rush hour. It is rare, however, to see her up on this floor.

Distracted, Scully forgets to exit the elevator car and has to lunge to catch the closing door. The hot coffee she’s holding in a flimsy paper cup sloshes down her wrist and forearms and she curses as she steps out into the hallway.

“Careful,” comes a disapproving voice, and Scully’s head snaps up. Diana brushes her shoulder as she sashays into the elevator, mouthing ouch as her lips curl into a twisted little wince.

Cheeks flaming, Scully scowls and continues down the hallway towards the bull pen. Diana Fowley never brings good news, so she’s not exactly surprised to find that Mulder is already starting to pack up for the day.

“Going somewhere?” she asks, glancing casually at her watch. It’s not even noon.

He flashes her a neutral look, nodding. “Maryland.”

She bites her cheek. “With Agent Fowley?”

If Mulder is surprised at her guess, he doesn’t show it, just yanks his suit jacket from his chair and swings it over his arm. “Yep.”

Scully frowns, stepping around the desk to block him from leaving. He sighs irritably and runs a hand across his jaw.

“What is it, Scully?” he asks with an impatient glance at the clock.

She tamps down the pesky surge of hurt that flashes through her. “Is there a case?”

“Yep.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“It’s X-Files business,” he replies evasively.

“You aren’t on the X-Files anymore, Mulder.”

He shrugs. “Diana’s requested my expertise on this matter.”

“Just yours?”

“She doesn’t need a scientist around, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replies, finally making eye contact with her. “This is an investigation into a paranormal event. It’s not really up your alley.”

She balks, her eyebrows flying to her hairline. “Not up my alley? Really, Mulder?”

“You know what I mean,” he huffs aggravatedly. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

But her hands are beginning to tremble. “Might I remind you that I was an equal partner on the X-Files for nearly five years, Mulder? That all we did was investigate the paranormal and the unexplained and the unsolved phenomena of our world? In fact, you might even be able to say that the paranormal has been my bread and butter for nearly half a decade.”

He rubs at his eyes so hard that she’s tempted to reach out and stop him. You’ll get wrinkles, she would have chided him a few months ago. Now, she simply stays silent.  

“Fine, come if you really want,” he says with a half-hearted shrug.

“Gee, what a warm invitation,” she snaps. She digs her fingernails into her palms, trying to tamp down her rising indignation. But it’s been building and building and building for so long, for so many weeks, and she’s not sure she has any control over it anymore.

Refusing to take the bait, he sighs. “Come if you must, Scully, but like I said, there’s no need. It’s just going to be me and Diana on this. Don’t waste your time on something that doesn’t involve you—”

“But I’m your partner—”

“We’re not partners,” he retaliates, so loudly that several people look up from their desks.

It’s a low blow, and the regret that briefly flashes across his face tells her that he knows it too. But he’s mostly right. They aren’t really partners, not anymore. Not in the way they were when they were investigating the X-Files.

Crossing her arms protectively across her chest, she lifts her eyes to meet his gaze. “So you have a new partner then?” She just barely resists adding, “someone leggy and buxom and brunette, perhaps?”

His jaw twitches. “Oh, don’t do this, Scully.”

“That’s not an answer, Mulder.”

He shakes his head and takes a step closer, dropping a large palm heavily across her shoulder. “You know Diana has been consulting with me since she took over the X-Files,” he says, speaking to her like she’s a child. Her stomach turns and she bites back the words she wants to say: no, I didn’t know that. “Those files mean everything to me, Scully, and you know that. I can’t say no to the opportunity to work on them just because that opportunity doesn’t involve you. Don’t hold me back here.”

The breath leaves her body. Stunned, she steps back, letting his hand slide off her shoulder. In her mind’s eye, she’s suddenly back in his hallway, many weeks ago. I’ve just held you back, she hears herself telling him. But you saved me! he replies earnestly. As difficult and as frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over! You’ve kept me honest . . . you’ve made me a whole person.

Did he mean any of it? Or was all of it just to keep her under his control?

Turning away from him, she tries to ignore the infuriating sting of tears building in her eyes. And if Mulder notices her pain, he doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, when she’s sure she can look at him without crying, she tips her face up to his. Her mouth parts and she tries to speak, tries to say anything to recover her dignity. But emotions choke in her throat and she just drops her head again. She feels him step in close and this time, she can’t stop the tears that break over her lashes.

“Scully, come on, stop, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says earnestly, his palm falling to her back, his lips to her ear. In her mind, he is fucking her too roughly, too emotionlessly, too distantly. In her mind, he is falling asleep before she even has a chance to come. In her mind, she is sitting in the car crying as her body burns with pain.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, slipping his hand down to squeeze her waist. It is too familiar, and she flinches. “You don’t hold me back, Scully, you know that. But this case has potential and I’m finally feeling motivated about something. This is important to me.”

What he doesn’t say is plain enough: you’re no longer important to me.

She nods, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. The taste of iron reminds her of the nosebleeds she used to get when the cancer was ravaging her body. If she had died then, would Mulder respect her more? She would have become like a martyr to his cause, someone to be revered and worshipped the rest of his life, like Samantha. If only she had succumbed then, maybe he would love her now.

“Scully,” he tries again, and she shakes her head.

“It’s fine,” she says a little too brightly, plastering on a fake smile and glancing up at him for good measure. All she knows right now is that he can’t see how badly he’s hurt her. To admit to that would be to admit that she cares about him far more than he cares about her. It is self-annihilation.

“It’s good,” she continues, her voice rising. “It’s good that you’re happy. That’s all I—that’s all I want, Mulder.”

And to her astonishment, he bends down and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. She recoils, shrinking towards the desk. By the time she recovers from her shock, he is already out the door.

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (10)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

X. First Person Shooter.

Scully forgets that The Lone Gunmen are Mulder’s friends, first and foremost, and that all three of them just happen to be equipped with some very useful skills that help them out every so often.

The Lone Gunmen seem to forget that she and Mulder are FBI agents. Or they don’t seem to care, Scully isn’t sure which. When she asked why they like them so much Langly at replied “Because you’re cool FBI”, with an adjunct from Frohike “And because you’re hot” meaning her specifically. Scully had liked that (Langly’s reason, not Frohike’s) Cool FBI.

She hopes she is being Cool FBI now as she ignores the way her stomach twists. She was being Bad FBI and there’s a sudden thought that she was about to get into trouble, that somebody was about to bust through the eight-locks system and adorns The Gunmen’s front door and shout at them all for smoking weed. It makes her terrified. It also makes her laugh out loud.

Mulder brushes up against her. Surprisingly, the cannabis relaxes him, it slows his ever racing mind, makes him slow and sluggish. She loves her Mulder just as he is but this version is a nice reprieve every now and then.

“Hi,” his says sleepily. He snuggles into her, a hand touching her thigh. She can feel the warmth of his hand even through the layers of clothing and it sends a buzz through her.

“Hi,” she greets back.

“You okay?” he asks.

Scully giggles. “Yeah.” Then she looks towards the front door again. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“We won’t. We’re in the safest place in the world right now.”

And they are. This little hole with its eight-lock security system, cameras everywhere outside, little intercom system. There’s a TV in the corner displaying the outside right now. It is void of people. There’s no one on the other side of that door and there never will be.

“Want another one?” Mulder asks and Scully shakes her head.

“I want a bath.”

…

This bath is the best thing ever. It’s full, it’s warm, she put too many bubbles in it but she doesn’t care because bubbles are the best thing invented. The leans back, shutting her eyes. She could fall asleep in here.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Mulder mumbles. His head is resting against his arm which rests against the rim of the tub. His other arm is submerged in the water, lazily pushing waves back and forth. Occasionally, his fingers will brush her thigh and she’ll feel that buzz from earlier.

“Get in the tub with me,” she tells him.

“I thought you didn’t want me in there?”

That’s what she had told him when he tried to take off his clothes and join her. “This is my bath, Mulder” she had said but then when he went to leave she wanted him to stay.

“I changed my mind.”

She watches him strip. When he is finally naked, he waits, looking at her expectantly. She isn’t happy about having to move, lifting herself up takes more effort than necessary and he has barely got himself comfortable before she is leaning her head against his chest.

“This water is boiling, Scully,” Mulder says. “How are you not burnt?”

She is. She imagines when she gets out in a hundred years she’ll be as red as a lobster.

“Don’t you dare put any cold water in!”

Mulder chuckles. “I know better than to do that.” So instead he’ll sit, slightly uncomfortable, in a bath too hot for him. All for her. She loves him. So much.

She feels his fingers on the insides of her thighs. They trail up ever so close to the space between her legs but just as they get within reach, they descend back down. Scully lets him do this a couple of times, it is nice after all, the slow teasing, she lets herself get riled up with it.

He touches her then, suddenly, unexpectedly. Scully jumps at the contact as his fingers slide through her folds, she sighs softly.

He is lazy with it. The word that comes to mind is sensual. He is sensually touching her. It’s nice, it’s pleasant but she needs more, she moves her hips and the water threatens to spill over.

“That’s what I was avoiding,” Mulder says into her ear but Scully can’t bring herself to care about wet floors.

The fingers of his other hand brush against her clit, the fingers inside her are more pronounced, they thrust in and out of her with more force. Her hips move in tandem and water sloshes over the edge. Mulder his hard against her lower back and her hand clench around his lower arm. She is close, she just needs a little longer.

Then it all stops.

He has pulled his hands away completely.

“Mulder…?” she asks, a little dazed, a little disappointed.

He pushes her up and off him and Scully has no idea what is going on, what has made him react in such a way. She is lost. She is on the verge of crying.

His cock is pushed inside her. Scully grips the edges of the tub, slippery where the water has been. She is full and he sheathed completely inside her.

They start to move and Scully keeps her hands on the rim as leverage, Mulder’s hands clutch at her hips. She can hear him, feel him- his hands on her, his legs beneath her, his cock inside her- but she can’t see him. She closes her eyes, imagines what it would be like to be blindfolded, for all her other senses to pick up the slack for her body’s missing sense. Then she wonders what it would be like if she couldn’t touch him either. She shivers thinking about it; pictures herself chained to her bed while Mulder fucks her hard.

The thought pushes her over, she clamps down hard on his cock, her orgasm ripping through her. Mulder follows not long after, her post-orgasmic spasms milking him into her.

The water is sullied, the bubbles all gone, the water growing cold and their skin pruning. Mulder pulls the plug and bundles her up into a towel. They fall onto her bed half wet and sleepy. Scully doesn’t tell him about her fantasy.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files' Collector's Edition: Fight the Future Fics (Part I)

No introduction necessary, I think.

Loose chronological order below~!

astronaught's Equilibrium - Entr'acte

""He doesn’t like having an aversion to smallness because it means he might reject a truth for being insufficiently grand. Tall tales curdle in Kurtzweil’s mouth, and for the eighty-seventh time that year he feels dirtied by their hold on him....

If their work was going to be destroyed by anything, he didn’t think it would be because she lost her nerve. He and she share a tendency to hold their noses when it comes to dealing with the spiritually mundane, but they don’t do so childishly....

But all the same. Their intellectual honesty has always been its own kind of snobbery. It isn’t really smallness (nor practicality, nor effort) that he’s averse to, but rather inefficiency of a very specific kind. His duty is to the necessary. To the fundamentally true....

And he thought she was the same.""

Mulder and Scully spin their wheels, confused and hurt by each other's lines they draw about the work.

red2007's Icarus

""One breath. Two breaths. Chest compressions.

Molten lava was licking through his veins. Every movement he made, every memory he conjured was a four alarm fire coursing through his body. He’d been pulled closer to her everyday since they’d first met, no one else heard him or bothered to listen. No one could see him the way she did, she made him feel relevant. Her trust in him made him feel invincible. He didn’t remember what life was like before her, he didn’t care to.

He was terrified of a life without her and it was burning him up from the inside out. This partnership turned friendship turned codependency turned love…he didn’t know how to survive without it.""

Mulder's body is on fire with adrenaline as he pushes its limits to save his partner.

@leiascully's (Ao3)

OctoberFicFest Day 6: Frost (Ao3)

""He’s too desperate to revive her to think of how empty, how shattered his heart will be if she doesn’t wake up."" 

Mulder ruminates on twisted fairytales while saving his frosted partner.

To The Ends Of The Earth (Ao3)

""He’s still shivering, even in his suit in the sun in the summer. He’s seen her shivering too. They’ve both been drinking more coffee since Antarctica. He’s been watching her lace her fingers around her mugs, just letting the warmth seep into her. He hopes his hand is as soothing to her as the terrible coffee in the bullpen.

“If I quit now, they win,” she said. He turns it over and over in his mind as they walk. He doesn’t know where they’re going. He doesn’t care. They’re together. They survived. They have their work. That’s all that matters to him anymore, Scully and the work.""

Post FTF Mulder and Scully leisure around DC, he enjoying and she surprising.

@scapegrace74-blog/scapegrace74's Walking After You

""It was foreordained that Mulder be beside her.  Where fear and the improbable intersected in her life, there was her partner, vigilant defender against all her katabases.  She no longer questioned his presence there.  He simply was.

...Her beautiful Don Quixote, caring only for the quest, and not its consequences.""

Scully pulls Mulder to her on the ice, contemplating her childhood dreams and her partner's revitalized wonder.

@all-these-ghosts's (Ao3

if i am hopeful - Chapter 6

""After everything, all of the strife and regret, she will die here. In this great whiteness. They say that freezing to death is an easy way to go, but she is a doctor and a realist and nothing, nothing has ever been easy for them.

He has already stopped shivering."" 

Scully is convinced she and Mulder will freeze to death, noting his deterioration but grateful to perish with him.

unfinished business

""This is Scully, he reminds himself. Scully who follows him on every insane adventure, who pulls him back from the edge, who not even a year ago was dying in a hospital bed while he raged, unable to contend with his absolute powerlessness.

And now, here in his living room: he is not powerless.""

AU-- Scully is overthinking her rescue, questioning why Mulder went to the ends of the earth for her. He finally demonstrates why.

@scully/humancredentials’s

a series of tumblr prompts - Chapter 8 (Ao3)

""Her eyes sting, her tears freezing on her face as soon as they fall. She feels the ache in her bones and her lungs burn with every inhale of cold air. She presses her cracked lips to his forehead and tastes blood. His, she thinks, but she’s not sure....

“Mulder,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and underused. He doesn’t react, doesn’t even move, this foolish hero of hers that followed her to the ends of the earth. He has given her his warmest clothes.""

Scully begs her partner to stay awake, thrilled and relieved when he cracks a joke.

@frangipanidownunder’s (Ao3) 

I Love You Prompts: Tiny Fics - Chapter 2

""Thank you,” she says and her voice is cracked like the ice.

He doesn’t know what to say. She would have done the same for him. Had done the same. Their rescues of each other are becoming more epic by the year. He chuffs out a laugh at the thought but it gets stuck in the frozen air.""

Mulder drags Scully to the Snocat, letting Scully off the hook for not remembering the hallway completely. They always save each other, after all.

Cold, happy, tired.

""She can recall his expression though. Standing before her in that chamber, willing her to breathe. His lips parted, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and happiness. Wet hair flopping over his face. He had saved her and himself - the relieved note in his voice told her that. In that moment, a tiny speck of time between them, she knew she loved him. Irrefutably. The thought flashed through her mind, a bolt of reality. It warmed her chest, spurred her on.""

AU-- Scully sees the spaceship; and, mind blown, helps drag her weary partner to safety, welcoming his tiny little move.

@sixhours/6hoursgirl's (FFN) Waking Hours - Chapter 1 (FFN)

""Mulder,” she tries again, jaw aching with the effort. “Wake up.”

He does, then, ice crystal lashes blinking open to reveal muddy hazel eyes. His lips form her name, a soundless whisper cast into the storm, received by mutual telepathy.""

Scully wakes Mulder up in the icefield, pulling him away from looking for the spaceship he claimed to have seen for more practical pursuits.

@scullydubois/scully_dubois's txf prompts - Chapter 2

""He is numb to everything except a weight and warmth near--one that could not possibly have originated from him, for he has known nothing except ragging breath and stillness for...well, he doesn’t know how long. There are no sunrises or sunsets here to mark the time.

He remembers, then, why he is here. That he’s not alone. That he came here to rescue the one person that’s ever believed him when he needed it, and that he did, and so she must be here, she must be that weight against his side.""

Mulder wakes to Scully, filling her while on the ice and leaving it open-ended on how to go forward.

@contrivedcoincidences6/Spooky66/geektime66’s

Never Let You Go

""For as long as I live I’ll never be able to get the image of her in that capsule out of my head. It will haunt me till the day I die.""

Mulder drags Scully back to the Snocat, both vowing to never let the other go.

Helpless

""I’m too late.

As I helplessly pump at her chest I begin to feel the sobs. My chest and my throat feel like they are being ripped open with the force of them.

She’s gone. Scully is dead and there is no point in living.""

Mulder has a nightmare; and he makes a move on Scully while she attempts to comfort him.

@i-gaze-at-scully’s (Ao3)

Tundra

""I saw it,” you whispered, holding me, as the loose wet hair around your face froze in strands.

Belief as soft and fresh as the snow we laid in insulated us from the cold.""

Mulder and Scully lay on the tundra, warmed by their belief.

Pad Thai and poison apples

""They get out together though, naturally, at the basement level. Scully wants to be smug, wants to rub it in Diana’s face that this is her office, her work, her.... she wants to, but she can’t. Not without a nameplate on the door. Or even a desk.""

Post FTF Diana goads Scully about not getting a lunch invite from Mulder. And even though he'd forgotten about Fowley, it doesn't soothe the sting.

ML/ML_is_me’s (Ao3, Gossamer, DW, Invidiosa)  and LaVa, Jacquie and Tess

Fight the Good Fight

""His cot was less than ten feet from hers but it might as well have been ten miles. She was exhausted by the time she reached his side. Collapsing onto the floor beside him, she called to him.

"Mulder. It's me."

Fear sent her heart bumping against her breastbone when he didn't stir.""

Scully is worried for her partner, both physically and mentally: it's obvious that he's losing his drive for a quest that always hurts her.

@allyinthekeyofx’s (Ao3)

Small Considerations Between Partners - 6 (Ao3)

""Because mostly what I remember is the fear; the absolute all encompassing terror I felt when I tried to swallow and discovered my throat was blocked by a tube, gagging as I tried to scream, to shout, to have someone please come to get it out of me. This invader of my prone body that stole my breath and rendered me almost hysterical as I fought with everything I had to lift my hands in an attempt to rid myself of it; the restraints that prevented me from doing so biting cruelly in to the soft flesh of my wrists even as I arched myself from the bed, the high pitched sound of alarms piercing my already aching head as I silently screamed for him to help me, needing him to find me, to save me just this one last time as scalding tears streamed down my face only to become instantly chilled against my skin.""

Scully is traumatized while recovering from her experience; but Mulder is there (as always) to comfort and reassure.

@danascullysrationalism/ARoadInCapeCod's Whatever's Left

""For too long, she had been his ripcord.... She would always bring him up and out. Alive.... It had saved him too many times when he wandered too far in the ticks of light that led him astray. She was the storm that let him live. He always knew there was something righteous inside her.

This was all he could do to thank her.""

Scully is lost in her recovery, knowing she can't follow Mulder forever; and Mulder is lost watching her recover, knowing he can't give her more.

chezamanda's The Five Times Fox Mulder Didn’t Tell Dana Scully He Loved Her (and the One Time He Did)

""Now here they are, still together even though it feels like the world is constantly trying to keep them apart. If I quit now, they win.

FTF (amongst other seasons) Mulder ruminates thrice on his awe of and love for Scully.

Singing_Violin's This I Can Do

""We are so cold. But she is alive. I am thankful for that."" 

The one thing that Fox Mulder can do is hold Dana Scully.

@broadcastnews1987/audries/@kennedyandheidi/inkspl0tchess's (WBM 1/2/3)

string theory (or seven times dana scully wore fox mulder's clothes)

""be careful,” she thinks she says as the medics move them into the helicopter. the voice in her head is cool, detached, precise. hypothermia demands gentle treatment, it says. he needs me, she tries to tell them, he told me so. she doesn’t know why they won’t let her hold his hand.

two days later and he is slouching in her doorway wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. he tilts his head to wait for permission and she uncurls her fingers to open her palm like a flower.""

Scully's hypothermia hinders her responses but not her resolve-- to care for and stay with her partner.

DanaScully77's Delirium

""Dearie, you really shouldn’t be speaking.” The nurse is kind with a calming hand on his chest. “Do you remember what happened?”

Mulder shakes his head no. His eyes are pleading with the nurse, confusion too thick in his brain to make sense of anything around him. All that keeps ringing in his mind is that Scully is hurt and that he needs to get to her.

“You both were found in Antarctica by a team of scientists exploring disturbances in the ice. Do you remember how you got there?”

Flashes of alien testing tubes fill his mind and his jaw opens. “Scully."" 

The Unnatural Mulder remembers comforting Scully during the events of FTF. Now, they enjoy hot cocoa at his apartment, happy.

@frogsmulder/Brynstein's Chapter 1: Post Fight the Future

""Mulder, it's me."

He couldn't help but let a laugh go down the line. "Never have I heard sweeter words, Scully."

"Mulder?" The was a pause of quiet, no doubt filled by the rise of a singular eyebrow. "Have you just taken your meds?""

Post FTF Mulder wanders around, bored, before calling Scully to re-patch his wound.

@mashnotesofthemythopoeic/Penumbra/The_Mythopoeic - Works/Penumbra's X-Files Fiction (Alt., Zuffy's Tripod)

The Cretan Paradox

""No minotaur," she says, as they gain the center.

"Looking for trouble, Scully?" he asks, with some intent. His soft mouth quirks.

Labyrinths, Mulder explains, are convoluted journeys fraught with dead ends and blind passages, and are solved by intuition and creativity. "But a maze is a left-brained puzzle." He looks down at her, eyes narrow and warm in the afternoon light. Not unlike you, his eyes say.""

Post FTF Mulder takes Scully to a maze, showing her how to always escape it and leading up to his tentative movie night invite.

AUs

@oceanofthesky/noifsandsorbees’s White Noise (Ao3)

""She smiles and she laughs. A lot.” Mulder says suddenly, and his eyes are faraway, lit up and peaceful. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What are you talking about, Mulder?”

“Scully. The rare moments when she lets herself be happy. It’s really something.""

Mulder and Scully may resolve things between them in the hallway, but she's still reassigned. Many phone calls, doubts, and insecurities plague their long-term relationship, deeply rooted by the time they're reunited.

@starwalker42 (Ao3

can't stay awake

""Underneath our cocoon of blankets, trembling fingers wrap around mine. I barely feel the contact, but I’m glad for it all the same. It’s not lost on me that not an hour ago, she was frozen in ice on the brink of death, and now she’s the one comforting me. She’s too good at this – looking after me when she’s the one in pain. I know I don’t deserve Dana Scully. I certainly don’t deserve to die next to her. But I’m glad that if I have to go, I get to go like this.""  

Mulder keeps a slurring Scully awake by bantering about penguins; but the two of them soon slow on the ice, dropping a love you before they succumb to sleep.

@o6666666's (Ao3) Prompts 1, 2, and 83

""He came with a big bottle of aloe, planning to paint her cheeks with it. How funny that his conscientious Scully should get sunburned in the dog days of August from lying out on the ice. (It wasn’t funny.)

They’d brought her all the way to Antarctica in her skirt suit. He pictured the henchmen in their parkas and gloves and boots, none of them caring how she shivered.""

Mulder's guilt over his ice-burned, clingy Scully almost destroys the potential between them. She sees past his reticence and reassures.

2plumsandagherkin's Like You Wanted to

""Do you remember anything that happened… in the hallway?” he asked, tentatively.

“No, what happened in the hallway?”

He explained about her getting stung by the bee and the ambulance crew taking her and trying to shoot him, but she had the feeling he was leaving something out."" 

Scully doesn't recall the hallway incident until later, rushing over to Mulder's and affirming her love.

@frostbitepandaaaaa/FrostbitePanda’s Four Days AU

""If she had just followed her parents’ wishes... she would be laying in a king bed right now. Safe in some boring suburb with a dog and perhaps even some handsome husband watching reruns of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman and idly wondering what it would feel like to be a pioneer, a woman planted on the edge of the unknown, spread before her vast and endless and hers for the taking. 

That’s what Mulder gave her— a borderless realm, a fertile landscape lain with both the dreadful and the sublime.

“I’ve always felt… that it should interest me. That… in order to be a real person in the world, I needed to want those things.” She shakes her head, tilted back on the seat, staring at the riveted ceiling, beaded with condensation. 

A great breath shifts out of him, but he says nothing. 

“But the only thing that has ever made me feel like a real person, Mulder, is you."" 

While trapped in the Snocat for four days, Mulder and Scully reopen their hallway discussion and plan for a first date that is not over file cabbage packaged meals. Diana tries to throw a wrench in that; but Skinner is not going to sit idly by at the FBi shindig.

Ann Ripley's Any Resemblance

""The chip was reinserted and her health steadily improved. I know this because I was able to watch the process through a two-way mirror.... They cured her but also filtered out all her memory of our work, our partnership, our love.

Anna's recovery and future safety was the price I paid for my silence. Any subsequent investigation into the consortium or revelation of colonization plans would result in the cancer's return. It was not too high a price to pay. I would do it again in a second.

The show debuted a year after Mrs. Spriggs wheeled Anna out of the consortium-run hospital and started a new life.""

FTF was based on the life of two real people; but the fact was separated from fiction after the unhappy reality. The man who Mulder was based on watches the show, ruminating on all that never and really was.

Enjoy!

[xxsksxxx]

Liberating the Mirage

Summary:

When an assignment goes horribly wrong, Mulder has to race against time to find Scully.

But sometimes the line between reality and illusion blurs—and it turns out there’s more than one locked door that needs to be opened.  Notes:

This is my little contribution to Fictober, a yearly event that celebrates writing and reading—and fall. All of which are good things in my world. 

Since there’s no way I can come up with a new story every day, I’ve decided to write one fic that includes all prompts from the Fictober 2023 prompt list. They’re all in bold if you want to seek them out specifically. You can find the list here: Fictober 2023

This story is complete, but to keep in the spirit of Fictober, I’m posting one chapter a day.

I hope you’ll have as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it.

AO3 | @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Chapter 1: Trouble Loves Company

Bladensburg Road, Washington, D.C. Warehouse

“Motorcycle approaching from the left,” Scully reported crisply into the mouthpiece of her microphone. She unobtrusively observed the upcoming vehicle in her rearview mirror. “Estimated time of passage: 15 seconds.”

“Confirmed,” Mulder replied, his voice tinny through the earpiece attached to her head.

She pulled the sun visor down and pretended to check her makeup in the small mirror attached to the back as the motorcycle passed her van slowly. She watched out of the side of her eye to avoid causing any suspicion, but the driver didn’t seem to pay her any attention. Mulder's car discretely pulled out of its parking slot, only a few cars down the road, and followed at a distance.

“I believe it’s our target,” Mulder’s voice crackled through her earpiece. 

“Confirmed,” Skinner joined the conversation from his car on the other side of the warehouse. 

Scully squinted against the rising sun and watched as the motorcycle rounded the corner and disappeared from view, Mulder’s car not far behind it. “Visual contact lost,” she reported into her microphone. 

“Copy,” Skinner’s voice replied promptly through the line. “Maintain position, Agent Scully, in case of a potential escape.”

“Understood,” she confirmed and leaned back in her seat. All she could do now was wait. She turned her head to keep an eye on the warehouse, making sure she wouldn’t miss Eddie Connolly if he decided to try to escape through her side of the building.

*****

Mulder pressed his back against the stonewall and moved closer to the steel door Connolly had walked through only a few moments before. He checked his gun one last time before gripping the handle and carefully pulling the door open. He squeezed through the small opening he had created and closed the door softly.

The musty smell of old wooden crates filled the abandoned warehouse. He was surrounded by boxes that were stacked to the ceiling, and everything was eerily silent. Mulder tried to make out any sounds that would reveal where Connolly had disappeared to and carefully pulled up the tiny microphone at his collar. “I’m inside. I don’t see anyone.”

Careful to not step on anything that would give him away, he moved slowly across the room. After rounding a stack of old wooden boxes, he finally heard murmuring voices. He pressed his back to the wood and carefully looked around the corner. Connolly was animatedly talking to a tall man who was leaning against a table in the middle of the room. He seemed to try to explain something to the other man. From what Mulder could tell, the other man wasn’t impressed, his arms tightly crossed while listening.

Just as he was about to raise his gun, a third person joined the group, and Mulder swiftly moved his head back to avoid being seen. He cursed silently, wondering why there were three men. Their contact had told them Eddie Connolly was going to meet with the head of the group alone.

He couldn’t make out what the three men were talking about, but their conversation grew louder and more animated, suggesting they were discussing something quite important. Mulder debated risking another glance but turned his chin down into the collar of his tactical vest instead. “Our target met with two other men. It’s getting heated,” he whispered into his microphone.

“Three men? We only knew about one other person. Can you confirm?” Skinner’s voice sounded through Mulder’s earpiece.

“Confirmed,” he whispered and slowly moved his head back around the corner— just in time to watch the tall man giving a signal to the third person. Mulder scanned him with a quick glance. He was at least 6’5 and built like a brick wall. A bodyguard? Mulder wondered just as the burly henchman closed in and swiftly seized Connolly by the throat. The tall man moved closer and bent over Connolly, whispering something. Mulder watched the man’s eyes widen, but he couldn’t hear what they were talking about. He cursed again silently. He needed to get closer.

Maybe he could sneak around the back of the crates, he wondered, while carefully retreating from the corner. He eyed the boxes stacked around him with a critical eye.

As silently as possible, he crouched down and moved behind the next stack of boxes, slowly making his way closer to the group.

Just as he was about to get close enough to hear what the tall man was telling Connolly, the bodyguard looked up and spotted him.

Mulder had only a slit second to react. He raised his gun, aiming at the burly man. “Federal agent! Stop right there! Move into the light. Hands where I can see them!” he shouted. Dimly, he registered Skinner’s voice in his ear giving orders to storm the building and for Scully to watch the exit for anyone trying to escape.

For a second, the three men froze and stared at him. Then all hell broke loose as the tall man opened fire before darting around one of the tall crates, disappearing from view.

Mulder retreated quickly behind his stack of boxes, his heart racing. He tried to calm his breathing when suddenly a shadow rounded the corner and crashed into him. The thug landed on top of him, and all the air went straight out of Mulder’s lungs. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

The other man wasn’t faring any better. He cradled his arm in his left hand and tried to get past. Mulder tackled his legs and brought him back down, swiftly turning the man’s arm behind his back and kneeling on his lower back. The henchman screamed in pain.

Just then, Skinner came running onto the scene, followed by two other agents, who immediately swarmed out to search the warehouse.

Mulder tried to catch his breath while handcuffing his suspect. The man lay grunting on the floor, no longer a threat. “Did you get Connolly and our head guy?” he asked Skinner, jumping back to his feet.

Skinner held up a hand, listening intently to his earpiece. He let out a frustrated groan and turned back to Mulder. “This one here seems to be just a thug that follows orders. We’re searching the warehouse, and Scully got the front exit covered. It’s not too late to arrest them all, let’s go!” Skinner turned around, clearly expecting his agent to follow, but Mulder was rooted to the spot, staring at his boss with wide eyes.

Scully! Mulder thought frantically. In all the chaos of the last few minutes, he hadn’t heard Scully’s voice in the mix at all. The realization hit him like a truck. Scully would’ve reported in by now. Something must’ve happened.

“Scully!” he shouted and took off towards the front entrance in a dead run.

*****

Scully gingerly lifted her hands in the air, palms facing out. “My gun’s attached on my right side,” she said, pointing with her chin, her eyes never leaving the tall man standing in the open passenger side door, aiming his gun at her.

She turned her back all the way towards the driver’s side window, facing the armed man fully and giving him her full attention. The tall man got into the passenger seat without missing a beat and closed the door without moving his eyes away from her. “Hand me your gun,” he said icily and held out his empty hand towards her, making an impatient gesture with his fingers.

Slowly, she pulled the weapon from her waist, careful not to startle him. If I can slow him down enough, backup will be here ASAP, she thought. Mulder had probably already noticed that she hadn’t reported in. All she needed was some time.

“All right. I’m handing you my gun,” she replied and slowly moved her hand with the weapon closer to his outstretched hand.

“I wouldn’t play any games if I were you,” he said calmly, completely unfazed by the fact that several FBI agents were looking for him only a few feet away.

An icy chill ran down Scully’s back. This guy was no ordinary criminal, she realized. This man had seen far worse than an observation and bust from the FBI. She shouldn’t have underestimated either of the men. He’d been clever enough to know that the front door was under surveillance. That meant he’d come through the back where Skinner and the other agents had come in to back Mulder up, she thought. He’d known they wouldn’t expect him to come towards them instead of taking the supposedly easy front exit. He’d outsmarted them all.

He must’ve seen the realization hit her because his mouth moved into a sarcastic smirk. “I see we understand each other. So if you don’t want me to shoot the first person that comes running out of that building and make you drive me out of here anyway, I’d suggest you turn on this car and drive,” he said. “And make no mistake, if you try to trick me, and we get caught, I’m taking you with me!”

Scully offered no response and shifted her gaze to the front, fully aware that Mulder might burst through that door at any second, unprepared for anyone just waiting to shoot at him. If she wanted to make sure that he wasn’t killed, she needed to get them away from here. She turned the key and the car came to life effortlessly.

“Where do you want me to go,” she asked calmly, ignoring her racing heart.

“I don’t care, just drive!” the man said, looking outside the window towards the front entrance of the warehouse. When he was sure that no one was in sight, he turned his attention back to her.

Scully expertly steered the van onto the road, driving as slowly as possible, hoping that Mulder would notice what had occurred and reach her in time. However, the man sitting next to her had different plans. “What are you doing?!” he yelled and pressed his gun right into her side. “I said drive!”

With a sigh, she pressed her foot down on the accelerator, knowing she’d have to find another way to get out of this.

*****

Mulder sprinted towards the front exit in a dead run. He threw his shoulder against the door and shoved it open. Outside, he frantically scanned the sidewalk for Scully and the green van she’d been in. It wasn’t there.

His eyes moved up and down the street anxiously, catching sight of the van just as it gained speed. “Scully!” he yelled, sprinting in the direction of the disappearing van.

He ran as fast as he could, but the car was getting further and further away. By the time he reached the next traffic light, it had rounded a corner and disappeared from view. He grabbed his knees, breathing heavily. That’s when he remembered the microphone attached to his collar. “I need help,” he shouted. “They’ve got Scully!”

After taking a long look in the direction the van had disappeared, he turned and sprinted back to the warehouse as fast as he could.

***

Thank you so much for reading. You can also find this fic on AO3.

[lesbianmarrow]

xfiles 1x21 tooms car scene is so. bc like okay so mulder is always telling stupid jokes and i think its largely just a reflex for him, like ppl already dont take him seriously due to his ufo obsessions so hes like well then might as well give them a reason to laugh. but i also think he likes to say dumb shit around scully bc he likes making her laugh since she tends to have a more serious demeanor. and thats obviously really sweet. but when scully says "mulder, i wouldnt put myself on the line for anybody but you" and he sees that shes serious, the way he responds to that is by choosing to make a joke, because her genuine respect and loyalty for him (and her willingness to be so candid about this) frighten him and he needs to make things unserious as fast as possible. i think hes scared both of the idea that someone could care about him this way and of the possibility that scully's loyalty to him could put her in danger and it would be his fault. and he doesnt want to think about these things, much less talk about them with her, so he makes a joke. and the thing he chooses to joke about in this moment? is the idea that the two of them could ever be in love. it's cheap, it's rude, it's immature, but scully doesn't hold that against him. she has faith that he'll get there eventually. and besides, she gets the last laugh, giving him root beer instead of iced tea. she also calls him delirious, implicitly agreeing with him that the two of them being in love is a ridiculous idea. so maybe that's also why shes not offended by the joke. scully is also unwilling to acknowledge that the two of them might have feelings for each other. even after shes just showed him exactly how much she values him and what shes willing to do for him. mulder isnt the only one whos afraid of examining their relationship and what it might mean. still, scully is incredibly brave and vulnerable in this scene, and mulder could learn a thing or two from her.

[anders-hawke]

Will you please tell me all about how Scully and Mulder build their loving and happy relationship ? :)

I talked about the guilt stuff here but I didn't talk as much about the actual steps they took to build their relationship. Of course, there's the trust and the love, and especially the consistent choosing.

I mean, that's the part that bowls me over every time I watch it happen. Without hesitation or doubt about whether they should choose—only in how they should show it—they stick by each other. Mulder telling Scully about Samantha's abduction because, even though he doesn't quite trust her 100% yet, he recognizes that she was just very vulnerable to him and he wants to reciprocate. Scully reaching out to Mulder via their secret message system because, even though he's trying to keep her safe by keeping her out, she can't let him—she cares about him too much to stand idly by.

Mulder sitting by Scully's bedside, holding her hand, in "One Breath." Scully shooting Mulder and taking him to New Mexico in "Anasazi." Scully taking Mulder's hand at the end of "Pusher." Scully pulling Mulder down to cry on her shoulder in "Talitha Cumi"/"Herrenvolk." Scully saying, "Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day," in "The Field Where I Died."

The list goes on and on. They never blame each other for their issues unless their minds are being tampered with, like in "Anasazi" and "Wetwired." They come to know each other intimately, both in mind and in body. They choose to know each other, to put effort behind their love for each other. That's what goes into all loving relationships—the choice. And the simplicity of the fact that they love each other is what makes all that so sweet.

They relish the happy times and learn to rely on each other in the sad times. In many ways, MSR is a very basic love story—romantic and platonic love distilled to its basics. Because the depth of their relationship wasn't planned or plotted out, exactly, the progression of it is very natural. They just love each other, that's all.