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randomfoggytiger · 11 months

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How Scully Taught Mulder to Hug

I've noted once before what a profound effect Scully has on Mulder's emotional journey with healing and grief (see here how One Breath transforms him and his emotional outlet); but there is a key part of that healing process that is just as important.

Fox Mulder is known for his softer side: a masculine man comfortable with feminine displays of affection and empathy. However, even though it was always his nature-- reaching out to Scully often, pulling at her necklace, smoothing her hair, engaging her eye contact-- Mulder never physically comforted someone in their distress or immense grief before Scully.

I broke down his dynamics with his mother (see here) but, in short, he was her caretaker since Samantha's disappearance: tucking her in, speaking calmly and gently to soothe her nerves, and other minute mannerisms that bled into his other human interactions. But there was always an affectionate distance.

It wasn't until Scully that he learned how to sweep a vulnerable, distressed, or grieving person into a comforting hug.

TLDR

Scully is used to exchanging physical affection with her family and friends, and she will usually reach out to Mulder first to change an aspect of their relationship: a hug, a hand grip, letting Mulder sweat over root bear, pining in Season 2, hinting at genes in Season 4, and bringing a cheese plate for recovery fun fun times in Season 5. (It's why she was so shocked in The Little Green Men, Small Potatoes, The Unnatural, and Millennium: she doesn't expect Mulder to make any moves.)

Mulder is, despite being a physically affectionate person, stunned by her abrupt hug in the Pilot, having maintained an emotional distance from others for a long, long time (even from his mother and father-- despite being his mother's emotional and even physical caretaker, the two Mulders were not volubly affectionate.)

The MOST PIVOTAL hug is the follow-up in Irresistible-- Mulder shadows Scully the whole case, but it's she who finally cracks and burrows into his coat, needing comfort. The tenderness they've both cultivated in the aftermath of Duane Barry is kicked up a notch; and there is no going back for Mulder. From now on, he will repeatedly body-shield Scully: from literal danger (in the very next episode Die Hand Die Verletzt) and from very intense fear or grief.

In fact, that part of Mulder has been blown so wide open that he swoops in to greet his father with a hug in Colony, kicking himself when he remembers that the Mulders don't hug.

The first time Mulder reaches out to hug Scully is in Paper Clip while she struggles after her sister's death. It's a full-on, no-holds-barred hug that envelops and fully comforts. This is when The Mulder Hug TM is born; and Mulder will use this for the rest of his life, finally able to comfort and cheer and grieve openly.

Because Scully, his human credential, taught him how.

Housekeeping now firmly aside:

Pictures and In-Depth Analysis Below

The First Hug

In the Pilot, Scully is terrified of malicious looking bumps on her back, knocking on Mulder's door and begging him to figure out if they are nefarious or not; and when he good-naturedly assures her they're just mosquito bites, she whirls around and clings to him.

It's demonstrated multiple times in the series to be second nature to Scully to hug her loved ones (returning her father's bear hug in Beyond the Sea, letting Maggie cling to her in Memento Mori, greeting Bill Scully in Gethsemane, etc.); but the opposite is shown for her new partner.

Mulder is shocked by her hug, frozen in his former gregarious reassurance as he processes what just happened.

Finally, Mulder's face shifts to bewilderment, snapping back his head in confusion-- he hasn't had a real hug in how long... why now?

More warmth seeps in, wonder and concern rising to the top of his conflicted emotions as he asks "You okay?" tenderly, beeping his nose into her hair.

He tries to reassure his new barnacle-to-a-hull clingy partner, awkwardly (and this makes me laugh) patting her on the shoulder as if she were a baby.

When Scully pulls back to collect herself, Mulder dazedly focuses on her, tracking her eyes and blandly noting "You're shaking."

Scully helps herself to his seat with Mulder unfazed and telling her to take her time, poking out an arm so she doesn't ram into the chair. He then sits across from her, studying this new (ab)normal specimen, trying to puzzle her out.

This leads Mulder to share his vulnerability over Samantha's abduction, a quid pro quo if you will. It's not private information since he's already categorized her as an X-File; but the revelation is not his trauma : it's his neck-on-the-chopping-block move he makes, revealing how much he knows about the upper office shenanigans and what they've been doing to stop him ("You're part of that agenda. You know that.") Scully honors this , asking for his trust.

(An aside: this is referenced later in Anasazi when Mulder screams over the phone about her betrayal: "Look, you have my files and my gun. Don't ask me for my trust.")

The Second Hug

There isn't another hug until Irresistible. Although Mulder is far from distant, he only ever goes so far with his physical affection (a hand at his partner's back while walking, sitting as close as humanly possible, dragging her away from dangerous scenarios, etc.), leaving it up to Scully to cross the lines between them (tending to him and camping out in his hotel room in Fire, "I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you" in Tooms, petting his hair in Little Green Men, etc.) Mulder yearns to be closer, but he is the one drawing the lines, another self-protective measure (like talking in riddles, keeping few friends, sleeping on his couch, and running so he never has to stop.)

But their S2 separation and Scully's abduction followed so closely by her near death in Firewalker leaves a space for Scully's increasing vulnerability. Her anxiety and stress continue to heighten as Pfaster's case hits closer and closer home; and, by the end of that disaster, she is a wreck. When Mulder and the police rescue her from her newest kidnapping, Scully vainly tries to hold onto her control until the dam bursts, Mulder's empathetic chin-touch undoing her.

She slowly steps closer, seeking a hiding spot to fall apart in; and Mulder just as slowly scoops her up, facing the middle distance briefly to assess what this moment means for Scully (who strove to be unbreakable after her abduction) before turning his focus back to his partner.

When a cry escapes Scully, Mulder instinctively pets and cradles her head for the first time (to my knowledge), transforming from an empathetic but awkward partner to a fully-fledged comforter.

It's here when he links his ability to convey love through touch with his soothing, calming presence: by holding another person, he can wordlessly offer both. This changes everything for Mulder-- he now engulfs Scully, TLG, his family, even other victims in hugs, unlocking that side of himself that he'd never tapped into before.

Scully worms in closer, too far gone to care about preserving whatever scrap of dignity she has left; and Mulder, who gets it now, swarms her in a tighter hug-- his hand stretched to its fullest and his arms wound in a stronger grip.

Mulder then steps it up a notch: he focuses entirely on her (briefly closing his eyes), trying to empathetically collect all of Scully's pain and fear like a dreamcatcher and shield her from all the negative emotions and traumas and nightmares that will plague her. Despite the torment on his face, Mulder's assurance is measured and strong: "It's alright." Simple, but powerfully reassuring.

The very next episode, Mulder throws himself over Scully to protect her from being shot first in the Die Hand Die Verleztz shower, a first for him and one he doesn't flinch at. Of course, he has always been protective; but there is no uncertainty that sometimes lurked when he'd previously hovered around her like a nervous fly.

And this new unlocking of himself led to his aborted hug in--

Colony

When Mulder arrives at his father's, he runs up to the house and almost misses Bill Mulder in the shadows. He steps over, opening his arms for a hug... and is promptly greeted by Bill Mulder's hand.

I already have a series detailing Mulder's complicated relationships with his family (The Mulder Family In-Depth Series is found on this master list); the importance here is that Mulder is so caught up in his new mindset that he forgot the barriers that existed between himself and his father.

Two theories that don't mean anything really:

#1. Mulder had broken down a huge psychological barrier; and he naturally included his father in this change... which was promptly rejected. His face registers an "ah, of course" expression instead of shock or grief, meaning this is an established habit of his father's. Just because he's changed, Bill Mulder has not (yet. See post here.)

#2. Mulder's father has hugged Mulder before, since it's a go-to greeting from his son in this time of crisis. He was a doting father at one point, so maybe he reverts back to his warmer behavior in exteme times of celebration or trouble? Who knows.

Whatever the case may be, this is the first hug Mulder has ever initiated for comfort (not counting bro-hugs or hello-hugs)... and it was rejected. Mulder being Mulder, though, never gives up.

Paper Clip

Paper Clip is the turn of the tide.

Mulder has learned how to marry his unending empathy and true compassion with his natural way of bonding, physical touch. This is when he gives it all back to Scully, the woman who showed him the way. In a demonstration of "I owe you everything, Scully. And you owe me nothing", Mulder stoops down to listen to Scully's heartrending pain about Melissa Scully's murder, giving her as much courage and hope as he can. When Scully cracks, he leans away briefly to better balance himself-- which makes his partner grab for his hands in a panic (2nd pic)-- before scooping her up into a tight hug, allowing his human credential to cry onto his shoulder.

Scully sweeps her arm around Mulder as well (you can see her hand on Mulder's left shoulder.)

The last piece of Mulder's puzzle comes in Herrenvolk:

Herrenvolk

I've discussed this episode in depth here, but it's important to comb back through with this context in mind.

Mulder's mother is on her deathbed, and he has failed to bring back the one person who could heal her. In tatters, he stumbles through the hospital in shock, relying on Scully to get him to Tena (or Teena) Mulder's room. At her bedside, Mulder crashes. For the first time, Mulder leans into Scully, indirectly asking her for a hug. Scully reads his body language and makes the first decisive move, showing Mulder that his emotions won't be rejected. He then falls apart, sobbing into her shoulder.

The last barrier for Mulder's emotional distance has melted away; and Scully is there to give back the comfort he always gave her.

A Summary and Mini-Analysis on Future Hugs

Finally, this aspect of Mulder's emotional journey has come to a healthy completion: from now on, he and Scully give and receive hugs freely, leaning in for affection and anticipating each others' needs and varying moods.

Season 5, interestingly, is filled mostly with hugs-but-not-hugs moments-- i.e., Scully didn't hug Mulder in the woods, they cuddled for warmth; and Mulder didn't hug Scully in All Souls, they whispered with arms in the police station.

But Scully does hug Mulder after the files burn down, since he is too emotionally hewn to reciprocate. FTF is an addendum to that moment, with Mulder proving to Scully that she does, indeed, mean more to him than his life's work (she is his life.)

Sseason 6 is sparing on hugs, though filled to the brim with romantic overtones (subtle they are not); instead, it gives Mulder two kisses that are not from Scully: Triangle's spy Scully and One Son's manipulative Diana Fowley. It's not until Arcadia that the two agents full-on hug-- multiple ones at that-- which is befitting for a season that practically shoves them together while baiting the audience.

(Note: Sometime around Seasons 6-7 there are the events of Per Manum, featuring very huggy Mulder and Scully. I set this sometime before Two Fathers/One Son; but do as you wish.)

The hugs really pick up significant meaning after the episode tag-team of Milagro and The Unnatural. There is no going back now; but whatever deal they struck in those episodes (whether RST or a new understanding between them) is solidified after Mulder's spiritual experience in Amor Fati.

From then on, hugs become casual side pieces to the main affection: Millennium kisses, unabashed flirting, comfort after maternal suicides, familiar and familial habits and routines, and farewells in hallways and hellos from old friends.

The last hug (as of S8 where my X-Files journey stops) is given by Frohike embracing Mulder on his return.

Mulder arrives at Scully's apartment, glad to see his old friend; but he immediately sticks his arm out to shake hands, an unfortunate shadow of his own traumatized father Bill Mulder. Frohike, fortunately, is having NONE of it, sweeping his friend into a tight, firm hug. Mulder is delighted and touched, zinging out his first quip devoid of bitterness.

Grateful and overwhelmed, Mulder gives his friend a back pat (and many happy Mulder noises) as well, harkening back to his first awkward hug with Scully.

A fitting conclusion to Mulder's hug arc.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

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randomfoggytiger · 2 months

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The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XII): Prophecy, Death, and the Question of Fate

Melissa Scully's death is upon us; but I must make a slight meander to point out the unexpected impact she leaves on her sister's disbelieving-believing partner, Mulder.

As mentioned in previous meta posts (here), Melissa acts as intercessor in One Breath-- the conduit of Scully's inner voice that was consecutively silenced, reanimated, and reburied under tightly packed layers of rationality-- steering Maggie Scully's indecision into respecting her daughter's predetermined medical decisions and chastising Mulder's vengeance into honoring his partner's dignity with a final goodbye.

Mulder, who'd lost his way after losing his partner, flailed from anger to dejection to revenge to truth; and, by heeding Melissa's wisdom and doing what he knew to be right, was rewarded with a recovered self-worth and reawakened Scully. That experience began Mulder's own spiritual journey, concurrent to but widely different from Scully's own; and culminated in his salvation from vengeance and "rebirth" on the Navajo astral plane. Although his peace is destroyed in Paper Clip, the changes begun during that experience continue to bloom and grow, opening new possibilities that help to, effectively, fill in the hollow of Melissa's loss. "Fate," he repeats at the end of episode, an unwitting echo of Melissa's "There is no right or wrong-- life is... just a path" and a far cry from his angry resistance in previous conversations with the deceased Scully sister.

MELISSA, THE NAVAJO, AND "LIFE IS JUST A PATH"

As Scully is interrogating Skinner, Melissa scurries up to her sister's apartment, pulls out her own key (which means Scully must give copies to her trusted loved ones), and walks inside... to an ambush.

Albert Hosteen’s monologue sets up the mythological backbone of Paper Clip, Melissa's sacrifice and death, and the nature of direct faith working through Mulder and Scully to bring about change and "rebirth" for all.

"To the Navajo, the earth and its creatures have great influence over our existence. The stories passed from generation to generation help us to understand the reason for our tears of sadness and our tears of joy. Animals like the bear, the spider and the coyote are powerful symbols to our people.

"When the F.B.I. man Mulder was cured by the holy people, we were reminded of the story of the Gila monster, who symbolizes the healing powers of the medicine man. In this myth, the Gila monster restores a man by taking all his parts and putting them back together. His blood is gathered by ants, his eyes and ears by sun, his mind by Talking God and Pollen Boy. Then lightning and thunder bring the man back to life.

"At the end of the ceremony, when the F.B.I. man had been healed, we heard the news from other Native Americans in the northern plains that a great event had taken place. Like the Navajo, these people have their own stories and myths. One of these stories tells of the white buffalo woman who came down from the heavens and taught the Indians how to lead virtuous lives and how to pray to the creator. She told the people she would return one day, then she turned into a white buffalo and ascended into the clouds, never to be seen again. But on this day, when the holy people had given the F.B.I. man a miracle, a white buffalo was born and every Native American knew, whether he believed the story or not, that this was a powerful omen and that great changes were coming."

Mulder talks later with Scully about “fate”; and Scully, too wounded to decode metaphors and miracles, focuses on the loss of her sister instead.

The White Buffalo Woman had ascended with the promise to return again; and that return is-- to the neighboring tribe-- symbolized by the birth of a rare white calf. Its birth, however, comes at the cost of its mother's life; and the episode is not shy about drawing the parallel between either Mulder's or Scully's salvation (or both) and Melissa's doom (which will be discussed further below~.)

MAGGIE SCULLY AND GRIEF: REDUX

Maggie sweeps into the hospital under the assumption that it was Dana, not Melissa, who had been injured. This begs a theory:

Maggie had been alerted by either Scully’s building manager or neighbors, since the hospital had not called her (or, at least, not as Melissa's emergency contact.)

Maggie must have made connections or even friends with the people in Scully’s building to keep an eye out and let Maggie know if (or when) another terrible incident occurred.

If that is the case, when did Maggie and the neighbors become contacts, before or after Scully’s abduction? We know Mulder arrived late to the scene in Ascension (having driven home after a late night at the office, listened to the voicemail, and booked it back out to Scully's) but he still beat Maggie to her daughter’s place-- meaning, Maggie was alerted then by the police and not the curious, watchful, or nosy neighbors. My guess? She made connections during Scully’s disappearance while coming to clean and watch over her youngest daughter’s apartment between October 13th and November 11th (Scully’s abduction dates here.)

Another touch that bolsters this theory: Maggie does not rush to the front desk upon arrival, running instead to the nearest doctor and asking him for information: “Uh, pardon me, my daughter was brought here late last night.” Not only was she not alerted for hours, Maggie was not even called at all, it seems; because her clarification was for “Dana Scully”, not “Melissa Scully.”

The doctor sympathetically explains that the patient was her a Melissa, not Dana, Scully; and compassionately relays the diagnosis and surgery procedures while Maggie, shocked into inarticulation, slowly shakes her head as reality clashes with what she believed to be true.

After being personally escorted to Melissa’s room, Maggie drifts to her daughter’s bedside, dazed and horrified, wobbling out a “Missy? It’s Mom…” announcement.

The doctor walks back to her side, detailing a bit of the “drastic” measures he and the medical team opted to do in light of the severity of the injury: coma. At “coma”, Maggie whips her head around but refrains from further comment, listening to the full explanation before relaxing her rigid posture and leaving the situation in capable hands.

And then, while the doctor asks the nurse to fetch a chair, Mrs. Scully begins to fall apart, repressing her sobs but not her violent shakes and unchecked tears.

I've discussed grief and the Scullys different reactions to it here and here; but suffice to say, it's still interesting to note how each Scully woman grieves: Scully, alone; Maggie, leaning heavily on someone for support; and Melissa, providing support and harshly necessary advice. In hindsight, it's easy to see why Maggie married her late husband-- a rock she could always cling to-- and how that hole in her life naturally fell to either Dana or Bill to claim and fill (as will be discussed in future meta on Seasons 4 and 5.) In the opposite direction, Scully grew up as “the strong one” (a compliment Maggie gave to her, not her two sons), shadowing her father's example by internalizing her feelings completely, equating strength with denial of “weakness” or pain. That, in turn, drew her to Mulder and Mulder to her, each recognizing in the other a mutual coping mechanism and feeling safe enough to let down some of their emotional barricades in times of crisis.

When Scully is told about the shooting second-hand from Frohike,

she bolts, making a blind dash for the exit until Mulder catches up with and reasons her out of her first, irrational instinct: to run blindly forward in a frenzied attempt to prevent disaster or death at all costs.

Scully continues a childhood pattern established in A Christmas Carol and introduced in Beyond the Sea: death is her fault-- the rabbit she’d tried to protect from her older brother suffocated, the exacting captain died disappointed with his little Starbuck, the wayward partner slipped from her grasp to his preventable death; and now, her innocent sister takes an ugly, black bullet that was while on a mercy errand to soothe her anxieties.

It’s an interesting dichotomy, Scully and Death. She sought out distinguishment during her medical career, to make a difference outside of the hospital or the morgue or any place other than boots-on-the-ground in the field. Scully has her own demons she’s trying to conquer, that irrepressible thought of “failure, failure, failure” echoing deep inside her mind. She might think the blame lies in fathers or dead rabbits or lost partners and sisters; but the reality she wasn't and isn’t ready to face in Beyond the Sea or The Blessing Way or Anasazi or Never Again or A Christmas Carol or All Souls or Orison is that that the hollow gong of self-condemnation clangs only by her own hand; and will never stop-- no matter how many fathers or sisters or daughters or partners praise or assure her otherwise-- until she no longer hits it. (An aside: Tithonus was equal to Irresistible and Orison in forcing Scully to face her worst fears: death and personal weakness, defying the confines of even immortality.)

Mulder gives her focus-- a redirection that has helped him, over and over, in his relentless struggle against loss and for the truth-- and Scully does focus on that… but not for long. Because Scully can’t focus forever eye on the chase-- the gain and the lose, the lie and the truth-- while her loved ones are paying the price for her quest. It’s a core part of her character Mulder has learned to respect and yield to, and will again and again the rest of their lives (Paper Clip, Memento Mori, Gethsemane, Detour, Emily, etc.)

ALBERT HOSTEEN ARRIVES

Maggie, meanwhile, has no idea where her daughter is, sitting alone by Melissa’s bedside as the Consortium plant agent unsettles her further by swimming laps around the hospital room. When the nurse drops in to announce a visitor, she brightens-- “Is it Dana? Is Dana here?”-- and is, again, disappointed.

When Albert Hosteen walks into the room, she recoils-- too many figures in the shadows for her to trust let alone welcome this strange new man--

but when he repeats Scully’s message, Maggie grasps onto his words immediately: “You know where she is? Is she okay?”

From Mrs. Scully’s perspective, Melissa is in a coma and Dana is missing; and for the past few hours she must have teetered between despair that her youngest had been taken again and hope that she was coming soon, soon, soon.

Maggie follows Albert as he plods to Melissa’s bed; and, though immediately wary when he grasps an uninjured hand, she waits to see his next action.

“She is weak,” Albert intones, almost surprised.

“She is getting better,” Maggie insists, her tone bordering on scolding… but with doubt creeping at the edges.

“If it’s all right, I would like to pray over her here.”

Maggie nods after a second; and only after her consent does Albert begin his (off-screen) ritual.

There are a few key details that are quite interesting: Maggie is alone and very aware of strangers keeping her under unsubtle surveillance; and with one daughter in a coma and the other missing, it's hard to believe a complete stranger that waltzes into the room and claims acquaintance with her family. And not only is Albert tall, somber, and potentially physically intimidating, but he is also a man whose beliefs and practices would be at odds with Maggie's traditionally Catholic teachings and doctrine. While Maggie is more open to supernatural occurrences than her daughter-- believing in dreams and omens despite Scully's flippant disagreement-- she likely filters those experiences through a religious lens, ala the prophetic dreams in the oral and written traditions of her own faith. She, like Scully, is uncomfortable with broader explanations (i.e. walking away from Melissa’s “out there” speeches in One Breath and The Blessing Way, posts here and here); yet, Maggie still lets Hosteen in, permitting him to clutch her daughter’s hand and disagree with her doctors on nothing more than simple faith in her absent daughter's judgment. That trust will change after Scully’s behavior during Season 4’s cancer arc.

THE CHOICE IS UP TO YOU (AND YOU)

Mulder and Scully uncover a dangerous truth or two, then rendezvous with Skinner in order to create a battle plan. He wants to barrel down the path they’re on, trump card firmly in grasp; but relents after she practically begs him to return home-- a first for both: Scully giving up with tears in her eyes and Mulder relinquishing the chase (and the ground he'd gained to avenge his father and his own death) after her uncharacteristic plea.

“Look, I want exactly what you want! …But I need to see my sister.”

Scully quickly grows self-conscious, dipping her head down and slapping that age-old faux smile across her mouth-- the Dana Scully coping mechanism-- until Mulder, too, looks down and away, giving her space to recover.

“It’s up to you, Scully,” Mulder gently stipulates, leaving the final decision in her hands. (This decision, of course, leads to her further devastation later this episode when they not only lose their advantage but also Melissa, who will die in her sister’s absence, anyway. Another “failure” Mulder tries to relieve with a talk about Fate, and one that Scully can’t accept yet... and won’t for years.)

Scully is surprised and disturbed at having to choose, swiveling her eyes from Mulder’s retreating form to Skinner’s neutral posture, afraid of the judgment or disappointment he might be expressing because of her decision.

Ultimately, she chooses for them to return-- but with a stipulation of their own, a concession to her and Mulder’s equal partnership. “I told Skinner to make the deal. But not to hand over the tape until you agreed to it.” It’s an echo of “I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you”, and a precursor to “Even if that were true, I wouldn’t change a day”: Scully trusts Mulder’s instincts above all others; and her trust in him solidifies and reinforces their partnership, giving his wishes equal placement to her own wants and needs (and sometimes greater precedence than, in her self-conscious moments.)

Mulder’s rejoinder-- “I’m sorry about your sister, Scully”-- is appreciated but redirected: “I just need to know she’s going to be okay.”

THE BUFFALO SUPPORT GROUP AND SKINNER

Albert Hosteen’s narration picks back up in Melissa’s room: “For two days, I prayed for the FBI woman’s sister. Her doctor said she was getting better; and her mother, who would not leave her bedside, was able to sleep. But word have come from my brothers in the North that did not give me hope.

“The white buffalo calf had survived; but after a day it would no longer drink its mother’s milk. On the third day, the mother buffalo laid down in her stall and would not get up. They said the men could do nothing for her. That night, she died.

“My father taught me when I was a boy that this is how life is: that for something to live, another thing must often be sacrificed.”

As we can see (and are told), the dynamic has shifted over the course of two days: Maggie has fallen asleep without sending Albert away, trusting in his protection and preferring his company to being alone.

Skinner arrives, strait-laced, with answers and reassurances, disrupting Albert from his prayers and Maggie from her sleep.

“My name is Walter Skinner-- I’m an Assistant Director of the FBI.”

Maggie, unimpressed, closes her fashion magazine and looks down and away, already anticipating an endless line of questions from Dana’s higher ups.

Skinner, thrown off by the cool reception, puts his badge away and gets down to business. “I’m very sorry about your daughter,” he begins again; and, again, Maggie silently brushes him off.

Coming to the point, Skinner says, “Dana asked me to deliver a message.”

Maggie comes to life, immediately turning to the assistant director and becoming wide-eyed and taut with anticipation. “You’ve been in contact with her?” At Skinner’s “Yes,” she immediately sets aside the blanket and stands, pouring anxious wrath (which we will see again in Memento Mori) onto her youngest’s innocent messenger-- “Well, I want to know where she is”-- before ending in near tears-- “and if she’s okay….”

Skinner’s affirmation is not soothing: “She’s okay. But she’s in a very serious situation which prevents her from being here.”

Slumping, Maggie huffs out a fake trademark smile of her own before shifting into more serious anger: “What kind of situation?” She’s either questioning Skinner’s story or her daughter’s honesty; but either way, Maggie has never been a “face value” believer (Beyond the Sea, Ascension, One Breath, etc.) and her patience has been stretched thin over little bits of communication boiling down to nothing more than a shaky promise or two.

“One that we hope to reverse so that Dana can come back to work.”

Before anyone can respond, Maggie’s eyes jerk back to the shark agent circling outside their room, tipping off Skinner.

Albert Hosteen chimes in with a helpful, “That man you just saw. He’s been very curious about this room.”

This turns Skinner’s attention to Hosteen, who passes inspection and agrees to the assistant director’s injunction not to leave the room.

LOSING MORE THAN MELISSA

The last we see of Melissa’s hospital room is after Scully has arrived-- too late-- sitting alone in the dimly lit calm of the recently deceased. Mulder arrives later, joining in his partner's grief and consoling her as best he can.

“It happened three hours ago. She went into surgery-- the damage to her brain was worse than they had hoped. Her blood pressure started to rise; and, uh…. She slipped away.

"She died for me,” Scully mourns, “and I tried to tell her I was sorry, but I don’t think she’ll ever really know.”

Scully has sat in this chair for who knows how long trying to form an apology, unable to form the words; and now feels like even more of a failure for not at least giving this one thing in exchange for Melissa’s sacrifice.

“Oh, she knows. Melissa knows," Mulder insists.

Scully can’t accept that for herself-- won’t until she releases all the guilt and shame she’s holding in, at last, in All Things-- and so stays silent, regrouping with Herculean effort.

Sucking in a reinforcing breath, Scully detours the conversation away from her rightful pain to her unwarranted self-flagellation: “You were right. There is no justice.” Meaning: my actions stripped my sister of her life and doomed her to injustice after death.

“I don’t think this is about justice, Scully,” Mulder contradicts.

“Then what is it about?” she questions, desperately needing a belief to cling to, a direction to head in.

It’s in this moment Mulder takes on the role of conduit to Scully's inner voice from Melissa: “I think it’s about fate.”

As mentioned in the opening paragraphs, Mulder's time on the astral plane has changed his openness to spiritual connections beyond his understanding. The problem of belief, however, remains: Mulder believes that "the truth is out there", that paranormal or supernatural happenings exist... but he doesn't believe in them. Without Melissa's influence, it takes Scully another five years before she works her way back to believing in them the way she used to, the way that Melissa was helping her rediscover before her untimely death.

Scully wants to accept this, too; but, again, cannot.

Mulder pauses, gulps, and gently, indirectly questions, “Skinner told me that he talked to you. That you were insistent about coming back to work. …Now if Melissa’s death--”

Scully parries his probe for the guilt that haunted her in Beyond the Sea: shaking her head to pacify his worries and dissuade his scrutiny, she adamantly insists, “I need something to put my back up against.”

“I feel the same way,” Mulder continues, softly treading back to territory she wants to avoid. “We’ve both lost so much.”

Scully looks down, pebbles her chin, steadies it, and looks back, not wanting to minimize his grief while avoiding her own.

“I believe that what we’re looking for… is in the X-Files," he continues, "and we’re certain more than ever that the truth is in there.”

Scully does not take comfort in balancing tragic loss against truths uncovered, staking her position firmly and unshakably in measured, avenging justice: “I’ve heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.”

Mulder scoots over to embrace Scully; and she, giving in to the comfort and the pain, allows him to do so, reaching for a tighter grip around his neck.

And thus ends Paper Clip.

THE WHITE BUFFALO CALF: MULDER OR SCULLY?

Albert Hosteen at first compares Mulder's recovery in The Blessing Way to the Navajo tale of the Gila Monster: "When the F.B.I. man Mulder was cured by the holy people, we were reminded of the story of the Gila monster, who symbolizes the healing powers of the medicine man. In this myth, the Gila monster restores a man by taking all his parts and putting them back together. His blood is gathered by ants, his eyes and ears by sun, his mind by Talking God and Pollen Boy. Then lightning and thunder bring the man back to life."

However, Hosteen soon receives word from another (unnamed) tribe that links the birth of their legendary white buffalo calf to the day of Mulder's recovery: "Like the Navajo, these people have their own stories and myths. One of these stories tells of the white buffalo woman who came down from the heavens and taught the Indians how to lead virtuous lives and how to pray to the creator. She told the people she would return one day, then she turned into a white buffalo and ascended into the clouds, never to be seen again. But on this day, when the holy people had given the F.B.I. man a miracle, a white buffalo was born and every Native American knew, whether he believed the story or not, that this was a powerful omen and that great changes were coming."

Canonically, this sets up exciting possibilities that aren't followed through (or, at least, not very well); but if one takes a step back, the Mulder and Calf comparison doesn't work at all:

Melissa's sacrifice is drawn directly to Scully throughout the entire episode, with Scully repeating that fact in doomed tones over and over and over.

The White Buffalo Woman is a feminine mythology, tying more neatly to the mother buffalo/Melissa's "sacrifice" and the calf/Scully's "rebirth" (as foretold in the legend.)

Not only does Melissa act as the "maternal" guide to Scully's inner voice, she is also her protector, supporter, and keeper-- in this life and the next: saving her sister from irrational rationality and her niece from an existence only relieved by her death (Beyond the Sea, The Blessing Way, A Christmas Carol, etc.)

If parallels between Mulder's "rebirth" and Melissa's "sacrifice" can be drawn, so can Scully's escape from her assassins and "rebirth" back into normal civilization alongside Melissa's death. It would also line up narratively with Albert's monologue about the buffalos: “The white buffalo calf had survived; but after a day it would no longer drink its mother’s milk. On the third day, the mother buffalo laid down in her stall and would not get up. They said the men could do nothing for her. That night, she died." Scully, too, was separated from her sister for a period of three days; and Melissa, too, died on the third.

Furthermore, there is no connection between Mulder's set of circumstances and Melissa's, narratively or mythologically.

However, we all know The X-Files is loaded with errors because of a lack of show bible and a broken, incohesive narrative; that means, unfortunately, there is one possibility for the comparison to work-- and that is by taking The Field Where I Died's canon seriously.

TFWID posits that Mulder, Melissa Rydell, and Scully are connected soulmates, recycled together as an unholy trio in each life (kind of like the vampires in 3) and doomed to suffer tragic fates until they get it right. (On the surface, this might further prove the hypothesis that "the X-Files was always a dark show with an unhappy ending" except that Chris Carter himself said that wasn't the case-- though he might have changed his mind recently.) Massive plot holes of the episode aside, TFWID also posits each soul is reborn into a new body regardless of the sex of that body, meaning Mulder was alternately a Confederate man and a Jewish woman in previous lives.

And the Jewish woman reincarnation is the stickler... because that was the last past life Mulder had (to my knowledge) before his current one. Meaning, Mulder soul could very well be the White Buffalo Woman at some point in his past, reborn in this life, again, to bring about the justice and better ending he'd failed to accomplish in the preceding ones. It would do away with the feminine-only bent to the mythology, at the very least; and it would tie into Chris Carter's overall vision for the show-- fate vs. freewill, with fate winning out again and again in Mulder and Scully's lives.

However, that would negate the more interesting and accurate interpretation of the White Buffalo Woman mythology: that Scully, not Mulder, was the woman fated to save the world.

That interpretation would also make sense because Scully often experienced visitations from the dead or dying in the series (posts here and here), including Albert Hosteen's apparition in Amor Fati... which was right after the revelation that shook her to the core: finding the key to everything in Africa. And if that be the case, then the files and the Conspiracy and being a part of Mulder's quest was Scully's fated journey; and that Mulder had made repeated mistakes that destroyed his life in each of the past ones. That Scully was here, now, to "keep him honest, make him a whole person" and safeguard him from danger (and himself) while saving the world.

Furthermore, this interpretation of canon (which I argue is the only factual one) would also negate the late-in-the-game comparison between William and buffalos in Season 9 since:

The White Buffalo Woman was prophesied to be reborn with agency-- to be a leader herself, not a vessel for the next "Messiah."

It would mean Scully's son was a natural product of her and Mulder's dedication to each other, a bonus to saving the world and setting her partner's life to rights.

Of course, there is the third option: that both Mulder and Scully are tied into the legend as they are in every other area of their life-- together (shoutout to @deathsbestgirl's meta considerations here.)

MOTHER EARTH AND UNCONSCIOUS TRUTHS

Melissa, the voice of Scully’s unconscious truths, has died-- at the hand of the Conspiracy, no less. Her impact is far from over, however, trailing behind Scully until she is given (and is able to give back) a form of justice, showing her worn and weary sister that the unknowable and inevitable need not drag her down-- that life and death are both “just a path.” That, like the native tribes believed, all of life’s joys and pains must be held in equal balance to truly understand and appreciate what it is to live.

Scully’s ouroboros is that struggle. Death is terrifyingly final; and she fears what little of her impact or legacy will be left with those who have gone before and those that will come after, flipping rapidly back and forth between guilty rumination and morbid, fascinated terror. The fear of her lack of consequence drives Scully back to Maggie for reassurance, away from Mulder’s lack thereof in Never Again, and into the arms of any man who will consume her griefs and guilt in a temporary, enamored embrace… only to repeat the cycle again, restlessly seeking peace. Melissa, her father, Mulder, Maggie, and Emily have given her reassurance and absolution, repeatedly; but it isn’t until Scully embraces the incomprehensible experiences of Amor Fati and All Things that she is able to, at last, settle those doubts into calm, even joyful acceptance.

What I find most fascinating about Melissa's character is that the development of her bond with Scully builds, not lessens, as the years roll on: the nuanced angles of their relationship aren't fully revealed until Season 5’s A Christmas Carol; and the lessons that have nibbled since their father’s death in Beyond the Sea are recontextualized each time Melissa's influence stretches out from the grave to save her sister from rigidly unyielding scientific explanations or excuses.

Some day, after years of confusion and misinterpretation, her pleas will be able to be heard and will, at last, help her sister achieve peace.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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