monikafilefan

[monikafilefan]

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 2

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Scully is trying incredibly hard to enjoy herself tonight, humming along to Sinatra, doing her best to refrain from scanning the masses in hopes of seeing Mulder’s distinguished profile amongst the crowd. He’d said he wasn’t coming and she unfortunately believes him. Forced merriment hides her disappointment well. Smiling politely behind her wine glass at coworkers she barely knows, going out of her way to wish A.D. Kersh and his wife a Merry Christmas. She prays her cheery disposition shines a positive light upon, not only herself, but her partner as well. Wherever the hell he is, she thinks, frustrated with herself as much as she is with him.

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

She tunes out the music to contemplate whether her unintentional evasiveness with Mulder regarding her “date” is the catalyst they need after his concussed “I love you” line in Bermuda she can’t stop thinking about, or just intentionally deceptive on her part. The flame of possessiveness that flared within his eyes when he’d assumed she was dating had sparked intrigue in her own. The fact that she was initially referring to him as her date to Skinner had flown right over her brilliant partner’s head. Throwing accusations her way should have just pissed her off, but it’s been his heated reaction in the aftermath that’s left her oddly reassured in his jealousy. She’d left the bullpen feeling wanted in ways she only fantasizes about alone in bed at night as her fingers slip between her thighs.

Her heart races at that thought.

Not since her rebellious run-in with Jerse has she seen her partner similarly flustered, and she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t thrill her. With Diana Fowley’s unwelcome presence continuously prodding at Scully’s penchant for jealousy, she’d selfishly allowed Mulder’s imaginative mind to run wild with the ridiculous idea that she has somehow found the will to date someone who isn’t him.

Scully bites her lip as guilt churns up waves of nausea in her gut.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Scully,” Agent Fields, whom she recognizes from the bullpen, interrupts her thoughts. The strong scent of bourbon on his breath makes her rock back on her heels. She supposes he’s been drinking from the punch bowl she’d spotted Tom Colton spiking earlier. “Where’s Spooky?”

“Merry Christmas,” she sighs wearily into her wine glass and walks away.

She’s leaving, she decides, as she squeezes her way through the throng of swaying bodies and twinkling decor. She doesn’t really want to be here without Mulder by her side anyway. She’s turned down three drunken dance offers already and Kersh could care less if she’s here to play nice in hopes of getting off desk duty. The more time she spends at this party, the more she wishes she was lounging on Mulder’s couch, sharing cartons of bad Chinese, and watching A Christmas Story.

“Oh!” she squeaks in surprise, bumping into the stalwart chest of the man moving toward her. Her wine spills over the rim of her glass as they nearly knock one another from their feet. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no!” he laments, holding her close as she finds her footing. “Agent Scully, it’s me who’s sorry. I saw you coming, but I couldn’t move. It’s like a mosh pit in here,” he laughs.

She chuckles in return. “Well, it seems we both got caught in the crowd.”

Holiday music continues to play far too loudly for those who aren’t three sheets to the wind as the man she now realizes is Special Agent Derek Jenkins from the fingerprint lab leans close to hear. He’s a new hire in the lab. A sweet, handsome man who has flirted shamelessly with her three times in the last week… and still, she remains unequivocally uninterested.

“Agent Jenkins, hello.”

“Call me Derek, please.” He steers her towards an empty corner, cupping her dripping wine glass with his palm. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, that’s not necess-” Before Scully protests further, the agent spins around and snags a Santa-shaped napkin from one of the mini round tables sprinkled about the reception hall, thrusting it her way. “I appreciate it.”

He waves a finger by her head. “You have a splash of wine in your hair there. By your eye.” Flustered, Scully swipes the napkin through her hair. “Missed it. I’ll get it.”

He reaches up to pinch the stray strand soaked with wine between his fingertips and tucks it behind her ear.

“Thanks, Agent Jen- Derek.” Hiding her embarrassment, she takes a step back, her shoulder knocking a bundle of mistletoe to the floor that was taped on the wall. She sighs, “I’m not usually this uncoordinated.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Derek grins brightly and picks up the plastic flower, twirling it around his finger. If she’d met him sooner, say six years and one Fox Mulder ago, she could have easily been swept off her feet by his charm. “Where’s Agent Mulder? I mean, uh, not to be abrupt, but you’re not with someone, are you?”

The hopeful gleam in his brown eyes makes her blush. The earnest, puppy dog look of them mimics Mulder when he awaits her opinion on whether or not a case is an X-File.

“I…” Scully finds she has no idea how to answer that layered question without a hint of honesty, and Christmas seems like a terrible time to lie.

Is she with someone? Her mind rewinds to moments of commitment she’d made in the past: shaking her new partner’s hand, risking her life multiple times to keep him that way, then telling him she wouldn’t change a day.

“I suppose I am,” she finally says.

Scully expects her face to flush at the admission. Expects the entirety of the FBI to turn and point at Mrs. Spooky as they collect their bets. Instead, she’s oddly at peace with her confession to someone she hardly knows.

Derek nods in understanding, as if he’d already known the answer, giving her arms a gentle squeeze. “So for clarity’s sake, you’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with… let’s say, someone like me. Not when you’re already in one.”

Scully licks her lips, her breath catching.

She could deny the unyielding hold Mulder has held on her heart since March of ‘93. They’ve never even kissed, for God’s sake. But after years of living and breathing for only each other, she can’t. She won’t.

So she smiles instead, “I suppose not.”

“Your partner, then?” Derek mumbles to himself when instant awareness pulls his pout into a smirk.

Her silence is all the confirmation they need as she and Derek share a good-natured chuckle. This unexpected run-in has somehow left her more content in her feelings than she has in a while. Despite Scully’s unease of Diana’s position in Mulder’s past, personally and professionally, she can no longer repress the way her best friend completes her.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

Another song reverberates through the loudspeaker nearby. The upbeat tempo matches the buoyant shift in Scully’s mood. She barely registers that Derek’s arms are still bracketing hers, or the swift way he leans down to speak closer.

“I suppose I already knew that, but thank you for being honest with me. And with yourself too, it seems,” Derek says knowingly in her ear before pressing the mistletoe into her hand. “Merry Christmas, Agent Scully.”

At that moment, someone in the crowd loses their balance and bumps into Scully from behind, jolting her forward. Derek’s lips accidently graze the corner of her mouth, and remarkably, they both ignore the mishap as if it never happened. Being bounced around like holiday pin balls seems like a regular occurrence tonight.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Scully replies and turns around just in time to see a flash of familiar green eyes narrowing in on hers.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

“Mulder?” Scully blinks and he’s gone, vanishing within the horde of ugly Christmas sweaters.

Scully’s heart hammers harder with every step she takes toward the opposite side of the room.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

“Mulder!” she hollers, stretching on tip-toe to see where he’s gone. But it’s worthless. The music is too damn loud and the people too damn tall to make a difference.

That's the jingle bell

As she weaves her way through the maze of tinsel and blow-up reindeer decor, she spots Skinner wiping frosting from his candy cane tie at the dessert table. No wonder she’d never seen Mulder all the way back here. She’s trembling, rubbing her arms with worry by the time she reaches the A.D.. Panic at the realization of what Mulder must have seen and misinterpreted practically radiates through the fuzz of her green sweater.

That's the jingle bell

“Agent Scully, glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sir, have you seen Mulder?” she blurts.

Skinner frowns down at an ink-stained paper plate he’s holding with black horns drawn atop Santa’s head. “He left already?”

Her eyes slip shut.

That's the jingle bell rooock

***

Scully shivers as she walks down the snow-dusted sidewalk. Her heels clack purposefully along the pavement, her heart beating in time with her vapored puffs of breath. She’s winded by the time she spots Mulder’s car idling at the curbside. The buttery light from the streetlamp above slices through the thick snowflakes pouring from the sky and illuminating his downcasted profile.

Scully knocks on the window.

Mulder startles, turning his forlorn stare onto hers peering in from the passenger side. He mouths her name in confusion and leans across the car to push open the door for her.

“Hey,” he says, surprised, as she climbs in and shuts the door. “Scully, you’re freezing. Where’s your coat?”

She shrugs and flexes her cold fingers in front of the blast of heat coming through the vents. “Inside where I left it.”

He’s silent for a moment. They both are, as a somber tone falls around them like the snow outside. Mulder frowns and reaches over to gently cradle her icy hands between his. They’re big and warm, and God, she practically melts the moment his plush lips drag across her fingertips.

“You came,” she whispers.

Her voice catches the moment she notices through the dimness how impressively handsome he is tonight. His black tux is taut in all the right places, hugging his strong shoulders and toned thighs perfectly.

He rubs the hot huffs of his breath into her knuckles as his honey-green eyes silently study her. “Where you go, I go, right?”

Her stomach twists tourniquet tight.

This guilt and aggravation is making her nauseous. After Antarctica, Scully knows exactly how true his statement is. She also knows she has every right to date whoever she wants and kiss whomever she pleases. But that’s not what she’s been doing, and as much as she has considered that option previously out of self-preservation, she’s never actually done either of those things for a reason. Even during the darkest days of their partnership, she has never yearned for anyone but him.

Scully laces her fingers through his. “I know.”

“Scully…”

“Shh.” She cuts him off with a bold nuzzle of her chin against their tangled hands, her free one reaching up to straighten his crooked bowtie. “You’re so handsome.”

He chuckles darkly. “Seems as though the Christmas casual memo never made it to my inbox.”

“You wouldn’t have read it anyway,” she teases.

“Ah, you know me well.”

They both smirk, their faces only inches apart, their thumbs gliding easily across one another’s. It seems two glasses of wine have softened her edges and weakened her resolve to keep her hands to herself. Wind whistling as it blows over the hood of the car breaks their locked gaze. The snow is falling faster now, layering the Taurus’s windshield in a pillowy white blanket.

Mulder squeezes her hand.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” His voice breaks. She closes her eyes and squeezes right back. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But about what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to point fingers — pencils, actually,” he chuffs.

“Mulder.” Her tone conveys how much she finds his apology unnecessary in light of her own envious reactions in recent months. “I know that, too.”

“Being honest, all I want is for you to be happy. No matter who you’re with. But I thought after what happened my hallway it would’ve… Well, I was caught off guard by the thought of you dating,” he mutters with a shrug. “That’s my problem, though. Not yours, Scully.”

“I think I know what you saw in there that upset you, Mulder, but I can assure you it’s not what you’ve assumed.” Her tongue sweeps across her lip. “There was no date. There was no kiss.”

“You- there wasn’t?”

She looks him square in the eyes, because there is no one else.

“No, Mulder. I ran into Agent Jenkins — literally, and we talked. And I have to confess that I realized when you questioned me in the bullpen, I liked that you were territorial of me. It made me feel… vindicated.”

“Because of Diana.” It’s not a question but a statement born of recognition.

Scully nods, her face flushing. “But I only ever wanted to spend tonight with you.”

“Maybe Skinner was right. I do need to pull my head outta my ass,” he mumbles. Her brow arches at that. “I just thought I saw you and Jenkins…”

“But you didn’t.”

“Not really my business, though.” His curious eyes search hers. “Is it?”

She leans forward to rest her cheek against the edge of his headrest. He senses her tactile need and palms her jaw with the hand not clutched within her own. She turns into him as she contemplates her response, cascading her mouth across his thumb. It feels so good, but it’s not only his touch that has her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird, it’s all of him. It’s always been him.

“What if I want it to be?”

“That depends… is that you or the wine talking?”

She scoffs, “ Mulder -”

“How do you feel about me, Scully?” His pout twitches as he stares at her. Into her, with such unfiltered affection Scully’s heart can barely endure it all. “Because I know exactly how I feel about you. You’re my favorite person. My best friend, my one and five billion. And, I love you.”

Tears sting her eyes and her stomach swoops to her knees. She’s warm, flushed, as if her partner is the sun and he has finally shone his rays upon her upturned face.

“God, Mulder.”

“ Head injury aside, I meant what I said in Bermuda.” His forehead touches hers. “I fell in love with you, Scully.”

“W-when?” Her chest is suddenly so tight she can barely breathe. “When did you…”

“Uh, I don’t… I’m not really sure. I just know I did.”

She nods against him, because nodding is all she can do as her heart races and eyes blur. Because she’d wanted to believe his endearing words in Bermuda badly, but she was too afraid to risk it all on her misguided hope. Because as intense and frustrating as their inseparability is sometimes, their connection defies the laws of nature: the sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Scully endlessly loves Mulder.

“Scully?”

“I-” Her lashes flutter away tears. God, she’s dizzy, knowing what she’s about to do next. “I think I’ve always been in love with you, Mulder.”

He inhales sharply, maybe a little surprised by her candor. But then his hand is cradling the back of her arched neck and pulling her into a tight hug, his other arm wrapping around to caress the small of her back. “Scully.”

“You’re the only one, Mulder,” she whispers fiercely as she hugs him back, her cold nose pressed into the warmth of his neck. “You’re my one and five billion, too.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams,” he whispers into her hair and rocks her back and forth along the seats, quivering in her grip as they cling to each other.

Scully presses a lingering kiss to the humming pulse point in his neck. She can feel his rushing adrenaline thundering under her lips. She smiles, her own heart racing, a little lightheaded after uttering secrets of her heart aloud. But relief of her confession rises like bubbles beneath her skin because she has said it to Mulder: the man she trusts and loves more than anyone.

Mulder pulls back and looks at her. She knows her eyes are wide and wet, her cheeks pink as she tips her chin upward, aching for him to kiss her. “I have mistletoe,” he says wryly.

Scully laughs and reaches into her pocket, pulling out the one she’d knocked from the Bureau’s wall. “Me too.”

He grins, nodding to his own red and green flower shoved in the car’s ashtray. “You think we need them?”

The husk in his voice vibrating against her jaw pulls a deep moan from her mouth. “Mulder, please. ”

He moans back while peppering soft, tender kisses across her jawline, up her cheek, and to the corner of her parted lips. She clutches his tux in her fists and gives it an impatient tug as his mouth finally melds with hers. Their kissing is gentle, insistent, and the way their tongues glide against one another sends tingles straight down her spine.

“Come with me tomorrow,” she mumbles in his mouth. Her eagerness may surprise him, but she wholeheartedly means it. She can’t and won’t hide the thinly veiled tone of desperation. She is desperate for him, after all. “Come to my mother’s.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, Scully.”

“I know.” Her hand dips beneath the jacket of his tux to splay her hand over his racing heart. “Christmas won’t mean anything without you, Mulder.”

His chin trembles. “Where you go, I go.”

Scully nearly sobs in relief. She dips her chin to hide her swollen-lipped smirk within the lapel of his tux.

“What're you thinking?” She feels the heat of his breath tickling her skin, his rumbling voice seeping deep into her bones.

Scully thinks that their partnership is not a mundane pairing. That it’s an intricately weaved relationship, a mass of fine-tuned threads tying them together. But she knows she cannot imagine a life without him in it.

“I think…” she lingers with her words, staring at their discarded mistletoe meant for only each other. “I think you should kiss me again, Mulder.”

“Again and again,” he promises before his mouth passionately possesses hers, their bodies tangling like twine.

“More,” she husks, and Mulder’s long leg bumps the radio’s dial, blasting “Jingle Bell Rock” through the speakers.

“And to think I thought I hated this song,” he quips with a nip to her bottom lip, kissing her again and again, just like he’d promised, until the fog on the windows is as thick as the love between them.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

[monikafilefan]

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 1

I realized I never shared my newest fic I wrote on Christmas Eve here. There’s 2 chapters: 1 in Mulder’s pov and 2 in Scully’s.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Mulder scoffs as he draws the final insidious lines onto the smiling image of Santa Claus in front of him.

“Better,” he chuckles wryly.

The black ballpoint’s ink bleeds through the red and white dessert plate where the now new and improved Santa stares up at him. He blows cookie crumbs and remnants of pecan pie off his paper plate to get a good look at his masterpiece. The cookies were bland, but the pie hit the spot.

He feels overdressed and uncomfortable next to coworkers in ugly Christmas sweaters surrounded by tinsel by the pound. Good pie just might be the highlight of the night, Mulder muses sourly.

In a surprising turn of events while wrapping up a post X-File department budget meeting with Skinner this morning, Scully had confirmed that, yes, she was planning to attend the Bureau’s annual Christmas party for the first time in a long time. Mulder almost laughed at her joke — seeing as how they’d both agreed years ago that holiday parties could only serve to further ridicule their spooky department of two — before Skinner boldly stated that he’d hoped to see her there with her plus one. And to Mulder’s utter shock, Scully had blushed, avoided his probing gaze, and nodded. Scully had a date? His jaw had clenched so hard his teeth hurt. From there, Mulder’s plans to spend a quiet Christmas break on his couch with his pretty partner and a carton of Beijing beef had crumbled quicker than the pie crust now littering his lap.

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Sinatra croons about fated happiness throughout the Hoover’s reception hall as Mulder slumps further in his seat. He’s only been here a half an hour and already regrets coming. The only plus side is that Diana and Spender are out of town on a case — an X-File, and aren’t here to silently mock his bullpen misery. If Scully hadn’t dropped a last minute bomb about attending this bureaucratic shindig, he sure as hell wouldn’t have either. Should have saved himself the embarrassment, he knows. He should’ve gone for a run instead of stewing in his apartment for three hours before changing his mind and frantically dusting off his tux he didn’t need for front row seats to a waking nightmare cheerfully playing out in front of him.

He isn’t sure his heart can handle what his eyes cannot get enough of: Dana Scully is absolutely gorgeous. Though, she’s always been pretty to him. Even when she emerges from her one star motel room at five a.m., sleepy-eyed and grumpy, rolling her eyes at his new case glee, Fox Mulder is wholly enamored.

But now… Christ. It must be his sorrow kicking him while he’s down again, because Scully has never been more beautiful. The green, form fitting cashmere cardigan looks so good on her with its top two buttons undone and something red and lacy peeking out underneath. It’s festive, flirty. The fine lines of her collarbones rise and fall in time with her shoulders as she sips her wine amongst the crowd. But her luminous appearance is hardly the attribute that attracts him to his partner the most. Her mind, her stubbornness, her heart… all of her has made him fall foolishly and dangerously in love.

And she looks happy without him.

Mulder sighs, sick to his stomach. He doesn’t deserve her attention anyway. His attitude pretty much proved that in the bullpen earlier tonight…

They leave the meeting with Skinner in a blur as Mulder silently reels at the implication of Scully dating, feeling the invisible noose of self-deprecation squeezing tighter.

“I thought you were going to conveniently miss that budget meeting,” Scully comments when they enter the nearly empty bullpen. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Where you, go I go,” he casually admits, trying not to sound as possessive as he feels right now. Because it’s the truth and the promise he’d silently made on his knees as he’d sobbed by her bedside in the Oncology ward.

She huffs a laugh. “Is that an early New Year’s resolution?”

“Not really new.” Mulder flops down in his chair and contemplates further, watching her fiddling with the mess on his tiny desk. He wants to just ask if she’s seeing someone. If she’s finally gotten sick of his shit and moved on, but for the first time in his life, he isn’t sure he wants the truth. “So you’ve decided to attend the Christmas party this year?”

Scully stops stacking files of neglected background checks and gives him a meaningful look. “I have.”

“You don’t think this is just another way to punish us, or you, if you go?” He whispers while pointing a pencil toward Kersh’s office across the hall. “You know how they operate up here.”

“Does enjoying a little Christmas music and conversation really seem like discipline to you?”

“Yes,” he says immediately.

“There’s pie,” she teases, pulling his discarded invitation he never read from the recycling bin and sliding it enticingly across the desk.

As much as he is itching to know more about her party plans, playing cool, calm, and collected feels less desperate. So he feigns disinterest and shrugs, “You know I’m picky about pie.”

Scully cocks her head and crosses her arms. “There’s me.”

“And you’re standing right here like always,” he offhandedly adds, hating his forced indifference more with every dismissive word that rolls off his tongue.

“Like always,” she mumbles. And out of the corner of his eye, he sees her shoulders slump, her arms falling limply to her sides. “Where I go, you go, but not if it includes socializing above subterranean territory?”

Something about the snide way she says that irritates him. Scully’s been just as pissed off about their reassignment to shit duty as he is and has never complained about being in the bowels of the basement with him. Not once.

Whatever reign he’d had on his internal turmoil snaps.

He spins around in his chair and points the pencil at her accusingly. “Am I too much of a loner for you now, is that why you’re bringing a plus one?” he hisses. “A date?”

“Excuse me?” A wave of anger rises within her sea blue eyes. Brow arched, she opens her mouth to rip him a new one he definitely deserves, but then seemingly reconsiders within earshot of others, tilting her head instead. “So what if I am?” she prods, sharp as a scalpel.

It’s unfair, he knows. His agitation and accusation. She’s never mentioned dating anyone before. Has never given him a reason to ask if she was, but the sudden white-hot flare of jealousy in his chest hurts more than her “oh brother” response to his recent love confession than he could have imagined.

Scully is staring at him like she wants to shove him against a wall and choke him with his tie. Mulder’s gut twists.

He tosses the pencil and stands. “Scully, I’m sorr-”

She holds up a halting hand.

“I’m going to the party tonight, Mulder.” Her voice is soft, a little shaky. “With or without you.”

Before Mulder can say another word, Scully turns on her heel and walks out of the bullpen, leaving him alone with a lump in his throat.

Now, Mulder’s heart hammers in time with the beat of the “Little Drummer Boy” echoing off the Bureau’s walls.

He had thought he could handle this soul-crushing feeling of heartbreak when he’d decided to come. He’d told himself he could push his own feelings aside for Scully’s happiness and show up to prove to her he’s really not a hermit intentionally holding her back in life. To remind her that he will do any thing for her. But now, confronted with the reality of her hand caressing another man’s forearm in a room riddled with mistletoe, he finds the sight of it is like a tabloid headline at a gas station checkout people are too ashamed to buy but can’t help indulging in a quick flip-through. Goddammit! His fists clench along the snowflake tablecloth. Like a train wreck, he cannot look away.

“Devil horns on Santa Claus, Mulder?” A.D. Skinner scolds wearily from over his shoulder.

Mulder startles and tears his eyes away from the woman he loves. He should have known he couldn’t wallow at a party in peace. “It’s Krampus, sir.”

“Looks about as cheerful as you do,” Skinner retorts.

Mulder pushes his defiled plate aside. “If I hear one more song about old Saint Nick, I might stuff my ears with marshmallows.”

“As much as you may deserve it after blowing the quarterly budget; again, a party isn’t a punishment, Mulder. Even when you’re off the files.”

The increasing ache in Mulder’s chest disagrees.

“You sound like Scully.”

“Then maybe you should listen.” Skinner nods toward Scully at the opposite side of the room. She’s smiling brightly as the same good-looking agent with dark skin and a gleaming grin hands her a glass of wine. “Agent Scully seems to be enjoying herself.”

“She deserves it,” Mulder mumbles moodily, doing a piss-poor job of ignoring the green-eyed Grinch gnawing a hole in his gut. And it doesn’t make it any less true, his closest, most cherished friend deserves the best.

“She’s said the same thing about you, you know,” Skinner huffs and shakes his head. The twinkling lights decorating the reception hall reflect off his boss’s scalp like a skin-colored disco ball. “Go on, show your tux a good time. Drink some eggnog, make some bullpen buddies. You know, live a little.”

“Dunno, Skinman. Sounds like a bad idea to me.”

“Jesus, Mulder.” Skinner reaches over and snags one of the bundles of mistletoe taped to the hall’s wall and shoves it into Mulder's palm. “Here, consider it my gift to you.”

“Uh,” Mulder blinks. “You shouldn’t have, sir.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Skinner rolls his eyes and pokes at the plastic flower. “For your partner. You know, the woman who — by some miracle, insists on defending you at every turn over the last six years. The same woman I overheard decline multiple dance offers already because of you.”

“How much punch have you had, sir? Because I saw Tom Colton pour a bottle of Jim Beam in there earlier.” Still, his hopeful eyes scan the crowd in search of Scully’s beckoning ones. But her back is turned, her date brazenly tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Mulder’s heart sinks to his shoes. “She couldn’t have said that about me.”

“Does she really have to?” Skinner asks incredulously.

Mulder tsks and flicks a stray chocolate chip across the table. “Considering she’s here with someone else and has ignored me since I walked in, I’d say so.”

“Well, even I know when your partner’s annoyed with you. More than usual, anyway.” Mulder can only shrug at the big man’s statement. He’s not wrong. “You didn’t tell her you were coming, did you?”

“No, I wasn’t planning to show up at all. Not until-” Mulder stops and groans, his last vestige of hope fading faster than his will to be here.

“Until you were you and jumped to conclusions without supporting evidence? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“The supporting evidence is currently palming my partner’s back,” Mulder grumbles under his breath as dark thoughts invade his brain. “You heard her in your office,” he says loud enough for Skinner to hear this time. “She’d planned to bring a date before I even knew she was coming.”

Skinner side eyes him. “How do you know she wasn’t talking about you?”

Mulder ponders that prospect as the festive music makes his head pound. He and Scully are in an emotional stalemate as of late. Both treading lightly, trying not to hurt each other, and he fears he's doing a shit job of it. It’s been a domino of disasters between Antarctica and his heated hallway confession, being booted from the files, the Diana debacle, and with Kersh breathing down their necks more and more has undoubtedly tugged hard on their tethered partnership. Mulder would be lying if he said he isn’t worried about losing her more than ever.

“Look, Scully and I are friends,” he responds solemnly. “Best friends. And yeah, I… well, you seem to already know,” he admits in defeat. Somehow, Mulder isn’t embarrassed to confess the unplatonic pull toward his partner to Skinner. His endless love for Scully is practically screaming at this point. “But I’m me. And she…”

“You’re too smart to be this stupid,” Skinner mutters, exasperated.

“Hey,” Mulder scoffs. “She has a date who looks to be the exact kind of man her family would love to see sweep her off her feet. Anyway, I don’t ever want to be the reason she can’t have what makes her happy.”

“For Christ’s sake, Mulder,” Skinner leans down close. “Last month Agent Scully put her ass — and mine — on the line without a second thought to rescue yours from the Bermuda Triangle for a reason. And that’s just one of the recent stunts she's pulled that could’ve cost her her job, and her life. The crazy thing is, I don’t think she cares as long as you’re by her side in the end.”

Mulder clears his rapidly thickening throat to speak, but Skinner shoots him his Shut The Hell Up And Listen look.

“And you’re sulking?” Skinner continues, chuckling to himself. “I know you’re angry about your reassignment. Rightfully so, but now is not the time to show it. You’ve gone head to head with Cancer Man, jumped off a bridge and onto a moving train — and whatever other insane things you’ve done behind my back, let alone Kersh’s, so I know you’re brave enough to haul your ass across this room and enjoy yourself.”

Mulder can’t help but smirk. “Now that’s a pep talk.”

Skinner loosens his candy cane striped tie as his eyes search the crowded room.

“I’ve never known two people so irritatingly stubborn in my life. Consider this my gift to you. Go ask Agent Scully to dance, and apologize for… well, everything, and use that mistletoe for God’s sake.” He slaps a heavy hand on Mulder’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “She’s waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass. Don’t blow it.”

Mulder’s mouth hangs open as the A.D. saunters off through the crowd with an unusual pep in his step. If Mulder didn’t know better, he’d think his boss just offered him fatherly advice. He scrubs his hands over his eyes and catches a familiar flash of red hair across the room, feeling a rush of renewed bravery take hold. The big man is right. What the hell is he doing torturing himself instead of seeking out the reason he’s come here?

He wipes the crumbs from his lap and weaves his way through the throng of buzzed and festive Feds. It looks like Kris Kringle threw up Christmas itself here. There are decorations everywhere. As Mulder rounds a corner to follow Scully out into the hallway, an upbeat song blares through the speaker near his ear.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

A group of women in red velvet and green lace bump into him and ask him to dance, tell him how good he looks in a tux, but Mulder doesn’t care. Not when Scully is fifteen feet in front of him, talking awfully close with the man Mulder now recognizes as another new agent in the lab. Her handsome, science nerd date with his hands gently cupping Scully’s arms, smiling sweetly at her as she nods up at him. Mulder freezes. With breath caught in his chest, he watches by the wayside in horror as the man seemingly leans down and presses a lingering kiss to Scully’s upturned lips.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

Mulder’s heart nearly stops.

An explosion of emotion flares in his gut. Frustration, sadness, disappointment… Anger. Anger at himself, at the lucky bastard kissing his one in five billion. He grits his teeth, swallows hard against the molten burn of it all, and turns around before Scully sees the misery on his face.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

Maybe this is what was supposed to happen tonight: fate telling him he deserves whatever shitty cards he’s dealt. But fuck, he loves her. He loves her fiercely and wants her to be happy. Whether it’s with him, or someone else, it shouldn’t matter as long as she’s living a life she chooses. A life she deserves.

It shouldn’t matter, but goddammit, it does.

So Mulder tamps down tears, and walks away.

That’s the jingle bell

He stalks out of the hall and bursts his way through the double doors, relieved to escape into the snow covered streets. He frantically searches his pockets for his car keys when his fingers get caught on the mistletoe’s hard plastic petals. Instantly, his nose stings and eyes water. He’s not sure if it’s from the pain of his heart shattering or the icy December air. He doubts it matters.

He doubts anything does, anymore.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Three of a Kind (6x20)

It’s no secret Byers is a dreamer. Has been since the day he’d entered inside Baltimore’s Computer and Electronics Convention a decade ago. The same day he’d met his partners in crime — his best friends. 

The day he’d met her. 

It all started with Susanne Modeski and her incredible tale of deep-state conspiracies hidden from the American people. Since the first moment her pleading blue eyes had latched onto his, John Fitzgerald Byers had never dreamed more desperately.

“She’s here,” Byers mumbles, dazed. Of course she’s engaged. Of course it’s to someone else. “And with him…”

Ten years of searching… of dreaming. How damn delusional he’s been.

Frohike taps the surveillance tape from Susanne’s room against Byers’ hand covering his face. “Hey buddy, you sure you wanna go through with watching this? I know you care about her. I get it, but this might not end the way you hope.”

“I’m not hoping—” Byers chokes, tugging at his tie, irritated. What little hope he’d held for a future with a woman he wasn’t even certain was alive vanished five minutes ago when he saw Grant Ellis kissing her. “My intentions are good, whether Susanne believes so or not.”

“Hell is a road paved of good intentions, my friend,” Frohike retorts. “Uh, speaking of intentions, when Mulder finds out we impersonated him to get Agent Scully here, he’ll intentionally kick our asses if she hasn’t done it first.”

“I know.” A bead of sweat trickles down Byers’ back at the thought of an angry Scully and her protective Mulder. “But he’ll understand.”

Frohike chuffs. “Mulder’s understanding when it comes to manipulating Scully stretches thinner than a fat man’s tighty whities. And you know it.”

“We had little choice. If Agent Scully finds any evidence of wrongdoing during Jimmy’s autopsy, then an asskicking will be worth it.”

Frohike arches a furry, incredulous brow. “Speak for yourself.” 

The door opens and Langly strides in, looking pale and smelling like antiseptic. John cringes at the thought of Jimmy’s autopsy as a fresh wave of worry for Susanne’s safety washes over him.

They debrief their lack of findings and watch the tape taken from Susanne and Grant’s room. John’s stomach sinks at their on-screen domesticity. “She would not marry that man.”

“You don't know him like I do.” The Gunmen startle, turning to see Susanne standing in their hotel room. “I need to talk to you, John, I need to try and explain everything.”

His friends don’t trust her, but Susanne had unknowingly helped create the men they are now. She’d opened their eyes to it all. The governmental secrets. The lies shrouded in half-truths. She doesn't owe him for any of that. But she does owe him an explanation. 

“C'mon,” Langly sighs. Byers blushes, loathing feeling like the lonesome lover-boy of the group. “Let's hit the slots.”

“Watch your back,” Frohike warns Byers before calling Susanne Mata Hari.

Trust or not, Byers refuses to believe she’s some seductive spy. His heart races as Susanne moves closer. His best-case scenario is that she pushes him onto the bed and they make love in a room around the corner from the one she shares with her fiancé. The worst case scenario is that she tells him to get lost and never think of her again.

“You said something about a friend being murdered,” Susanne says.

Byers explains Jimmy’s supposed suicide and alerts she may be in danger, too. 

“I am. Always,” she admits, pacing nervously. “So is Grant. I've thought about this moment so many times. All the things I would say to you if I ever saw you again. And then there you were, at my door, and I…” She trails off, but Byers is barely listening while her watery eyes lock onto his, and it feels exactly like it did when they first met. Like a lightning strike straight to the chest. “…He reminded me of you. Grant,” she confesses. 

Byers blinks back tears. 

“Susanne—” 

“John, I don’t want to hurt you, but Grant isn’t who you think. You don’t know him and I’m not brainwashed,” she pleads, and Byers isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. “You’re paranoid.”

He scoffs, “You’re the one who warned us years ago, Susanne. It was you who pushed us to look past the placating façade and find the truth within the lie. ‘That no matter how paranoid we are, we’re not paranoid enough.’ Remember?”

“Of course. I wasn’t lying. But things have changed, John.” 

He purses his lips, frustrated. The lips Susanne had pressed the sweetest of kisses to once before, leaving him loose-limbed and love-struck just moments before she was forcefully shoved into the back of a car, never to be heard from again. Until now.

He’s spent ten years clinging to a fantasy of a future with her. A marriage, a mortgage, three kids and a dog. An entire life. What a fool he is. 

With a solemn nod, Byers clenches his eyes shut. “Of course they have.” 

“John?” Susanne whispers, suddenly only a breath away, her cool hand cupping the scruff of his jaw as her lips brush against his ear. “Someday you’ll realize you’re too good for me. So very good.” She kisses his cheek tenderly and his eyes fly open. “Someday.”

Susanne leans back to wipe away the tears rolling down her face. 

“Someday…” Byers mumbles back and wonders if maybe there is more for him than one woman. Maybe everything in his life has turned out exactly the way it’s supposed to. “Maybe.”

It all may have started with Susanne Modeski, but with Frohike, Langly, Mulder, and Scully in his life, John holds hope that spending reality with his friends turns out to be more fulfilling than a dream could ever be. 

***

Hours later, she stands before Byers under the glimmer of Vegas lights, her dead fiancé’s engagement ring within his palm, and her plush lips pressed against his own. 

“Someday,” she promises, and Byers smiles. 

Maybe…

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

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[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Trevor (6x17)

Jasper, Mississippi

1992

A shrill scream rips through the paper thin walls of the house. 

“June!” Jackie pounds on the door. When her sister had called in a panic, Jackie hadn’t thought twice before breaking every traffic law there is to get here. “Pinker, leave her alone!”

The door flies open with Pinker glaring down at her. The asshole’s barely out of work and already abusing June. “Stay outta this, Jackie,” he barks.

Behind him, her sister’s crying on the floor, cradling her pregnant belly. 

“Never.” Anger urges Jackie on as she shoves her way past him. “June, you okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Pinker interrupts. “Stupid for threatenin’ to take what’s mine, but fine. She ain’t keepin’ my kid from me. Are ya, June?”

June shakes her head, trembling within Jackie’s arms, but Jackie has had enough. “You’re a real bastard, Pinker.”

He laughs and takes a swig from his beer before slamming the front door. Both women hold their breath until they hear his Buick revving in the driveway and the sound of its tires screeching down the road. 

“June, you have to leave him,” Jackie pleads. “You have to.” 

“How? If I run, yeah he might forget about me for a while. Even find a new girlfriend. But he’ll never stop lookin’ for his child. Never.” 

“If you don’t leave soon, he could end up killin’ you both!” Jackie fights back tears as she presses her palm to her own achingly flat belly. The small bump where her tiny baby once lived before she lost it is now painfully, depressingly, gone. “June, please. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Jackie, you know I never planned for—” June points to her pregnancy. “This. To be a mother. Pinker, though… he really wants to be a father. And that scares me more than his temper ever could.” 

“That’s why you gotta leave! There ain’t nothin’ good about staying with Pinker Rawls.” Jackie wants to just throw clothes in a bag and drag her sister out of here. But she knows from experience that leaving has to be June’s choice. 

“Might not need to. Pinker says he’s got another plan to get quick cash,” June whispers. “Somethin’ risky. But he doesn’t know I have a plan of my own.” Her bloodshot eyes water as she squeezes Jackie’s hand. “One I hope you’ll agree to help me with.”

As frustrating as it is to watch helplessly as her sister suffers time and time again, Jackie can deny her nothing. “Always, June...” 

***

Jackson, Mississippi

1999

He’s a killer, Jackie thinks as she listens to June cry behind the locked pantry door. He walks through walls and kills people. This isn’t the run-of-the-mill controlling man slapping his woman around. This is something very different.

And it sure as hell isn’t good. 

“It's all right,” Pinker tells a stunned Trevor. He appears terrified when Pinker pulls up a chair beside him after watching his Aunt June being screamed at by a strange man and thrown in the pantry. “It's gonna be all right. D-d-don't be upset. I ain't mad at you, buddy.”

Jackie’s son has never seen violence against women before. She’s made damn sure of that, and her teeth clench at the sight of her sweet boy frozen with fear. June was right nearly eight years ago. With Pinker in their lives, living in fear is never gonna stop. Never. 

Unless someone finally forces him to.

“It's okay, Trevor,” Jackie soothes. “Mama's here, okay?” 

Pinker says he wants what’s his, but Trevor’s not a possession. He’s a smart, sensitive seven-year-old who knows nothing of clenched fists, screaming fits, or having to ignore bruises on his mama’s skin that his daddy gave her. All Trevor knows is unconditional love. 

And that has absolutely nothing to do with Wilson Pinker Rawls. 

“You got some stuff you want to pack up? Some toys and stuff?” Pinker asks. He’s trying to keep his cool with Trevor, but real dads — real men — don’t frighten their sons and yank women around by their hair. “Trevor...? Jackie?”

He’s desperate now. Dangerous. But so is a mother protecting her child.

”Trevor, go. Go and pack some stuff, okay?”

Her son is nervous as he stands to walk away, “Okay.”

“He's a good boy,” Pinker praises. Like he’s proud of someone he, thankfully, had no hand in raising. 

While she stares down at the boiling soup, the memory of June placing a newborn Trevor Andrew in her arms, asking her to be his mama — to love and protect him — flashes before Jackie’s eyes. Her fingers wrap around the pot’s glass handle as she continues fulfilling the promise she’d made all those years ago… 

Always.

Jackie flings the boiling soup at Pinker. And it passes right through his face. 

The panicking thud of her heart fights against her ribs, but she can’t afford to fall apart. Jackie reacts to the look of fury in Pinker’s eyes and swings the pot upward, bouncing the glass off of his skull. 

“Trevor, run!” Jackie yells as she fights for their lives, whacking Pinker in the head again. Then she’s suddenly on the floor, screaming as his fist slams into her face.

Everything goes black… until someone is shaking her awake. “Jackie? Jackie, wake up!” 

Her jaw hurts and the copper taste of blood coats her tongue. Jackie’s eyes flutter open to see June hovering above. “Trevor—”

“Pinker won’t get him. I promise.”

Jackie’s eyes roll as the room spins. She’s about to pass out again. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him, June,” she slurs. “I swear…” 

“He won’t touch Trevor,” June says so seriously that Jackie instantly believes her. “This mess is my fault. A mess I helped make years ago. I’ll be the one to clean it up.”

And for the very first time, Jackie is the one trusting in her sister to keep her son safe.

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

@monikafilefan

[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Two Fathers (6x11)

The hospital’s quarantine room is quiet and nearly as dark as the sky outside it. My charge sleeps, but as an FBI agent on guard, I do not. My only duty is to watch this woman, to keep vigil…

“My son doesn’t believe his own mother,” Cassandra’s raspy voice cuts through my thoughts. I startle while her piercing blue eyes seem to glow in darkness. “But that doesn’t change the fact that his life is in danger. Maybe it always will be.”

I am not a mother, so I say nothing. But the intense stare mingling with the scent of stale cigarettes that emanates from this once ill, wheelchair-bound woman gives me pause. I set aside a mind-numbing magazine I pretend to read and really look at the anomaly of Cassandra Spender.  

She is pink-cheeked and healthy. Brimming with life. Yet, all I see is death. 

“Think I could get some privacy?” Cassandra asks tersely, frustrated at my silence. 

Swinging her legs off the bed, Cassandra huffs as her bare feet slap across the floor and into the bathroom. Soft sounds of crying echo within its walls, followed by acrid smoke wafting beneath the doorframe. Minutes pass as Cassandra cries between audible drags from her Morley Lights. She sobs and sobs, until she suddenly stops, the door’s lock clicking abruptly. 

It is unprecedented, but the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I uncross my legs, stand, and knock. “Open up, Cassandra.”

Silence. 

“Open the door. Now.” There is a slim chance of her harming herself. Slim, yet not impossible. “Do it, or I will.”

With a swift snap, the door swings open, and a furious Cassandra steps out. Her blue eyes blaze with anger. Decades worth of suffering has nowhere to go but to overflow from her lashes and pour down her pale skin.

“Do what you want,” she scoffs. “I never have a say, anyway.”

Shockingly, something akin to sympathy tugs within me. She doesn’t know. She has no idea what she is, what she has become. “You do now. Just your existence says more than you realize.”

Cassandra only blinks, not comprehending. 

“Everything has changed, Cassandra. You’re special beyond the abductions, beyond the tests. You are the one.”

She gasps, what’s left of her cigarette falling to the floor. “You’re one of them. Like my bastard ex-husband.”

“No,” I shake my head. “Quite the opposite.”

Cassandra wipes the tears from her face and steps away from me. “I don’t know what you want or why you’re telling me this now, but I don’t trust you.”

I nod, tucking the long black strands of hair behind my ears, and offer up an elusive truth she has earned the right to hear. “You are the product of twenty-five years worth of a genetic genome project come to fruition through selfish means. You are the first successful alien-human hybrid — the key to everything, Cassandra, and the Syndicate behind the project knows it. Soon, the Colonists will know it too; it is only a matter of time. Proof of hybridization will be irrefutable. Colonization will begin.”

“No!” Cassandra’s chin trembles as she stares down at her hands, as if searching for a lie that does not exist. “Those sonsabitches. Those goddamn bastards… When?”

“The timetable has changed rapidly due to their sudden success.” I remove my suit jacket, getting comfortable telling a tale most would deem science fiction. “The Syndicate plans to trade you for their family collateral.”

“I am collateral, dammit!” Cassandra brings one shaky hand up over her mouth and the other to rub the nape of her neck.

“Yes, the microchip. We know about its power. What it can do, what it can cure. Feel that familiar pull in the back of your neck?”

“It leads me to them,” she spits the words out like poison. 

“Perhaps.” I recall the redheaded agent visited her earlier and add, “But ask yourself what else that pull can lead you to, and to whom.”

Cassandra slowly shakes her head. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am the resistance,” I say, reaching up to sink my manicured nails into the brown flesh of my face, and ripping it to shreds. “And I cannot let them have you.”

As my fingers dig and tear my skin mask away, Cassandra recoils. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

I offer a reassuring hand in her panic. This new-bred hybrid fully understanding her fate in the endgame of the Syndicate's project is vital. Her simple existence can bring the selfish faction to ashes.

“Don’t touch me!” Cassandra shrieks, throwing her hands out. “No more tests, no more pain! No more, damn you!”

That is not our plan for her. But as I try sending her a mental message to calm down, an ear-piercing screeching noise rips through my skull like a white-hot electrical storm inside my brain. I whimper and cradle my head within my hands, staring up at Cassandra in awe. 

She is silent as she puts on my jacket, gaping down at me with wide eyes while I writhe along the floor. You, I try to say inside her mind, but mine is nearly melting my brain stem. You are too dangerous to save the world.

Blackness pulls me under.

***

I awake to a prickling sensation as familiar as my own featureless face. Another of my kind is near. I rise from the floor, my head throbbing, as shame of my failure consumes me. 

Cassandra Spender is gone.

Where is the hybrid? my fellow Rebel wordlessly demands as we flee. You know it is imperative we find her before the Syndicate does.

I did this. The truth was too much. I will find her.

No. His fire stick flares to life. You have failed.

And all I see is death…

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

@monikafilefan

[monikafilefan]

i hope you dont mind me asking but do you know any msr multi-chapter ivf pre-relationship fics? pining... angst... eventual romance or slow burn, etc...

(i hate reading established relationship) (preferably on ao3)

please and thanks.

i love this ask!!! i won’t add any fics i’ve written or any au’s for this but i’ll throw in a few multiple ch canon-related fics on ao3 off the top of my head i’ve enjoyed. there’s sooo many more that i know i’ve left off though😬

*Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic

*Someday Your Child May Cry

*Unobserved

*Between Sorrow and Bliss

*Culmination

*The I in Team

[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | The Beginning (6x01)

Make no mistake, Agent Fowley. Handle Mulder, or we will. 

The threat-laced promise shoots through Diana’s brain like a ricocheted bullet. While she pleads for Fox to accompany her in search of the entity, she runs a finger across the freshly healed gunshot wound on her ribcage. The ache serves as a harsh reminder. Her task is clear. 

And the stakes have never been higher. 

“I was given this assignment, Fox, okay?” she explains as he leaves Agent Scully’s side and marches up to Diana’s car to confront her. “They offered it to me. I took the chance…”

“I'm listening.”

“…To make sure someone served your interests. Someone who believes in the work.” If she has to pull on the thread of their shared paranormal past to reel him in, she will. “Hey, you and I found the X-Files together. Don't forget that.”

His suspicion spikes. “Who sent you?”

“I'm here on my own.” It’s a truth-coated lie. If she can’t persuade him to leave behind his partner and the most important eight-year-old weapon in their arsenal currently lying in their backseat, then Diana’s life won't be the only one on the line. 

“Why? To convince me of your noble intentions?”

“Listen to me.” An irritation rises that only years of practice arguing with stubborn men can elicit. “That thing is somewhere inside the Number Four reactor building. Now, we can let them find it and destroy it, or go find it ourselves. You need proof, Fox. You're so close.” Too close. Everyone knows it, especially Gibson Praise. “Why can't you see that?”

This is the first time they’ve spoken freely since his near-death escapade to the bottom of the earth, and for many reasons, Diana cannot risk his refusal now. She is prepared to do whatever it takes to handle him by steering his attention away from the boy to keep them safe. To urge Fox into an allied position under her watchful eye where he fully trusts her again. 

Her and only her. 

Fox hesitates as he stares at his waiting partner, then agrees. Diana exhales in relief as he folds himself into the passenger seat of her car. She glances at Agent Scully through the windshield as she throws the Taurus into reverse. Even in darkness, Diana can see big blue eyes brimming with vulnerability. 

***

Fox fidgets with the dirty ashtray as she turns onto the highway. “I quit smoking years ago. Same time as you, remember?”

He shrugs. ”Ya never know.”

“Well, I know you’re mad, and I know you don’t want to talk about the X-Files. But I also know you can’t move past this unless you have your say.”

“What else is there to say other than you really know how to twist a knife?” 

“I didn’t stab you in the back, Fox.”

“Agent Spender sitting at my desk says otherwise,” he retorts. “I want my ergonomic cushion back, by the way.” 

Her eyes roll. “Look, I fought for you to join me. Argued our unique expertise would be invaluable—”

“Fought for me to join you,” he huffs. “Thanks for the effort, but I have a partner.”

“You do,” Diana sighs. Dana Scully is a much larger problem than anyone could have anticipated. Fortunately for Diana, her new partner, Jeffrey, is as pretentious as he is pliable. “And I have no desire to argue about partners. But I’m here now, Fox. Let’s do what we do best and get proof.” 

She reaches out and places her palm atop Fox’s knee. He stares at it — her silent plea for him to listen. To believe her, like he’d done so easily before she’d left him and their marriage behind for secrets shrouded in cigarette smoke. 

He nods, “Okay.”

***

Minutes and miles fly by as she and Fox debate the details. Though their camaraderie is comforting, her duplicity is burdensome as she ruminates on how dangerous this familiar dance they’re doing is. But at the moment, she doesn’t give a damn. 

“You're not under the impression what we're looking for makes sense in any conventional way?” Diana prods.

“No,” he scoffs, a little awed at the bluntness of her unconventionality. “No, but it’s nice to hear someone else thinks it, too.”

Handle Mulder, or we will. 

The stark reminder pops their comfortable bubble of calm.

“Earlier, you wondered whose errands I was running,” Diana divulges. She suddenly feels the need to placate herself just as much as him tonight. “They’re my own, Fox.” 

He hums, considering her confession.

While it is true she’d naïvely made her own dangerous choices to get to where she is, sometimes lying to herself is easier than admitting free will is no longer hers without risk. God, how she’d wanted to be part of the Project back then — had reveled in its ground-breaking, para-scientific research when recruited out of Berlin. But now, watching as Fox’s trust in her grows, Diana feels a sharp stab of guilt slicing at her Syndicate-twisted ties. 

“There is risk seeking this thing out,” she warns. 

“Risk is my middle name,” he jokes, softening.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you.”

He turns away and looks out the window. “You always did.” 

Her hands clench in time with her chest. 

The Syndicate is right about one thing, at least: Fox Mulder is dangerous. Yes, he’s emotionally damaged — partly because of her — and before seeing him again, she’d questioned whether she'd become emotionally numb in turn. But she cares about him deeply. And until recently, had nearly forgotten just how much. 

Dangerous, indeed. 

Under the security lights of the looming facility, Diana allows herself to indulge in Fox’s handsome features. This man loved her once. Maybe he could again. But will their past remain where they left it, or will history repeat itself?

Handle Mulder, or we will. 

“No matter the outcome, Fox, just remember that I’m protecting the work. Our work.”

For the first time in a long time, what Diana Fowley says feels like the truth. 

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

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[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Fight the Future

OPEN LOT

BLACKWOOD COUNTY, NORTH TEXAS

(@gaycrouton)

Stevie had been looking forward to the summer for the entire school year. No more homework, no more tests. Summer was the reward for all those hours wasted at school. 

But now he was bored.

So bored, that when Cody Newton suggested they go digging in the open lot next to the cul-de-sac. It sounded like a good idea. And it was fun for a little while, but now he was bored. Again.

“It’s hotter than balls out here,” he sighed, pulling the neck of his shirt up so he could wipe the sweat off his face.

“Have yours even dropped yet?” Blake teased.

Stevie scooped up a pile of dirt into the blade of his shovel and tossed it at the older boy. “Shut up.”

“I feel like those kids in that book we read this year. Ya know, the ones where they have to keep digging all those holes to become better people or whatever?” Cody whined as he tried to catch his breath. 

“You mean Holes ?” Chris deadpanned.

Cody nodded as he took a hit from his inhaler. “Yeah, only our treasure’s gonna be so much better.”

Stevie squinted his eyes against the sun as he looked at Blake, who was rolling his eyes. Cody dragged them all out here because his brother claimed to have heard something weird here a few nights ago. He even said the ground vibrated under his feet. While they all knew Cody’s brother was probably stoned when he said that, Cody took him for his word and believed there was something beneath the dirt.

Stevie didn’t have much to do, so even though he thought this was bull, it wasn’t like there were any good movies playing on TV anyway.

He dragged the toe of his shoe against the ground and made a circle against the gritty dirt. “My hole’s the biggest,” he gloated, taking note of the other boys’ shallow attempts.

“I didn’t know you swung that way,” Blake ribbed, throwing a pile of dirt back into Stevie’s area.

“Dumbass,” Stevie grunted. Irritated, he raised the shovel and dug it into the ground with as much force as possible. Only this time, the ground didn’t seem to have as much resistance. “What the—,” he murmured.

When he withdrew the blade, he saw a dark slit in the ground. Using the side of his shoe, he pushed some loose dirt near the indentation and watched as the dirt fell into darkness. “Guys, come look at this!” he yelled, repeating the action so they could see.

Chris made a sound at the back of his throat before taking his own shovel and prodding the edge of the slit, backing up quickly as it widened slightly. 

“What if it’s haunted? Like Goatman’s Bridge in Denton?” Cody asked, suddenly nervous.

Stevie raised his hand to his mouth and started chewing the dead skin around his nails. This didn’t feel fun anymore. He wanted to run and grab his dad to get an adult’s opinion, but he wouldn’t be back until six. None of their parents would. 

As the others bickered, something in the darkness caught Stevie’s eye. A glimpse of something? He leaned forward to try and—

His stomach dropped straight into his ass as he felt the dirt give out underneath his feet. His hands swung wildly, trying to grab onto something, but all he found was loose debris that fell alongside him.

Stevie felt like the ground sucker punched him when he made impact. A gasp ripped through his chest and he choked against the air filling his empty lungs. Suddenly, he’d gone from looking at the darkness to the blinding light as he took in the other side of the, now gaping, hole in the ground, framed by the faces of his concerned friends.

“Hey, Stevie. You okay?” Blake called out.

Trying to appear unshaken, he stood up and tried not to inhale any of the disrupted dirt. “I got— I got the wind knocked outta me.”

“Looks like a cave or somethin’!” Cody yelled down.

He was illuminated enough to see around him, but he couldn’t see much of anything. When he walked around to try and see if there was a wall anywhere, he felt a crunch under his shoe, and when he looked, he saw a crushed bone. But it wasn’t the only one. In the dim lighting, the stark white bones seemed to shine.

He picked up the biggest one and realized it was a skull. His daddy had a bunch of critter skulls around the house, but nothing like this. 

With a smile, he stepped back into the light and held his findings up for them to see. “It’s a human skull!”

“Toss it up here, dude!” Cody exclaimed.

“No way butt-wipe, this is mine. Anyway, there's bones all over the place, man,” he replied with a smirk. There were so many bones down here, that they could all probably take home an entire human’s worth each.

Looking down to examine the skull’s strange translucence, he realized he was stepping in a puddle of oil. His smile faltered as he tried to think of where the nearest oil derrick even was around these parts. But before he could give it any more thought, the puddle expanded around his shoe. It was like the earth was bleeding. 

“What the…”

The skull fell from his hands as pain shot through his spine, causing him to bend over and grab his stomach. His blood felt heavy, almost like he could feel the strain of it moving through his body. The puddle kept expanding and Stevie watched in confusion as it began to fill up the base of the skull through the broken part.

He could hear his friends calling out to him, and using as much energy as he could muster, he looked up towards them. He could see they were there, but only because he could see how their bodies contrasted the blindingly bright light. 

And then—

FEDERAL BUILDING

DALLAS, TEXAS

(@admiralty-xfd)

Four minutes.

The moment he sees the digital readout on the bomb, Darius Michaud knows he has only four minutes to live. It’s a humbling thought. 

“Can you defuse it?” Agent Mulder asks.

Yes, I can , Michaud thinks. “Yes, I can.”

But I won’t.

Agent Mulder appears undeterred, as if he’s actually going to stick around like a fucking hero, when Michaud knows that isn’t going to happen. He’s wasting everyone’s time, including his own, so he gives the younger agent an unearned glare. Unearned because the man hasn’t done anything wrong; in fact, he’s done his job exactly right. He’s done what should have been impossible, what had to be impossible. And now Michaud is going to die because of it.

Agent Scully urges her partner out of the vending room with a look Michaud assumes is the only thing that could have managed it. Then, all too quickly, he is completely alone.

He sits on his useless kit and faces off with the bomb: this inanimate, unknowable antagonist that will end his life in three minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Hello, friend. He can see exactly what to do from here, which wires to cut. This could be over a lot sooner if he wants it to be. But Michaud isn’t here to save lives, unfortunately. He’s here for a greater purpose.

The mission , they call it. It’s always been about the mission. Whenever he hears that phrase from a superior, he knows what it means: to follow orders no matter what. And Michaud is good at that. 

Three minutes.

He pictures the chaos happening just outside this room, how everyone around him had sprung into action, and for a brief moment he’s reminded of what it was like back in the war, when everyone had each other’s backs and were all working towards a common goal. 

He’s surrounded by people who all want to stop this bomb from exploding. To save lives. And here he is, under strict orders to keep that from happening.

Two minutes.

He clasps his hands in front of him, partly because he doesn’t know what else to do with them but mostly because, if he doesn’t, he worries he might just start defusing this thing. The survival instinct is strong, and he knows that as much as anyone.  

One minute.

He hasn’t thought about ‘Nam in a while, but he is now. Viscerally. He smells the rain, hears the explosions, and feels the squelch of mud that crept all the way up his calves. He thinks of his battle buddies, Mike and John, and how neither of them had accepted the deal he’d taken in order to get out. How neither of them had jumped at the opportunity to taste freedom once again, only to pay for that opportunity in sacrifice and loyalty; by subjection to experimentation and tests and uncertainties.

He’s never felt like a coward before. The responsibilities he’s been given and the knowledge that he’s been helping the mission succeed have been enough to avoid feeling regret. 

But he feels it now.

Forty seconds.

He’d known when he accepted this assignment that a lot of innocent people would die. He’d been prepared for the inevitable eventuality. Never in a million years had he expected he’d die not knowing the reason why.

Now, at least, a lot of them will be saved , he thinks.

I’m taking their place , he thinks.

Fourteen seconds.

He wonders what happened to Mike. Did John ever get out of the jungle? He’ll never know.

What will his son think of him after he’s gone?

He leans forward, his head in his hands. He thinks of the kids he’d passed in the hallway minutes prior, how he’d been party to their death sentence, and now he’s going to save them.

Michaud closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch this happen. 

He is the fucking hero. Even if he’s the only one who knows it.

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

(@fridaysat9)

Kyle was from a military family. His father was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marines. His mother was Military Police. He’d spent his childhood on bases all across the country, playing with his siblings and the other military brats whose lives were just as transient as his. 

Medical school was expensive. Money had always been tight, and Kyle had two older sisters who went to college and put the family in debt without a second thought. He couldn’t do that to his parents, so he enlisted. Uncle Sam would make him a doctor; all he had to do was report and serve… even if that meant spending his nights on an empty hospital floor guarding halls in the middle of the night. 

He’d traveled across the country from California to stand here. It had been six months, and he’d done nothing more than go to classes and basic training, and check identification. Admitting clerk was a very long way from doctor in the field , helping soldiers on the front line. 

Kyle was trying to keep himself alert by running through the log book in front of him when he saw a man and a small woman walking down the hall. He didn’t recognize them, but lots of different people came through this section of the hospital. At least it was something to do. 

“ID and floor you're visiting, please.”

The man flashed his FBI badge and told him they were going to the morgue while his partner revealed her own badge. There weren’t typically a lot of special orders for the night shift, but there was one tonight– and it was about exactly the location that these two agents planned to visit. 

“That area is currently off limits to anyone other than authorized medical personnel,” Kyle said, repeating the official message they’d all been given. 

“On whose orders?” the agent asked as he reached for the logbook. 

“General McAddie.” Kyle had been told of the General's order not once, not twice, but three times at the start of his shift. 

“General McAddie is who requested our coming down here,” the agent said as he scribbled something illegible on the pad. “We were awakened at 3am and told to get down here immediately.”

Shit. Kyle felt his composure slip as he tried to remember if there had been any mention of the FBI. 

He didn’t. “I don't know anything about that.”

“Well, call General McAddie,” the agent said, already starting to walk past, his partner falling into step at his side. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

“I don't have the number,” Kyle admitted. 

“Well, then call the switchboard,” the agent said, turning to face him. “They'll patch you through.”

Kyle studied the man in front of him, trying to assess the situation, but all that did was make him feel more like an idiot. Did he have a switchboard number? He’d never called it before. He rummaged through the papers in front of him, wondering if it was here somewhere and no one had told him. 

“Jesus, you don't know the switchboard number?” the agent asked, and Kyle decided he needed to get help before he got into more trouble. 

“I'm calling my C.O.” He picked the phone up off its base, but the agent stopped him from making the call.

“Listen, son, we don't have time to dick around while you demonstrate your ignorance of the chain of command.” Kyle was frozen, holding the phone a few inches from his ear. He glanced at the female agent who offered him nothing as her partner continued his tirade. “The order came directly from General McAddie, you call him. We'll conduct our business while you confirm authorization.”

The agents started down the hall. Kyle didn’t know who these people were, but the last thing he wanted was to prevent them from doing whatever General McAddie had asked them to do in the morgue. 

“Why don't you head on down,” Kyle called out as he hung up the phone, “and I'll confirm authorization.”

“Thank you.”

Kyle watched until they reached the end of the hall before picking up the receiver. He looked at the phone list in front of him. He felt inadequate, like he couldn’t do even the simplest task without waking someone up in the middle of the night to ask a question. He decided to start by calling the clerk on the floor above him, but no one there had heard of any FBI involvement on the premises. He called the morgue next, but the phone went unanswered. He was starting to get a sinking feeling in his gut. Something didn’t feel right, and as he made more calls, saving his C.O., he knew he had fucked up. 

It was nearly 4:30am when Kyle ran out of options and finally dialed his C.O.’s home number. 

“This had better be good,” the senior medical officer said as he answered. 

“Sir, it’s Lieutenant Murray,” he said, keeping his tone firm even though his body was filling with dread. “I am calling to get authorization for two FBI agents visiting the morgue.” 

“That area is off limits, Lieutenant.” His C.O. said it like a reprimand and all at once, Kyle knew he had been played. 

“They said,” he started, feeling like a child. He cleared his throat and tried again. “They said they were here under General McAddie’s orders.” 

Kyle heard rustling and an angry grumble across the phone line. “Jesus Christ. Call the MPs and get them down there immediately, and Lieutenant? Do not leave your post until I get there. Is that clear?”

Yep, Kyle had fucked up royally. At this point, all he could hope was that it wouldn’t cost him his M.D. 

“Yes, sir.” 

NORTH TEXAS 

(BLACKWOOD)

(@monikafilefan)

He stares wide-eyed at the gaping hole in the fireman’s abdomen.

No… no, no, no!

“It's left the body!” Bronschweig yells as he sprints back to the ladder leading up to the open hatch in the ceiling. This is bad. This is really fucking bad. “I think it's gestated!”

He freezes as a figure darts through the shadows. 

“What's the matter?” his assistant Micah asks. 

“Wait... I can see it.” And it is huge. Its long limbs and bulbous head glistens as it inhales the warm Texan air. The freezing temperature it’s been carefully confined in is now meaningless. It has evolved. “Oh Jesus… Lord…”

The black void of its oil-slicked eyes is endless. Evil lives there.

”Ya see it?”

“Yeah, so much for little green men,” Bronschweig mutters, awed. His hands shake as he pulls out a vial and syringe from his bio-hazard suit. If he weren’t shitting his pants right now he’d laugh at the naïvety that a thin plastic suit could protect him from this monster. “I need you down here!”

While he waits for Micah to get off his ass and help, he fills the syringe with the vaccine’s dark liquid. Sheer dread washes over him when he realizes the bone and tissue that the creature has been ingesting during development is exactly what it intends to consume again. This newborn is hungry.

A noise echoing around the chamber douses Bronschweig’s veins with an icy dose of adrenaline. He twists his head from side to side, trying to spot the creature who’s simply vanished.

Goosebumps prickle his skin. As a scientist, he knows what this is: a predator stalking its prey.

Behind him, a loud, animalistic screech pierces the air. Bronschweig startles, shouting in fear when a massive body slams into his chest, brutally knocking him to his back as needle-like nails swipe across his face.

Bronschweig gasps under the searing pain of scalpel-sharp claws slicing ribbons of his flesh from sternum to stomach. This thing will rip him to shreds. Fighting for his life, he clutches the syringe in his fist and stabs it through the slick, olive-colored torso of the entity pinning him down. A battle cry rips through Bronschweig’s lips as he empties the vaccine into the creature’s veins. It shrieks, lurching away.

Pain. Blood. Shock.

“Oh, God…”

Rolling to his knees, Bronschweig looks down at a gnarled wound on his abdomen weeping dark blood into a crimson pool within his palms. Evisceration. Flayed wide open; like being autopsied alive.

Fuck!

His body throbs to the bone as he lunges for the ladder.

“Help!” His chest is so tight he can barely breathe. “I need help!”

He blinks away tears and catches a glimpse of his colleagues closing the airtight lid attached to his only way out. Piles of dirt cover the bulletproof glass, ominously turning day to night. 

Panicking, Bronschweig starts climbing the metal rungs. 

“What are you doing?” he cries. The deep cut across his face pulls his mouth into a sneer.

Bastards! All of them, selfish fucking bastards. 

He gags as metallic-tasting foam bubbles up his throat and slowly seeps into his mouth and nose. A punctured lung. Christ, suffocating on your own bodily fluids is almost as horrific as being torn apart. 

He stares up in darkness at the dirt-covered ceiling, resigned. The project’s motto runs through his head: progress requires sacrifice. He’d just never imagined it was his life he’d be sacrificing. 

A clawed hand juts out from behind, covering Bronschweig’s entire face in a visceral death grip, yanking him backwards with incredible force and smashing his skull onto the metal floor. 

Bronschweig screams. The creature strikes.

And this is the beginning of the end…

LONDON, ENGLAND

(@gaycrouton)

“Then you must take away what he holds most valuable. That with which he can’t live without,” he stated. This group had been dancing around the inevitable for long enough.

“I presume you mean to say whom ,” the British Bastard countered with a weary sigh.

“Dana Scully,” Spender supplemented, punctuating the name with an exhalation of smoke.

“I know you have a fondness for the girl, but we never intended her involvement to last this long,” Strughold replied. “She should have died in that train car. That cancer should’ve killed her, as intended. Yet, somehow , none of our plans have come to fruition.”

A few of the men in the room averted their gaze. Too feeble to look him in the eye and acknowledge they had become weak. 

However, Spender, the worst offender of them all, stood tall.

“It wasn’t the time,” the Fat Man replied.

Gesturing towards the monitor, now displaying black and white footage of Dana Scully conspiring with Fox Mulder. “When do you think the right time is? When she finally succeeds in helping Mulder destroy a plan that’s been decades in the making?”

“Killing her would be worse than eliminating Mulder,” the British Bastard seethed. “Never mind a crusade, he would become relentless. Who knows how many of their allies would crawl out of the woodwork to avenge her alongside him.”

“She was a disposable little girl and your cowardice has allowed her to become Mulder’s very own Mary Magdalene,” Strughold seethed to the room.

When Conrad Strughold started this organization, he chose these men because they were ruthless. These were the men who kissed their children on the foreheads before sending them to their deaths and would shake each other’s hands to celebrate a job well done afterward. 

Back then, they would sacrifice anything when they had everything to lose, and now, in their old age, they couldn’t handle the responsibilities that came with playing God.

It was pathetic.

Quickly trying to compensate for their inadequacies, the men in the room all began offering lame contributions while Strughold sat back and listened with contempt.

“The man nearly put a bullet in his brain when he found out we gave her cancer because of him, maybe he’d be too far gone for revenge.”

“But I thought we only mentioned the idea of killing Agent Scully to avoid killing Mulder? What’s the point if the result remains the same?”

“Two birds with one stone.”

“Killing them both will raise the concern of that pesky assistant director.”

“He’s far more susceptible to threats than those two. Let me take care of him when the time comes,” Spender shrugged.

“What if, instead of killing her, we merely… put her out of reach, so to speak,” Strughold suggested.

The British one had the audacity to look disgusted. “You can’t mean—”

“He’d want to believe she was alive so badly that his focus would shift to trying to find her.”

“It would be Samantha all over again.”

“Worse.”

Strughold nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good.”

“I’m sure Marita Covarrubias would appreciate having someone else take the brunt of the vaccination experimentations.” The reminder of the blonde’s plight elicited a few chuckles throughout the room.

“No, it’s too close for comfort,” Strughold dissented. “Besides, don’t many scientists dream of going to Antarctica? Let’s allow her to partake in our exciting research experiments there.”

“Are you so naïve as to think Fox Mulder wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth for that woman? He’s besotted with her, for God’s sake,” the Brit proclaimed.

“On the contrary, his fervent loyalty and affection for Miss Scully is what I’m counting on. Pretty euphemisms aside, it would surely take him a long time to find her. Besides, looking at his track record with his sister, we can assume he will dedicate the second half of his life to yet another fruitless endeavor.”

“What does Einstein say about insanity?”

Through a plume of smoke trailing from his lips, Spender spoke up. “Plus, with Scully out of the way, maybe you could ask your colleague to come back and give Mulder some comfort in his time of need.”

Strughold nodded appreciatively, “I believe Diana would be amenable to that. She’s proven valuable to me with our work in Tunisia. It would be useful to have her keep an eye on him.”

“This is ludicrous!” the Brit declared. “I will dispose of Kurtzweil, but I can not stand by and condone this half-cocked plan.” 

The room was silent as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. It wasn’t until they heard the sound of an engine starting that Strughold spoke up. “I presume everyone in this room understands that he only offered to exterminate Kurtzweil to make warning Mulder less conspicuous.”

“Yes, we know,” Spender agreed.

“He’s been working against the interests of the group for a while now.”

“He had to have known we had eyes on Bill Mulder’s funeral, yet he flippantly disparaged the group to earn Dana Scully’s favor.”

“Well, if he wants to be a friend of the family so badly, then I suppose he can follow in Bill Mulder’s footsteps,” Strughold shrugged.

A finality settled over the room as the absent man’s fate was decided. It served as a reminder that length of tenure meant nothing without loyalty.

“We can allow him to be useful one final time,” Strughold mused, staring out the window at the departing vehicle. “Then let his good intentions blow up in his face.”

2630 HEGAL PLACE 

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

(@monikafilefan)

“Oh, Trish. It’s my fault,” Theo cries. “I should’ve worked harder to get you the best treatment sooner.”

“Theo,” Trish tsks weakly against his cheek. Tears burn twisted lines down his face that soak the bleachy hospice-grade sheets of her pillow. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for one damn thing. Promise me, my love.” 

“I promise.”

Something soft as feathers tickles Theo’s face, waking him from his dream. 

“Cuddles…” As much as his late wife Trish loved this damn cat when she was still by his side, that’s how much Cuddles is attached to Theo now. Shoving down lingering sadness, Theo scratches the cat’s back. “Whaddya want, furball?”

Cuddles bats the TV remote with his orange paw and the theme song to Theo’s favorite show pops on. 

“Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?” 

“ COPS ! Good boy.” The cat nuzzles his head against Theo’s hand. “Well Cuddles, who do ya think they’re gonna bust tonight?”

“…But you saved me! As difficult and as frustrating as it's been sometimes, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over!” a man yells, his strained voice echoing off the hollow walls of the hallway. Cuddles jumps. Theo rolls his eyes. Nothing new ‘round here. “You've kept me honest! You've made me a whole person…”

Theo ignores the noise until he hears someone running down the hall a few minutes later. 

“Damn neighbors causin’ a ruckus.” Theo slowly rises from his recliner as the cops on screen sprint down an alleyway after a perp. “Makin’ me miss the best part.”

Theo looks through the peephole — it’s Fox Mulder from number 42. Of course it is. He’s the only neighbor with a revolving door of domestic disturbances. When Theo flings open his door to remind Mulder that Hegal Place isn’t a gymnasium, he sees the FBI agent’s petite partner, Dana, laying still on the floor, her eyes closed. 

Shocked, Theo stumbles over to her, instinctively pressing two fingers to her neck to check her pulse. The act reminds him too much of Trish in her final days. But the contrast of Theo’s dark-skinned hand against Dana’s bone-white throat tells him this is not about Trish right now. 

“Then hurry, Goddammit!” Mulder screams before sprinting back into the hall. “Theo?”

“You call 911?” Theo asks.

“Yeah,” Mulder nods. “My partner… she’s hurt.”

“What happened? I heard shouting…”

Mulder gapes. “I’d never hurt her. A bee stung her. I—” He runs his hands through his hair. “ Fuck! ”

“Okay, all right, she’s breathing. Pulse is good.” Theo stares as the stunned agent paces back and forth like a caged lion. Pure panic, Theo recognizes. Suddenly he feels a sympathetic wave of fear so painfully familiar it nearly knocks him out of his house shoes. “Look—”

Dana’s breath hitches and Mulder instantly falls to his knees, carefully lifting her upper body over his thighs, wrapping a protective arm around her.

Mulder’s usual tan face is white as snow while his unblinking eyes refuse to leave the woman laying limply across his lap. He’s silent as his trembling fingers gently sweep red strands of hair behind Dana’s ear. 

“Scully…” Mulder’s voice cracks, and Theo fears his heart might just do the same.

He approaches slowly, reaching out to place a calming hand to Mulder’s rigid back. “Help’s comin’. I can hear the sirens already.” 

Which is weird , Theo thinks. Never in his 68 years has he counted on an ambulance showing up so fast. Not that he’s complaining. Theo only first met Dana face-to-face two years ago and he’d instantly liked her. Pretty little thing. They’d ridden the elevator together, introduced themselves, and she was sweet enough to offer to hold Cuddles’ heavy bag of litter. Theo pretended to fiddle with his keys to watch Mulder welcome Dana into his place with a dopey-lookin’ grin and a hand to her lower back. 

Trish would’ve loved to see Mulder cherish Dana the way Theo cherished her. 

“My fault, Scully... shouldn’t have dragged you out there… so sorry…” 

Mulder’s pleas pull Theo back to the present. 

“No, no. Now don’t do that. Placin’ blame isn’t helpin’ anybody. It’ll be okay.” Saying that to someone cradling their sick loved one is a big risk, but Theo knows from experience that simple words of ease can keep the world spinning a little longer. “Ya think Dana would want you blamin’ yourself for one damn thing?”

Mulder tosses him a sad look. “No, Theo. She’d probably shoot me first.”

Then the elevator dings open and a team of paramedics rush through its doors. The medics transfer Dana from Mulder’s lap and onto the gurney in one swoop. 

“Help her!” Mulder orders. “Please…”

Theo feels his back hit the wall as he moves to the corner, his gut churning.

“Can you hear me? Can you say your name?” one medic asks Dana.

Another straps an oxygen mask over her face. “She's got constriction in the throat and larynx.”

“Passages are open! Let's get her in the van right away,” the tall medic shouts when Mulder reaches for Dana’s hand. “Coming through! Watch your back!” 

“You’ve never held me back,” Mulder whispers to an unconscious Dana. “Never been in my way, Scully. You’ve helped me find it.”

Mulder stands frozen as the elevator doors close. Theo slaps a hand to the young man’s back and swallows down his own heartbreak to offer Mulder support he wished he’d received years ago. “Now go show her that.”

Mulder returns an appreciative slap to Theo’s arm before racing down the stairs to meet the ambulance. 

“ Meooow! ”

“Nosy cat, get back in the house.” Theo grabs Cuddles, holds the furball over his heart as he sends up a silent prayer that Dana will be back in Mulder’s arms soon enough. “C’mon Cuddles, let’s go finish COPS .” 

WILKES ISLAND

ANTARCTICA

(@admiralty-xfd)

The weeks drag by at the bottom of the earth. 

They’ve been on the ice for nine weeks now, nine weeks away from home. Delilah knew it would be tough but the perpetual sunlight has been messing with her circadian rhythms for so long she doesn’t know which way is up.

The penguins, predictable as ever, do their thing. Emperors remain inland in tight family groups, struggling to keep warm against the unforgiving chill in the air. Her crew is only here to observe and document their activities, although around week three she began to realize it was just as tedious for them as it is for the birds. They’ve been stationed at this particular rookery since the beginning of mating season, and she’s ready to get the fuck out of here. Why couldn’t I have gotten the gig in Galapagos? she wonders. It’s warmer there and those penguins mate for life.

Delilah decides to call it a day. She turns to her camera operator. “Shut it down, Will.”

Will, confused, raises a brow. “We still have thirty minutes out here.”

“I’m putting on my producer hat,” Delilah replies. “We’re done. Let’s go get some coffee, preferably with some booze in it.”

With a You don’t have to ask me twice shrug, Will slaps the lens cap onto the camera and stands, wiping the snow from his pants.

And that’s when everything happens at once.

First, the penguins begin to scatter. They haven’t done anything like this before, and like any good camera operator would, Will heaves the machine back onto his shoulder and points it at the birds. But Delilah senses something else is up… is it an earthquake? Some kind of tectonic activity? 

There’s an enormous thrumming sound coming from behind her, and when she whips around, she sees something she will never forget for the rest of her life. 

It's a spaceship. An honest-to-god fucking spaceship, straight out of Star Trek or something, gliding over the tundra as smoothly as a hawk.

Delilah’s throat goes dry. She can’t even speak, much less turn her eyes away to see if Will has seen it, too. 

“W… Will ,” she croaks. What the fuck are words?

“Are you seeing this?” Will says, still riveted by the frenzy of birds.

“Do you see that ?” Delilah spits. It’s the only time in her documentary career that she’s known without a doubt she is looking at the more interesting subject. But before Will even has the chance to spin around, the craft —or whatever it was— is gone.

“See what?”

Delilah doesn’t know what else to do. She tears off towards where the retreating shape went, running as hard and fast as her legs can carry her. “Come on! ” she shouts at Will, and her partner follows. “Bring the camera!” She appreciates his obedience in a time when explanations are less than convenient.

They run, as far as they’re able. Will lags behind, struggling with the heavy camera, and it feels like miles but can certainly only have been a few hundred meters when Delilah spots something ahead, what appears to be a dark figure, a clear contrast to the stark white of the snow. Is it some of the Emperors, separated from the huddle?

Will sees them too, and they both slow. Delilah’s insides are burning and she doubles over.

“We ran all this way for a couple rogue penguins?” Will gripes. 

“No,” Delilah pants. He’s never going to believe me. “It was… did you see…”

“Wait,” Will suddenly says. “Those aren’t penguins.”

And as Delilah squints to see, her partner is right. It’s a person, a human person… no, it’s two people huddled together. “Who are they? How the hell did they get here?” And no sooner do the words escape her mouth does Delilah think… what if …?

No. That would be ridiculous.

They creep closer to the pair, their shoes crunching across the snow. It’s a woman clinging to a man, keeping him warm. 

“H-hello?” Delilah calls. “Do you need help?”

The woman turns her head, catches Delilah’s eye. Her face appears frostbitten, her auburn hair wet and windswept. “He needs to get warm,” she says, her teeth chattering. “Please.”

“Scully,” comes a second voice. The man, whom Delilah had presumed was passed out, is actually awake. “Don’t be a hero. You’re the one who needs to get warm.”

Will sets the camera down and pulls out one of the trusty emergency blankets he keeps on him at all times, rushing over to the duo and covering the woman, its metallic crinkly surface reflecting the sun. He goes for a second blanket, but the woman declines.

“No,” she says. “I’ve got him.” She wraps herself together with him, not letting him go. “I’ve got you, Mulder,” she whispers.

“How the hell did the two of you get all the way out here?” Delilah asks the woman incredulously, her inquisitive nature failing to waver.

But the redhead doesn’t answer. She doesn’t seem to care that there are others here, that rescue is imminent. She doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the immediate warmth of her companion.

Delilah can tell it’s taking everything inside Will not to pick the camera and point it at these two, at this demonstration of human resilience and connection far more interesting than a flock of birds. It’s not like they would even notice, much less care. But he doesn’t. So they watch instead, what they’ve come here to do. 

It’s even better than Galapagos. 

OFFICE OF PROFESSIONAL REVIEW

WASHINGTON, DC

(@fridaysat9)

“... the other events you’ve laid down here are too incredible on their own, and quite frankly implausible in their connections.”

Agent Scully sat in front of the table of senior staff, looking worse for the wear after her recent escapades. Jana took in her appearance– the dry skin, chapped lips, little to no makeup– and noticed that the agent’s poise hadn’t faltered in the slightest since their last meeting. Even though, since that time, she had gone back to Texas (and apparently taken a trip to Antarctica). She and her partner, the ever-discussed Agent Mulder, had spent thousands of dollars at the FBI’s expense. Jana had no doubt all of this could have been prevented had it not been for the incredibly rash and irresponsible choices she and her partner had made. 

“What is it you find incredible?” Agent Scully asked, as if it weren’t obvious. 

There was a disregard for the authority of OPR in the agent’s voice, which would have given Jana pause, had Agent Scully’s reputation not preceded her. Jana was aware that she was tough, calculated, and professional nearly to a fault, and while she had been assigned to the X-Files to disprove the validity of the department, she had become a staunch defender of her partner’s work. Loyalty and dedication were things that were usually respected at the bureau. So long as that loyalty wasn’t their downfall. 

They all had their roles at the FBI. Agent Scully’s, though she seemed incapable of accomplishing it, was to provide a scientific eye in her department and stop the hemorrhaging of funds that was coming from the pursuit of cases of an “unexplained” nature. Jana’s job, which was one she took very seriously, was to evaluate the agents in her division, corralling any lost sheep. Her job was to reign in those who had taken advantage of their badge, traveling around the world in the pursuit of answers to questions that went beyond the bureau’s scope or interest. 

“Well, where would you like me to start?” Jana asked, matching Agent Scully’s nonplussed tone that barely covered the disdain she felt for this meeting. “So many of the events described in your report defy belief. Antarctica is a long way from Dallas, Agent Scully. I can't very well submit a report to the Attorney General that alleges the links you've made here. Bees and corn crops do not quite fall under the rubric of domestic terrorism.”

“No, they don't.”

“Most of what I find in here is lacking a coherent picture of any organization with an attributable motive,” Jana continued. She’d waded through Agent Scully’s report– the first person account, the “findings,” and frankly, lack of reputable proof. It read more like a science fiction novel than a government-sanctioned operation. “I realize the ordeal you've endured has clearly affected you. But the holes in your account leave this panel with little choice but to delete these references to our final report to the Justice Department, until which time hard evidence becomes available that would give us cause to pursue such an investigation.”

There was a moment of silence before Agent Scully stood from her seat and walked around the table. She was slight, but walked with purpose, approaching the bench as if she were the one who had called this meeting to order. 

At first, Jana was unsure of her purpose, until she removed a small vial from her pocket and presented it to her. 

A bee. 

Agent Scully stood before her, unyielding and unaffected by what had been said about her report. Jana tilted the vial, wondering if the insect between her fingers could really be proof of the things she’d read or if it was in fact, nothing more than a garden variety honey bee, plucked from the flower beds out front of the Hoover building. 

Agent Scully spoke, then, with conviction that matched her demeanor. “I don't believe the FBI currently has an investigative unit qualified to pursue the evidence in hand.”

All at once, Jana realized that she had lost. As Agent Scully left the room, leaving the men at the table talking amongst themselves while Jana held the bee in her hand, she could see the outcome as clear as day. This bee would have to be investigated. Agent Scully’s claims would have to be investigated. 

And Agent Scully was correct: there was only one department capable of doing so.

She adjourned, and tucking the bee into her pocket. She had other meetings today, more important meetings, and she had spent enough time on this already. Jana gathered her things, slipping out of the room without further discussion. 

A bee. Thousands of dollars and a plethora of outlandish claims came down to a single bee. As she waited for the elevator, Jana removed the vial from her pocket and held it up for a closer look. She hadn’t heard any footsteps, but the strong smell of cigarette smoke caught her attention as a man came to stand at her side. 

“Miss Cassidy,” he said with a sense of authority she wasn’t sure he deserved. Jana didn’t know what his role was in the bureau, but she did know he had tight connections with her bosses. “What do you have there?”

A prickly feeling crawled across her skin as she realized he would get the answer whether it came from her or from someone higher up. What she didn’t know is what he would do with the information. 

“It’s from Agent Scully,” she said calmly. “A bee. From Texas.” 

The man whose name she had never gotten pursed his lips and held out his palm in front of her. “Allow me to take that off your hands.”

He didn’t say why, or what he would do with the small insect, but Jana was aware there was no room for discussion. She placed it in his hand as the elevator arrived. She stepped inside, but he remained still, watching her as the doors slid shut. 

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

[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Pine Bluff Variant (5x18)

The tires on August Bremer’s Taurus rub along the curb as the car creeps to a stop. Lamplight beaming from the entryway of Hegal Place shines down on an injured Agent Mulder climbing the steps to his apartment. Mulder winces as he opens the door with his left hand held aloft, the pinky finger bent sideways at a sharp, unnatural angle. 

August shakes his head. Haley’s New Spartans goon is a sadistic piece of work. Finding the perfect moment to remove that asshole can’t come soon enough. 

Flicking the switch on the listening device, August points the red laser at the window of apartment 42, puts his headphones on and listens for the truth. 

“…what you’re talking about,” Agent Mulder says to someone — someone already waiting in his darkened apartment. 

“What happened to your hand?” August knows the soft, concerned voice belongs to Agent Scully, Mulder’s redheaded partner who risked her own life running after him in the park. August saw the fear for her partner drain the pink from her pretty face all the way from the getaway car. 

“Nothing,” Mulder lies. Badly.

“Oh, Mulder, what did they do to you?” she tsks. “God, this needs to be set. You’re in pain.”

“Yeah, if you keep pulling it around like that.” The man’s a smart ass even while doted upon.  

“Let’s get the swelling down.”

Choosing the greenish hued light emanating from Mulder’s apartment to focus on, August ruminates on the reason they’ve all been pulled into this clusterfuck to begin with.

Classified orders to develop a recalled bioweapon in secret were given directly to the army from the US Government. Instructing August to keep evolving the banned toxin, hastening it along. Cultivating a variant of a biological agent to become one of the most deadly bioweapons in the world sure as hell wasn’t August’s idea. But what could he do as a Pine Bluff stationed soldier, eager to use his biochemistry degree? Saying no to the CIA was never an option. So as years passed, August and his team analyzed chemical compositions to carefully create an aerosol version of a flesh-eating streptococcus compound capable of casualties nothing short of devastation. 

And he hates himself for it.

“Why do this to you, Mulder?”

“They’re testing me, too. Haley’s paranoid. Spooked. I was sure he was going to kill me.”

Sending Mulder on the inside with Haley was a risky test he could have easily failed. But that won’t be Mulder’s only test of trustworthiness. August knows Mulder’s involvement in this is a set up — just another pawn for the CIA’s own selfish means. Mulder’s strong opinions on the withholding of governmental secrets is the perfect way to kill two troublesome birds with one bio-weaponized stone. Now, August must be certain Mulder hasn’t flipped sides and become one with the terrorists he’s dutifully warned the bureau about. A final test to pass in order to be saved.

Agent Scully exhales. Her relief that he’s still alive is as loud as her concern. “What stopped him?”

“They still need something from me. And I’m sensing there’s someone Haley trusts even less — the man giving him his orders. Someone I haven’t met yet. A guy named August Bremer.”

Mulder’s right. August had created an alias to go behind the New Spartans’ back by leaking information to the bureau, and Haley will know the truth soon enough. Time is of the essence. If this militia isn’t stopped before the bioweapon spreads, millions may die horrific deaths. 

August just has to kill off the New Spartans without killing himself, too. 

“I hate that they hurt you,” Agent Scully murmurs. “You need to be cautious from here on out.”

“Always am,” Mulder quips, before gasping in pain. “Ouch! Okay, I will be. Scout’s honor.”

She scoffs, “You’re no Boy Scout, Mulder.”

“Yeah, Haley didn’t seem to think so either.”

“Not funny.” August hears the playful lilt in her tone vanish as quick as it came. “Let me get my med kit from your bathroom.”

Only the sounds of footsteps and Mulder’s heavy sighs fill the void until Agent Scully returns. 

“Scully, before, on the tape… You didn’t think I’d really…”

“Betray our country? No, Mulder, I refused to believe that.”

“Betray you.”

Even through the padded earpieces, August hears her breath catch. “Mulder…”

“Because I wouldn’t — I’d never, Scully,” Mulder says adamantly. “Never.”

“I know. I know that, Mulder.” August can imagine her hand reassuringly covering his. “You were doing your job. You didn’t have a choice in keeping it from me.” 

“It doesn’t make it any easier. For either of us.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Silence stretches for a long time. Nothing but the crinkle of med-grade wrappers and the burbling of water from what sounds like a fish tank drifts through the headphones. August may be on the outside listening in, but he can practically feel the tension from here.

“Scully…”

“The swelling’s lessened. Luckily it’s a clean break.”

“Hey,” Mulder’s voice is soft, gentle. “Look at me.”

“Hold still while I splint your finger.”

“Scully-”

“This is dangerous, Mulder,” she huffs, her words wavering. “Extremely so. It worries me we’re separated on this.”

“Believe me, Scully, I’m not a fan either.” The clack of the metal finger splint tapping against wood has Agent Scully humming in agreement. “But I’d be lying if I said I’m not relieved you’re nowhere near a man that breaks bones for a living.”

“So who has your back, then? Skinner can only do so much and I’m not sure I trust the CIA agent in charge here.”

“You have my back, Scully. You do, and you’re the only one I trust. Remember?” There’s a smile laced within Mulder’s meaningful plea, and August nods in respect. Only a good man appreciates what keeps him that way. 

“I could hardly forget.”

August clicks off the listening device with a smile of admiration. Some truths are better left unheard. 

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

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[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Travelers (5x15)

Edward Skur is a name Arthur Dales has never forgotten. Years of silent obsession and sleepless nights that led to the end of his marriage serves as an unwelcome reminder. As much as he’d wanted to flip Agent Mulder the bird for shoving a four decades-old case file in Arthur’s face last night, the rookie agent’s tenacity had annoyingly reminded him of himself.

So, when Agent Mulder shows up again with lukewarm coffee and a lopsided smirk, Arthur caves, waving the tall man in a suit and tie inside.

“Have a seat,” Arthur says as he flips through photos of the newest crime scene and tries not to cringe.

“You said before that there was a coverup with Skur in ‘52 and that my father was somehow involved.”

“A conspiracy to hide the experiment done on Skur and other war heroes, yes. But here’s information right in front of you that you can’t see.” Arthur nods at the censored case report. “You wanna know what horrors this file is hiding. About who— or what Edward Skur really was.”

“What he was?”

Arthur smirks. “Get comfortable, Agent Mulder.”

He walks to the kitchen in search of something he knows he’ll need in order to dive back into 1952. His reluctance to share details about Skur isn’t unfounded. People died horrible deaths while working this case. His gut twists at the memory of losing his FBI partner, Michel. Some truths are dangerous no matter how old they are. But as Arthur glances back at this stubborn young Mulder with too much conviction, he knows the boy won’t leave without hearing every last bit of it.

“There you are.” Arthur plucks the bottle of Jim Beam from behind a container of his blood pressure pills. The fine layer of dust coating the bourbon’s glass reminds him how long it’s been since he’s drowned himself in sorrow. About as long as it’s been since he’s thought about the X-Files. 

He grabs two glasses from the counter, pours in three fingers worth of the amber liquor into one of them, and instantly regrets swallowing it all in one swig when his throat burns like fire.

Coughing, Arthur waggles the bottle at Mulder. “You drink?”

“Uh, no,” the agent taps his badge with a shrug. Ah, Arthur chuckles to himself, to be concerned enough to think a shot or two while on the clock will make a difference in the end. Mulder’s father sure wasn’t.

“Might want to re-think that after you hear this story,” Arthur retorts, slowly lowering himself onto the cushion of his 1970’s couch, sighing as the creak of its worn springs muffles the pop of his equally worn knees. “Got a partner?” 

Arthur can’t help but frown after he asks, rubbing a deep ache in his chest at the thought of Michel and the viciousness of his murder. 

“Jerry,” Mulder says. “But he doesn’t think this ‘52 case — this X-File, holds credence to this current murder case.”

“And you’re so sure he’s wrong you had no problem tracking me down.”

“That’s right.” Mulder loosens his tie. “If there’s more than this—”

“More?”

“I told you I want the truth,” Mulder says. “I’ll do whatever I can to find it.” 

And it feels like a promise.

“When your partner dies, a piece of you dies with him,” Arthur warns. “I'd been threatened, but I couldn't leave it alone… Remember that.”

Mulder nods, thumbing the shiny gold ring on his left hand. 

He watches Mulder fidget with his wedding band and digs into the pocket of his robe for a pack of Morleys. Mulder stares unblinkingly as the lighter ignites a flame. Arthur knows that longing look. He pulls a second cigarette from the pack to light and teasingly offers it to Mulder. 

“I’m sure your wife won’t be able to smell it on ya by the time you get home.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Mulder scoffs, before shrugging away his flippant tone. But the agent’s deep inhale of smoke and clenched jaw can’t hide the hurt he’s trying to deny. That image of loneliness mirrors Arthur’s own. “Diana’s out of town. But the smoke never seems to bother her, anyway.” 

Arthur grunts sympathetically and nods at the photo of a victim’s desiccated corpse. “Skur killed this man the way he did all the others. All the soft tissue, internal organs— all were removed. Without tearing the skin.”

“The coroner wasn't able to determine how.”

“Oh, I can tell you how,” Arthur chuffs. “What I can't tell you, is why…”

Arthur continues on to tell the tale of rotting corpses, governmental coverups, and late night meetings with a young Bill Mulder while the other Mulder listens quietly, rapt, smoking his cigarette to the filter. 

“…I’d learned that German operatives of the conspiracy used positions of power to pursue their experiments in secret,” Arthur explains. “And the US Government sanctioned the use of wounded warriors as guinea pigs for some sort of sick side project. They were vessels for implanting living organisms in order to dissolve enemies from the inside. Literally.”

“Hijacking?”

“Exactly,” Arthur’s grip on the file tightens. “Imagine, going under the knife after fighting for your country, only to wake up with a surgically implanted insect tearing through your throat.”

Mulder winces. “I’ll pass.”

“Mm,” Arthur grunts. “Skur sure as hell wasn’t a fan either.”

“So he wanted revenge, seeking his own justice for what the government did to him and its conspiracy to cover it up.” 

“Seeking justice and getting it are two very different things.” Arthur leans forward, locking his narrowed eyes onto Mulder’s eager ones. “Much like the truth.”

“Meaning?” 

“Be careful, Agent Mulder. Think of your partner. Think of your wife.” Arthur stares defeatedly at the bottle of Jim Beam across the room. “Conspiracies don’t care about who you love…”

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

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[monikafilefan]

THE FALL | 2.03

It's nice to see you.

[monikafilefan]

🌲👽 X-Files Survival/Wilderness Fic Recs

Here are some very good X-Files survival or wilderness fics. Because @thatsaprettycoolposter and @pookie-mulder asked! This list does not include post-colonization fics, which are also all survival fics of a sort. Enjoy!

Alligator Moon by jordan big monster in swamp attacks FBI agents

Antidote by Rachel Howard and Karen Rasch Strange doings in a tiny western town bring Mulder and Scully out to investigate. Once there, they uncover a deadly experiment that may cost both of them their lives.

Backtracking by Kel and Scetti What do Charlie Scully, the Alien Bounty Hunter, and Jesse "the Body" Ventura all have in common? Last April you could have found all three of them in Minnesota.

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.

A Cabin in the Woods by @leiascully Mulder and Scully, on the run, stay for a while in a cabin in the mountains in Montana. A series of interlacing vignettes.

a cabin in the woods by @monikafilefan Being stuck in this rustic cabin, clearly left to age among the wilderness had Scully feeling wild herself, and it felt as if their bodies danced to an ancient song among the elements.

Camping by Amperage and Livengoo Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have survived abductions, serial killers, mutants and aliens but the Partner Cooperation Program Wilderness Encounter may finally do them in. After poison ivy and catfish, who wouldn’t long for a nice, safe killer mutant?

A Change of Seasons by Jo-Ann Lassiter A search for a mythical beast in the woods of Pennsylvania takes an alarming turn for the worse when Mulder's minor in ury escalates into a life-threatening disease.

Changing Tides by QofMush Who says change is all bad?

Circumnavigation by Suzanne Schramm Sometimes you don't know where you're going until you get there.

Coming Back by Karen Rasch Mulder gets a call from Mrs. Scully, who fears for Dana's safety. Following her instructions, he tracks his partner to a cabin in the mountains where he finds that she does indeed need his help. Memories of her time away have come back with a vengeance. (Sequel: The Calm After The Storm)

Dark Water by Suzanne Schramm Prehistoric insects. Mothmen. Now it’s a publicity-shy tribe of murderers. Just another nice trip to the forest with Mulder.

Falling Snow by Snark Mulder, Scully and a mysterious woman from Mulder's past crash in the snowy landscape of the Colorado winter.

Frozen by @dashakay The end of a case, and a stay in a log cabin during a blizzard, lead Scully to take the biggest risk of her life.

Last Chance Falls by @slippinmickeys A man. A women. A forest. A hit squad. An adventure.

The Lost by Wintersong Mulder and Scully are trapped in the remote wilderness and the art of surviving was not what they expected.

Old Growth Forest by Andrea Mulder and Scully investigate the disappearances of homeless people in Madison, Wisconsin and seemingly end up suffering the same fate.

A Path of Salt by Analise Mulder ditches Scully yet again to help an old friend in the Park Service. But Scully has never been one to sit and wait.

Tam Lin by Pequod When your local young men disappear, only to turn up dead a year later, sometimes it helps to have friends in high places. Myth and murder combine in a remote Scottish village, and Mulder and Scully investigate. The Fairy Queen is out to revenge the loss of her most prized knight, Tam Lin. Mulder believes but Scully’s not so sure, until Mulder takes a walk in the woods.

Tempest by Missy Pennington Mulder and Scully survive a plane crash to find themselves injured and stranded in the Appalachian wilderness. (Sequels: Distance, Wild Places, and Escape Me Never)

Untitled by @o6666666 Prompt: Mulder takes Scully camping and they make love for the second time ever under the stars.

Waiting in Motion by mountainphile After leaving the hot spring (in "Miraculous Manifestation"), Scully and Mulder take an unexpected detour on the way home. Dark secrets emerge when they seek shelter in a raging storm...and an intriguing X-file rears its head... (Sequel: Signs of Life)

Way Through the Woods by Pellinor and Rebecca Rusnak Three months ago, someone noticed something unusual about Scully. Now, in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable, Mulder has disappeared, and Scully’s only chance of finding him include an unlikely ally and an untrustworthy informant. As they make their way through the woods, can Mulder and Scully find each other, or is the future lost?

[monikafilefan]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Kitsunegari (5x08)

BEEEEEP

Her eyes burn while the heart monitor continues to flatline. 

She reaches down to hold her brother’s limp hand as he takes his last breath. Her heart constricts in time with her fingers squeezing his. Six months ago, she’d walked into this same hospital dressed as a nun and had simply urged him to wake up. Now, she has done the exact opposite.

“Goodbye, Bobby,” Linda whispers as a hot tear rolls down her cheek. 

She stands, unpinning the fake nurse’s ID, shakily jotting down an address to one of her vacant warehouse properties for him to find. With clenched fists, Linda Bowman walks away from her dead twin, revenge stoking the hot flame of rage burning in her chest. 

It’s time for this fox hunt to end. 

***

She knows exactly what to do while waiting in the shadows. It’s just like Bobby had said it would be between the FBI’s dynamic duo: an incredibly close yet opposing partnership, two complementary sides to a coin. The skeptic and the believer. Unfortunately for Fox Mulder, believing will be the death of him.

Linda flicks the safety off her gun and walks into the open. 

“Mulder?” Linda calls in Agent Scully’s voice. 

“Scully?” Agent Mulder starts running, but his Scully isn’t here yet.

Linda smirks. This man has essentially stolen the only family she has left. Has torn her heart apart with a single bullet and a life sentence cut short. 

Yes, Linda thinks, she will tear his heart to shreds. 

“Scully, what are you doing here?” he asks.

The words coming from her mouth are her own, yet in Agent Scully’s voice.

“…She’s making me do this. I can’t help myself.” His fear amuses her, so Linda keeps egging him on, putting on quite the show. “Mulder, make her stop!” she pleads as the little redhead.

“Linda Bowman!” Agent Mulder yells. “Show yourself!”

Linda Bowman, she almost scoffs, giving herself away. She became a Bowman out of necessity. Though her husband’s obsession with her long lost twin disgusted her, he had no idea she’d slithered her way into his life like a snake and pushed him to marry her. Marriage gave easy access to murder the man who put her brother away and presented the perfect opportunity to trap a Bureau Fox on the run. 

“Mulder…” Linda pretends to beg as vengeance spurs the gun to her faux temple.  

“NO!” Agent Mulder’s hollow scream resounds around the empty warehouse, sprinting towards the body he thinks is Agent Scully as Linda pulls the trigger. “NO!”

He falls to the floor, whimpering over the illusion of his pretty partner’s bloody head. 

An eye for an eye. A bullet for a bullet.

Heels clack along the concrete as Agent Scully, disguised as Linda herself, arrives. Right on time.

Agent Mulder angrily grabs the gun and aims it at fake Linda’s face. “I’m gonna kill you.”

They argue fruitlessly about him not forgiving himself if he kills her, his precious partner. Linda inwardly groans, wanting to shout, “Just shoot already!” 

“You killed her!” he cries pathetically to the real Dana Scully, and Fox Mulder’s devastation is nothing short of delightful. 

“Mulder…” 

“Shut up!”

“Modell warned you. Don't play her game,” Agent Scully cautions. Convincingly, too, and Linda panics. Instantly she knows her plan has gone to hell.

But Linda will finish what her brother started two years ago.

She stands, then is immediately knocked back down by an ear-piercing bang. Searing pain in her chest causes her illusions to drop. That little bitch shot her. 

Gasping, Linda watches the woman she wanted dead walk over and run a hand down a stunned Agent Mulder's arm. 

The last ounce of her fury flares at her failure. This isn’t over. 

“You think you can hold me?” she taunts. 

Linda’s vision blurs as she watches Agent Scully end the 911 call and gently run a hand down the bent back of her partner. Agent Mulder’s head hangs between his trembling legs, his hands clutching his knees. Even as her heart thumps within her ears, Linda can hear the soft sobs and sharp inhales of breath wracking his slender frame. 

“Mulder, breathe for me,” Agent Scully says, her head bowed down to his. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” Her tone is soft and tender, and Linda nearly sighs through her pain at the comfort of it. 

“No, it’s not okay,” he huffs. The rough grit of his words echo off the warehouse walls, keeping Linda from passing out as blood soaks her shirt. “I almost shot you, Scully, you… you could’ve-” 

“But you didn’t and I didn’t,” Agent Scully cups his cheek with the hand not rubbing small circles along his spine. Her touch rips his watery stare from the concrete floor beneath where Linda’s limp body lay, right where he’d thought a massive puddle of his partner’s blood had pooled. Their gazes lock. “Mulder, you wouldn’t hurt me. I trust you.”

His shuddering slows as his hand covers hers cradling his face. “Okay.” 

“Good,” Agent Scully glances back at Linda with disdain. “I’m going to monitor her until the ambulance arrives, all right?” 

“Go ahead, Scully.” Their hands slide slowly down his stubbled jaw as one while Linda can barely keep her eyes open. “I’m fine.”

“Sounds familiar,” she teases on an exhale.

Agent Mulder doesn’t smile. He stands up straight, his wild eyes raking over the petite woman from head to toe. “It’s not me I worry about.” 

“But I do,” Agent Scully says fiercely. 

Then, suddenly, warm fingers are pressed to Linda’s cold neck. She shivers.

Big blue eyes hover over Linda’s drooping ones. Cerulean blue. How ironic. It’s funny, Linda muses as the room starts to spin, what the mind focuses on as the body shuts down: this skeptic and believer see so much, but are blind to what’s right in front of them.

Sirens wail. The world darkens. And Linda’s mind shifts again, thinking of Bobby as her tear-filled eyes finally slip shut…

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Ao3!

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Redux II (5x02)

Cancer is a thief in the night. It is a vicious interloper, invading cells and pilfering souls of those we love — stealing their lives. It is immune to anyone. It is merciless and deadly.

Fortunately, nothing is immune to miracles. 

Dr. Jim Zuckerman clutches Dana Scully’s updated chart to his chest and fights an awed smile. This simple piece of paper containing routine white blood cell counts and PET scans feels like a precious gift made possible by her partner. A gift he is eager enough to deliver at this late hour.

Jim stops in front of Dana’s room and gapes the word REMISSION scrawled across her chart. Inserting a microchip beneath the skin of anyone’s neck could sound absurd, like science fiction. But rather than scoff at the notion of introducing an unknown piece of metal into a cancer patient’s immune-compromised body, Jim had jumped at this proposed course: a doctor’s desperation to swim through the current of the unconventional while pulling him deeper into rough waters. One last chance to help Dana fight death’s riptide. 

But that was last night. Tonight, she has breached the surface and survived.

Jim slowly pushes open the door of Dana’s moonlit room, and is stunned by the tableau: Dana and her partner sitting side by side, their foreheads nearly touching. Jim freezes, unable to move as he watches Agent Mulder hunched over at Dana’s hip, her IV-laced hand cradled within his own. Dana leans into him, a palm pressed to his sternum as her impossibly blue eyes gleam with unshed tears. They speak softly in shadow, their mouths whispering words of comfort a hair's breadth apart.

“…Promise me,” she murmurs.

“Don’t, Scully.” Agent Mulder shakes his head. “Don’t say that. It’ll work.”

“Hear me,” she says, insistent. “If the time comes, if I can no longer…” Jim can practically see rising emotion pulsate through her pale skin. “Take me home, Mulder. Please.”

Death is no longer an abstract concept for patients like Dana Scully. It’s real and raw, resting heavy upon her heart. Cancer patients dread the inevitability of living the last of their days in a sterile environment with little freedom, confined to a hospital bed as they cling to final gossamer wisps of their will to live.

“Scully-”

“Mulder.” Her hand slides up his cheek to cup his stubbled jaw. “Promise me.”

Agent Mulder’s throat bobs before he turns his face into her hand molded around his jaw and presses a chaste kiss to her palm. “I promise.”

Jim’s heart clenches as he knocks.

Dana startles and pulls away from her partner. “Dr. Zuckerman!” 

“Dana, Agent Mulder. I know it’s late.”

“Not really in a sleeping mood, and just Mulder is fine,” the agent says as he turns the overhead light on, bathing the bed in a haloed glow. 

“Feeling okay, Dana?” Jim asks while Mulder scrubs a hand across his dark-ringed eyes, glancing warily down at her.

“I’m fine,” she says thickly. 

“I have your recent results, if you’re ready...” Jim strides up to her bedside. He will not allow the cold grip of fear to restrain her any longer. 

“Oh, I can… I’ll just-” Mulder stutters as he moves to stand.

“No, Mulder.” Dana’s fingers fly up to grip his shirt collar, tugging gently until his lanky torso bows to her will. “Stay, I want you here.”

“But your family-”

”Mulder, you are family.” She’s breathy, and the break in her voice urges her partner’s fingers to weave tenderly within hers.  

Jim recalls Dana telling him that this man, her best friend, was the first person to help her absorb cancer's painful blow. It seems fitting that he be the first to feel the relief in its aftermath alongside her. 

Dana touches her cross necklace and steels herself. “Go ahead, Dr. Zuckerman.”

“As you know, we ran the preliminary test to check for any changes in your end stage status not long after implanting the microchip, and the PET scan had shown no improvement. It’s been over twenty-four hours since then, and the newest results correlated with your previous ones show a… remarkable change.” Jim adjusts his glasses and hands over the evidence of just how remarkable the results are into Dana’s waiting free hand. Her fingers shake as she white-knuckles the clipboard. 

“Oh my God,” Dana gasps. “It’s gone? You’re certain?”

“Gone?” Mulder breathes.

When she looks up at Jim with those wide, desperate blue eyes, he smiles. 

“Yes, Dana. Not only are you in remission, but there is no longer evidence the nasopharyngeal mass ever existed.” 

An adrenaline-induced sob escapes Dana, covering her mouth with her hand. Tears gather along Mulder’s eyes but his wondrous grin keeps them from falling. 

“I’ve checked and rechecked,” Jim persuades. “You’re officially cancer-free.”

A wave of sheer bliss bubbling up between the duo leaves Jim bright-eyed and beaming. Joyous sighs are muffled beneath cotton and skin as they embrace. Utter relief filling the room is as palpable as the chart now tangled within the sheets.

“Thank you,” she says to no one in particular, unable to find a sentence in her choppy sea of words. “So much.”

“Oh Scully,” Mulder rasps, pulling her closer into his arms to surround her small, frail frame with his larger one. Swells of tears brim beneath the umbrella of Dana’s lashes before burying her face in the curve of Mulder’s chest. “Scully, Scully, Scully…”

“We’ll discuss more later.” Jim gives Dana’s ankle an assuring squeeze and slowly backs away. He’ll give his patient some time alone before her mother undoubtedly visits her. “You’re quite a fighter, Dana."

Mulder closes his eyes and chuckles into her mussed hair, "You have no idea."

Whether it is divine intervention or the evolution of science that’s saved her in the end, they may never know. But he doubts the reason matters much to Dana and her loved ones right now.

After all, Jim grins as he leaves a healthy Dana behind, nothing is immune to miracles.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on AO3!

@monikafilefan

[monikafilefan]

Recommendations for X-files Fics?

I've read a lot of the newer ones from Ao3, but I heard that the x-files fandom is a little special with sites predating Ao3 and fanfiction.com.

So what are the must read fics? What are your all time favourites, you know, the ones you've saved to re-read later. I'm a baby-phile what have I missed?

Some of my re-reads

Unbroken by Fox_sync

Felix Felicis by misslilli

More Than A Feeling by SisterSpooky1013

Goshen by Bonetree (Todesfuge)

Universal Invariants by Syntax6

[monikafilefan]

Tropes & More - Fic Recs

All the tropey-goodness!

Body-Swap:

Underneath Your Skin by crescentmoon222 - Dreamland AU, NSFW

What if Feels Like for a Girl by @mldrgrl - Dreamland AU, NSFW

Dreamland III by @admiralty-xfd - Dreamland sequel

Flea Market Economy by Punk

I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours by Tv_Saved_The_Teenage_Girl

Masters of Time by @sisterspooky1013 - time travel to 1960s Masters of Sex, NSFW

Times Colliding by onlytheinevitable- time travel 1998/2018 body swap, NSFW, WIP

Cubed by Louise Marin - Scully wakes up as an alternate version of herself, NSFW.

Parallel by @sisterspooky1013 - Louise Marin - Scully wakes up as an alternate version of herself, NSFW.

Fake-Dating:

Never by Allison Kinney - Undercover, NSFW

Diversion by @sisterspooky1013 - Stakeout, NSFW

Just Another Dinner Party by @somekindofseizure - Undercover at a swingers party during Arcadia

Amish Country by Lolabeegood - Undercover with the Amish, NSFW

We’re Married Now by @skinfull - Undercover in a cult, NSFW

Hallowed by onlytheinevitable - Undercover in a cult, NSFW

More Than a Feeling by @sisterspooky1013 - Undercover at a carnival, NSFW

Undercover Swing by 2momsmakearight - Undercover at a sex party, NSFW

It’s Just Pretend by @storybycorey - Undercover in a motel, fake sex turning into real sex, NSFW

The Marriage Spectacular by @cecilysass - Lost FBI agents. Stormy weather. A marriage retreat in a mountainside inn with one room available.

The Newlywed Game by onlytheinevitable - While going out for dinner, Scully runs into an ex and Mulder valliantly pretends to be her husband. However, that little lie traps them into having to play the Newlywed Game in front of a bunch of strangers and they have to navigate admitting feelings they haven't even admitted to themselves.

Baseball Metaphors by @leiascully - Scully runs into an ex and they pretend to be dating, NSFW

Just Go With It by @skinfull - Mulder runs into old high school classmates and they pretend to be married, NSFW

The Annapolis Grant by @slippinmickeys - AU, Scully pays Mulder to play the role of her boyfriend, NSFW

Wedding/FBI Ball Date:

Plus One by @alienqueequeg - Mulder convinces Scully to let him be her plus one at an old friend's wedding, NSFW

Hardball by Missy Pennington - Scully gets a sexy red dress to wear to the FBI ball when she finds out Phoebe Green will be attending

Five Ballrooms by @admiralty-xfd - Five Christmas parties. Five separate POVs.

The Twelve Tropes of Christmas by @mangokiwitropicalswirl - Christmas ball and all the tropes

Holidays:

far away and to the west by @audries - Thanksgiving with the Gunmen

at the close of the day by @audries - Thanksgiving on the road

Fairies, Skip Hence by @slippinmickeys - Christmas at the Scullys, NSFW

Shades of Winter by @piecesofscully - Christmas at the Scullys, NSFW

Marshmallow World by @agoodwoman - Christmas 1998, set Season 6, our beloved agents are working under AD Kersh. Mulder and Scully get into the holiday spirit. NSFW

Regular People by @chimerical1975 - Thwarted Christmas plans, impulsive decisions, and unexpected visitors make two extraordinary FBI agents into regular people. NSFW

Chicken Dinner by @cecilysass - Dinner at Mrs. Scully’s. Mulder overhears Maggie speaking to her friends about her daughter’s relationship with her partner. What he hears floors him.

Gingersnap by @cecilysass - Holiday baking, NSFW

if the fates allow by @all-these-ghosts - Christmas with Mulder and Scully, 1993-2016

Birthdays by @syntax6 - seasons 1 through 7

One Bed (see Faking Dating above too):

Let’s Play a Game by @danasculllie - Motel room Truth or Dare, NSFW

Truth or Dare by Adrienne - Mulder and Scully have a wicked game of Truth or Dare while sharing that hotel room in Rain King. NSFW

Twenty-Questions and a Winter Storm by @danascully77 - NSFW

Designated Mulder by onlytheinevitable - Mulder had always wanted to see what Scully would be like drunk, but he didn't anticipate it would finally happen on the one night they had to share a bed. NSFW

Sexy Snowed-In by @peacenik0 - Mulder and Scully are snowed-in together, will they find a way to escape their boredom? NSFW

Hot and Sticky by Megan Reilly - One hotel room, two FBI Agents...and it's a hell of a hot night besides. NSFW

One room. One bed. by spooky66 - NSFW

Free Merlot at the Cool View Motor Court by @sarie-fairy - post The Rain King, NSFW

Turn that damned thing off by @sunflowerseedsandscience - The Rain King missing scene.

Time Enough At Last by bayloriffic - The Rain King missing scene.

Conversation in the Dark by Cass - The Rain King missing scene.

Stop Me by Gina Rain - post The Rain King, NSFW

Unbidden by @phillippadgettwrites - NSFW

Bunkmates by @leiascully - There's only one hotel room, and it's got a special surprise.

Expense Report by 13th_blackbird - The Bureau conducts an audit, and Scully considers the costs.

Scully/Other:

Universal Invariants by @syntax6 - set over the course of a canon-parallel version of season 1 and early season 2 where Scully’s boyfriend Ethan who was cut from the pilot sticks around. NSFW

Early On by @sunflowerseedsandscience - Mulder and Scully are drawn to each other from the start but Scully is still with Ethan. NSFW

Homicidal Tendencies by Swikstr - Casefile crossover that pairs Scully with the detective from Homicide: Life on the Street. NSFW

You He Did Not Fail by extraordinarily_ordinary - After Scully leaves the X-Files for a position in LA a case brings them back together. Starts Scully/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

Original Sin by @syntax6 - post FTF Scully moves to Utah. Scully/Other but great MSR. NSFW

Arizona Highways by Fialka - Visions of Melissa lead Our Heroes on a case confirming the existence of a series of Emilys. But does Melissa really have a message, or is it all in Scully’s head? Scully/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

No Regrets by MystPhile - During Arcadia Scully reconnects with Detective John Kresge. Ultimately MSR but not until the very end. NSFW

Promises to Keep by Prufrock’s Love - post Requiem Scully/Skinner, I really struggled with this one, but still an interesting read. NSFW

Heart’s Desire by @malibusunset - post Two Fathers/One Son Scully reconnects with an old boyfriend during a case. My favorite Scully/Other fic - ends in MSR, but it’s probably the only fic where I’ve thought that Mulder might be the wrong choice. NSFW

La Lacuna by @aloysiavirgata - Scully explores her feelings after Milagro while investigating a murder. Scully/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

Mulder/Other:

The Waters of Babylon by @aloysiavirgata - As they prepare to become Rob and Laura Petrie, Mulder thinks back on his life and the paths not taken.

Seventeen by @scapegrace74-blog - Explores how Mulder's sexual relationships shaped (and mis-shaped) him as a man. Each chapter represents a different partner. Mulder/Other, ultimately MSR, NSFW

Triptych by @iconicscullyoutfits - married to Diana AU, ultimately MSR

To Love Somebody by Tess and Jacquie LaVa - In the midst of attempting to have a normal romance, Mulder's escalating feelings for Scully, and her deteriorating health due to her advancing cancer, make it impossible for him to commit... Mulder/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

The Guts by @wtfmulder - How would Scully react if Mulder dropped an open condom wrapper in front of her? MSR but dealing with Diana.

Dr. Scully's School for Exceptional Boys by Prufrock’s Love - post series, Mulder/Other and MSR, NSFW

One for the Road by @phillippadgettwrites - post breakup, Mulder has a girlfriend but mostly MSR, NSFW

Pregnancy/Baby/Family:

The Family G-Man by Neoxphile and FelineFemme - A double tragedy strikes Mulder the week before Christmas of 2003. What if he could go back and change things, save the son one lost and give the other the family she wanted? Could it keep them safe? NSFW

Five Years and a Lifetime by @monikafilefan @slippinmickeys - One night stand AU. Five years later, Scully and Mulder work at the same pediatric hospital, and Scully's four year old daughter bears a striking resemblance to the picture of a dark haired girl that sits on Mulder's desk... NSFW

In the Best Interest of the Child by @mldrgrl - AU When tragedy strikes, Mulder is forced to take guardianship of his young niece, but the matter is complicated by the arrival of a sister-in-law he's never met.

The Way Things Are by Sukie Tawdry - One night and their whole lives were changed forever. Season 1 AU. NSFW

Right Hand Return by humphreywrites - Scully is returned from her abduction with a baby, no memories of anything prior to her captivity and some PTSD.

All That Is Dark and Bright by @malibusunset - Emily lives AU. NSFW

Five Years and One Night by Shalimar - Scully leaves the X-Files post-Emily but gets drawn back in when Mulder discovers Emily wasn’t the only child created. NSFW

Intimacy Deux by Mojo - The one in five billion happens. NSFW

40 Weeks by @malibusunset - What if the IVF attempt in Per Manum had been successful? NSFW

A Boy and His Fox by 6hoursgirl - What happens when two FBI agents have a platonic relationship based on trust and mutual respect...and an exchange of genetic material. NSFW

The 13th Sign and 7 Days in May by Prufrock’s Love - Post-Deadalive. Mulder saw no reason for life, death, sex, Armageddon, or emotional dysfunction to stand in the way of true love.

Hurricane Season by rah and beduini - Post-Existence week at the beach with the Scully family and baby Wim. NSFW

Terra Firma series by @malibusunset - Post-Existence domestic family drama, a classic comfort read for me. NSFW

Misc:

Partners With Benefits by onlytheinevitable - Friends with benefits, NSFW

Truncated by Lysandra31 - Scully and Mulder find themselves in a tight spot. Spooning ensues.

You Send Me by @spooky-nerd - Portals keep popping up around Mulder. It's rather inconvenient until he realizes it's possible the universe is trying to tell him something.

[monikafilefan]

Collector's Edition: Reviving that Love

Let's have an assortment of mature, (mostly) fluffy, coupley Revival fics, shall we?

This list only scratches the surface; but hopefully it's enough to soothe a particular itch.

**Note**: Another Revival list I've done is Beefy Revival Mulder (and Other Muscular Mentions)-- perfect pairing to this, I believe.

Loose chronological order below~

@oohnotvery/the_eternal_optimist's Always Wanted

But he has a key to her place, because they’ve always had keys to the other’s place, even in horrible times. It arrived in the mail one day, sealed tightly in a bubble-wrapped envelope, addressed from her to him with a handwritten note that he hadn’t even bothered to read before crushing it up in a ball and tossing it into the trash can. Several hours later, in a fit of frustration, he had fished the note out of the trash and shoved it, unread, into a kitchen drawer.

Breakup Mulder realizes Scully has been waiting for him.

@aloysiavirgata’s (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ)

Si Hoc Legere Potes, Liberaliter Educatus

"It was very important to Deputy Director Skinner that you two meet with me. He felt that you needed some guidance before you could resume any kind of professional partnership."

I grit my teeth. You're a dead man, Skinner. 

S10 Mulder and Scully run laps around the FBI recruitment therapist.

I need a fic with Scully's stolen dog Dagoo, and her wearing a Knicks tshirt.

“This is the one I ripped a piece off of for Boggs, Scully. This isn’t just my Knicks shirt. This is my favorite Knicks shirt. I’ve been looking for it!”

She pulls Tesla closer. “Stop violating the fourth amendment, Agent.”

“Stop violating the eighth commandment, Doctor.”

Post The Weremonster Mulder and Scully debate dog names and Knicks T-shirts.

What's your Mulder and Scully Thanksgiving sex headcanon?

"I'm going to die," she mumbles, her eyes half-lidded in tryptophanic stupor.

Mulder and Scully are stuffed after dinner.

@flukemen?/@pinebluffvariants/scienceandmysticism/contradictiontonature's (Ao3) Tie (prompt #1)

“Hello?”

“You know it’s me.” He did. “What are you doing?”

“I’m shopping. And I hope you’re using your bluetooth.” He could tell she was driving from the white noise over the sound of her breathing.

Mulder uses Scully's expertise to pick out a tie.

@hemisphaeric's (Ao3)

"Mulder you need new clothes"

The next day they decided to go into town and do some shopping, after Scully had had to tell Mulder for the tenth time he needed clothes and that no, he couldn’t wear those old ones just to seduce her.

Scully helps Mulder pick out new suits for his new job.

Let me carry some of the pain for you

Suddenly warm hands were touching him but he didn’t react. He couldn’t react, feeling so distant from everything. Scully was speaking, he recognized her voice, but not her words, those were like a white noise in the back of his head, which was so loudly screaming.

“I am better Scully, for real” he didn’t realize he had started talking at first, but he couldn’t stop, tears fogging up his vision.

Mulder panics, thinking Scully will leave him again.

touch.

Things had changed again in the last period though, she had come home; she had been spending time there with him more and more frequently. He understood her necessity to take things slowly, to test the territory before diving in head first, but he felt ready for it.

Mulder is glad to have Scully back.

Mulder, Scully and Elon Musk

She pushed him away and swatted at his arm. “You woke me up early to talk about Elon Musk??”

Mulder wakes Scully early for Elon's rocket news.

grumpysimon's Morse Code

He asks you for a pen. The genius always loses things. Your coffee comes and he spills a little on the napkin. He taps on the table. Morse code, maybe. You’re too tired to figure out what he’s saying to you in secret. You say his name and that smile is more crooked than ever.

Scully secretly loves Mulder's obsessive passion.

@baronessblixen/Baroness_Blixen's

Belong

He closes his eyes and counts. What will it be, he wonders. The sound of a car or their creaky door?

Another minute passes before he hears the soft squeak behind him.

Mulder tells Scully he's "done okay without her."

A few months after they're back on the x-files, Mulder's notices that his neck and shoulders are sore.

Mulder feels better and promises - with a wink - to do the same for her, she just needs to ask. She doesn't ask but Mulder knows her feet are sore a few days later, after hours of walking around. He silently starts massaging her feet while consorting in his hotel room, half-empty take-out containers on the bed next to them....

Mulder doesn't replace his chair-- which is just fine, because Scully becomes his masseuse.

Mulder giving Scully a foot massage

“Exactly. My feet hurt and I need a break. I’m not…” She trails off again as she massages her foot. 

“Not young anymore?” Mulder offers and her head shoots up like a rocket, her eyes shooting daggers. 

“Not used to it anymore.”

Post Ghoulie Scully's high heels finally catch up to her.

There's No Place Like Home (Ao3)

He loves her stubbornness. Once, she told him that she fell in love with him because he was stubborn. Well. That was the pot calling the kettle black. No one is as stubborn as his Scully. 

AU-- Nothing Lasts Forever Mulder brings an injured Scully home.

Growing Old (with You) (Ao3)

“Just wait til you’re my age,” he jokes.

“55 looks good on you.” She proves her point with a kiss on his nose. “I can only hope to look as good as you when I turn 55.”

“You will. And I will remind you of it. If I’m invited to your birthday, that is.”

“You’re always invited to my birthday.”

Scully drops in for Mulder's 55th, assuring him his aging concerns are overblown.

A Study in Chemistry

"I didn't know you cared for this kind of movie, Scully." Mulder, sprawling on her bed, in her motel room, looks slightly disgusted at the small screen where two generic actors share a truly boring, less than passionate kiss in a typical, cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

"I don't," she says, returning her attention to the case report they're supposed to be working on. Despite his words, Mulder's eyes are glued to the movie and Scully can't help but smile.

Mulder and Scully bridge the gap between them-- and all because of Hallmark and memories.

Surprises Are Best Served Ice-Cold - Chapter 1

They both start towards each other at the same time, laughing.

“Mulder, I don’t remember how to stop,” she says, trying to get her skates under control.

“I’ve got you,” he says calmly and she hopes he’s right because she loses her balance, stumbles the last few steps towards him and crashes right into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

Mulder surprises Scully with a frozen over lake for Christmas.

A Day in May (Ao3)

Mulder puts on cheesy Christmas music and turns down the lights, creating a mood. They share a cup of sugary hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. When Scully raises her eyebrows at the cream, Mulder dips a finger in and deposits a blob on her nose.

“Live a little, Scully.”

And she does.

Mulder forgoes sleep to help Scully decorate their tree on Christmas Eve.

Night Out

"I can't breathe." Mulder is pouting. She wants to be angry with him - all of this is his own fault, after all - but he looks so miserable and yet so adorable that she feels sympathetic. She strokes his cheek and smiles at him.

"I'll make you make some soup."

"Are you sure I'm not dying?" he asks again, coughing. She offers him some tea and he sips it noisily.

Mulder gets sick after a night of Squatchin.

@wtfmulder/@momdadimpoppunk​‘s (Ao3) 

post-Plus One

“You reasoned your doppelgänger out of existence,” he says flatly. She smiles against his bare shoulder, nodding.

“She was a very reasonable woman.”

He laughs softly, the rumble of it caressing her cheek. 

Post Plus One Mulder and Scully catch a few winks.

ficlet; twenty-six years

On her side of the desk, he has procured for her a plain blue baseball cap, a skinny caramel macchiato, and a not-skinny blueberry muffin.

She sits down as he hums and types away at something, taking a bite of the muffin and putting the cap on her head.

Scully always guesses which anniversary Mulder is celebrating.

fluff 🤢

They’re packing up the basement just one last time. They both learned early in life that saying goodbye is so much easier when it’s a choice, and the moment holds no bitterness, no fear.

Post Revival Scully finds flowers she'd once given Mulder in their basement office.

@myassbrokethefall's untitled rm9sbg93zxjz post-ep

Scully had chanced to see a picture of a blobfish on the internet some months ago and he wasn't sure he had ever, in their years and years together, seen her laugh so hard. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, frankly, watching the outsizedly hysterical reaction of Dana Scully MD, his serious scientist partner, to a picture of a lumpy, slimy, theatrically frowning fish on the internet. He had brought it up at every opportunity for weeks, renamed the wireless network at the house Blobfish Cove, found a way to work a reference to it into a meeting with Skinner, once printed out a picture of it and left it on Scully’s pillow, and watched in utter delight as she got the helpless giggles every single time. (Even the Skinner time. He hadn't even asked, just looked wearily at some point behind their heads for a few seconds before sighing and continuing on.)

AU-- Robot episode Mulder dreamed up the whole thing.

@onpaperfirst's (Ao3) Honey Hi

The doors slid open and Mulder wrangled a cart from the corral.

“They set up the little rooms and it makes you feel like you’re at home,” she said. “It dulls your senses. You forget you’re in public. And all of a sudden you’re in the middle of a fight about which rug matches the couch.”

“Let’s not fight in Ikea, Scully. It’s so bourgeois.”

Part II to Home, Home, Mulder and Scully's romantic life is examined through the lens of perfectly balanced humor... and their IKEA trip.

@ghostbustermelanieking's (Ao3) bearing north (Ao3)

“The cops out front will stop him,” Mulder says comfortingly.

She nods. Her skull is still pounding, but she feels limp in his arms, safe. “I tried to fight him off,” she says. “I almost did. But he got angry and shoved me into the pool. I hit my head.”

Mulder takes Scully home after she's injured while pursuing a perp.

"You’re beautiful, you know that?” (Ao3)

She turns her eyes up to meet his, burning blue eyes in the night. “You’re… all I have left now, Mulder.” Names are left unsaid between them, but they all register in his brain, like a knife. “I think my leaving was for the best, but I’m ready to come back. You’re my family, Mulder.”

Scully proposes to her Mulder.

@settle-down-frohike's Headcanon: It started after her first disappearance, on a flight to nowhere North Dakota.

It started after her first disappearance, on a flight to nowhere North Dakota. She was flipping through a dossier and he was dozing, as per usual. She heard a mumbled version of her name and threw a distracted “Hm?” his way without glancing up. “Scully.” Firmer, more forceful this time. She looked over, annoyed, and spat “What Mu-“ and realized he was still asleep, but fitfully so.

My Struggle II Scully hopes she can comfort Mulder once more.

@lilydalexf/LilydaleXF 's My Andromeda

He looks back at the road and answers honestly, "I didn't watch many shows. The ones I really wanted to see I wasn't allowed to watch. Except after excessive begging."

"And on nights you could successfully sneak into the TV room after your parents fell asleep." It's a statement, not a question.

"You know me so well, Scully."

Mulder and Scully imagine a night of stargazing.

Eternity Awaits

"Mulder…. We need to go to bed."

"You don't want to freeze together?"

"Not on this decrepit couch I don't."

Post This Mulder and Scully discuss their eternal conversations.

Apostrophic/@mappingthexfiles's

This

Mulder said Push a third time and they both groaned with the effort of heaving the massive piece another three feet, barricading it firmly against the bedroom door.

“What does this,” he gasped, “remind you of?”

Scully, drawing in deep gulps of air, pushed herself up on her elbows, propped on the edge of the chest. She did not say the fleeting thought that had gone through her head: maybe it was not a bad thing Mulder had not been present at the birth of their child.

“Um,” Scully said.

“Yeah,” Mulder said. Panting out, “Towers of furniture.”

Post This Mulder and Scully move their furniture back into place.

The Scully Treehouse of Horror

The automatic taps don’t turn on and off for him. He’s invisible to its sensors. The alarm, on the other hand, blares every time he walks in the door. Sometimes, even, once he’s inside the door and has been for some time. He’ll get up at night for a drink of water and Scully gets jarred out of postcoital bliss by the klaxon siren of intruder alert, intruder alert, Mulder cursing at the sink in the kitchen, yelling for Scully....

If she yells back for him to punch in the code, he does the wrong birthdate or botches the spelling of Queequeg. More often than not, she pads out in bare feet, tying her robe, entering the right code, filling the glass with cold water, sleepily herding a grumbling Mulder back to the warm bed.

Scully's house hates Mulder; and she loves him all the more for it.

Lapsed_Scholar's Wake-Up Calls

On their way into work, his phone rings. It’s just a wrong number, and the other commuters don’t really take any notice, but Scully arches her eyebrow.

At her questioning look, “Do you recognize this theme?”

“Vaguely. Should I?”

“It’s our theme song, Scully! And I think it suits us. Kind of spooky.” A beat. “Don’t you remember our movie?”

If possible, her eyebrow climbs higher.

Mulder always ratted he and Scully out to people-- and still does now, years and years later.

@slippinmickeys/SlippinMickeys's

Prompt: ballet slippers, chocolate pudding in a can, Wyoming

It was like a Carlton Varney fever dream; like a brothel with aspirations. Mulder actually paused in the doorway and leaned back out to double check the address number on the side of the house.

“Wow,” Scully said, daintily setting down her suitcase a few feet inside the door. She wanted to make a joke, but Mulder looked appalled.

Mulder books a truly terrible vacation spot.

Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 12

“I want something I can’t make.”

It was Day 18 of self-isolation and if you looked at quarantine like the stages of grief, they had rolled easily past panic and guilt, skipped loneliness altogether and were deep in the grip of isolation.

Scully shot him a look.

Mulder and Scully are sick and tired of COVID quarantine.

Prompt: Mulder & Scully vacation Christmas/Hanukah at the Quonochontaug cabin post season 11

“When was the last time you stayed here?” she asked, wrinkling her sensitive nose at the smell of dust, of mildew.

One suitcase on the floor at his feet, one still in his hand, Mulder closed the door behind him, his face ponderous. “Overnight?” he clarified. “I think I was nineteen?”

Post Revival Mulder and Scully spend the New Years in the old Mulder summer home.

outsquatchin94's Joy to You and Me

“Those hipsters… But Scully, that was such a look. Also, I hate to break this to you, but I’m quite sure it’s in the back spare room somewhere in a box.”

For a moment, he thinks she’ll spring off the couch and go find the offending object. She doesn’t though, she only smiles a little.

“I think we turned out okay in the end, even without the sleeping bags.” And Mulder has to agree with her.

Mulder and Scully discuss her old jacket.

@msrafterdark/msrafterdark's A concept : slow dancing on an ill lit front porch late in the evening while it’s thundering and maybe just starting to rain?

When they’re like this again, as though no time has passed, the pleasure of the familiarity is so good it almost hurts her. To have him well again, to be safe and wanted and in his arms is only made sweeter by the fact that the knocks and falls they have taken ultimately only made them stronger.

Mulder and Scully, the Unremarkable House and dancing.

@tofuttim's Comfort and Chaos (Ao3)

The rain pelted relentlessly against the windows of the small cabin. The night air was cold, but inside the cabin, a fire and a shared bed with Mulder kept her warm. The sound of the storm thrusted her thoughts back to the beginning. 

The beginning of forever.

Scully asks Mulder what he remembers about their first case.

@defnotmeyo's (Ao3) The Cost of Living is Just Right

The beds are wrapped in white and light grey sheets with sky blue pillow cases on the spare pillows. The tables all look like something you would have seen on the Jetsons.  

It takes a bit of time for Mulder to feel comfortable at Scully's apt.

Ingot Silver

“Birthday time, huh? We could go uh,” he licked some sauce off his finger as he moved a dish over to the sink, “we could go squatchin’.” He turned and winked at her.

Mulder learned plans an evening dinner for he and his Scully.

the “before i even needed glasses” line

Then, on days he doesn’t hate himself (and those days are multiplying and growing closer together all the time), he remembers he has a son, healthy and alive. He has the love of his life and while she’s not home yet, her toothbrush is back in his bathroom.

Post Cathedral episode Mulder isn't letting his homie get away ever again.

It really looks like Mulder when youre seeing two of everything.

“Mulder… you… you hurled a raccoon down our stairs.”

He shrugs, sheepish as ever.

“Like… you hurled him.”

“It was for Daggoo!”

A raccoon holds the Mulder-Scully household hostage.

I always laugh at that bit in detour where mulder is like “if ur lucky u get seventy-five (75) yrs. if ur rly lucky u get eighty

She refrains from rolling her eyes, instead slides in front of him and slinks an arm around him, patting that soft of his oblique threatening to turn into a love handle.

“Charlie has a decent head of hair,” Mulder mumbles.

“Charlie is four years younger. And you made it passed 50, Mulder. You won.”

Scully reassures Mulder he still looks gooooooooood.

BONUS (HAD TO INCLUDE THESE FOR THE MSR)

@monikafilefan/MonikaFileFan's

Language of Love: Prompts of Angst and Romance - Chapter 6

A sudden rise in emotion crests in her throat when she sees the wondrous look of awe and admiration seize the love of her life.

It’s the exact look she saw grace is face eighteen years ago.

“Mulder…” she whispers, raking her fingers through his silky hair as he grins up at her with a trembling chin.

Post Revival Mulder feels his baby move during the witching hour.

39 and 82 from the prompt list 😁/Just Breathe

“She’s here and she’s beautiful, honey, she’s just—”

“What, Mulder?” Scully shot up onto her elbows with her heart in her throat. “She’s just what?”

“It’s fine. She’s fine, Scully. She just looks like a he.”

Her jaw dropped. “What are you—are you sure?” Their slippery, pink baby covered in layers of vernix and blood mewled in protest as Mulder lifted the tiny bundle away from the comfort of his warm chest and pointed wide-eyed between its legs.

Mulder and Scully and unexpectedly fast Halloween baby makes a chaotically competent three.

RoseThornhill's

Spooky Mulder: The Revenge

Excited dad!Mulder wants a spooky theme for his Halloween daughter's name.

Alice is a Punk Rocker

Mulder, Scully, and their Halloween baby are happy together, despite a few bumpy patches.

@myownsuperintendent/MyOwnSuperintendent’s Renewal

She tries to shift in the bed, to touch him too, and he stops and pulls back.  “Don’t try to sit up,” he says.  “They made me promise I wouldn’t disturb you.”  He’s trying to smile at her through the tears in his eyes.  “You’re all right,” he repeats.  “Please don’t scare me like that again.  Not ever again.”

Post Revival Scully loses a lot of blood during delivery, which helps convince Jackson to stay with his family and new sister a bit longer.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!