#tara skinner

[fox-from-malta]

I love Australian made shows... and this has to be my first favourite!

The Skinner Boys (2014-2017) that one show everybody seems to dislike but me xD I LOVE THIS SHOW - Awful animation, and such a poor story, but the idea was there and I love these characters ;_;

this fanart is from like 2021-22??? I have just never posted them ;_; [well they are on my site some of them] So now I thought I should finally let them see the light of day?

Tara is my favourite character, and I wish I knew more about Tibetan culture to give her character proper justice!! In my re-imagining I made her this magic born dragon girl, because why not? - she also is the biological daughter of the show's bad guy - and in my re-imagining I want that the grandpa [who in show is the good guy] is actually the bigger bad guy/jerk of the show haha xD or one of them.

This is Pt.1, to see the previous post with text see here: Pt.0

[randomfoggytiger]

The Hospital Where You Slept

Wherein I, a non-romcomist, repurpose While You Were Sleeping (including bits of dialogue) for my own ingenious reasons.

This was a beast to write.

****

Perchance

I perished in an arrogant self-reliance

Ages ago…

That life was blotted out-- not so completely

But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,

Dim memories, as now, when once more seems

The goal in sight again. All which, indeed,

Is foolish, and only means-- the flesh I wear,

The earth I tread, are not more clear to me

Than my belief, explained to you or no.

-Robert Browning

*****

The world shrank to his beating heart, desperate inhalations, and freezing sweat. Endless hallways stretched incomprehensible distances and shot up into staircases, groaning under the desperation of his pace.

Melissa Rydell had a cup to her lips, chin trembling, when Mulder burst through the door, yelling at her to put it down, yelling at Vernon Ephesian to put his hands in the air.

Vernon turned, figure glazed by the searing sun, and smiled. “We escape the judgment.” And collapsed.

An exhalation, the release of the pressure towards the precipice, before Melissa dropped the cup and began to convulse.

“Paramedics, now!” Mulder yelled, vaulting forward and pumping, pumping, pumping to keep her soul from leaving once more.

*****

The ER was teeming with blood and broken limbs and bendable bodies stuffed into thin, unforgiving waiting chairs. He kept wild-eyed pace with the gurney until paramedics forced him aside, one staying back to force his limbs by his side before Mulder was assaulted with the pungent stink of vomit, Melissa’s vomit, and nearly collapsed against the wall.

*****

Skinner had let him sit, unaccompanied, while their star witness's stomach was pumped. Mulder figured it had something to do with an unexplained marriage of his own, but both kept their own council and avoided each other's eyes.

The scent of coffee snapped him from the endless bend of his thoughts. White hospital styrofoam floated a few inches from his face, and a few inches from that miracle were two very blue, very serious eyes. Mulder blinked, shut out the clamor of Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, and refocused.

“I was passing by and thought you needed a black coffee.” Dr. Dana Scully; and her eyes were still serious and his hands were still shaking.

He took it and nodded. “Thank you.”

She nodded in turn, politely. “I saw what happened earlier and couldn’t help but wonder if your wife was okay.”

Mulder jolted as sickening dread clawed its screaming way into his throat. “My wife?”

Dr. Dana Scully’s eyebrows pulled down and her arm shot out to steady him. “Have you been checked for injuries, too? Head trauma? Do you have a headache or feel nauseous in any way?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed, bending forward to hide behind his hands. Dr. Scully and the hospital and poisoned soulmates melted briefly behind the consuming process of regular breathing. “She’s not my wife. I’m just an agent assigned to her case.”

“I’m….” Mulder looked up, the confusion in her voice catching his harried attention. “I’m sorry. You were insistent she was your wife when you both came in.”

“Did I say that?”

“Yes, you were quite insistent.” She paused, eyes darting back and forth while she puzzled over his sincerity. “Most likely shock, if you don’t remember.”

“I think I-- she’s not my wife. Now.”

“Hmm. But you love her?”

He wheezed, amused. “More than life itself.”

*****

Angry threats and a shot tumbled down from the desk area; and Mulder reached for his gun and ran down towards the unfolding chaos. A disheveled man, grimed and desperate, was waving a weapon and demanding “Drugs! Painkillers! Anything!” at a small group of medical staff.

Dr. Scully stood in front, her serious eyes burning as she commanded Jerry to listen. “Jerry, put it down. The police will be here any minute; and it’ll be easier to explain if you aren’t armed.”

Mulder slowed, leveled his gun, and called, “Jerry! FBI, put your hands in the--”

In a split second the crowbar was flying down towards the doctor’s head and a bullet was crashing through the air towards his chest. Metal and man collapsed to the ground with a clang and a thud.

*****

Midnight heralded majestic calm to the intensive care unit, quiet and cold as nurses softly made their rounds and Mulder kept his vigil by Melissa’s bed. She lay attached to and surrounded by wires and machines and stiff, antiseptic sheets.

Skinner had demanded an update, sighed heavily over the expected “A coma, Sir, and difficulty in assessing the extent of the damage to her organs”, and insisted Mulder get some sleep. Neither believed he would.

Too keyed to sit, he rose and walked a lap around the room, studying Melissa’s face from different angles and trying, trying, to unlock more memories with a squint or a stare. Coming to a halt by her side, he reached out to clutch her hand before drawing back. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

“Melissa-- Sarah. It’s me, Sullivan. Mulder.”

He shivered, torn; and sagged back into his seat, too weary to continue this conversation while standing.

“I feel that my soul has been searching for years. In my arrogant self-reliance, I’d assumed that search was for the answers to my sister’s disappearance, that with her had vanished any sense of rest or peace. And before finding you, I’ve been….”

He stopped, jaw clenching. “When I was a kid, I’d dreamt of a normal life-- y’know, spaceships and baseball and family. Life didn’t… life hasn’t worked out that way, for me. I have, I have fish; and an apartment; and complete control of the remote-- though that might not mean much to you, Sarah, if you’re listening, but it’s important to a guy like me.”

The machines beeped, beeped in time with her heartbeat. “But… I don’t have anybody to laugh with; or share what I find every day in my work-- people or creatures no one can begin to quantify. I’m Spooky Mulder to everyone else: a joke they keep around to drag out of the basement when they can’t solve their own problems fast enough; and that's all they want to see.

“I think our souls found each other, bound across time and always searching; and I think we were destined to find each other now when we have no one else. To fix the mistakes of our past, Sarah. To make it right.”

*****

Dr. Scully announced her entrance by the click of her approaching heels; and, smiling, he turned in time to see her sweep aside the partition curtain and give him a sympathetic head tilt.

“How’s the arm?”

“Seen better days,” she admitted, self-consciously nudging the sleeve back for inspection. An ugly blue-and-blackening mark smeared the underside of her forearm; and he winced as she shrugged and covered it back up. “I wanted to thank you-- it’s not every day an FBI agent saves me from a deranged pill addict.”

“And it’s not every day I get to be on the other side of a tactical negotiation. You did pretty good under pressure.”

“Well I should, since it comes with the territory,” she replied, and smirked when he chuffed acknowledgement. “I was headed home but wanted to see how you two were doing.”

“I’ve been told she’s going to be sleeping for a while. Coma.”

“Coma? Do you know how serious?”

“'Not expected to wake for a while' serious.”

“Do you mind if I take a look at her chart?”

Deflating from his affirmative, Mulder stuttered. “I don’t... know if she’d be comfortable with that.”

“Right. Sorry.” She ducked her head, embarrassed, and made a show of looking at her watch. “It’s getting late, so I’d better….”

“Dr. Scully--”

“Dana’s fine, Mr. Mulder--”

“Mulder.”

“Excuse me?”

“I even made my parents call me Mulder, so.” He shrugged. “Mulder.”

Her smile downturned, tamping down a quiet laugh; and the cold began to recede, anguish slinking away as fear turned back to fouler places.

“Scully," he began again, "do you believe in love at first sight? Or have you ever seen somebody that you knew would love the real you if they knew you? That they'd do anything to spend eternity with you? Have you ever fallen in love with somebody you haven’t even talked to?”

She squared her shoulders; and Mulder got the distinct impression she’d be crossing her arms if one wasn’t already injured.

“Logically, I would have to say no. Love at first sight is usually driven by hormones and attraction more than deep or lasting connection.”

“But if you know they’re the one, if your soul is crying out for them in a way you can’t possibly understand or quantify-- in a way that science can’t explain-- would you still think that feeling was only hormones or attraction or something larger than yourself?”

“What? Fate? Destiny?”

“Maybe-- or maybe something as simple as two souls reuniting across each lifetime.”

Mulder was surprised Scully seemed to be weighing his words, watching her mind work through different routes of attack before her gaze landed on Melissa. Her face softened; her posture relaxed.

“Mulder, there are explanations that science offers to these questions; and I believe the answers are there. But I don’t know what you believe and… and it’s late, and I need to go home.”

He nodded, smiled for her sake; and she smiled for his, nodded, and slowly turned to pull the curtain back.

“My next shift is tomorrow night, if you don’t mind me looking in on you.”

“I’ll be here,” he answered, good-naturedly patting the arm of his chair.

Scully pushed up an eyebrow, gave an enigmatic twist of her lips, and vanished, heels tapping further and further into the distance.

*****

Someone was shrieking at him. Mulder bolted upright, arms reaching simultaneously for his gun and Melissa before the fog in his head cleared and he found himself thronged by two small boys and four strangers. Doubling over in relief, he heard excitement turn to anxiety and mild horror.

“Oh, we’re so sorry--”

“Morgan! Conner! Get off of Mr. Mulder’s arm--”

“We didn’t mean to scare you--”

“--just dropping in and didn’t think--”

“--they jumped you, rather excited bunch--”

“Dana said that you had--”

Scully burst through, parting the Red Sea of cross and crucifix necklaces. “Mom, don’t crowd him-- Charlie, keep the boys from the wires-- Hessa, could you please pass me the blanket he dropped? Mulder--” she wheeled back around, caught between exasperation and nervous energy, “--sorry. My family heard about our exploits yesterday and insisted on coming here and thanking you in person--”

“We hope we didn’t disturb you,” said one of two brown-haired women Mulder assumed was ‘Mom’. “The boys were excited to meet a real FBI agent and escaped before Charlie could wrangle them into order.”

“But Grandma--”

“Grandma, we didn’t--!”

“Both of you hush,” the younger, black-haired woman cut in. “Mr. Mulder, we’re very sorry. They must have given you a heart attack.”

“Well, they, uh,” he chuckled, rubbing at his chest, “they put a new meaning in ‘up and at it’.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Mulder.”

Scully swiped the blanket from the boys’ mother, folding it neatly as she primly replied, “He prefers to be called Mulder, Conner. And now,” she added, plopping her handiwork carefully over Melissa’s feet, “that we’ve scared him half to death, I think it’s time we all packed up--”

“Mulder? Name’s Charlie Scully. Pleasure to meet you.” Charlie Scully stuck an arm over his sister’s shoulder, grinning when her shrug off wasn’t tall enough to nudge him away; and Mulder shook it warmly, fond of this domestic display now that the buzz had dissipated from his ears. “We were all headed out for an early lunch-- care to join us? Get some fresh air and some good food in you?”

A good meal turned out to be a McDonald’s drive-through, American red and glistening off of a land-of-the-free highway; but Mulder ate it down, contentedly listening to the family chatter until Scully’s voice cut in with a sharp, “Mulder, is this your motel?” Gouging the sleep from his eyes with a ketchup scented fist, he peered out the side window while both Scully boys rotated, anti-gravity ninja style, somewhere further behind him.

It was his motel, alright: grungy and garish, morbid and foreboding. Even a particularly unlucky window had cracks and patches that eerily lined up with the horizontal scratches etched a couple feet wide into one of the separating walls.

“Charlie, keep driving. We’re going back to Dana’s place.”

“Mrs. Scully--”

“No arguments. There’s no way I can leave you here in good conscience, Fox, when Dana has a guest bed you can use.”

Scully, passive, didn’t disagree; and Mulder couldn’t think of a reason that didn’t begin and end in an argument.

*****

Mulder’s stakeout was disrupted again by the advent of Scully’s kitten heels.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he said, listening to her abruptly halt, figure out, and take his astute hearing in stride.

“Hopefully not for much longer.” Consolingly, she added, “Her vitals look good. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Yeah.”

A crinkle and crunch caught his attention, pulling his eyes away from Melissa’s respirator to the burrito that Scully was carefully unwrapping as nonchalantly as she could.

“Scully, are you snacking on the job?”

“It’s my lunch break. I’m running on four hours of sleep and just enough adrenaline to feel a bit rebellious.”

“I’m sure there’s a federal offense somewhere prohibiting that behavior.”

“Well, now you’re my accomplice so I don’t rate prison very highly on my list of concerns.”

“Partners in crime. I like it.”

“Hmm.” She chewed slowly, peeling back another paper layer. “I was thinking about what you said last night-- falling in love at first sight. I did, once; and it ended in heartbreak.”

“How so?” Leaning back, Mulder tried to stretch the cramp out of his right leg, mostly to no avail.

“It was a profession, not a person. When I was in medical school, I had… aspirations to leave it all behind. The FBI recruited me, and I almost accepted.”

“You were recruited? Scully.”

“I know. Melissa-- my sister, Melissa-- never lets me live it down.”

Mulder watched her methodically peel another layer away with more than necessary attention. “Did you accept?”

Softly clearing her throat, she answered, “No, uh, no. Things were complicated at home; and I didn’t think it was wise to add to the… complications by disappointing my parents. They would have considered it as an act of rebellion, you see.”

“I see.” He thumbed the blanket still folded on Melissa’s feet. “Was it?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway. I wanted to make a difference in the world, prove myself beyond medicine, if I could. High ambitions, possibly unrealistic ones; but…” Looking down at the half-finished burrito, Scully smiled to herself and handed it over. “Sometimes we bite off more than we can chew. At least in medicine I get to meet FBI agents without the commitment.”

Snickering, he prodded, “What happened after recruitment? You decided medicine in Tennessee was enough for you?”

“Oh, no-- I moved here after my father’s death. No rhyme or reason, really; I just had to get away from the sea. It was coast to coast my whole life, and the allure of that lifestyle wore thin after….” her fingers made a sweeping motion, “Everything.”

“I see. Was Tennessee far enough away?”

“I suppose. Not as big city as I’m used to, though.”

“Aw, it’s not so bad. Graceland’s tucked away around here somewhere.”

“You an Elvis fan?”

“Mmhm.”

“You put the ‘fan’ in ‘fanatic’?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“That’s what all Elvis fans say. It begins with the music and ends with the conspiracies.”

“That’s what I like about you, Scully, you cling to your science despite all evidence to the contrary. Elvis is out there, and he’ll prove it to you someday.”

“And so is Bigfoot, the Mothman, and the Chupacabra.”

Mulder sat up, transfixed. “Everyone’s got their faith, Scully, and you’ve just spoken mine.”

“I have two rowdy nephews who I’m making up for lost time with, Mulder. Learning about things that go bump in the night are the least of my troubles.”

“Well, if you ever want to investigate those interests further, march right back to the FBI recruitment office and get partnered up with me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she teased.

Even so, another sort of feeling shot through Mulder-- the bitter cry of a loyal friend electrifying the gooseflesh on his dying skin-- and left him silent, shaken.

*****

It was the fourth day of pulling the night shift with Scully and sleeping it off in the guest room-- grabbing a simple breakfast with Maggie, Charlie, and the family before bed-- when Melissa, her sister Melissa, flew in with aplomb.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fox. Mulder,” she rectified, shooting a patient smile at Scully’s sharp glance. “I’ve been told not to call you ‘Fox’.”

“Melissa, turn on your tact switch, please.”

“Hello to you, too, little brother.”

Amidst the rushed “hello”s, Mulder caught a softer, “Dana, you’re glowing-- I haven’t seen you this happy in years,” before he dashed away to get ready.

“Bill and Tara are only a couple hours behind me, Mom, so we should all be packed in by midnight. Hope you have the room, Day.”

“Clearly,” Scully dryly responded while Maggie twisted around to give her eldest daughter a more welcoming “You always have a home here, Melissa.”

Sweeping by, Mulder stooped to whisper, “Very generous woman, your Mom,” to Scully, and waited a second for her rejoining, “Always generous with what isn’t hers” before sailing away for his shoes.

Melissa saw them off at the door, her smile less enigmatic and more cunning. “Have a nice night Dana,” she waved, blowing a kiss after both of them and shutting up the household chatter with a swift slam of the door.

“That’s a first.”

His partner in crime’s acquiescing “Yes” was less jovial and more ruminative.

*****

“Mom wants to throw a celebration for when Melissa wakes up,” Scully amended, yawning her way through a forkful of salad and croutons.

Melissa Rydell, Mulder noted, was hooked up to less machinery, though its mechanical clackery still hummed in alternating soothing or nerve-wracking chatter. Today, he supposed, was the latter.

“Mulder?”

“Hm? Oh, that’s… that’s good.”

“Mulder.” Melissa’s heart beat between them, calmly, incessantly. Stronger every day. “Why don’t you ever talk about her?”

“About who?”

“Melissa-- you always avoid the topic or give one-word answers. I don’t know anything about her other than she’s the love of your life, that you’re devoted to her, and that we sit here, day after day, waiting for her to wake up. I mean, you’ve never even touched her hand while she’s been here.”

Mulder wanted to shift away from her chair, but that would scoot him closer to Melissa’s bed. He settled for sliding forward, changing his mind, and sliding backwards. “She’s very important to me.”

“I’m not trying to make you prove anything to me, I just--” Scully grabbed the second blanket she’d stored at Melissa’s feet and attempted to sweep it over her shoulders. Mulder watched her struggle for a bit before reaching over and carefully adjusting it himself. “Thank you. I want to know her, Mulder-- as a person, not a patient.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well… what’s her favorite ice cream?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Ben and Jerry’s…?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Mulder, that’s a brand, not a flavor.”

“I never thought to ask.”

“We’ve spent almost five days side by side and you already know how I prefer my coffee, what vending machine I don’t like, and which breakfast sides I’ve marked as the greasiest; but you don’t know Melissa’s favorite ice cream flavor.”

“I don’t, Scully. What else?”

“Fine.” There was a calculating look in her eye that didn’t bode well. “When’s your anniversary?”

“We have a couple different ones.”

Sharp, palpable anger settled between them, heat building under his collar as his palms sweat and her face solidified into immovable reproof.

“Mulder--”

“No, Scully.”

“Will you just hear me, please.” She waited for his nod. He gave it, grudgingly; and she continued. “I don’t believe you know anything about this woman other than an ideal or fantasy you’ve built up in your mind. You don’t need to tell me about the case or how you met or even what drew you to each other for me to know that you are pursuing the wrong path.

"Do you really know this woman-- Melissa Rydell, not the Melissa Ben and Jerry's you fell in love with at first sight?”

*****

They spent the rest of the shift apart, meeting up when it was time to leave and pensively filing into their respective seats in Scully’s modest car.

Bill and Melissa were at the door when Mulder drove up; and he wished this were any other morning when the distance between himself and their younger sister wouldn’t be so pronounced.

“Billy, this is Fo-- Mulder; Mulder this is Billy; and Dana, this is Billy and Mulder.”

“Har har,” Scully huffed, hauling herself into Bill’s arms and past him to the shoe rack.

“Mulder,” Bill Scully said, sizing him up before offering a handshake. “Heard you’re part of the family now.”

“‘Fraid so,” Mulder quipped, then winced when Scully flinched.

“Bill, don’t jockey him for your old room back. Mulder didn’t even know the concept of a guest room existed until Mom practically threw it at him.”

Melissa whistled, looking between the two of them. “C’mon, Dana, we’ve got a nice cream cheese bagel with your name on it.”

*****

The guest room had been stifling-- the antique clock’s thick ticking thrust him back into the heavy, methodical beeping of Melissa Rydell’s life support-- and Mulder, overheating in the thinnest cotton layers he could find, sought solace in Scully’s car. It was an old ritual formed from long stakeouts with a roster of unsociable partners that lasted mere weeks before leaving Spooky to his dusty theories and dustier passenger seat. This time he was the passenger, cranking up the aircon and ripping out whatever cash he had in his wallet to toss onto her side of the glove compartment.

When the driver’s side door opened, he bolted upright, blearily assuming he’d overslept; and was confused when the wrong Scully sister dropped into view.

“Fox, Mulder, whatever, I need to talk with you. Just a minute?”

“Um.” Half-expecting Melissa to park herself wherever she liked anyway, he shuffled upright and waved a hand at her. “Come in.”

She stooped then stopped, catching a swirling dollar with her fingertips. “Why’re there bills everywhere?”

“Because the gas is on.”

“Okay.” Swishing uselessly here and there, Melissa gave up and slammed the front door. Mulder wondered if the impulse to hit all the locks was paranoia or prescience as she slid back a few feet, opened the back door, and scooted in, perturbed but seated.

“Dana’s been… off today. And I’m not trying to get involved in your affairs, but I really think you should tell her.”

“Tell her what.”

“I really think you should. She’s feeling displaced and unprioritized; and sooner or later she’s going to decide this back and forth isn’t worth the effort and cut her losses.” She bobbed her head to scout him out through the rear view mirror. “Dana came home subdued and grieved; and her feelings for you are really raw--”

“What--” Mulder bent his head feverishly until he found her in the mirror, too. “Melissa, Dana and I do not love each other. Dana is not in love with me-- and everyone knows I’m in love with Melissa and waiting for her to wake up.”

“Please, you haven’t been in love with her since the moment I arrived. You’ve been conflicted, and those conflicted feelings have been clouding your judgment to--”

“Melissa, I don’t want to hear your sanctimonious assumptions; and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get some more sleep before I have to drive back to the hospital.”

She sat back, studied him a long moment, then sighed, defeated. “Well, I guess Dana has to do it alone, then. Maybe I was just crazy, or hopeful, or I noticed something between you neither of you will recognize--” shooting him a pointed look, “--but it’s hard to think of your baby sister going it alone, y’know? Even if she chooses to do so.”

Almost a week of emotional roller coasters and somehow, someway, Mulder gathered, a cruel trick of the universe was about to toss him down another dip. “Go it alone how?”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk it over with her, but after some educated guess work and some spying of my own,” Melissa smirked at him, joyless, “I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant.”

Down the dip he goes.

“And Dana’s more than capable of taking on single motherhood alone, but….”

Somehow, someway he found his voice. “She’s been drinking coffee, so I don’t think she’d be…”

“She hasn’t, Mulder. I’ve been watching. Have you seen her?”

He hadn’t.

“I’m never wrong about Dana, as much as she wishes I were.” Melissa tapped his shoulder and popped open the door again. “And I really think you should tell her.”

*****

The restaurant was packed, families and singles escaping the hot June weather with the promise of swift customer service and big, cheap meals stacked on impossibly large plates. Scully of all people had suggested it, wanting to show off the “local grub” to Bill and Tara, flicking Charlie when he whined about being an afterthought now. The sizzling smell of grease and fatty meat and salty snacks and rich desserts burrowed into the thick, tightly woven green carpet and practically varnished the sturdy, simply carved wood paneling that stretched from the floor to the bottom of each window.

It was heaven to a man like Mulder and the slough of despond to a woman like Scully; yet she tucked away a modest serving while he limped half-heartedly through his meal, watching her untouched coffee cool and stale with the blooming conviction that he was going to lose the undivided attention of the one person who hadn’t grown sick of his company. His eyes met Melissa’s across the table, and she nodded slightly at him, convincing him that she was convinced this was another sign of his lovelornity.

Well, tough-- for her and for him. He was flying back to Washington D.C. at some point; and whatever friendship he and Scully had recently formed would likely have disintegrated with distance, regardless. Melissa would dote on the newest family member while making moon eyes over ‘what could have been’ and Bill would get his room back and Maggie would move back into the room he, Mulder, vacated; and wouldn’t they all be one hunky dory, happy-go-lucky family?

And he’d wait long enough for Melissa to wake up and recover and they’d….

The last of his appetite was gone.

*****

Having accepted the possibility of an uber Scully, Mulder packed his resentment judiciously away with any expectation beyond a kind but temporary friendship; and pulled out chairs and opened doors with a vengeance. Everyone else raised eyebrows or exchanged surprised glances except Melissa, who watched them drive off with doom and acceptance in her eyes.

The evening haunt now alternated with vigils at Melissa’s bedside and more frequent trips down the hallway, up a floor to Scully’s favorite vending machine, and back down to the intensive care unit common area where he would loiter with water or a snack for Dr. Scully to grab on her way past. By eleven, most of the snacks were piled on her seat in Melissa’s room and he was questioning how medical staff made it through their repetitive rounds, all night, on their feet.

Activity on the ward slowed around one A.M.; and Mulder noticed Scully was now suspicious of his thinly veiled attempts to ease her nightshift.

“Is this the fourth bottle of water?” she asked, sidling up slowly with a outstretched hand to intercept his zeal.

“Fifth-- drank the last one.”

Sighing, Scully led the way back to Melissa’s room, her sneakers-- this was the first night he’d seen her without heels-- squeaking across the freshly mopped floor with punctuating emphasis. She sighed even louder when the leaning tower of snack bars came into view.

“Mulder, if this is about last night, let’s just-- move past it.”

He nodded, eyeing the stack as it slowly slid into staircase formation.

She sighed again. “What is going on here, Mulder? And I don’t intend to let this go until you tell me the truth.”

“Melissa followed me out to the car this afternoon. She told me.”

Those serious, blue eyes had widened, pivoting over his face before looking away. “What did she tell you?”

“That she thought you were… pregnant.”

“What?” Scully snapped forward, ramrod straight, sneakers stamped unthinkingly on the front of his shoes, seeking secure footholds with the grace of two concrete bricks. She stepped back, aware, when Mulder crinkled his right eye in pain. “I’m not-- why….”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.” Her hand reached out, assuring. “I’m not.”

Another flash of Scully or someone like her bent over him, dragging what he knew to be his dying body across the earth. Companionship. Trust. No man left behind.

“I wanted to try IVF.”

The vision was gone; but the peace remained. Scully still stood by his side-- littler, now-- gripping his arm supportively as she slowly and succinctly kept him grounded. “The treatments are expensive, and grueling; and they’re not guaranteed to work. Bill and Tara have been trying for a year or so, without success.”

Mulder nodded, encouraged. “Hm.”

“I don’t know how Melissa could have figured that out, though.”

“You weren’t drinking your coffee.”

Her head dipped, her chin tilted out. “I’ve been tapering off, because….”

“Weaning yourself in preparation.”

“Anyway, now that that’s cleared up….” Embarrassed, Scully walked to the snack pile, grabbed a protein bar, and routinely unwrapped it.

A long pause, as such pauses are before life-changing decisions, bridged the gap between her confession and his admittance; and, steeling himself, Mulder sat, swiped up the little tower, and motioned for her to sit, too.

“I was twelve when it happened. My sister was 8. She just… disappeared out of her bed one night. Just gone, vanished."

*****

Melissa Rydell woke on the thirteenth day, gargling past her intubation tube before proceeding to wail and scream for Vernon Ephesian.

*****

“Agent Mulder--”

“Sir, she’ll know me, she has to, we just have to bring in someone who can help her unlock her memories--”

“Repressed memories are very different from brain damage, Agent. And might I remind you that the extent of her damages are so severe that I expect you to tread very lightly. There are already compromising questions being asked about your involvement in this case--”

“Like what? That I’m manipulating a vulnerable woman to prove an egomaniacal theory? That I’m using my influence to mold her into whatever I desire, like Ephesian did? Like what they think I want to do?”

“You will stand down on this, Mulder. If you wish to see that woman recover enough to make a statement on behalf of the late members of the Church of Seven Stars, then I suggest you direct your anger towards a productive course of action.”

“And what’s that, Sir? Let her lose that side of herself because no one here wants to admit that Spooky was onto something? That because of me we found Ephesian the first time; and the FBI was able to save one alive from his second attempted mass murder? Is that not good enough on your report--”

“Mulder!” Scully appeared abruptly to his right, anchoring her hand on his arm as she swiveled from one red face to the other.

Both men heaved, locked into position in case either of them decided Agent Mulder was going to do something stupid.

“Mulder, I need to speak with you-- privately.”

The gridlock eased, Special Agent tugged slowly away from Assistant Director with future intent etched in the straight edge of each tight shoulder. She walked him to an empty hospital room; and both politely waited for the door to shut before turning on each other.

“Mulder, how could you compromise your position on this case when Melissa Rydell has barely woken from her coma let alone forgotten all pertinent evidence to prove your theory?”

“Scully, you heard what I’ve told you-- the dates, the testimony, the pictures--”

“And what I’ve heard is circumstantial evidence that is now moot without her corroborating testimony. Look, I’m not happy about this, either, but you can’t shove this woman into a mold you want her to be.”

“Scully, it’s not who I want her to be, it’s the truth! Do you expect me to deny it because it’s inconvenient? That’s not who I am!”

“Mulder, I’ve seen things that I can’t explain, too-- I’ve witnessed them with my own eyes. My father--” Scully’s face fell, but she recovered momentum in a blink, “--appeared to me minutes before my mother called to announce her death. I know. I know! But it might not be what really happened-- and if it is, it might not be the whole truth of what happened. Just because you saw it or felt it, doesn’t mean it’s what you understand it to be. The truth is out there, Mulder. But so are lies. And the ones we tell ourselves are often the easiest to mistake for the truth.”

*****

Mulder spent his last night in a Tennessean motel, meeting up in the odd, early hours of the morning with the Scullys for breakfast. Red-rimmed eyes, disheveled hair, and pillow creases at odd sides of his face marked a night of exhaustive, useless effort.

The Scully boys gave him bacon bits from their plates, the Scully brothers kept the coffee coming, and the Scully women fussed and distracted at the appropriate moments. Breakfast eaten, they clung to the silence, knowing only that they didn’t want to break it. Then Mulder made a motion towards his watch, and skidded out of the booth, Morgan and Conner following close behind. The Spooky Mulder Fan Club: members, two. It was bittersweet; and he gripped them on either side as they walked to the van and drove to the airport.

Maggie pulled him aside before he could check in. “Fox, I want you to call as soon as you land. Promise me, fresh from the plane. I remember how it was for my husband to return to his base, alone, with his family thousands of miles away. One of us’ll be waiting; and Charlie and I’ll be flying back to Maryland in a week or two, and I don’t want you to even think of avoiding us. Drive down and I’ll have some good cooking ready for you.” And she hugged him and he hugged back, murmuring wordless noises between them.

“Don’t forget to give us a ring, too, Mulder,” Charlie added, cutting in for a goodbye shake while the boys ping-ponged back and forth between both for hugs and hair ruffles. Bill gave a decent nod and an approving grip while Melissa and Tara traded off with a slow approach and a graceful scuffle away.

Scully was last, of course. “You call,” she whispered. He nodded.

*****

“Scully?”

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.”

“...Mulder?”

“Yeah. I called because I just got back from a case-- real gruesome one involving sorcery and plastic surgery, you’d ’ve loved it.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, I, uh, wanted to check-in and say, that… I reached my apartment, safely.”

“No kidding.”

“And that I hope your mom got my first message, fresh off the plane.”

“She did. I heard she liked it.”

“That’s good.”

“...Mulder, is there a point to this particular ‘check-in’?”

“Uh huh. I was wondering if you were flying up with Melissa and Bill and Tara for-- any time soon.”

“Uh… no. I’m not, any time soon.”

“Oh.”

“But I thought, maybe, you might be flying down for a statement, or something, for the Ephesian case. I read it's still wrapping up.”

“I could. Is Dunk ‘N Fry still keeping its heavenly, greasy doors open?”

“It should be.”

“And I could cross-reference some casefile notes with you. Got an interesting one on a goatman sighting.”

“El Chupacabra?”

“No-- that’s an animal, not a goat man, Scully. This one’s the real deal.”

“Uh huh.”

“So, I’ll-- I could touch down in… two days.”

“They must really need you back in Tennessee for the case.”

“Well, Scully, I have to confess a little something.”

“...Sure, okay.”

“There’s this girl I want to see.”

“...Does she have a name?”

“Yeah, but she prefers I not call her by it.”

“I see.”

“And there’s a place-- a very special place-- to me that I want to show her. A sabbatical of sorts, to reconnect and… get to know her better.”

“Don’t you know each other pretty well?”

“Pretty well. But I’d like to know her better.”

“I’ll bet she wants to know you better, too.”

“I hope she doesn’t mind a road trip. It’s part of my nature to wander.”

“No, I don’t think she will. I think she’d like to wander around a bit, too.”

“Does two days sound too fast, too soon?”

“Two days sounds perfect.”

“Okay.”

“Just a second.... Gotta go, duty calls.”

“Go save the world, Scully.”

“And I’ll tell you how I did it in two days, Mulder.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

******

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic!

[babeyterra]

here is my current modern au faceclaims for the titans that i’m using for a recent fic that’s in the works:)

p.s. cyborg isn’t here bc i don’t have a faceclaim for him yet & also bc i used the maximum amount of photos

robin aka dick grayson as:

raven aka rachel roth as:

starfire aka koriand’r as:

beast boy aka garfield logan as:

terra aka tara markov as:

[mytardisisparked]

I wrote a lil something X-Files flavored for Mother's Day. @singeart and I were talking about Maggie and Mulder and their dynamic and here's the result :)

Read on AO3

Other Mothers; Other Sons

The second her mother’s door was open, Scully felt herself being engulfed in a tight hug. She smiled and did her best to return it with equal vigor, even with her arms pinned to her side.

“Hi Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.”

Maggie Scully pulled back, still holding her daughter by the shoulders. “Thank you Dana.” The genuine joy and gratitude in her eyes was almost overwhelming. After a moment, she released Scully and took a step back towards the door. “I’m almost ready to go, do you mind waiting just a moment while I finish up?”

Scully shook her head and they went inside. 

“Don’t get too comfortable!” Maggie threw over her shoulder as she breezed towards the bathroom. “I’ll be 2 seconds!”

“Okay.” Scully smiled after her. She lingered in the kitchen, looking at a couple of new pictures of Charlie’s sons on the fridge - he must have sent them in a card. The two boys were grinning wildly at the camera in that way that children do, with no regard for how much is too much. It made Scully smile wider herself. 

She turned to the rest of the kitchen and her eyes landed on a large bouquet of lilies and baby’s breath on the table. Those must be from Bill. Or, more likely, his wife, she thought. She stepped forward and, in a moment of petty, sibling-like curiosity, plucked the little card from the flowers to see who’s handwriting was on it.

She froze. The handwriting was familiar. Very familiar. It was not, however, Bill or Tara’s handwriting.

Written in the same loopy cursive that was at the bottom of all their case reports to Skinner were the words: Happy Mother’s Day!  - Fox.

The confusion evaporated as quickly as it developed; her mother had mentioned several times what a comfort Mulder was while Scully was missing, and Mulder had made a few comments himself about how much he liked Maggie. Scully also knew that Mulder’s relationship with his own mother was fraught - she never told him, but the emotional abandonment Teena inflicted on him has always been a steady, hot fuel for rage in the pit of her stomach. 

She knew he went to visit Teena for the holiday. A phone call to him that evening would probably be a good idea.

“He dropped those off this morning.” Maggie’s voice made Scully jump. She turned to find her mother leaning in the doorway, all dressed up in her Sunday best for brunch. “He’s a sweet boy.” She smiled.

Scully nodded. “I-” She swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Yeah.”

Maggie gave her an all-too-knowing look before walking over to touch one of the lily petals. “He said he was on his way to visit his mother today.”

“Um, yeah.” Scully took a breath. “He’s taking her to lunch, I think.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and Scully wondered how much her mother knew about Teena. Eventually, they looked at each other in sync; Scully saw the same knowledge that burned in her own gut burning behind Maggie’s eyes.

Scully looked away. “Did, um, did Bill call?”

“No.” Maggie turned to grab her coat. “I’m sure he will later. He’s probably not out of church yet.”

As Maggie moved to the door, Scully bit her tongue against the frustration cresting in her chest. She looked one last time at the pictures from Charlie and the bouquet from Mulder, and then followed her mother outside. 

[skelavender]

The Gunmen have known for years, since the second that she stepped into his life, that Scully was… whatever Scully was. So had he. He would never try to deny that. And it’s not like the fact that Mulder is moving in with Scully is a secret. She had told her mother last week, and they would eventually have to fill out change-of-residence paperwork with the Bureau. But having the conversation with the Gunmen was going to be… difficult. And by that, he means he is about to get affectionately bullied by a throuple. It’s just a fact. Mulder is outnumbered.

read chapter three of shelter on ao3, or below the cut!

March 1996

Mulder means to ask about the kiss, he really does. But every time he tries, something comes up, or he doesn’t want to ruin the comfortable atmosphere they’ve cultivated. Without Scully’s point of view on the subject, the kiss can remain The Kiss, a glorified fairytale moment he can keep tucked inside himself forever. No communication necessary.

He rolls the memory over in his head daily. He frames and reframes it. One day it’s a favor she’s done for a friend, the next it’s some secret love she holds for him leaking out through one miniscule brush of their lips. Mulder can’t tell what it was for her. He relishes in the infinite possibilities. 

Now, for example. He knows he’s staring at her from across the office. He knows she has probably noticed, but isn’t bothered enough to say anything yet. He takes in the gentle curve of her nose, the swish of her perfectly-in-place hair, the crinkle between her eyebrows that comes from her intense focus on the file in front of her. He imagines what it would feel like to cross the room, tilt her chin up with his forefinger, lean down into her space, and–

“That’s it!” 

Mulder snaps back into reality. “What?”

“I figured out where I recognized this lesion from.” Scully folds the file back and approaches him to share what she’s found with a cloud of medical jargon that he’s grown to understand, and appreciate, over the years. His eyes don’t leave her face. He takes in the glow that Scully lets off when she’s passionate about something, the folds by the corners of her lips, the gleam in her blue eyes. 

It would be so easy to kiss her with this close proximity. To recreate the brush of lips they had in the car. Instead, he lets his imagination run wild with the potentialities. 

***

Scully rolls her home phone over in her hands, considering the phone call she’s about to make. She has to tell her mother about her impending change in residence. 

Her and Mulder’s marriage, she could hide. She didn’t anticipate Skinner letting it slip or her mother running a records check, so there was really no way she would find out about it. But living with him? Not as easily obscured. Plus, Scully knows how disappointed her mother will be when she eventually finds out that her only remaining daughter got married without her presence or knowledge. So she needs to tell her about moving in with Mulder, at the very least.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she dials her mother’s number. She picks up after a few rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s Dana,” she greets, “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, Dana, it’s good to hear from you! I’m alright, just having a slow day around the house. Cleaning, mostly. How are you?”

“Alright, I’m… busy with work, but I’m alright.”

“That’s good.”

“Have you talked to Bill recently?” Dana asks, putting off the conversation she was meant to be having.

“Last week, he and Tara are doing well. They might come out here for Christmas this year.”

“Oh good, that’s… good.”

“Why are you really calling, Dana? You don’t just want to know how Bill is doing. Is something wrong?” Scully should have known her mother would see right through her.

“No, I’ve got some news.”

“Oh.” Maggie’s voice wavers, laced with concern.

“Nothing bad, I'm just moving.” Dana explains.

“How far?”

“Just to Alexandria.”

Lightened by the fact that her daughter isn’t leaving the area, there’s a teasing tone to Maggie's voice, “Really? We know someone who lives in Alexandria, don’t we? Oh, who am I thinking of…”

Dana rolls her eyes, “Mulder, Mom. Mulder lives in Alexandria.”

Maggie continues to feign innocence, “Oh, does he? Will you be living in the same neighborhood?”

“…In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Is there something you want to tell me, Dana?”

Dana knows where this is going. It’s the same dance that comes just about every time she mentions Mulder to her mother. She can’t blame her mother for making assumptions, she knows her and Mulder’s relationship is… unorthodox to say the least. Their dedication to each other is, arguably, deeper than most romantic couples Dana has seen, and now they’re going out of their way to stay the night at each other’s homes and looking to build one of their own together. But her mother is about to speculate something that Dana wants, but can’t have. Just like everybody else does. “Mulder and I are looking for an apartment together, Mom.”

“Is that so? Anything else?”

“We aren’t together, if that’s what you mean to imply.”

Maggie tries not to sound put out. “Really?”

“We’re not. We just end up calling each other or showing up with an update on a case so frequently, we might as well save on phone bills and gas by moving in together.”

“Uh huh.” Maggie’s tone is doubtful.

“Really mom it’s just…”

“What, practical?”

“Well, yes!”

“Dana, don't tell me for a minute that you don't have a significant amount of affection for that man.” 

She could never deny that. There’s no world where she even tries. Her mother knows that, Skinner knows that, hell, the teenager that usually delivers their damn pizzas probably knows how important Mulder is to her. She can’t hide that from anyone, thought it would be much more comfortable to her if she were able to.  “It’s a work decision. We’re getting a three-bedroom so we can have a home office.”

Maggie sighs. “Dana.”

Scully can't deny it. She just barely manages to keep the shake out of her voice. “I think we both feel more comfortable knowing the other is safe.”

Because that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? There’s no way for Mulder to come home to a voicemail of her screaming for him as she’s taken by some maniac if they're under the same roof. Depending on the layout, he might just have to peek across the hall to check.

They’d been looking for rentals, really. They’d been planning on getting a sizely apartment, maybe a townhouse. But Scully had been going through the paper looking at listings while more than a little wine-drunk, and hadn’t noticed that one of the three bed, one bath listings she had circled was for sale, and not for lease. So, they started considering it. The money wasn’t an issue, not with their combined incomes, and there was really no reason to keep renting. So they broadened their search.

“That’s a very good reason.” Maggie says.

“We’re looking at a couple options, and have a couple tours this weekend. We’re both looking forward to it.”

“Well that sounds great Dana, I’m happy for you two.

“Thanks, Mom, I am too.”

After hanging up, Maggie just shakes her head affectionately. Being a good mother, she won’t tell Dana just how stupid she thinks she and Fox are being. 

***

Fox Mulder grew to love his partner quiet and slow. There was never a grand moment of realization, he was never hit over the head with the knowledge, he just sank into the sensation. At peace. She had stuck out her hand to him that first day in the office with her face bright, and hopeful, and excited to meet him, and he had thought Oh. She’s going to change everything. She’s going to matter. And she did. 

He’s never loved like this before. It’s never felt so… natural. It’s as ingrained into his soul as his need for the truth, as his belief in things beyond explanation. It’s just a part of him. Fox Mulder hates his first name, enjoys basketball, and is hopelessly in love with Scully. His partner. His wife. 

He can’t imagine himself without her anymore. He doesn’t want to. Since she wandered into his life, he had been irreparably changed. He wouldn’t undo a bit of it. 

Needless to say, he’s excited to live with her. A little nervous, sure, given that he’s a bit of a slob and hasn’t lived with anyone in a number of years. But it’s Scully, and she’s endured far worse from him over the past couple years than possibly leaving a wet towel on the bathroom floor.

The Gunmen have known for years, since the second that she stepped into his life, that Scully was… whatever Scully was. So had he. He would never try to deny that. And it’s not like the fact that Mulder is moving in with Scully is a secret. She had told her mother last week, and they would eventually have to fill out change-of-residence paperwork with the Bureau. But having the conversation with the Gunmen was going to be… difficult. And by that, he means he is about to get affectionately bullied by a throuple. It’s just a fact. Mulder is outnumbered. 

So, he blurts it out in the middle of a heated debate about MK-Ultra.

“I’m moving.”

At least it gets their attention. Their voices stop, and three heads turn towards him.

Frohike is the first to speak. “Did they take you off the X-files again?”

“What? No. Scully and I are finding a place together. We aren’t getting reassigned.” He’s met with flat looks from the trio. “What?”

The Gunmen share a look that Mulder can’t read. Suddenly, he understands how disorienting it must be to watch him and Scully in their own dance of silent interaction. 

“You and Agent Scully are… moving in together?” Byers asks finally. 

“Yes.”

“And you aren’t, y’know, doin it?” Frohike elbows Langly for the bluntness of his inquiry.

Mulder presses his lips together. “Nope.”

Frohike scoffs, “Yeah, right. That’s what we said in 1992.”

“Well yeah, but you guys are different. Scully and I are partners on the X-files, living together will make it easier to work together and we can look after each other. I can keep her safe, and vice versa.”

They glance at each other again.

“What?” Mulder repeats, this time with more emphasis.

Frohike stands, “Alright, buddy. I think we all need more beer.” 

“Here, here.” Mulder murmurs into his bottle, taking the last swig from it.

Byers shakes his head in exasperation, an action usually only granted to his partners’ antics. Being a good friend, he won’t tell Mulder how stupid he thinks he and Scully are being. 

***

The topic comes up relatively naturally, while Scully is chatting with Skinner over burnt break room coffee one day. Shockingly, not all of their interactions revolve around cases and Mulder doing something stupid again, and their need to go save his ass. Skinner, discussing an upcoming vacation, inquires when the last time Scully got away was. 

“Not since I was teaching. Working on the X-files is a little too unpredictable. But speaking of, Mulder and I are going to need some time off soon.”

“Is that so? A weekend getaway?”

She scoffs, “No, moving. I don’t think either of us could get Mulder to take a proper vacation upon pain of death.”

“He’s helping you move? You two are awfully dedicated to each other.”

Scully gives him a sideways glance, resenting the implication. “In a manner of speaking. Technically I am also helping him move.” At Skinner’s look of confusion, she continues. “We are looking to live together.”

“You and Agent Mulder are… moving in together?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“In the same home?”

“Yes. We figured that, given the frequency at which we are attacked in our own homes, it might be safer to have one another around.”

“Uh huh.” Doubt laces through Skinner’s face. He puts the paperwork down. “Agent Scully, I could excuse your and Agent Mulder’s marriage due to its nature, but if you and he are… involved…”

“We’re not.” Scully replies quickly, but not unkindly.

“I can discuss with some other ADs…”

“We aren’t together, sir.”

Skinner inspects Scully’s face, now shifted into her usual professional mask that she wears in meetings. He knows that Scully is not a good liar. She avoids it, preferring to talk around the topic at hand instead of lying outright, but she’s not doing that. She's telling the truth. 

Damn.  

“Alright, Agent Scully. Just be sure to send in the change-of-address paperwork to me directly.” he relents.

“Thank you, Sir.”

As she turns to leave, Skinner shakes his head with an eye roll. Being a good boss, he won’t tell Agent Scully how fucking stupid he thinks she and Agent Mulder are being. 

<-previous chapter next chapter ->

[jareaulover]

If I Can't Have You (Hotchreid fanfic, Chapter3)

Description: In the present, they work the case and Reid talks to JJ... In the past, Aaron realizes that Spencer's become addicted to drugs...

Notes: There is mention of drug use, though I didn't do much description on the actual use, just mostly a little of the aftermath. If that is triggering, please skip that part.

Previous Chapter

Full chapter below the cut

or

read on AO3

“So, whoever removed this heart had no medical training. It's a mess.” The medical examiner told JJ and Morgan, “But without the rest of the body I can’t really tell you much else. If you can get a sample of the victim’s DNA then I can confirm that the heart belongs to him.”

“Okay, thank you.” JJ said. She and Morgan walked back to the SUV together.

“Removing the latest victim’s heart is a huge jump from just stabbing them to death.” Morgan said, while starting the vehicle.

“Well, it's clear that the true target of his fantasies is Spencer, so maybe he realized that since we’re here he needed to up his game… I hope Spence is okay.” JJ said, pulling out her phone to call Hotch.

“It's Hotch, tell me you’ve got something from the ME.”

“All she could tell us was that the unsub had no medical training, she needed the rest of the body to finish the exam.” JJ said, “We need to get a DNA sample from the wife so she can confirm the heart is Skinners.” 

“Okay, I’ll send Tara to talk to Mrs. Skinner again,” Aaron said, “We’re sending plain clothes officers to the libraries closest to the comfort zone.”

“How’s Spence doing?” JJ asked, she hadn’t stopped worrying about him since the moment she heard of what he had received.

“He’s holding up, We’re keeping him at the station, though. Just, get back here. We’re going over the files that Garcia sent me last night on all of Spencer’s mail victims who fit the profile.” Aaron said.

“Wait, you… You pulled the files last night? We didn’t even know that Spencer was connected until this morning.” JJ pointed out, Morgan looked at her, then quickly back to the road.

“Spencer… Had a hunch. He didn’t want me to tell you guys until we had more solid evidence, but I went ahead and had Garcia pull some files.” Hotch explained to her. He knew JJ would be upset at the fact that they had kept this lead quiet, but he wasn’t going to betray Spencer’s trust. 

“Got it…” JJ said, hanging up the phone. She knew she didn’t really have much of a reason to be so upset. Spencer wasn’t physically hurt, but she just wished they had told the team.

---

Back at the station, Spencer was sitting in the conference room, sipping from one of the coffee cups provided by the station. The coffee was disgusting, but it was mostly sugar anyway so Spencer didn’t mind. He tried to ignore the way his hands were shaking, but the slight movement of the liquid in the cup reminded him.

“Spencer?” Aaron said, sitting next to the professor. Spencer looked up at him and set the coffee down. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, “We want Morgan to take you through a cognitive interview. Another professor said the box wasn’t there when she walked in and she was there only a few minutes before you so… We think the unsub would’ve been around when you picked it up.” Aaron explained. Spencer clenched his fists inside his pockets.

“I- I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice quiet. Aaron sighed.

“Yes, but… You know that a lot of times you don’t think that you remember anything but-”

“I know, I know.” Spencer interrupted him, “How could… Why would I… I don’t understand why me?” Aaron sighed and gripped Spencer’s arm.

“You know how these types of unsubs are… Your eyes might have lingered on him for a moment too long, or maybe you laughed at something he said. Whatever it was, it was unconscious and it led him to become obsessed with you.” Aaron said. Spencer felt tears fill his eyes, so he looked back down at his hands. He didn’t want Aaron to see him cry.

“After the interview, can I go home?” Spencer asked, trying to discreetly wipe the tears before they could fall.

“Spencer… It's not safe. I can send an officer home with you, but I can’t leave you alone.” Aaron tilted Spencer’s head up by his chin, “We’re going to find the guy that did this and I am not going to let you get hurt.” Spencer felt a few tears fall from his eyes. Aaron’s face softened. He pulled Spencer into his chest and the younger began to sob, his face pushed into Aaron’s chest. Aaron rubbed his back and shushed him.

JJ and Morgan got back from the ME’s office and entered the conference room. Aaron’s back was to them, neither he nor Spencer saw them enter. Morgan and JJ shared a look before they both exited the room. As soon as they did, they ran into Rossi.

“Hey, did you get the ME’s report?”

“Yeah, we told Hotch.” JJ said, glancing behind her at the door to the conference room.

“What is it JJ?” Rossi asked, noticing the odd look on her face. She looked at Morgan.

“Spencer’s upset, Hotch is… comforting him, I guess.” Morgan said. Rossi raised an eyebrow.

“Well, let's give them some space, then. We’ve narrowed down the list to 30 possible suspects,so JJ, you and Emily will take ten, we’ll send Tara with the captain, and I’ll go with the lieutenant. Morgan, when he’s ready, give Reid his cognitive interview.” Morgan and JJ both nodded and went to follow the instructions they were given.

---

Ever since they had rescued Spencer from Tobias Hankel, the young angent hadn’t moved from Aaron’s side. Aaron had rode in the ambulance with him and stayed with him in the hospital. Even when they were on the jet, Aaron sat beside the younger man. Once they were back in Quantico, Aaron even insisted on driving Spencer home.

Aaron had begun driving Spencer home when they got home from a case this late. He felt that this was safer for the younger agent than taking the Metro. Sometimes, Aaron would just drop him off, other times he would come up and they would talk about the case that they had just solved and then there were the times that Aaron would stay longer. He never stayed the whole night, though.

Once they pulled up to the apartment, Aaron turned to look at Spencer. There were so many things that he wanted to do. So much that he couldn’t do. They may have gotten closer recently, but they had both kept their feelings for each other out of this. It had just been about sex and Aaron knew that now wouldn’t be the best time for him to attempt to bring their feelings into this. Spencer had just gone through a lot of trauma and Aaron didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“Do you need anything before I go? Anything at all?” Aaron asked. Spencer looked away from him. He squeezed the strap of his bag, the bag he hadn’t let out of his sight since he got out of the hospital. His mind wandered to the small bottles that had been hastily stored in said bag.

“No, no. I’m good, honestly.” Spencer said, looking at his boss. Aaron studies the younger man’s face, looking for any indication that he should stay. Spencer kept it together, though. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Aaron felt like he needed to stay with Spencer, but he just gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder and watched him walk into his apartment building.

---

“You know, you need to have a discussion with the kid.” Rossi said to Aaron once he and Tara had gotten back from talking to their ten suspects. They’d all be able to provide alibis for at least one or more of the abductions. Aaron sighed, looking around to make sure no one else was going to overhear the conversation.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.” Aaron said, “It was a long time ago and plus we’re on a case. There’s more important things to focus on.”

“While I agree that we need to focus on the case, I definitely think there’s some things you need to talk about.” Rossi said, giving Aaron a look. 

“Honestly, Dave, it’s not really any of your business.” Aaron said, before walking away. He didn’t want to think about how feelings Spencer in his arms again caused all those feelings, that he had tried to push down for so long, to suddenly come back with a fighting vengeance. 

Morgan and Spencer walked out of the interview room in the precinct. The two approached Rossi and Morgan began.

“He remembers seeing a man a little younger than himself there, but he couldn’t get a clean look at the man’s face.” Morgan explained.

“Hey, uh, do you know where Hotch went?” Spencer asked Rossi.

“I believe he’s in the conference room.” Rossi answered. If Spencer saw the knowing look on the older agent’s face, he didn’t say anything.

“Thanks.” Spencer murmured and walked to the indicated room. When he entered, he saw that Aaron was reading over the statements given by the ones the team and local PD had just finished interviewing.

“Hey, how’d it go with Morgan?” Aaron asked, “Were you able to remember who left the package?”

“Sort of… I didn’t see his face, so I can’t identify him but I know he was there. Um, I think they’re going to look over security cams on the campus and see if they can get a look at him that way.” Aaron nodded, “So… Can I go home now?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, I want an officer there with you, though.” Aaron said, Spencer nodded,

“What about… Could it… Could JJ be there instead?” Spencer asked.

“If you’d be more comfortable with that then sure. But I want you to get some rest, okay?” Spencer nodded

“Thanks, Aaron.” He said, rushing out to go find JJ. Rossi entered the the room after the kid,

“Morgan and I are headed to the campus to check security cameras, is there anything that you need before we go?” Rossi asked, eyeing the man.

“No, go ahead. Once you get it make sure it gets sent to Garcia as well.” Rossi nodded and he left. Aaron continued reading the statements, but he found it hard to focus. Part of him wished that he could have been the one to go home with Spencer. He wanted nothing more than to be the one protecting him.

“JJ, hey, Aaron said that you could be the one to come back with me to my apartment.” Spencer said, grabbing the attention of the woman who had become his best friend even in the short time they had worked together. JJ smiled.

“Of course, Spence.” She said, grabbing the keys to the SUV, “Let's go.” She led Spencer out of the station and to the car.

“Thanks for doing this for me, JJ.” Spencer said, “I just, I’d rather have someone familiar there with me.” JJ gave him a smile,

“Of course. And, you know, we’re going to catch this guy.” JJ said. Spencer frowned a bit,

“I know you guys will catch him… It's just the fact that one of my students could have done something like this… He’s killed 4 people just because of me and I don’t understand what he could’ve seen in me that would drive him to do this.” JJ gave him a soft smile.

“I haven’t been a profiler for very long but… You know unsubs like this are-”

“I know, they’re triggered by the smallest thing I could’ve done, that’s what Hotch said and I know that it's true but it doesn’t make it make sense.” He said. JJ started the car and began heading to Spencer’s apartment.

“You’re right, I’m sorry that this is happening to you.” JJ said. The rest of the drive was quiet. They parked outside of Spencer’s apartment and then made their way inside. Once inside, Spencer gave JJ a tour of his apartment.

“So, um, that’s it. It’s not much but I like it here… And it's a short walk to campus.” He explained.

“Its nice, I love it.” JJ said as the two sat down on the couch.

“Do you want me to make some coffee or something? I also have tea and hot cocoa.” Spencer said, playing with his hands.

“Coffee would be great.” JJ said. Spencer nodded and moved to the kitchen to prepare the coffee. He reentered the room a few minutes later with two mugs in his hand. 

“Here you go.” He handed her the mug.

“Thanks, Spence.” She smiled, and took the mug, “Can I ask you something?” She said after blowing on the hot liquid a bit.

“Sure.” Spencer said.

“Morgan and I… Earlier we came in and saw Hotch comforting you but…” Spencer’s cheeks reddened and he looked away, “It just looked like… I’ve never seen Hotch hold someone like that.”

“It- It's not… We… I don’t know, I was just… upset, so…” Spencer stumbled over his words, but he saw the look on JJ’s face.

“Spence…” She said, “Were you and Hotch…” Spencer gripped his mug tight.

“I… It was so long ago,” Spencer started, looking up at her, “We… We hooked up… like a lot, I guess.” Spencer said. JJ raised her eyebrows,

“Holy… You and Hotch?” She said, a smile grew on her face, but it quickly went away when she realized Spencer looked less than thrilled, “What happened?”

“Nothing, really, it stopped when I left, obviously, we were 2,422.7 miles apart,” Spencer sighed, “And plus, we were never… Romantic. Neither of us wanted to have a serious relationship, it was all about the sex.” Spencer sighed, “Listen you can’t tell anyone any of this but this next part especially… Aaron can never know, okay?’

“Of course, Spence. What is it?” She asked. Spencer chewed his bottom lip for a few seconds, debating if he really wanted to tell her this part.

“I… I was in love with him.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Spence…”

---

Spencer had taken some time off after everything that happened in Atlanta and Aaron had been worried about him the whole time. On Friday evening, Aaron decided he was going to check up on the man that he had found himself falling for more and more everyday.

When he pulled up to Spencer’s apartment building, he felt a bad feeling in his gut. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, even as he walked up the stairs and stood in front of the door, but even so the feeling in his gut didn’t go away. He knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds for Spencer to open the door. After knocking a couple more times, he tried the door knob. It was unlocked.

“Spencer?” He asked as he entered the apartment. He walked in, hand resting on his gun, just in case he needed to draw his weapon. He walked back to the familiar bedroom and found Spencer sitting on the end of the bed holding a small vial. As soon as he seen Aaron a look of panic came over his face and he was quick to shove the vial in his pocket, but he knew he’d been caught. Aaron blinked, trying to understand what exactly was going on, but soon a look of understanding covered his face.

“Aaron… I…” Spencer’s voice cracked and he knew that tears would soon be falling. Aaron quickly moved to the younger agent, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out the small vial labeled as ‘Dilaudid’.

“Spencer… I-I’m going to get you help,” he said. Spencer’s breathing was ragged and he let out a breathy sob.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so, so-”

“Sh, it's okay… It's alright, I’m going to help you.” Aaron said, helping him to stand, “We… We need to get you to the hospital, you don’t look well…” Spencer felt like he was going to throw up. The drugs mixed with the panic that he felt was all too much and everything went dark. Aaron caught him before he could hit the floor and he was immediately dialing 911.

---

Next Chapter

[lilydalexf]

Here are some very good fics where at least one of Mulder and Scully experience amnesia. Enjoy! The 13th Sign and 7 Days in May by prufrock's love Mulder saw no reason for life, death, sex, Armageddon, or emotional dysfunction to stand in the way of true love. / It might be the end of the world. Fox Mulder had a psychic vampire on the loose, a six-year-old son in tow, a ton of emotional baggage, and an FBI budget, but at least he wasn’t dead. Mulder felt things were looking up - romantically and apocalyptically. Above Rubies by Rachel Howard Biological weapons, ghosts, sex, guns, bad guys galore, Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and a partridge in a pear tree. Bells For Her by Tara Avery You have her face and her eyes, but you are not her. Blinded by White Light by @dashakay What are we, but the sum of our memories? Blue Monday by Deb Longley After the unconventional brain surgery of "Amor Fati", Mulder experiences amnesia and, with no recollection of his past, confides in a psychologist. The Bright White Place by Nancy Nivling Skinner told her Mulder was dead. For some reason, Scully doesn't believe him. By the Wind Grieved by Karen Rasch Months have passed and Mulder is back. But things are not as they once were. He doesn’t know who he is or what Scully and he are to each other. Together they must reclaim the past before their enemies take away their future. False Memories by Zuffy Two years have passed since Mulder left. And then a woman walks into a bar. The Fight by Vickie Moseley When Mulder loses his memory after a fight with Scully, does she really want him to remember what happened? Forget to Remember by Parrotfish Stripped of the memory that most defines him, Mulder must face deep self-doubt. Meanwhile, Scully uncovers a devious plot against her partner and forces him to confront his own demons -- and his feelings for her. Fugue by @rivkat The DSM-IV defines fugue as travel in foreign places, often under an assumed identity. He Walks Down the Road by KatyBlue Season seven. (this is not a post requiem but more likely an alternate universe ;) though it will spoil requiem for anyone who's trying not to) The Insurance Policy by Joann Humby Mulder wakes up with no recollection of the last six weeks. The Lady and the Tiger by Stephanie Davies and Sue Esty Scully bumps into someone who bears a striking resemblance to Mulder, eight years after Mulder has disappeared. A Life Unfinished by Circe (@invidiosa) a return story Lost Time by Spider Mulder hasn't been seen since Wednesday, and now his wrecked car has been located. The Memory Trilogy by Daydreamer Mulder is abducted, beaten, and given a serum to stimulate memories of the night Samantha disappeared. Scully finds him, tends him while he recovers, then helps him deal with new memories of that fateful night. Mindprints by Analise Scully finds herself with no memory...and at the mercy of a doctor who may have lost his own mind. Once More With Feeling by Skinfull While on a stakeout Mulder is shot in the head and loses his memory. Reminiscence by @sunflowerseedsandscience Mulder wakes one morning to find that Scully has disappeared, and is told- by those he trusts- that she has been dead for over twenty years. All of the evidence- and even Mulder’s own memories- seem to back it up. But is it true? Or can Mulder not trust anyone- himself included? Right Hand Return by Humphreywrites An alternative universe in which Scully is returned from her abduction with a baby, no memories of anything prior to her captivity and some PTSD. Swimming In My Mind by theo_rathke We've all got things we'd rather forget. Temporal Functions by Rachel Anton The temporal lobe of the brain controls auditory and visual memories as well as fear and some aspects of the personality. Synonyms for temporal include transitory, ephemeral, brief and fleeting. Things You Forget by @baronessblixen Mulder hits his head and gets retrograde amnesia. Scully takes care of him.

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 3: Smolder // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

Honestly I am so pleased with this chapter. The dialogue, the characterization, the Vibes. If you read only one chapter of this fic, let it be this one.

smolder verb 1. to burn with little smoke and no flame 2. to exist in a suppressed state --- Conversations with dead people.

Four hours later, the coffee was long gone, and the heavy bags of snacks were reduced to nothing but wrappers and a scattering of crumbs. Xander, predictably, was snoring in the corner, Anya's head in his lap; she kept muttering in her sleep, and each time he would soothe her with a pat on the head, without either waking up. Tara and Willow had moved to the store’s loft, reading aloud to each other in shifts to keep awake.

Buffy had left for patrol shortly after midnight—“Not every vamp is as charming as you, Mulder,” she quipped as she loaded a crossbow into her bag—and Giles had gone home to comb through his library and check in with a few contacts on the other side of the world who would just be waking up. Spike at one point simply stood up and left, his leather jacket flapping behind him like the wings of a giant bat—a move Scully was sure he had practiced—and vanished into the night.

Even Mulder was slumped in his chair, dozing. She had rummaged up a blanket from the training room at the back of the shop, hoping it wasn’t somehow cursed, and tucked it in around him. He barely managed to mumble a “Thank you,” before drifting back to sleep.

Scully had spent so long staring at a scroll in a language she couldn’t even pronounce, let alone read, that the boxy little symbols were starting to make a worrying kind of sense; like a Magic Eye painting, if she let her eyes relax and her focus drift, they almost looked like tiny monsters.

She leaned back, her head swimming with a sudden exhaustion that bordered on delirium. She hadn’t slept more than three consecutive hours since they had landed in this sun-baked hellmouth, spending her days falsifying reports and medical records for Skinner to explain her and Mulder’s continued absence—given their track record, him being grievously injured on the job was a decent cover story—and her nights up to her neck in legends she still could only half-believe. All the coffee and junk food in the world couldn’t save her from the consequences. Her eyes felt gummy in her skull, her nose was clogged with the grime of thousand year-old books, and the room itself seemed to contract and swelter around her. She lurched to her feet, fighting back nausea, and rushed toward the back door.

The night air hit her like a wave and she gulped down its soothing chill again and again until the urge to hyperventilate or vomit had passed. Slowly the darkness receded from the edges of her vision and the bile eased back down her throat. She pressed her fists into the small of her back and arched her spine, releasing several satisfying pops.

“Tasty thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark.”

Scully whirled around to face the darkness at the mouth of the alley, her gun drawn and aimed toward the source of the voice before she was even conscious of moving. A lean figure hunched against the wall.

“Might get snapped up by something dangerous.”

The figure inched forward into the light from the street lamp. Pale skin, white-blond hair, absurd leather jacket. She sagged with relief, hands shaking as she holstered her weapon. “Spike. You scared the hell out of me. Have you been lurking there all night?”

“Oh no, I’ve been lurking lots of places. A regular lurk-about, that’s me.” He swaggered down the alley and dropped dramatically onto the step in front of her. “Pull up some concrete, pet. I’ve got a few hours before I risk a serious sunburn, and I’ve got a fresh pack of coffin nails.”

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his long, black coat and used an unnecessary amount of flourish to light one with a silver Zippo. When he saw her look of vague disgust, he only shrugged. “What? It’s not like they’re gonna kill me.”

She huffed out an exhausted laugh, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of her life as she sat down beside him. “Are you going to share that or what?”

“Pretty sure you’re not immortal, love.”

“There’s some debate about that, actually, but at this point I’m too exhausted to care.” She held out her hand and he passed her the cigarette, the ember of its tip glowing in the gloom.

“Possible immortality, is it? Funny, your man never mentioned that.”

“You guys talk about me a lot? In between shots of plasma, I mean.”

“Actually, Mulder talked about you pretty much all night. Scully this. Scully that. Scully, Scully, Scully. Do you even have a first name?

She took a deep drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling from her parted lips in delicate spirals. “Dana.”

“Lovely name for a lovely lady,” he said, taking it back.

“And what about you? I can’t imagine your mother looking down at her beautiful, bouncing, peroxide-blond baby boy, and proclaiming you Spike .”

He paused for a beat, considering her, then smiled a charmingly crooked smile and held out one pale hand. “William.”

They shook. The cold, dry flesh of Spike’s hand was almost beginning to feel normal.

“So, William, what exactly did Mulder say about me?”

“Sorry, pet. There’s a code. Like a bro code, but for fangy folk. ‘Dead men tell no tales’ or what have you.”

The dead were walking. A thousand-year-old ex-demon was napping on her boyfriend’s lap in the next room. She had fed her partner from her own veins. And an actual vampire was sitting next to her, quoting Treasure Island . Or possibly the Disneyland ride. Scratch normal , her life was a damned B-movie. An hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat, and she covered it with a cough as she blew out another puff of smoke.

Spike either didn’t notice her small existential crisis, or else chose to politely ignore it. “I will tell you he feels bloody awful about what he did before he got all resoulified. Man’s only got a handful of bad deeds under his belt, but he’s got guilt for centuries.”

Scully’s memories of that night rattled loudly in the locked box of her mind she had crammed them into. She did not, would not, let them out. “I imagine you understand a little bit about that.”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I was evil with a capital E, cutting a bloody swath across the continents for nearly two hundred years. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. Honestly not sure I ever would have stopped on my own, but I didn’t exactly get a choice. I don’t really spend a lot of time beating myself up about it, though.”

Scully arched a brow in curious surprise. “Your soul doesn’t torment you with grief during your every waking moment and drive you to desperate acts of penance?”

He laughed. “Been talking to Giles, have you? Sorry love, I’m not one to wax poetic about souls. Mostly because I haven’t got one.”

Mulder had told her Spike was reformed; the soul part she had just assumed. If he couldn’t feel guilt or remorse, what kept him from ripping out her throat? She froze, cigarette halfway to her lips, wondering if she should scoot away or reach for her gun again.

“Relax, Red. I’m not gonna hurt you. Actually, I can’t. See, a little while back, bunch of your government boys got the brilliant idea to do a little science project involving those of us who go bump in the night. Some got all Frankensteined up into proper bloody monsters; other lucky buggers like yours truly got our eggs cracked open and fancied up with some shiny new hardware.” Despite his clever delivery, his tone was bitter. “I can still rough up anything decently scaly or slimy, but all you soft, tasty humans are a one-way ticket to screaming bloody agony.”

She took a long moment to process that, the cigarette passing back and forth between their hands; when the filter began to burn, he lit another.

“I might know something about what it’s like to be subject to behavior modification via implanted technology at the hands of covert government agencies abducting non-consenting, vulnerable populations for the purpose of experiments involving nonhuman biological materials.”

Spike took a long moment to process that .

“All right,” he said finally, “I’ve decided I like you, so I’ll tell you the truth: souls seem like a whole lot of pain for not a whole lot of gain. I don’t even know that they do all that much; God knows there’s plenty of humans running around out there, souls intact, doing dirty deeds that make my skin crawl, and I know plenty of soulless fiends who are actually pretty decent people. All I know is I don’t need a soul to see how much Mulder is hurting, or how much he cares about you. If the Scoobies fail at this whole ‘cure the vampire’ quest—and I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this, but they probably will, because it’s impossible, and personally I think he’d be an idiot to give up the night life anyway—but when they fail and he realizes he’s got a big lonely eternity without you staring him in the face, I’m a little bit worried he’s gonna go and get himself one hell of a tan.”

“I’m not giving up, and I’m not going to leave him.”

“Yeah, you will. If not on a plane in a few weeks, then in a pine box in a few decades.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just… not die?”

“Yeah! Exactly!”

“I don’t see how I can—”

“It’s easy. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Scully paled, her throat bobbing as she fought down the revulsion suddenly brewing in her stomach. “You can’t mean—”

“Bitey bitey, sucky sucky, souly souly—though I think that last bit should be optional —and then you and our boy ride off into the sunset together. Well moonlight, I suppose, but you get my drift.”

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no words came out.

“Just think it over, Dana,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes. For the first time, something like real vulnerability passed over his face. “Forever is a long time to be lonely.”

He rose, his swaggering mask sliding back into place so quickly she almost doubted it had ever slipped to begin with. He offered his hand to her with an exaggerated bow and pulled her to her feet. “Now come on; I don’t fancy going up in flames today, and I bet Spooky doesn’t either.”

—

Dawn’s rosy fingers were just brushing the horizon when Mulder and Scully arrived back at the motel. She felt the light running over her skin like a living thing, gentle as a lover; he shrank from it as if it would strike him.

“Wanna come in for a night cap?” he asked, smirking, as they reached his door. Scully’s hand flinched involuntarily toward her neck and his eyes grew wide, then sheepish. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. Um. Good night, Scully.”

The door was halfway closed behind him when her hand shot out to stop it. “I can come in for a minute.”

He moved to the bathroom, and she went to the kitchenette to put away the containers of cows’ and pigs’ blood they had stopped to pick up at the butcher—which, for reasons no one in town would discuss, stayed open all night. Mulder would have enough for a few days, at least, now that he was learning how to make it palatable. She left the little jar of cinnamon on top of the microwave.

Feeling oddly anxious, she began to straighten the bed just to have something to do. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in Spike’s crypt today?” she called to him. “He has cable; you can watch ‘Passions’ together.”

He poked his head out, toothbrush wedged into the foamy corner of his mouth. “That show has gone entirely downhill since Sheridan got amnesia.”

He vanished again, and Scully heard the sounds of spitting and running water. When he emerged a minute later, bare-chested and in sweatpants, he found her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands at her sides. He slipped past her without touching her and sat on the bed. “Besides, I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

Instead of a coffin . Scully suppressed a shudder.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile as she sat beside him and squeezed his hand. “I get the feeling his place is even less luxurious than this one. Besides: mini fridge, microwave, magic fingers. What more could a guy want?”

She tried to keep her voice light, but Spike’s words were still ringing in her head. Mulder was staring down the barrel of a miserable eternity—drinking slaughterhouse runoff, hiding his days away in the dark, watching cheesy soap operas with only the other dead for company. What if there was no cure? What if, this time, she couldn’t save him? How many times had they sacrificed everything to save each other, thrown themselves in front of bullets and monsters and the unstoppable machine of bureaucracy just to buy enough time to stagger their way to safety?

Maybe their luck had finally run out.

She stood to leave, desperate to find something else to occupy her mind, but his hand closed tenderly around her wrist, carefully avoiding the bruises he—or his monster —had made before. “Stay?”

“Mulder, I’m tired.”

“I know. Just for a little while? It’s… it’s worse when I’m alone.”

She finally looked at him, staring up at her with one of his more pathetic puppy-dog expressions, and something inside her broke. “Yeah. Okay. Just for a little while, until you fall asleep.”

He crawled beneath the covers, leaving room for her to slip in beside him. She curled up with her back facing him, hoping he would drift off quickly. That hope evaporated when she felt him shifting closer to her; his arm slipped around her waist, brushing the bare sliver of skin between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt, and a current passed through her. She went very still, allowing him to pull her closer until they were spooned together on the little motel bed.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured close to her ear.

She tried to ignore the way her body tingled every place they touched, the way his breath skimmed over her skin, cool and wet like the promise of a storm. She hoped he couldn’t hear the way her heart began to pound beneath her ribs. “So you’ve said.”

“It’s true. I’ve always hated the cold, Scully. When I was a kid, I would turn my whole room into a blanket fort every winter. It drove my mom nuts. I’d swipe every blanket in the house and then refuse to come out for anything but pee breaks.”

Scully could just picture him, eight or ten years old, pillaging the linen closet for quilts and constructing his own personal Alamo filled with comic books and sunflower seeds. Keeping out the cold with all the power of fleece and a child’s unflagging will.

That the same cold now lived inside him, where no blanket or touch could thaw it, was another cruel twist of the knife.

“I’m not giving up, Mulder. Not when we’ve barely gotten started.”

“I won’t let you throw your life away trying to save me, Scully. How much longer are you going to stay here, up to your neck in demonology and monster manuals? How much longer can we convince Skinner I’m sick? He’s going to come looking for me eventually, even if it’s just to see if I’m fit enough for him to kick my ass back to the basement.”

She chuckled, and he smiled briefly into her hair. A moment later, his sigh sent a few red strands fluttering against her face. “I just don’t want you to follow me so far into the dark that you can’t find your way back.”

“It hasn’t even been a week yet. I’ve chased you further into the dark than this and come out just fine. And I intend to drag you out with me, into full, bright sunlight, without you crumbling to dust.”

“And if there is no cure? If I’m stuck like this forever? You still have a chance to have a life, Scully. I won’t let you waste it on me.”

She turned to face him, sadness and anger warring over her features. “Since when do you ‘let’ me do anything? It’s my life, Mulder, and I don’t consider any of this a waste.”

She didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to give credence to Spike’s insane idea by voicing it out loud to her partner, but she owed it to him to say something. Though her stomach clenched and she tasted acid in her mouth, she took a breath and said, “Spike thinks—”

His voice was bitter as he cut her off. “I know exactly what Spike thinks. And the answer is no. I wouldn’t do this to you. Not when you still have a choice. Not when you could go back to DC tomorrow, find some hot doctor who doesn’t question every little thing you say, and grow fat and old and happy on a sunny porch somewhere.”

She reached out and cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. She had to step carefully here; they had developed a delicate dance together through the years, an unspoken rule to tiptoe around their equally unspoken connection, that thing between them neither could quite acknowledge let alone act upon, but had lately found increasingly hard to ignore. Especially when his face was inches from hers, and his arm still lay heavy across her waist, on that nebulous border where it could so easily slide into risky territory. “And if I decide I don’t want that?”

“There are some… conditions on this soul of mine, Scully. It’s not a done deal. I could lose it.”

“What? How?” And why haven’t you told me before now?

“If there ever comes a moment where I am completely happy, where I don’t feel guilt and torment about who and what I am, it goes away.”

“Don’t be vague, Mulder. Not about this.”

“The last time it happened… was right after the guy slept with the woman he loved.”

A lump welled up in her throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah. We’re not idiots, Scully.” She raised her eyebrow at him and one side of his mouth tugged up in a small smile. “Okay, you’re not an idiot, and I am sometimes only idiot-adjacent. We know what we mean to each other. If you stayed with me…” He flopped onto his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling; he couldn’t get through this if he was looking into her eyes, but he did reach between them and take her hand. “If you stayed human, and we… then I lose my soul, and there’s a good chance that the last thing you’d ever see is me killing you. And then Buffy puts a stake through my heart. And not that I am in favor of this idea, but if we turned you and we… then we both lose our souls, we’d probably wind up killing a bunch of people, and then Buffy puts a stake through both our hearts.”

He paused for a long moment, breath shaking. “I don’t know if there is a way out of this together. And I want you to know, I’d rather you leave me than stay behind and pay for what I’ve become.”

She grabbed his face again, this time more forcefully, and turned him back toward her. Her voice and her eyes were filled with tears, but also a steely resolve. “There is a way, Mulder. There has to be. We’re going to find it. When have we ever given up on each other?”

His fingers twined around hers where they rested against his cheek. Slowly he pulled them to his mouth, brushing a gentle kiss across her knuckles. Neither spoke—what words could he say to the unstoppable force of her hope, or she to the immovable object of his self-sacrifice? They simply held each other, wishing they could keep out the cold.

A/N: It's incredibly rare for me that something I make turns out as well as I'd hoped, but this chapter is one of those things, and I'm rather proud of it. I so enjoyed writing it, particularly Scully and Spike's conversation. It was one of those unexpected surprises that pops up when characters grab the steering wheel, like I was just along for the ride. I hope they're BFFs now. Believe me there is absolutely a part of me that wants to see Vamp!Mulder and Vamp!Scully as some sort of undead Bonnie and Clyde, leaving a trail of bloody and beautiful devastation in their wake. But that's not this fic lol. Comments laminated etc etc

[scullysexual]

X-Files Ficmas Advent Calendar 2022: Day 2

Day 2: For @mulderwearingglasses

Their prompt: "Mulder looks out for a drunk Scully whose drunken vulnerability is giving away her feelings for him more than her usual sober self. He then takes care of her when she's dreadfully hungover and feeling stupid about the night before."

Wouldn't be Christmas without my annual sad fic. I hope you like it and I hope it answers your prompt. Also shout out to @starshinescully for reading these fics beforehand! It really helped.

ao3 | @today-in-fic |

Wishing For A Change.

“I love you.”

The words break through the silence. Your eyes snap up from where they had been gazing lazily at a spot on the floor. You twist, turning your head towards Scully who lies on the bed, eyes fighting to stay open.

“I love you,” she repeats and your heart clenches in your chest. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that before and I…I wanted to before something happened to you, too.”

It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear in years and yet this is the first time she’s ever mentioned such a thing explicitly. The wine from earlier still fresh and pungent on her breath, she wouldn’t be saying such things if she was clear of mind and wasn’t so sad. The realisation tugs at you. So cruel the universe would be to dangle those words in front of you and have nothing behind them.

You shuffle closer to where her head lays on the pillow, taking in her red, heavy eyes and blotchy skin from crying. She was tired, exhausted from the events of the week and grief, probably delirious too. Nights spent awake laying next to Emily, tending to Emily, fighting for Emily and for it all to mean nothing. Just like Scully’s love confession, They too had dangled something in front of her only to snatch it away at the last second, taking all evidence away with it, cruel universes indeed.

“You’re tired,” you say, brushing back a strand of hair. “You’ve had a long—” Day and week doesn’t even come close. A long four years, long and hard. You forgo finishing your sentence and instead fall into the soothing, meditative motion of stroking Scully’s hair.

“You’ll stay?” she asks, eyes closed.

“Until you fall asleep, yeah.”

Scully makes a contented noise before finally succumbing to her body’s need for sleep.

-  -

A rustling from the other room wakes you up. A cup being placed down on the counter a little too harshly, a stream of expletives falling from the person’s mouth.

You spy into the kitchen to see a figure; too small to be Bill, too slim to be Maggie, and Tara doesn’t swear- not like a sailor anyway.

You make your way towards the kitchen to see her trying to reach the top shelf of the medicine cupboard.

“Let me do that, Scully,” you say, reaching over to grab the box.

She thanks you, fishing through it to find the Advil pills. You watch her, taking stock, the sadness in her face, the way her body hangs, sleep had done very little to fix her up.

“How are you feeling?” you hazard an ask.

“Like shit,” she answers almost immediately.

You nod and watch her as she fills the glass full of water, wincing as the liquid nosily sloshes into the cup. You want to ask if she remembers last night, what she said. It had kept you up, thinking about the diary in the hospital room.

“What time is the flight?”

The question rips you from your thoughts, startling you. You had yet to plan that far ahead.

“It’s Monday,” she states. “Skinner or somebody will have a case for us.”

You say nothing on her urge to get back to work, it’s how she grieves after all, you know this.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see what’s available.” She hums her approval, swallowing the tablets.

“But you’re sure you want to fly back today?” you ask. “You are hungover—”

“I’ll be fine,” she cuts you off. “And I’m sorry about what I said last night. It was inappropriate.”

You watch the faintest of red creep up her skin- shame and embarrassment setting in.

“It’s fine,” you shake off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I guess I was just…caught up in everything.”

You nod, deciding that, maybe after all, you didn’t want to talk about it.

“Honestly, you have nothing to worry about, Scully. It happens, I promise.”

She gives you the slightest smile.

“I did want to thank you for last night, too. You didn’t have to do that, any of it.”

But you did because you wanted to. Because, despite her not seeing it, you do care about her. A lot.

“Don’t worry. You were- are- grieving and I won’t think any less of you for that. You built a connection with her Dana, that doesn’t just go away.”

She nods and you want her to believe that, to know that it’s okay to feel things, it doesn’t make her weak.

“I just…Thank you. I’ll go get dressed then we can go.”

You watch her slowly make her way out of the kitchen, disappearing behind the wall. You sink against the corner of the counter, letting out a deep breath, still staring at the space she had disappeared from, wishing for a change.

[mulderscreek]

Breaking the News Challenge

Your challenge is to write a story from multiple points of view, including at least one scene each of any length about the reactions of

Maggie Scully

Walter Skinner

Monica Reyes

John Doggett

optionally also

Mulder

Bill and/or Tara and/or Charlie Scully

…to the news that Scully has chosen to give William up for adoption. How does Scully’s family feel? And her friends, one of whom is an adoptee and another who lost a son?

Please submit your story or the link to it to nurseryfiles@mulderscreek.com or post here in on our submissions Tumblr - or send me a message with your fic on Tumblr to reblog.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

HI I WOULD LIKE TO REQUEST SOME JOHNMON HEADCANONS PLZ AND THANK-U

after Underneath, John is so completely drained and tired that he might straight-up fall asleep at the slightest hint of warmth. he's shaking a little bit, from exhaustion and adrenaline and relief and maybe also shock. Monica, very aware of this fact and also still quite damp, burrows a little deeper into her borrowed jacket (the only dry piece of clothing on her, currently) and steps a little closer to him. "I'm cold," she complains, and he doesn't say a word or seem to mind when she slips an arm around his back and leans into him (although when it comes right down to it, she's probably holding him up more than anything else). when she asks again if he's okay, he just shrugs, and she takes that to mean no and fully hugs him. he does, in fact, melt a little bit.

Christmas 2002 is a slight debacle having to do with a case only barely finished, a delayed flight back to D.C., and Scully having two celebrations (partially to keep her mind off her sadness) — one with her family (Bill & Tara and their son came to visit that year), and then leaving early to stop by Monica's. to absolutely no one's surprise, Monica goes all-out on decorations and she has a high enough ceiling to fit a pretty big tree (that presumably John helped her put up). by the time Scully gets there (with baby William in tow, of course) the Gunmen have already shown up and there's a Christmas card sitting on the counter with Skinner's name signed at the bottom. Monica and John are trying to get the kitchen cleaned up and the last batch of cookies out of the oven, respectively — John is wearing a "kiss the cook" apron and Monica (who possibly has flour in her hair at the moment) looks like she's considering taking him up on it. turns out, Monica is a fantastic baker, John is the best at picking out Christmas gifts, and William takes after his mother and gets along with Byers the best out of the three Gunmen. at some point John reaches over and swipes the flour from Monica's hair and she goes very still for a second, and after that mayyyybe she sits closer to him. not that Scully notices, of course, not at allllll, why would you ever think that?

Monica is not as good with cold weather and John sometimes makes fun of her for it. She laughs and just says "I grew up in Mexico, John, I'm never gonna be used to this," and gestures to the snow and wind outside. on at least one occasion, he's given her his coat. neither of them ever mentions it.

they find excuses to hold hands at every opportunity. hello

this is less of a headcanon and more of analysis but "If I believe in one thing I believe in her" from Doctor Who ya know etc etc etc John adamantly does not believe in the paranormal EXCEPT. when it comes to Monica or her wellbeing. if she tells him something he'll go with it and accept it for her sake even if he wants to argue (which is part of why I love Hellbound. he sees how badly this is affecting her and he has no choice but to believe for her sake). same concept as Scully not believing in Mulder's theories but believing in him as a person, except with John and Monica it's that on rare occasion he believes in things BECAUSE he believes in her and BECAUSE he cares so much about her.

[fox-from-malta]

Rambling about an AU/Re-imagining of a show I like. [pt.1 - characters]

[DISCLAIMER : I do NOT own these characters or anything, this just me being a fan, and what I would have changed to maybe make the show a bit more interesting xD but this is coming from someone who likes the show, so it's not intended as hate!]

Everyone has that one show/movie that nobody else in the world seems to like... but themselves xD Mine is 'The Skinner Boys'... I never read the book series, cause I don't understand italien [cry] but I did watch the animated show... a lot xD (I was introduced to it on german tv so, explains why it's not that talked of lmao) I mean, it's not a show to brag about, but I loved the general concept of it! Hence why this rambling post xD (I do wanna draw these concepts someday, but for now just text post)

Re-imagining of the Characters

Tara: ~ I'd make her the main character, because she's more interesting than the boys imo lmao xD

She's still the mysterious 15 year old cousin, but I'd make her a bit more mysterious than canon.

She's not that familiar with 'modern' teen life, so that would be more apparent in her character.

She's still Asian, and I'd make her mission outfit reflect that a bit more cultural wise. While her casual is just casual lol.

She can still have uncontrollable visions, that she cannot explain. ~ Basically I won't change much about her character, only make her a tad bit different personality wise haha, and the reason behind her magic will change, but won't spoil much in case I do draw and then can get into more detail later.

What I would add to her, is her staff from the pilot intro, because that's just so fking cool.

Edward:

He's the comedic relief, and hates it.

Youngest brother still, and often treated as a child even though he's 10.

He and Tara are often teamed up together, which he doesn't like much at first but then starts to grow a sisterly relationship with her.

His pet Mongoose, Neville, is still there as he's the animal lover, but his main purpose is just as being his pet lol not like, as important as he is in the show at times. ~ also he'd be a ferret not a mongoose in my re-imagining. since that's a more common pet lol

Charles:

The genius of the family, still always creating inventions around the house - but this time, for a cause as well, as I was thinking I'd make him physically disabled so there's a reason why he creates and such.

He's the oldest, being 17.

Doesn't get humor, but he's funnier than Tara.

Him and Henry hang out the most together, as Henry always asks him to create fashion related inventions for him.

Henry:

The flamboyant brother, 14 year old.

He's the fashion and artistic one.

I'd make him aroace.

I like his character in the show, being like uncaring at times but in reality he cares a lot and would do anything for his family, so that stays in his character.

He gives Tara the fashion and trend updates to help her fit in better.

Grandpa Augustus Skinner:

He's the mysterious grandpa, who lets his grandchildren solves his mysteries after his passing still. BUT

he's not magic, I hated the reveal that he also had some magic in the series, so that goes.

He does never meet Tara like canon, but then meets her in a time travel adventure.

He isn't as kindhearted as he seems to be in canon, like in my re-imagining, I'd make him kind yes, but there would be people the cousins would meet that reveal he wasn't always wise or as kind as they like to remember him.

Wellington:

He stays the same lmao, I like him xD

Obsidian Stone:

He's not the main villain.

He's still the former student turned baddie, that has his own henchmen, but I'd make him work for the overall villain of the show, and that's like a reveal later on in the series.

Other Villains:

Most of the henchmen of the show I'd keep the same, some were very interesting, and work as the silly henchmen in my re-imagining as well.

Julia Skinner:

The mum also stays the same, like she knows of the adventuring her father did, but didn't involve herself. Then does so when she's needed.

Selena:

I'd make her Tara's GF, because I headcanon Tara as Sapphic >:)

She'd also then get herself involved in the missions after she discovers the Skinner's secrets.

Becky:

Selena's sister Becky, I'd make her more adventurous, rebellious and outgoing. and she has the rivalry friendship with Edward xD

That's it for my rambling. And sorry for it being uninteresting xD as nobody cares about this show but me haha.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Fic That Irons Out the Mytharc: Amor Fati (Fated Love) Chapter 18

If anyone wants the mytharc to make sense post S7-- supersoldiers, factions, green and red blood, etc.-- all you have to do is read Chapter 18 (here) touchstonea's epic Amor Fati (Fated Love) series , an AU after William's abduction in S9.

It's masterful, stretching backward and forward, knitting in the two alien factors warring since the Consortium went up in flames into a coherent and frightening threat for the future: two titans out for each others' throats and catching the human species in-between.

As an aside, if you want an amazing fic series that blend old school X-Files mythology with the new-fangled stuff (that was too convoluted to make sense of), her four-part (and still going) series is THE read. Amazing characterization. Amazing plot. All the characters in voice. Intelligence through the roof. PTSD and acceptance for Mulder, alone and on the run; PTSD and acceptance for Scully as she becomes a lioness for her son and Mulder, reuniting them on the road and helping them forge a life together. The three of them have each other as they flee, all factions hot on their heels. Absolutely stunning body of work.

I mean, look at her cover art (it's adorable and makes me chuckle):

Her notes in between chapters are spectacular (and wittily tongue-in-cheek) as well~. I particularly love her Diana Fowley Llama-Faced Crack-Ho quip; but more seriously, I enjoyed this abstraction:

""Note:  I checked the Latin, and there were three possible meanings for 'Amor Fati' for philes to choose from (probably to give us the chance to decide on our own). The phrase was originally used by Nietzsche to mean ‘love of one’s fate’ (as in to love all that had occurred in one’s life, good or ill, that made one who one is).  Considering the many painful speed-bumps hit by our heroes, this meaning is particularly apt for our intrepid duo.  The other form of ‘amor fati’, though, can be conjugated as ‘amoris fatale’; the fated love.  Nuff said.""  

Cannot recommend this series enough.

**Note**: I started reading Part 2, which focused solely on Scully already on the road (Part 1 was set the groundwork for the series and tied up all loose knots concerning the other characters, ex. the Scullys, TLG, Skinner and Doggett and Monica.) If you prefer to get into the meat of the story, start there: I've never watched S9 and found it was completely coherent without Part 1 as its primer.

[babeyterra]

my favourite fan cast terras💡

anna sophia robb— actress

emily skinner— actress

freya allan— actress

[remixinc]

STONE - I Gotta Feeling (Official Music Video) from Maxi McLachlan on Vimeo.

Maxi (formerly Max) McLachlan directs this gross, ghoulish and drool dripping music video for Liverpudlian rock group Stone.

A quiet lunchtime pub trip descends into chaos as the patrons morph into monsters, convulsing on the floor and biting shards of glass. Evil is spewed out of these zombie-like creatures, spread as a virus from projectile, foam-filled spit. The nightmare however is brought to a halt by the pub landlady, who is clearly no stranger to violent, stumbling men. The cure to this monstrous affliction? Like in life, a simple glass of water (albeit chucked and drenched over the cast and camera).

The video acts as a commentary on toxic behaviour fuelled by lads and alcohol. Maxi stated "As we've all seen, the wrong group of lads with the wrong pints can result in a real life horror-show. I wanted to take that lad-ish behaviour and make it physically toxic, and show how this toxicity can be corrosively infectious (plus it made for a great excuse to finally make a zombie movie)."

Drawing on a love of 80s horror films, the practical effects and make-up literally come bubbling up and bursting out of the performers' skin. In particular the patient zero-zombie, as played by Hugo Hamlet, twists and turns in violent fashion as he is possessed. This is made all the more visceral by the saturated, gritty aesthetic capture on 16mm by DP Owain Morgan.

The whole video is accompanied by a Mike Skinner like to-camera performance from Fin Power, the front man of the band, regaling his first-hand experiences with toxic masculinity.

DIRECTOR // MAXI McLACHLAN @maxburnseasy PRODUCER // MICHAEL UPSON @mike_upson EXECUTIVE PRODUCER // HENRIC HEMMERLIND @hemmerlind EXECUTIVE PRODUCER // NICOLAI SODERQVIST @woevodsky PRODUCTION MANAGER // JAMES SINTON @james_sinton 1ST AD // CHRIS UPSON @cuppycups PA // FRASER JACOBS @fraser.jacobs

MOVEMENT DIRECTOR // CELINE CELEESI @celineceleesi

DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY // OWAIN MORGAN @o_e_morgan FOCUS PULLER // ETAI SHOMRI @etaishomri CLAPPER LOADER // DIMI VAKRILOV @dimi_vakrilov_ GAFFER // GIAN-CLAUDIO CALIPA @gian_calipa SPARK // MEG SHARP @sharpdressedmeg CAMERA TRAINEE // VAIVA BOTYRIUTE @vaivabotyriute.art

PRODUCTION DESIGN // CLUMP COLLECTIVE @clumpcollective MAKE UP & SFX // MATHILDA MACE @tildax_x_ MAKEUP & SFX ASSISTANT // CHASE HAYDEN @makeup_by_chase BAND STYLING // SUZIE WALSH @suzwalsh_

EDITOR // EDEN READ @edenraeread @the_assembly_rooms VFX // LUCAS HRUBIZNA @lucashrubizna

CATERING // TARA ACTON @tarasvegantreats

STARRING // HUGO HAMLET @hugohamlet PUB LANDLADY // OLIVIA POST DANCER // BENJAMIN TJ @_benjamtj DANCER // ANGUS BARTLETT @an.gooose DANCER // STEPHANIE BURRELL @stephb_ll PUB GOER // KEN MCLOONE PUB GOER // PAUL MENSELL PUB GOER // SURYA CHAUDRI PUB GOER// DAVID CRAMER PUB GOER // JEFF TURNER PUB GOER // INGRID MARSH

BAND LABEL // POLYDOR @polydorrecords COMMISSIONER // JOANNA SZYCZEWSKA @asia.szyczewska

WITH THANKS TO: PROCAMETAKE 2 @procamtake2 PIXIPIXEL @pixipixeluk THE ASSEMBLY ROOMS @the_assembly_rooms JIMMY DUNNE THE ARMY AND NAVY PUB PARTOUT @partout.tv