#(Scully voice) fine. whatever.

[jrrtrek]

say something true

Fandom: The X-Files Rating: Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M | Words: 2 131 | Chapters: 1/1 Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully, Fox Mulder & Dana Scully

Summary:

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Mulder gets stung by a mutant perp's poisonous stinger, but thankfully Scully is there to look after him. Also, she's really pretty.

Tags: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Poisoning, Intoxication, Drugged Mulder, Hand Holding, Hospitals, Flirting, Diners, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, POV Fox Mulder, Pre-Relationship

Here is my @poangpals Secret Santa gift for @muldersmeat! Opening snippet under the cut, head to ao3 for the rest 🥰

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Well, maybe not a good idea, but the thing to do nonetheless. The perp, Oskar Danielsen, needed to be stopped, and no one else was around, and even if they had been, only Mulder truly understood the danger Danielsen posed — so really, he had no choice but to go after him.

But now, as he stumbled into an alarmed-looking Scully, feeling whatever poison had disoriented all Danielsen's victims pulsing through his own veins, he was at least beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake.

"What the hell did he do to you?" 

"'M fine," said Mulder, trying and failing not to slur his words. "I gotta — 'm okay, Scully, lemme — he's getting away!" 

"Mulder," Scully said sternly, not loosening her grip on his arms one bit, "you're in no state to go chasing after anyone right now. The local PD have his description, they know he's dangerous. Right now, you need to sit down."

Something in her tone made him listen, and he was glad to find that she'd already steered him to a chair. He dropped heavily onto it. Scully shouted something out through the door about needing an ambulance, then she was squatting down in front of Mulder and taking his hand between her own. "Can you look at me?" 

He did so. She peered into each of his eyes while taking his pulse; he was quite happy to stare back into hers. It helped distract him from the way the rest of the world seemed to be swirling around him. 

A voice from the doorway called, "The ambulance is on its way."

"Good," said Scully. "You hear that, Mulder?" 

"Yeah."

"You're gonna be just fine. How are you feeling?" 

"Spinny," he said, waving around the pointer finger of his free hand — Scully was still holding the other — to illustrate his point. "Li'l bit sick maybe. Is the — is the floor moving?" 

"No, the floor is not moving," she said, firm but gentle. "Do you know what happened in there?" 

[limnsaber]

To explain what I was talking about late late last night but ended up talking around: The X Files wonderfully embodies a spectrum of human emotion, but to me, does none so as well as the way it talks about wonder and love.

On the part of love it says: the truths we look for are in other people. The way we love other people is how we win. Not out of fear but out of love and the bonds we have with each other are the most important truth we can hope to know.

On the part of wonder the X Files says: to look into the unknown is so wonderfully human. To gaze at the stars and wonder at what we find there is human nature. To search for truth -- the truths of the universe, of the unknown, the truths between me and you, is wonderfully, essentially human. It's part of our nature to search for these things and Samantha is the heart of this. Aside from Samantha's disappearance being the inciting event of the show, she is the embodiment of this mystery. To wonder at the stars knowing she's up there, to search for the truth and find greater ones in turn -- Samantha is the key to this.

So to kill her off as an aside just to reach 'closure'; to make her nothing more than a victim rather than the person who invites and embodies for both Mulder and Scully the part that's so achingly unknown seemed like a horrible tragedy to me. Where did it go. Was the truth we found human cruelty??? Was that it the whole time????

In s4-s5 and Fight the Future, it seemed that we inched ever nearer to finding Samantha. It was teased that she was alive: that like the truths we hoped to find, she was still out there, waiting. There was a point at which the extraterrestrial mirrored the human. FTF and these middle seasons almost seemed to say: no, there is no fundamental difference between extraterrestrial and human cruelty. The extraterrestrial forces were in conflict just the same way human forces were. Samantha was sent away embodying the hopes of humanity, however horrible that decision was. Of course, we can't ignore that Samantha was a victim, and the later seasons of the X Files lean into this. Abduction is a violent act, and what Scully, Samantha, and the MUFON women went through was horrible. I really would've loved it if they explored this more, but they didn't, and still there's this contrariness to Samantha's abduction.

It's said in FTF that Bill Mulder held two hopes -- that Mulder would uncover the abuse of the Syndicate and reveal the truth, and that Samantha would be allowed the chance to survive and would be able to give that to the world. There were extraterrestrial rebels fighting against colonization and the Syndicate the same way Mulder and Scully do. This contrariness, this uncertainty, is part of the X Files too.

Samantha's abduction always implied that she would be returned. We were teased that she would be found. Over and over, we are told that she is alive, that she is still out there for Mulder to find. Whether she was a human test subject or off in the stars, the truth was living and breathing, waiting to be found.

The X Files says the truth is out there, that looking to the stars is part of the human experience, that our connections to each other are so fundamental to our worldview and that they enable us to endure anything. The X Files is wonder at the heart, the intersection of the unknown and known, and that the truth is each other. Samantha was Scully and Mulder's first step to that truth. Even with everything that they endured, the wonder and love that is the motivating force of everything that we see is inextinguishable. Samantha is the vessel for these beliefs.

Retconning Samantha Mulder from her place embodying the hopes and dreams of humanity, however horribly that came about, to a child that was abused until she died weakens the sentiments at the heart of The X Files.

yk i’m at the point that i literally don’t accept s7e11 “closure” as canon. it makes me ANGRY now because the more i look at all the past seasons and everything they’ve done with the samantha arc and how important it’s been to mulder’s character, it just defaces and denies all of it. it just- it’s not fair. after all mulder has been through to continue to believe that samantha was abducted just for it to be thrown out the window? for him to accept it finally in a way which was supposed to be meaningful and big but altogether uncharacteristic and hollow? it’s like they tried to abide by paper hearts ideologies but through a seemingly unnessary dark meandering of new paranormalities. it also creates so much more inconsistency along with what we started to see from s5 and beyond in the samantha plot, it doesn’t explain it. for instance, in the colony arc, the samantha-looking clones say “how could we know so much about her” and WHO if not samantha is this woman they were modeled after??? did the clones just grow old from the little samantha’s on that bee farm thing so they knew what she’d age like?? IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!!! IT’S NOT ENOUGH!! CC YOU CANT GET AWAY THAT EASY!!

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 30: When You Know What You Want

Prompt: "I won't let you down"

Mulder and Scully have to babysit baby Matthew Scully. Rating: T, wc: 1,416

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Mulder, it’s me.” The clock reads 8.57 a.m. when he answers Scully’s phone call – the same time she usually strolls into their basement office.

“Is everything all right?” He’s trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Whatever is going on, Scully doesn’t need him freaking out.

“More or less,” she says with a sigh and he’s half out of his chair already. “I can’t come into the office today.”

“Are you sick?” He squeezes the phone between his ear and shoulder, opening his email, ready to inform Skinner that neither he nor Scully will be available today.

“No, I’m fine – I mean, I’m not sick.” She sighs again. “My sister-in-law Tara called me half an hour ago, frantic because my brother Bill is running late and she has a job interview. My mom is on a trip with her book club and well, I guess that left me.”

“You didn’t mention your brother was in town.”

“I didn’t know,” she says through gritted teeth. “He didn’t want me to know. It was supposed to be some big surprise. That completely backfired. Either way, I’m watching the baby until Tara comes back and it could be hours.”

“Do you want company?” He doesn’t even need to think about it. He’d much rather babysit Bill Jr. baby son than sit around in the office all day, missing Scully.

“You don’t have to do that, Mulder.”

“What if I want to?” She takes her time thinking about it.

“Only if you want to,” she says, but he’s certain he hears relief in her voice. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

“I’ll contact Skinner and then I’m on my way.”

“Oh Mulder, if you’re coming over, could you pick up a few things on the way for me? Just in case.”

“Sure thing. I won’t let you down.”

*

Scully’s “just-in-case” list is longer than any grocery list he’s ever written for himself. He finds everything easily enough and catches several looks from women – mothers, mostly – who gawk at him.

“Your wife is so lucky,” one says in passing and Mulder stares after her, speechless, convinced he’s in a parallel universe. He forgets about it quickly, hurrying to get to Scully and baby Matthew. He met the boy as an infant; his face had been wrinkly and his eyes closed.

Since then, he hasn’t even seen a picture of the boy. He wonders why. Scully has mentioned him here and there, just like she’s mentioned other members of her family. But he doesn’t know what to expect when he knocks at the door, hoping the baby isn’t asleep.

Scully opens the door with the boy on her hip, smiling at Mulder.

“Hi,” he says, overwhelmed all of a sudden. Scully with a baby in her arms is a sight he doesn’t get to see often. He’s surprised how many emotions it unleashes in him.

“This is my friend, Mulder,” Scully explains to Matthew in a soft voice that makes Mulder stare at her in awe. “Do you want to say hi?”

“No.” It’s more spit than letters and the expression reminds Mulder of the baby’s father. He hopes the dislike isn’t genetic.

“That’s his favorite word,” Scully says, running a hand over Matthew’s soft, reddish hair. The Scully genes must be strong.

As he steps inside, he can’t help but wonder what their child would look like; his and Scully’s. Would their child have red hair, too? Would it have Scully’s nose? God, he hopes so.

“Here’s the- here’s everything you asked for.” He hands her the bag, forgetting that she has the child in her arms. The transfer is awkward but they manage.

“Can you hold him for a second? He doesn’t bite.” Scully hands him the baby and for a moment, the two just stare at each other.

“Hello, Matthew. You probably don’t remember me,” Mulder says as Matthew reaches for his nose. They always go for the nose. “I met you when you were born.”

“Guh!” he exclaims, seemingly agreeing with Mulder.

“I work with your aunt, you know. She’s great, isn’t she? She is. You smell like cookies, Matt. I bet she let you have cookies, huh? Remember how cool she is. You can always come to her when your parents – well, when you need a place to stay.” Matthew listens to him carefully, a finger in his otherwise open mouth. He’s quiet and not fussy, surprising Mulder. He’s heard horror stories of toddlers having crying fits when in a stranger’s arms. Not this little Scully.

“I think you might be my new favorite Scully,” Mulder confesses to him, tickling his stomach and making him gurgle with laughter.

“I’m no longer your favorite?” Scully just stands there in the doorway, her arms crossed, a big smile on her face.

“Matt, I think I’m in trouble.” The boy just laughs again. “You’re still my favorite Scully, Scully,” he assures her. “But this one’s quite cute, too.”

“He is,” she agrees and he thinks he sees a flicker of pain cross her face. “You can hand him back now. Unless you want to feed him.”

“Sorry, pal,” Mulder says, handing the toddler back to Scully, “I’m not qualified for that.”

*

“Toddlers are messy,” Mulder remarks a couple of hours later after Tara has come to pick up Matthew. She apologized to Scully – and Mulder – for springing the boy on them, but both assured her that they didn’t mind.

“They are,” Scully agrees, picking up random toys. She didn’t ask him to stay and help her clean up, but he thought it was the least he could do. Especially after his interactive storytelling in which several plush toys were flying around Scully’s living room.

“But they’re also cute.”

“They are that, too.” Her voice is soft; too much so. He thinks about the moment earlier when he thought he saw something in her expression. There’s something in the air and he isn’t sure if he should grasp for it.

“He has that Scully hair.” Scully chuckles, without looking over at Mulder.

“Bill always hated it when he was younger. I hope it will be easier for Matthew.” She’s holding one of the stuffed animals in her hand; a small giraffe. Mulder just watches her, waits.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?” She’s still not even looking at him, making his heart beat faster, knowing she’s going to say something important.

“Have you ever… I know we once talked about- but have you ever seriously considered having children?” He wishes she were looking at him. He wants to see her face when he says this. But he knows this moment is fragile as it is and he’ll take what he can get.

“For the longest time, I didn’t. It just never crossed my mind and my life – the job… it just wasn’t anything I thought about. Then I met Emily and I saw you with her and…”

“Emily?” Scully turns around and her eyes are full of tears. He nods slowly.

“That’s when I started thinking about it.”

“You could meet someone tomorrow and-”

“I have met her already, Scully. I think you know that.” His admission is not a surprise. Scully glares at him for a second before she looks away, nodding to herself.

“That’s… that makes this easier, actually,” she says, laughing uncomfortably.

“Makes what easier?” Suddenly his heart is pounding, his throat dry.

“I got a second opinion on my ova and um, they say there’s a chance. A chance for me to have a baby.”

“Scully, that is wonderful news.”

“I’ve been thinking about it – debating it, actually. Whether it was something I even wanted to explore. Today showed me that I… that I want to at least try. I have to try.” A few tears fall from her eyes and Mulder nods, overwhelmed by emotions, too. A Scully baby. Red hair, blue eyes, and a sweet smile.

Her child.

“When I thought about it, even before I made a decision, the only person I considered asking…,” she trails off. He has a hunch, but right now is not the time to jump ahead. So he waits. He looks at her, proving that he can be patient. He will be there for her, no matter how long it takes.

“I want you to be the other part of the equation.”

And there it is. His heart takes flight and he doesn’t even need to think about it. He grins at her, hoping she understands.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 20 thoughts

last episode of the season!!!

things have seemed… tense lately between my best friends mulder and scully. i hope they can work it out. 

anyway, it says here that there is a boy with psychic powers… another child case. they deal with these so often!!!

but maybe he can unlock the secrets of the x files?? how?? i guess i will have to tune in!

post-episode thoughts: scully, i want to hug you. CSM, count your days. destroying information is a crime in my realm, and it will be punished with banishment. mulder, you need to learn how to talk about your feelings. i am no longer suggesting this politely. it must be done. now. skinner, you are the star on top of my metaphorical christmas tree. spender, my feelings towards you are pretty neutral.

we begin in vancouver, where a chess tournament is going on between a grown man and a child. there is a very large crowd and a guy who seems to be up to no good in the ceiling. 

the kid hears voices in his head as this sniper loads up a bullet… can he figure out what is about to happen?? but the voices just sound like weird noises!!!

noooo, don���t kill this little boy!!! he wins just in time, stands up, and the bullet hits the other guy!!! 

so he knew it was going to happen and won just in time to stand up…

leave this little boy alone!! don’t piss me off!!!

OHHH shortened intro AND new words on the screen today… “THE END” <- now there is a movie coming up shortly so i KNOW this is a lie!!!

i am preparing myself for some sort of cliffhanger….

ohohoho kryek is here today, according to the “guest starting” list…. getting ready for some rat-like activities

CSM is buttoning up his shirt as some people arrive upon his frosty property. they have guns… and his alarms are going off… 

BLAM! he shoots one man dead right then and there!! you really cannot underestimate this guy!!! unless we’re talking about his abilities to write fiction!!!

so he’s running barefoot into the snow??? yowch! bloody feet!

the guy in the mask catches him! OH SHIT! IT’S KRYCEK!! “go on! take your shot, alex” <- HOT DAMN! not the first name usage!

he says he was sent to being CSM back…….. by whomst?

there is a sticky note on mulder’s poster. i can’t tell what it says!

OH mulder has a picture of him and scully pinned to his board🥹that's fine that's super fine and i'm not gonna cry!

it’s skinner poking around their office!!! what is he doing down here??

HE WANTS TO KNOW MULDER’S LONG TERM PLANS?! and mulder says they’re right in his hands, referring to the x files

skinner loves his most special and difficult agents. it's true!

“what do you hope to find? i mean, in the end” (mulder looks at skinner suspiciously) “whatever i hope to find is in here. and maybe i’ll know when i find it”

now what is going on…..? something is afoot. somehow i doubt skinner just got randomly curious and started reading through the x files for the funsies.

skinner has a case for him: the assassination of a russian chess player. and agent spender was put in charge of the case by someone from OUTSIDE the bureau!! oh, that must be what has skinner so freaked out. who tf is just putting people in charge of cases?

(i mean, we, the audience, know the answer to this. but if i were skinner, i would be deeply uncomfy at the thought)

“he was very specific that you be excluded” (mulder smiles) lmaoooo

skinner's messy for that!!! and i giggled!!!

BAHAHA scully is in the room listening to spender debrief, and when mulder walks in, spender looks SO mad!! “please continue”, mulder says, after spender gets so caught off guard by seeing him that he literally cannot finish his sentence

you can try to separate mulder and scully, but the universe will find a way to reunite them. like a bonded pair of kitties. 

mulder asks him to rewind the tape and spender says basically no LMAOOO

“let me get through this, if you have any questions, we can talk later” “i-i don’t have any questions, no, i just think you’re wrong” <- LMAOOOOOO i’m at once giggling and cringing in second hand embarrassment 

mulder hates this dude, i'm crying!!!!

scully asks wtf mulder is doing, and he explains he thinks the killer was aiming for the boy!! spender reluctantly does rewind the tape, and mulder points out that the kid pushes back right before the bullet is fired. 

who is this random lady agreeing with mulder that the kid could sense the bullet coming…? he looks utterly shocked to hear her say this!!

and skinner says rewind it again so we can all see for ourselves LMAO everyone hates this spender mfer

(listen. sorry to this man, but i think it would also piss me off if some random guy got put in charge of an investigation because outside forces decreed it to be so)

sure enough, when spender rewinds the tape, the kid looks right at the camera!!! mulder turns to this random woman again in amazement 

meanwhile, krycek is bringing CSM back to the syndicate on a random side street. OH SHIT!! CSM calls them out right then and there for trying to kill him LMAOOO

that had to be awkward as hell! i'm giggling

CSM moves on from that pretty fast. he seems like the type to hold grudges, so perhaps this is part of his secret plot for revenge.

the well-groomed man (and i know that isn’t his name, but i can’t remember what it actually is, and when i tried to google it last time i got spoilers so: to me, he is WGM) says: the boy is a problem to us!! and i say: leave him alone!! let him play chess!!

CSM offers to kill the kid and well-groomed man says “dear god”... umm, well y’all were just trying to do that, so why now are we getting squeamish...!!!

this other dude is called “first elder” by the subtitles! good to know

CSM says he’ll do it… and walks off.

so this lady that was sticking up for mulder is named agent fowley, and scully is making polite small talk as mulder drives them... somewhere. she requested reassignment. hmm…

“1991, that’s about when you started work on the x files”, scully points out. “more or less, yeah”, mulder says. and does not elaborate.

(long lingering eye contact between mulder and fowley)

now… is this woman who i think she is……?

the boy (named gibson) is watching the simpsons. OH SHIT!!! “my name is fox… this is dana and diana”

SHE IS WHO I THOUGHT SHE WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh man. oh man. okay, so i know a tiny bit about this. going bonkers rn.

what i DO know is enough to realize that diana is a controversial topic among the fandom, but i vow to speak my truth. as i always do. and i hope you will treat me with the grace you typically have afforded me.

gibson says he lives in the philippines, that mulder has a dirty mind, and he does NOT want to play any chess. yes, he truly is a psychic.

scully is like wtf is he going on about…. and mulder accuses the boy of being able to read minds

“i know what’s on your mind. i know you’re thinking about one of the girls you brought” (mildly amused scully look) “one of them’s thinking about you”

diana laughs and asks which one… gibson says mulder doesn’t want him to say.

(shakes head) hey! what’s going on?

mulder declares that gibson needs around the clock protection

oh, a canon-typical fight in the hallway between our agents on if this is possible or not… diana is listening in…. “you know what to do, diana”, mulder says before leaving <- hey. i don’t like that. the tone with which he speaks nor the implication of there being some pre-scully lilith-like figure.

“so you two know each other”, scully points out. “it was along time ago” (long lingering scully glance)

OHHHH spender is NOT letting mulder talk to the assassin… “you’re insulting me when you should be taking notes”, he says <- DAMN!!! the ego on this man! he isn't entirely wrong, but there is no humility about him!

he pushes past spender and gets into the cell, where the shooter claims spender hasn’t given him food or water. mulder orders him off to go get some. 

ohhh he’s playing hardball… he tells the dude that he’ll tell spender he fessed up to the kid being psychic… and if he cooperates with him, maybe he can get him into the witness protection program… does mulder hold this kind of influence?

mulder steals the food that was being brought for him. mulder! you're being a dick! on many fronts!

AWWW, scully and gibson are holding hands as she walks him down the hall :( he didn’t like the tests! poor kid! and he says scully’s wondering about “that other girl” and “she’s wondering about you, too” 

hey…. i get the sense we are pitting two bad bitches against each other via this little boy's mind reading. not a narrative choice i am fond of.

now a group of people are testing gibson for psychic abilities by holding up cards only they can see.

diana says she’s seen clairvoyants, but never of this skill level. she says she spent time with mulder is psychiatric hospitals?? scully.exe is not working 

she has to leave because she is weirded tf out…

(i don't blame her, though. i would also be very weirded out if my partner of 5 years had another partner he very evidently has a history with and never bothered to mention until she suddenly materialized. if i were scully, i'd be like hey mulder... remember all those times i tended to your wounds and held your sobbing body and broke the law for you? yeah, that was super cool. i love how we trust each other. anyway, wtf else are you hiding from me?)

((and i'm not saying that is necessarily the RIGHT or RATIONAL thing to feel, but c'mon. you can't look at me and tell me you wouldn't also be equal parts stung and curious))

shooter guy is being handed a note. it’s on a cigarette pack!!! and it says "you’re a dead man"!!! oh brother... not the CSM on the loose! how is he getting into these buildings still?!?!

LMAOOO???? WHAT IS SCULLY DOING WITH FROHIKE?!?!

look at her looking up into his camera system... she is just so PRETTY!!

bro is in his pajamas and has an absurd number of locks on his door. and i'm giggling!

she’s bringing the whole crew scans of gibson’s brain!! “and you want us to what?” “analyze the data. with an eye to the parapsychological” <- OHHH they’re gagged by that... and i am too! scully opening herself up to extreme possibilities?! or simply trying to anticipate and counter mulder's argument in favor of the kid's clairvoyance?

OHHHH.... SHE WANTS TO KNOW WHO TF DIANA IS LMAOOOOO 

i can’t tell if she’s jealous, or nosy, or both. but i can tell you that i love when scully is nosy. 

frohike says she was mulder’s “chickadee” (LMAO, crazy phrasing) out of the academy. she was with him when he discovered the x files. and she has some sort of background in parascience. whatever that means.

NOOOOO scully looks so sad 💔💔💔 MULDER, DON’T HIDE THINGS FROM HER!!! SHE’LL CRY

stop. stop!!!

gibson is watching cartoons while diana watches him. and here comes mulder. OH, she called him fox. don’t like that. i thought he was adamantly anti-being referred to as fox! is that a development from the past 5 years, or does she not care about what he thinks?

“i sense you could have used an ally, though- someone who thinks like you, with some background” HEY. WATCH HOW YOU TALK ABOUT SCULLY!!!

“oh, you mean scully?” now is that defensiveness i see in his eyes? he doesn’t sound like he’s laughing.

“she’s not what i’d call an open mind on the subject” <- well, diana, you don’t even know her!!! and just because you're right doesn't mean you should go around judging her!

he laughs, but it doesn’t feel like he really means it….

(i was trying to psychoanalyze everything in this godforsaken scene and i had NO idea what the vibe actually was LMAOOOO)

“she’s a, uh… she’s a scientist. she just makes me work for everything” <- HEY!!! what happened to her being “rigid, but in a wonderful way”??? defend her honor in her absence!

“yes, but i’m… i’m sure there were times when two like minds on a case would have been advantageous” <- well girl, from what i've heard, it sounds like you left and went to germany!

“i’ve done okay without you” okay. are we setting boundaries now? is this progress?

NO. it does not appear that this is the case. she is grabbing his hand. “hey. i’m on your side” side eye. from me. sounds like she is implying scully is NOT on his side, which i loathe. and please don’t kiss... i don’t want to see all that. 

where is scully going….? OH NO!!! she walked by and saw them holding hands!!

oh my god, she is leaving….. and i don’t blame her!!

the sad music!!!! stop!!!!! look at her sadly getting in her car!!!!! sadly staring at the wheel!!! sadly buckling up!!!! 

she sounds like she’s going to cry as she calls mulder and says she wants to show him something. and she doesn't want to show it to him there.

now why is agent spender rolling up as she heads out?! we have enough problems to deal with at this time that aren’t him!!!

OH SHIT!!! CSM IS TALKING TO HIM!!!! saying he gave him the case!!!!

he’s trying to give him some fatherly advice despite the fact this dude has no idea they are related. “you’re a bright boy” okay… well that is certainly an avuncular thing to say. perhaps uncomfortably so when coming from a guy you literally just met. “know which men to sacrifice and when” <- now that's some standard CSM advice.

OH SHIT!!!!!!! MULDER SEES HIM!! CSM retreats into the shadows. “i was told he was dead”, mulder pants. “well obviously whoever it is, he’s not” spender has literally no idea who tf this guy is………..

(laughing even harder at his response as i edit my notes. spender must think this mulder fellow is the weirdest dude alive)

i’m kinda laughing, because spender has no idea wtf is going on, while mulder’s world just got rocked upside down and inside out. that’s the devil that killed his dad and took his scully and killed scully’s sister!!! he thought the evil was defeated and it is back!!! poor spender is just here to chat with a stranger. he truly doesn't know anything about the situation! it's comical!

scully and mulder and all of spender’s team are in skinner’s office!!! she has the brain test results from gibson… and she is finding the results hard to believe…

something something about him having intense brain activity in the god something or other. maybe he is the next einstein??? well, that would be cool! yeah, get the little boy into nuclear physics!

but mulder thinks that maybe this intense brain activity will allow him to also explain all sorts of unexplained phenomena. 

i guess i can see the correlation between intense brain activity and psychic abilities, but how will it let him explore the jersey devil?

mulder proposes giving the killer immunity to explain wtf is going on, which spender immediately shoots down: “you want to give a murderer a free ride for the secrets to the pyramids?” <- well that is an oversimplification!

ANGRY SCULLY!!! “you mischaracterize what i’ve said” <- GET HIM AGAIN FOR ME!! “this would be quantifiable scientific proof of everything that agent mulder and i have investigated over the past five years”

i don’t really see the correlation from a plot perspective but okay ❤️ yay ❤️

oh diana, i am suspicious of you…. “how do you quantify the spiritual? it can’t be done. you ask for immunity for a killer on that basis, the attorney general’s gonna go off. you’re allowed to investigate the x files as an indulgence. but draw the wrong kind of attention and they’ll close you down”

okay………… rude. but not necessarily wrong. in fact, she seems quite right, at least about the attorney general shutting down the case part. clearly, some levels of spirituality can be quantified if the results show up on brain scans; scully will use science to find a way. scully glances at mulder, who is staring at diana

“put an end to all your work. something i happen to have an interest in myself” WELL NO ONE ASKED???? girl! it isn't your project!!

perhaps i am the one who will need immunity from the attorney general as i bravely ask the question i am thinking: am i bad feminist, or is diana supposed to piss me off?

scully’s watching mulder stare at diana……. skinner says, everyone go take a break. but you may absolutely NOT leave my office, mulder. 

he says that diana is right. if they poke around too much they’ll get shut down- but mulder is willing to risk it!!!!!

“if what agent scully’s found is true- and i have every reason to believe that it is- then the answers i might have spent a lifetime searching for may fall together like a million puzzle pieces” <- OHH!! FAITH IN SCULLY!! FAITH IN SCULLY GIVING HIM THE TRUTH!

“you’d risk the x files?”, asks skinner.

“how soon can you call the attorney general?” 

so, there is your answer.

mulder is always having some sort of power struggle with skinner. hey. can mulder, buddy. can we use a "please" and "thank you" every now and then? your old pal skinner has put up with a LOT of your nonsense!

bro is in his cranky era.

ohhhh, so he goes and tell the shooter that he gave his request for immunity, but the attorney general needs more information before she can make a decision… “i need answers from you” UH OH!! will he have them before CSM breaks in? because we know he is stalking his prey!

he says the kid is a missing link; he’s genetic proof. spender wants to know of what, and this is very convenient, because so do i. so he thinks the kid is part alien….. spender is heckling him for this. but CSM is on the prowl… we don't have time for interpersonal conflict!

(so, maybe he's part alien but distantly? or maybe they made one of the alien hybrids like emily, but this one didn't die? why did emily die, again? because we know there are plenty others of the alien hybrids because they had that whole bit about saving "their mothers" back in... i think it was s3? maybe a bunch of them, like emily, die, but some of them do survive, and gibson is a son of the half alien? so he is a quarter alien? or maybe he is from a different alien race?

everything is a bit foggy when it comes to mytharc, i suppose. i guess it all comes down to the writers wanting to torture my best friend agent scully)

well-groomed man and krycek pull up to heckle CSM, which is an important part of their job description. they’re saying he failed them, but CSM says it’s all part of the plan. take their pieces one by one. 

hey, you’re gonna kill the kid, aren’t you?

at least JFK was a grown man!!!

do you think he bulk ordered the cigarettes from like, the cigarette equivalent of sam’s club, and had them sent to his snowy canadian hideaway? i mean, the number he goes through, it should have raised some red flags for the people trying to find him!

scully is watching the boy watch cartoons. she is pondering. 

“how do you do it?” “i just hear you thinking… like on a radio. and sometimes there are lots of radios, and i want to shut them off and watch some TV” <- you know what, that is entirely understandably.

gibson says that scully doesn’t care what other people think… “except for her. the other one”

is she trying to impress diana…..? has she moved beyond vying for people's approval after the horrors of cancer and emily, or is it manifesting in a new way as she hopes this mysterious figure from mulder's past will approve of her? does she think that if diana likes her, mulder will let her in about his past? does she feel a solidarity despite their differences in belief because of the fact they are both women in a male-dominated field?

the implications... i must explore them.

ah. and in diana comes. 

scully says they’ll talk about that stuff later. queen of knowing the time and place to have a debrief. and he says “they want to kill me” OHHH poor little gibson :( just let him watch cartoons!

scully promises no one will hurt him :( and he says “i know you do" :(

is diana going to kill the kid…..?

(author's note: LMAO!! listen... i thought they were going with the double agent angle for about 2 minutes. in my defense, i'm still shocked from the whole krycek and marita thing, so i'm trying to expect the unexpected. this is not the most wildly incorrect plot point i have guessed!)

the shooter gets another note…  this time it’s an empty cigarette carton, and BAM!!! CSM SHOOTS HIM!!!

well. there goes any possibility of an explanation.

diana fell asleep watching gibson and he’s looking out the window!!! he says there’s a man with a gun!!! and he says he’s aiming at her!!!! and BAM!! she gets shot too!!

hey guys! once again i ask what’s going on.

mulder and scully are pulling in while diana gets taken into an ambulance. and mulder’s grasping her hand while scully just wants to know where tf the kid is!!!!

the shooter was killed!!! skinner shows mulder the cigarette carton!!!!! 

NOOOO!! CSM has the boy and is bringing him to the well-groomed man. gibson called him a liar when he said he won't get hurt.

“you’ve never had the stomach for our business”

“just not for your practices”

“i’m a necessity. the complement to your cowardice” <- omggg……..

the dichotomy between CSM and well-groomed man... were the girls writing old man yaoi back when this aired? because i bet they would if this show dropped now.

(i was about to joke that if we all work really hard now, we can make that ship trend, but how tf can you write romantic fanfiction between two nameless characters? yeesh. that has to be a pain. "the well-groomed man moved in closer towards the cigarette smoking man, inhaling his burnt, acidic scent; he knew he was as bad for him as the cancer coursing through the other man's bloodstream" <- yeah, i didn't enjoy typing that, and it isn't fun to read either)

“your work is done now” SO WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO TO THE BOY???

“my work is just beginning” nope. do not like that. 

well-groomed man leads gibson into the car driven by krycek, who says he has a nice straight shot at CSM!!! but well-groomed man says not to shoot. you may need him in the future.

krycek is the last man i would trust with a child.

WOAHHHHH mulder is ATTACKING SPENDER saying he will get him PROSECUTED FOR MURDER!!! “you’re wrong, agent mulder, it’s your days that are numbered” <- NOW WHAT DOES *THAT* MEAN??

is he collaborating with daddy to kill mulder or lead him down an incredibly intricate path leading to his peril?!?

NOOOOO, skinner is on the phone with scully in mulder’s apartment 💔 spender is going after mulder and there are talks of reassignment!

his first question when she gets off of the phone is about diana….

NOOO, the justice department wants to close down the x files 💔💔

mulder says this is all part of plan he couldn’t see and walked into

“this time they may have won” NOOOOO💔💔💔💔you have to find some faith!

CSM is in mulder’s office………. looking at the files….. PICKING OUT THE ONE ON SAMANTHA………… WHERE IS HE TAKING IT???

TO SPENDER?!! “who are you?” “i’m your father” <- YOOO, I DIDN’T THINK HE WOULD JUST OUT AND SAY IT??

DID HE LIGHT ALL THE OTHER FILES ON FIRE???

HOLY HELL, HE DID???

mulder is here in his t shirt and scully is here in a lab coat and they find their whole office burnt to a crisp!!!!

she grabs his arms and leans in, putting her head on his chest as he looks around in fury

woah…. woaugh……….

the end.

CSM ruined the work of their whole lives!!!

this is why archivists are so important. because they always keep files saved on at least 3 sources. inshallah the good FBI archivists had them on a bunch of floppy disks. please please please.

(i started to type “on a bunch of flash drives”, but then i realized idk if those were popular, effective, or invented at the time. and a floppy disk really couldn’t hold much. maybe there is a huge cardboard box in one of the back rooms with all of them backed up! i like the ones that were colorful!)

well, now there’s a damn movie i need to watch!!! but first i have to get all of my s5 content sorted out!!!!

i have many questions. i have a terrible feeling that poor boy is gonna end up another sacrificial lamb. and i know that CSM saved the file on samantha to keep the fire burning beneath mulder, just enough so he meets his dastardly plans. damn. this guy really is an evil genius. which does not translate to literary talent.

what is spender going to do? is he going to believe that CSM is his father? will he follow him in dastardly deeds, or will he reject them? i mean, he sure isn't a believer in aliens like mulder is, so learning his father is basically a diplomat to the alien people isn't going to go over well. or is he going to stand up to daddy and save the day, probably nobly sacrificing himself in the process?

what about scully? i just KNOW she blames herself for gibson getting kidnapped because she promised him he would be safe, and she's all torn up about mulder hiding things from her!!! poor scully!

and mulder, what is he going to do about the reappearance of diana and then her sudden death or near-death? will he stop being so cranky anytime soon? it doesn't seem likely, but a girl can hope.

and i wanna know what is going through skinner's mind, too. because he really is like an uncle to me. i remember my earlier posts about not trusting him, and i think that narrative was intentionally cultivated by the writers, but now i'm thinking, man. that's my ride or die. skinner, i should have never doubted you. not only that, i love your little house buddha and desk globes and i wish i could slap mulder across the face for the way he acts towards you!

well, i have a lot of work to do with the s5 wrapups before i can dive into this film, and so work i must. and perhaps i will save the film for next weekend when i can focus appropriate attention.

i also expect that the movie writeup will be VERY LONG. and my writeups are already SO LONG. i tossed around the idea of splitting it up into parts, but i think it will be better to just do it all in one go. unless there is a very clear midpoint spot where i can divide the post in two, which i doubt???

will diana grow on me? will the movie be enjoyable? will scully get a damn break? will CSM and WGM kiss? will krycek continue to be a problematic bisexual?

hmm. well, stay tuned, and share all of your thoughts!

[actual-changeling]

i thought about the end scene of 'beyond the sea' too many times and this is the result. mulder is so soft with her for the entirety of the episode, and it drives me insane.

first ficlet i've ever written for these two, so hopefully i got their voices right.

—

Mulder's hand against her arm is warm and comfortably heavy, a tether keeping her close enough to the ground to not drift away like she's been prone to do for the last few days. When her eyes flutter shut on their own accord, Scully doesn't fight it, all too aware of the hours of sleep she hasn't been getting.

Between fragmented nightmares about her father and the feeling of blood under her fingernails—Mulder's, dried and darkened no matter how hard she scrubbed—the last time she got more than twenty minutes at a time was before she saw her father's ghost in the flickering television light. The regular beeping of the machines echoing through the hospital room calms her somewhat; they're familiar sounds, no matter how far from medical school she might have ended up.

"Maybe you should head home, get some rest," Mulder suggests softly after an extended period of amicable silence, slightly squeezing her shoulder before reclaiming his hand. Her fingers twitch against the sheets as she fights the urge to chase after him, her body suddenly oddly cold. When she opens her eyes again, she catches him staring at her with concern clouding his gaze.

"I'm fine." 

It's a reflexive answer, a lie she keeps telling even though they are both aware she's everything but.

"I know," he replies, smoothing his palm down her arm until he can gently take her hand, and the chill disappears as quickly as it has arrived. "The last couple of days have just been a lot, and you deserve a break."

The noise is out of her mouth before she can stop it—something between a dismissal and a sob, tinged with bone-deep exhaustion. Even if she were to go back to an apartment full of Christmas decorations and unwanted quietude, she wouldn't be able to get any rest at all; not with guilt sitting on the bottom of her lungs and fear poisoning her breaths.

Scully tightens her grasp on his hand and turns to watch his heartbeat weave its way across the monitor. Alive, it whispers, over and over and over. 

Alivealivealive, and no thanks to her. 

She thought about it a few times, only when the darkness seemed entirely ubiquitous and the sleep deprivation spun webs across her ceiling, if maybe her choice to join the FBI, to go against her father's wishes, to put her life on the line while the distance between them grew—if all the stress she caused him somehow made her responsible for his death. 

No matter what she tries to tell herself, her father will still be dead, and Mulder will still be injured because she allowed him to run off alone despite Bogg's warnings. She had known without wanting to that he was going to get hurt, and yet. Always too little, too late.

"…Dana."

A tug on her arm rips her back out of her mind, and the worry carved deep into Mulder's face tells her that he has been trying to get her attention for longer than she can simply shrug off; she attempts to smile anyway and fails miserably.

"Whatever it is you're blaming yourself for, you're wrong."

"Mulder—"

He releases her hand in favour of cupping her cheek exactly as he had days ago in their office, and she relaxes into it without wanting to, the touch warm and comforting.

"If you don't want to go home, at least close your eyes for a little," he smiles for the two of them, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. Whatever protest she was about to utter dies on her tongue, so she simply nods. Mulder pulls back slightly to invitingly lift his arm, and for once, Scully doesn't even pretend to need time to consider it. 

God, she is beyond tired. 

She toes off her shoes and lies down on the scratchy hospital sheets, conscious of his injury as she carefully fits herself against his side. With her cheek resting on his chest and one palm above his heart, Scully closes her eyes and enjoys the comfort of Mulder holding her like she is doing him a favour. 

His fingers trace slow patterns up and down her back, and when she feels him press his lips to her hair, she inches impossibly closer in silent thanks.

The day bleeds from her limbs, and little by little, the tension in her aching muscles dissipates until only exhaustion and a familiar sense of safety remain. For the very first time since waking to see her father's ghost in her living room, sleep comes easily and remains completely dreamless. 

Mulder keeps her wrapped in his embrace and rests easier than he has in years.

[mytardisisparked]

Cinnamon Sprinkles

Mulder is reminded of something he's missed. Scully has a small revelation.

Read on AO3.

Scully woke to something tickling her cheeks.

She scrunched her nose, fighting with her brain as it tried to go back to sleep. The tickling persisted, giving her the strength to drag her eyelids open and blink against the dim, dawn light.

“Morning.” Mulder was grinning at her, looking incredibly giddy.

“Morning.” She reached a hand up to brush at her face, rubbing away the ghost of whatever had tickled her. “You’re rather chipper for…” she glanced over him at the clock, “6:30 AM on a Saturday.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I just noticed your freckles.”

“My freckles?” God, she wasn’t awake enough for this.

“Yeah.” His grin grew impossibly brighter. “I haven’t seen them in a while. I thought you lost them.”

“Um,” she took a deep breath, her brain still trying to catch up. “I, uh, I did for a while. Too much time in the basement, I think. But uh, I guess I’ve been covering them more lately. With makeup.”

Mulder’s look turned more serious. Well, not serious … curious, maybe. A little bit analytical. Definitely focused solely on her.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I guess they just seemed sort of… girlish.”

Mulder smiled. “Scully, you’re beautiful. So are your freckles.”

Suddenly, she was fully awake.

He reached out and traced a few of them from her cheek to the tip of her nose. It still tickled, but she didn’t dare move. “Anyone who says they make you look ‘girlish’ in a derogatory way is out of their mind. And blind.” His finger continued tracing. Her eyes fluttered closed as savored the contact, enjoying the low drone of his voice. “They’re like little stars all over your face. Or maybe cinnamon sprinkles.”

“Cinnamon sprinkles?” She opened her eyes again, raising a teasing brow.

“Yeah, like when you get cinnamon on top of a coffee or hot chocolate. The way it gets sprinkled. Dusted. You look like that.” Scully bit back a giggle and Mulder rubbed his eyes. “Scully, it is 6:30 in the morning. I’m sorry for my lack of eloquence.”

“And who’s fault it is, that we’re awake?”

“Yours.”

“Mine?” She pitched her voice higher in pseudo-incredulity.

Mulder nodded solemnly. “I was sleeping just fine, but then you kicked me and I woke up and noticed how adorable you are when you sleep, and then you had those freckles–”

Scully shook her head with a laugh. “I’ll try to be less cute when I sleep, in the future. Tomorrow night I’m going to drool all over your pillow.”

“It will still be adorable.” Mulder traced her nose again. “Trust me.”

She smiled as his finger landed on her lips. She pressed a kiss to it and then, with both hands, took his face and drew it closer to kiss his lips. 

—

On Monday morning, Mulder walked in to find Scully bent over a file at their desk. 

She looked lovely in the morning light that filtered through their basement window; the rays caught her red hair and set the strands aglow. He slid into the chair across from her and took a moment to simply admire his partner. Because he could.

His eyes drifted from her hair to her face, her brow furrowed as she read whatever report was in front of her. Slowly, he smiled as he noticed faint freckles peeking out from her forehead, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose. 

She looked up at him, catching his eye and the warm smile on his lips. Knowingly, she smiled back. 

“Good morning, Mulder,” she said, slowly, eyes bright.

He grinned even wider. “Good morning, Scully.”

And then they began their work, the smiles never quite leaving their faces.  

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 9/34 - bedhead

[Read on AO3]

She wakes to something poking her in the face, and blinks blearily in confusion. With furrowed brows, she forces her eyes to focus on whatever is in front of her, and comes face to face with Mulder and his index finger, which gives her one final poke in the cheek.

“You that desperate to be the first one downstairs for present time, Scully?” he asks with an amused smile, leaning over her in the La-Z-Boy, which she somehow managed to stay asleep in all night long. He’s far too cheerful for whatever time it must be in the morning, but one whiff of the air tells her why. Coffee.

He waves a cup of the steaming liquid right below her nose, and it snaps her to attention within seconds, which draws a chuckle out of him. He gives her space to sit up and stretch her aching back before pressing the mug into her hands, ensuring that she has a handle on it before letting go.

“Does it count as being first if you’re asleep?” he asks. “Because if not, me and your nephew have you beat for first and second place. Bill’s been down, too.”

She’s too tired to worry about that. Instead she takes a long draw from her coffee cup and scans over to the tree, where countless beautifully wrapped gifts lay in wait for one terror of a two-year-old and the rest of the family to open them.

“You made coffee?” she asks, her voice raspy from disuse. She wonders what a sight she must be, with mussed bedhead and hair that had been allowed to air-dry after her shower the night before.

“Hope your mom doesn’t mind,” he answers. “Figured I’d try to have a peace offering ready in case Bill came down. I think it paid off.”

Just then, her brother enters the room, glancing over at her disapprovingly but saying nothing. Matthew trails after him with enough energy that Scully half wonders if he’d had a taste of the coffee too, and he plops himself in front of the tree, excitedly asking when he can start opening the presents.

Mulder stands and heads back to the couch, sitting on it casually and taking a sip of his own coffee. The quilt and pillow are nowhere to be seen, so he must have been up for a while. His sleep patterns will never make sense to her.

“Something wrong with your room, Dana?” Bill asks, standing up against the wall despite the open space on the couch next to Mulder.

“Couldn't sleep,” she answers, her tone one of warning should he continue this line of questioning. Thankfully, he gets the hint and shuts his mouth.

Once the caffeine starts to kick in, she excuses herself to go freshen up. When she returns, she casts a glance at the recliner that had served as her bed, and instead opts to sit by her partner. She sips from her refilled coffee mug, basking in the comfortable feeling of an early morning with the people she cares about most in the world all under one roof. Mulder is all soft edges this morning, still clad in flannel pajamas with bedhead that he'd done a poor job of straightening out. There seems to be a permanent contented smile on his face, though, as he watches her nephew agonize over not being able to open a present yet. Maybe he’s remembering a time when he had such zeal for the holiday.

Eventually the remaining Scully family makes their appearance, Tara and Maggie making a quick detour to the kitchen for their own daily dose of caffeine with Charlie right behind them.

“Morning, Fox,” Maggie says cheerfully before stooping to press a kiss to Dana’s cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” he answers truthfully.

If Bill seethes, Mulder takes no notice of it.

“There's the big bad feds,” Charlie teases, coming up behind them and messing their hair with each of his hands. “How was 'work'?”

Scully shoots him a look, effectively silencing him with her big sister sense of authority. He chuckles and takes a seat on the ground by the fireplace. 

With the entire family present and accounted for, Matthew is finally given the go-ahead for tearing into the gift wrapping, exclaiming excitedly with each toy he unwraps from Santa Claus.

“Pass me that green and white one, Matty,” Tara says, pointing to a small box under the tree and relaying it to her mother-in-law. Soon enough, there's a present in every person's hand, Mulder included. He gets some nice tie clips from Maggie and a box of dried meats from Bill and Tara (mostly just Tara, if Scully had to guess). Even Charlie had a package of nice socks to give him, probably a last-minute purchase, but appreciated nonetheless.

Mulder's beaming smile tears at her heart, and she wonders how long it has been since he's had a proper Christmas like this. Surrounded by family, excitement and cheer filling the air. She thinks she knows the answer, and it fills her with sadness. 

“Is there a present for Fox from you under here, Dana?” Maggie asks, now kneeling beside her grandson at the foot of the tree.

“Mulder and I already exchanged gifts, Mom,” she answers.

Exchanged a few other things too, she thinks. Most notably: vows.

Her mother looks up with interest. “Oh? What did he get you?”

Scully blushes. She hadn't been prepared to actually answer this question, though she probably should have been. “Oh, um… Jewelry,” she says, resisting the urge to touch the item in question under her shirt.

“Classic,” Charlie says, reaching out to fist bump Mulder.

“Actually, Scully, there is a little something else under that tree for you,” Mulder cuts in.

After last year's ‘we're not exchanging gifts’ gift exchange, she's not surprised, but she gives him an exasperated look anyway. “I thought you might say that,” she says, standing and grabbing a nicely wrapped package from behind the tree and handing it to him. Maggie finds the one Mulder snuck under there and hands it to her daughter, smiling at the two of them as they begin to tear open the paper.

For Mulder, there's a stack of crossword puzzle booklets and other travel sized games—sudoku, mad libs, a deck of cards, even a magnetic pocket-sized chess and checkerboard set that they can take on trips.

“Hey, no more I Spy and tic tac toe!” he says excitedly, flipping through one of the booklets. 

With as much as they travel—long hours in cars and planes and airports and motels with spotty satellite TV—they've pretty much used up all their options for passing the time. Their only deck of cards is somehow missing eight cards and has an extra two of hearts that they're not sure where it came from. A replacement pack is long overdue.

“I can't wait to wipe the floor with you at chess,” he says. “Thanks, Scully.”

She returns her attention to the box in her lap, free of paper but otherwise still unopened. 

“Go on, open it!” Tara says impatiently, craning her neck to watch as Dana lifts the lid off and peels back the tissue paper inside.

“Oh, Mulder,” she breathes, lifting a heavy book from the box. The front cover is plain, no lettering or images on it, but she can tell what it is in an instant.

A scrapbook.

She opens it to the first page, wondering what he could have possibly put inside. It's sparse—there aren't that many pictures of them together, after all—but he's scrounged up some that must have been taken at crime scenes, and one she vaguely remembers Frohike taking the first day she met the Gunmen. 

But perhaps more telling than the few pages that are filled in are the empty pages at the back, just waiting to be added to. She knows what he means by giving her this, and it causes a lump to form in her throat. 

“You look so serious, Dana,” her mother says, glancing over her shoulder at a photo of her and Mulder in their FBI jackets looking over some evidence. 

“Well, yeah, I'm at work, Mom,” she laughs, thankful for the distraction to keep her from crying in front of everyone.

“That's just the face she makes when she's about to refute my theory with cold hard science,” Mulder jokes, leaning back proudly on the couch. 

She looks at him, blinking away the tears threatening to fall.

“Mulder, this is… I didn't get you enough, your gift is so thoughtful…”

He shakes his head. “Scully, the fact that you even want to spend time with me long enough to play any of the games you got me is enough of a gift,” he says. “Seriously. You've given me a lot more than you think you have, I'm just trying to catch up.”

Charlie makes an exaggerated pouty face at her, which she catches out of the corner of her eye. He's lucky she's being watched by everyone else, otherwise she'd throw a pillow at him.

“Well, thank you,” she says. If they were alone, she'd hug him, but… Well, she's already uncomfortable with the amount of attention she's getting. She doesn't need to make it worse. She hopes he can see how grateful she is in her eyes. For now, she closes the book and sets it aside.

She scoots just that little bit closer to him on the couch while the others continue opening the last few presents, his leg brushing against hers ever so slightly. Thank you, she’s saying. This means the world to me.

-.-.-

“Hey,” Charlie says from behind him, startling Mulder out of a kind of daze.

He tears his eyes away from where Scully is standing on the other side of the room, making polite conversation with some of her mother’s friends after dinner. Charlie is a fair bit shorter than he is, but still taller than his sister, if not by much. 

“I took a look through that scrapbook you got Dana,” he continues. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He kind of does, actually, but he supposes he never made it clear one way or another, so he can’t really blame her family for being curious. It’s just… well, personal. He’s not used to sharing her with others, much less letting others see into the hard-to-understand relationship they have. It makes him feel oddly exposed.

He shrugs in response, not exactly sure what else to say.

Charlie doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “Living so far away, I just feel like I miss out on the finer details of her life, you know?” he says. “Sometimes I forget she’s really an FBI agent out there waving a gun around and solving crimes.”

“You disapprove?” Mulder asks, ready to defend her.

“Not at all,” Charlie is quick to assure. “I’m glad she has a partner to look out for her, though.”

For all the good that has done, Mulder thinks. Still, it’s nice to hear he’s got one Scully brother on his side, even if it is the one his partner doesn’t get to see that often.

“I saw the picture of that little girl you put in,” the younger man adds, dropping the volume of his voice a few decibels. “Bill tried to explain it to me, once. I don’t think I ever really grasped how much she would look like family.”

Mulder fidgets at the uncomfortable turn in the conversation. It really isn’t his place to talk about it. It’s his sister Charlie should be speaking to. But then, if this prevents Scully from having to face such unpleasant memories during her nice family Christmas, then he’d gladly endure whatever questions her brother might have.

“I don’t think your mother or brother really understood it either,” he says, trying his hardest not to sound accusing. “But in their defense, it really was an unusual situation.”

“Let me guess, Bill completely pretended it wasn’t happening,” Charlie says, casting a glance in his brother’s direction. “Figures. I’m sure he didn’t make it easy on Dana.”

Charlie must have hoarded the entire Scully family’s stockpile of emotional intelligence, that’s the conclusion Mulder is coming to. Finally someone besides him thinks to ask how Scully handled everything.

“What has Scu– What has Dana told you?” he asks, quickly correcting himself. He doesn’t want to be the one to reveal information Scully would rather keep private, so he thinks he ought to check.

“I know she can’t have children, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Charlie says, taking a swig from his bottle of beer. “She never did explain why, but that’s not really what matters, is it?”

“You’re a good brother,” Mulder states. 

No, it shouldn’t matter. And that’s exactly what had bothered him about Bill’s reaction so much. Who cares if you understand why or how things are happening? The important detail is that your loved one is suffering and you need to be there for them. It’s a relief to hear that Charlie seems to understand this, even if his brother doesn’t.

“It’s a long story,” he answers with a sigh, “but she loved Emily. Would have raised her if the courts had let her, and if—” He trails off, letting the words hang in the air.

“You were there, weren’t you?”

Mulder nods. “Flew out and crashed your family’s Christmas as soon as I knew what was going on.”

“What was she like?” he asks next.

“Dana?” Mulder asks, brows furrowed.

“No, Emily.”

Oh.

Mulder bites down on his lip, thinking back two years to the few days he spent with Scully and her mini-me.

“She was quiet,” he answers. Honestly, he barely heard her say a word. But her genetics were unmistakable, and not just in her appearance. “She was a lot like Dana.”

Charlie is silent for a moment, probably digesting all that he had learned in the last few minutes. It’s a heavy topic, and one Mulder himself doesn’t really like thinking about, if he can help it. This Christmas has already been leaps and bounds better in every way possible, and he wants to keep it that way.

“Thanks for being there for her,” Charlie says finally. “Thanks for taking care of her. She needs someone like you around.”

Mulder inexplicably feels himself tearing up at his words, and forces the emotion back down before he can give himself away. 

“We take care of each other,” he corrects, glancing again to his partner across the room. 

His vows from yesterday echo in his ears, and for the first time, he wishes her family had been there to hear them. The marriage may be a legal ploy for practical reasons, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t intend to keep his promises. He meant every word he had spoken, and now part of him wishes her family knew just how much.

-.-.-

Dana had forgotten how draining it could be to be surrounded by friends and family for hours on end. It's hard to believe there was a time when social situations like this invigorated her rather than drained her, but she remembers her university days well. 

Still, the company is pleasant, and it affords her the unique opportunity to see Mulder in a different, more relaxed setting, something she'd scarcely known she was missing all these years.

At the moment, he is crouched down in the hallway beside Matthew, each with a wind up toy car in hand that they've been racing back and forth for the last fifteen minutes or so.

For as much as she believed him when he told her he wanted to be a father, it never really felt real until this very moment.

The way he interacts with Matthew is so natural, despite the fact that the boy is the spawn of one Bill Scully, Jr. He talks to him in hushed, conspiratorial tones, grinning when the two-year-old's car reaches the self-proclaimed finish line before his does. It brings to mind Emily, and the way he had tried to make her laugh when he met her. The way he cradled her in his arms when they had to take her to the hospital, burning up with fever.

Her partner, who chases aliens for a living and has been held hostage in Siberia, gently holding a tiny, sick girl in a patterned nightgown… It sometimes still feels like a dream that it had happened at all, though that dream had quickly turned into a nightmare.

Mulder's eyes shine playfully now and she can see his mouth moving animatedly. He points to the other side of the wood-floored hallway and Matthew quickly crawls over there with his toy car, evidently changing up the parameters of the game they're playing.

“One, two, THREE!” Mulder counts aloud, and he and Matthew both wind up and release their cars at the same time, watching with delight as they crash together in the middle.

He will be a good father. A great one, even. She'd known it when she asked him for help with IVF, and she knows it even more now. Not once has she wondered if his difficult childhood would stand in the way of him and parenthood. If anything, it would make him better. She knows he'll do everything he possibly can to be the father he never had.

She only hopes she can provide him that opportunity, one way or another.

“So, Dana,” her mother’s friend Gloria speaks, coming up beside her to watch. “Any plans to settle down? I know your work keeps you busy these days, but you're not getting any younger, dear.” She finishes with a chuckle, taking a sip from her glass of eggnog, oblivious to how out of touch her question had been.

The words aren't meant with any malice, Dana knows, but still she wonders how these older women come to the conclusion that that's an acceptable question to ask. Even if she wasn't struggling with infertility and extraordinary life circumstances, that kind of inquiry always rubbed her the wrong way.

She forces her eyes away from Mulder and her nephew, focusing instead on Gloria.

“Oh, um,” she starts awkwardly, not exactly sure how to answer. “Not right now,” she says, even though it's becoming more of a lie with each passing day. Uncertain plans are just as good as no plans at all, she thinks in order to justify her omission. After all, if things don't pan out, she'll be back to square one.

Or almost square one, she mentally corrects herself. There's still the matter of being secretly married to her FBI partner.

Besides, they're keeping everything under wraps for now. If she's not telling her own mother, she's certainly not about to tell a woman she's only met a handful of times.

“Well, I know this young man at the YMCA– Brendan,” Gloria continues, heedless of Dana's discomfort. “He's a swim instructor. Veeeery handsome.”

Dana smiles politely, but otherwise is careful not to give any indication that she might be interested. An accidental blind date setup due to miscommunication is the last thing she needs right now, and honestly, the last thing she wants. She's happy with how things are with Mulder, even if they're not actually a couple. They're making plans for a future together, that's all that matters. Though the exact specifics of that future are hazy, one thing is certain: She won't be alone. Not anymore. 

And neither will he.

Looking around at the house full of people, love a palpable force flowing around them, she wonders again why they didn't do this sooner.

-.-.-

“Thanks, Mrs. Scully. This was really great,” Mulder says, carrying a bag loaded with containers of leftover food and desserts. He waves at the little boy behind Maggie, held up in the arms of his father at the door. “Bye Matt, thanks for hanging out with me.” Matthew is suitably worn out from all the excitement and playtime, which Dana is sure her brother can't begrudge Mulder for, but he still waves a tired goodbye. If anything, Bill should be thanking Mulder. The youngest Scully will be out like a light probably before they even leave the neighborhood.

“Bye, Mom,” Dana says, pressing a kiss to her mother's cheek and giving her one last hug goodbye. 

“Bye, sweetheart. I'll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas!”

With a final glance over her shoulder, she and Mulder walk down the driveway to their car, alone for the first time in almost 24 hours.

“Your nephew is pretty cool, Scully. Did you know he thinks aliens have pet dinosaurs?” he says as they reach the vehicle, simultaneously opening the doors and sliding into their respective seats.

“How on earth did that come up, Mulder?” she asks, casting a doubtful glance to her left as she buckles.

“I didn't bring it up, he did!” he replies defensively, his smile only serving to make him seem less credible. “No, seriously!”

“I'd better not get a call from Bill asking what kind of stories you've been filling his son's head with.”

“Every little boy thinks about aliens and dinosaurs, Scully,” he says, laughing. “He offered up that piece of information unprompted, I swear!”

Scully chuckles, his earnest expression combined with his raised right hand somehow striking her as utterly ridiculous.

Our child will have no shortage of imagination with Mulder for a father, she thinks, and the thought causes her heart to clench in her chest.

“Just drive, Mulder,” she says, facing forward to conceal her smile.

He drives.

~~~

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

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[sisterspooky1013]

Never, Chapter 2/3

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

This is a continuation of a one shot I wrote a year and a half ago.

“Are you okay, miss?”

Scully straightens up in her seat and wipes the tear tracks off her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she was crying again. Her head is starting to throb as she sobers up, and she wonders if she has enough wine left at her apartment to reclaim her drunkenness and the numbness that comes along with it. She’d do just about anything not to feel the way she feels right now.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says, glancing at the reflection of the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His bushy black brows are furrowed, and when the cab passes under a streetlight she sees deep concern there as he looks between her face and the nearly deserted road.

“Someone hurt you,” he says, the anger in his voice barely contained.

Her hand reflexively comes up to touch her tender cheekbone. She feels so awful she keeps forgetting that she also looks it.

“No,” she says reflexively, and then corrects herself. “I mean, yes. But I’m okay,” she tells him with a thin smile.

He’s older. Late sixties, maybe. There’s a picture of two smiling boys wearing matching bow ties and patkas taped to the dashboard, their arms slung around one another’s shoulders. Grandchildren, she thinks absently.

“The man who called?” he asks, and even through her devastation she finds that she’s comforted by this stranger’s protectiveness of her.

“No, he would never hurt me,” she says. “The man who hurt me is in jail.”

The cabbie nods, satisfied with this answer, and he is quiet for the rest of the ride.

Mulder would never hurt her. Not physically. Not on purpose. Her view of the darkened Potomac blurs behind fresh tears as she thinks about the way his face fell at the hospital when he got the full story. The way he dropped her hand and took two steps back under the guise of giving her privacy. The way he’s been uncharacteristically mean in the days since. Like he’s disgusted by her.

She’s so confused. By her actions, by his, by her own emotions. When she took Ed up on his offer for a date it felt like the most normal, uncomplicated thing she’d done in years. She thought she knew why she was doing it: she just wanted to be seen. Seen as a woman, as an object of sexual desire, as more than Mulder’s partner or his errand girl. Ed saw her, and she thought that she was getting what she wanted, finally.

It was only when Mulder’s reaction caught her so off guard that she realized she’d been expecting something else, something specific from him. Maybe what she wanted wasn’t just to be seen, but to be seen by him. But whatever he sees when he looks at her now, it’s not what she wanted. And it hurts. It hurts in a way she didn’t even know he could hurt her.

The brakes shriek as the cab pulls up to the curb outside Scully’s apartment, and she fishes a twenty dollar bill out of her jeans pocket. The cabbie unbuckles his seatbelt and twists around to look at her, that same concerned furrow in his brow.

“You make me think of my daughter,” he says, then pauses. “A man who loves you will never hurt you,” he finally says. “There is no excuse.”

Scully pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to still her quivering jaw. His kindness makes her ache for someone to hold her, for someone to be gentle with her body and her heart. She doesn’t want to need that, but she does. She doesn’t want to need it from Mulder, but she does. She doesn’t want to feel devastated that he won’t give it to her, but she is.

“Thank you,” she says, holding out the bill for him to take.

He shakes his head and gives her a sad smile.

“It was my pleasure to drive you home, miss. Please, keep your money.”

Once safely behind her apartment door, she stops trying to hold the tears back. They roll freely and silently down her cheeks as she pours the last of the wine into a water glass and sucks it down with a grimace. It burns her throat and then her belly, and she welcomes the physical discomfort as a distraction from her emotional torment.

She’s so angry with herself for letting him have this much power over her. For caring this much about what he thinks. She feels a flash of mortification when she remembers his comment about being jealous and her resulting admission of loneliness. She’s so stupid. So fucking stupid to think, even momentarily, that he was jealous of Ed. That he was jealous because he wants something from her the same way she wants something from him. She wanted to believe it so badly that she heard what she wanted to hear, and she made an absolute fool of herself.

But he wasn’t jealous of Ed. He was jealous of her for getting laid, so he went out to do the same. She’s always assumed that he indulges in a casual fling of his own here and there, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe she doesn’t know him at all.

It’s nearly 3:00 am when she crawls into bed, drunk and lonelier than ever. She wishes she could go back and do things differently, but she’s not sure how far back she’d need to go to undo what she’s done to herself. She’s not sure where she went wrong. All she knows is that she’s deeply unhappy, and she doesn’t know how to fix it. All she knows is that trying to get closer to Mulder isn’t the answer.

The phone rings at 7:00 am, cutting through her hangover like a knife. She scrambles for the handset on her nightstand, knocking her glasses and a bottle of ibuprofen that she set out for herself onto the floor in the process.

“Hello?” she croaks, letting her head fall back to the pillow when the room starts to spin.

“Hi. It’s me.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. The night before feels like a dream, but she knows that it wasn’t. Part of her is comforted by the fact that he followed through on his promise to talk about things in the morning, but another part of her is horrified by the idea of ever speaking of it again.

“Good morning,” she says in a markedly professional tone, if not for the rasp of her sleepworn voice.

“Are you…” he begins, and her belly tightens. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says rotely.

She listens to the sound of his even breathing on the other end of the line and wonders what he thinks of her now. If he’ll ever look at her the same way again. If he’ll treat her like she’s fragile the way he did after Duane Barry.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, and immediately her throat closes up. “For a lot of things. But last night—.”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts, desperate not to relive it, not to be rejected a second time. “To be perfectly honest, I only remember bits and pieces,” she lies.

“Oh,” he says, either surprised or relieved. Maybe both.

“I’m, um, I’m not sure I’ll make it into work today,” she continues. “My head feels like a block of cement.”

“Can I bring you anything?” he asks hopefully. “Gatorade, maybe?”

“Please don’t,” she blurts out, then softens her tone. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. Sorry if I was…out of line last night.”

There’s a long pause, and she wonders what he’s thinking about. She’s thinking about how good it felt when he wrapped his arms around her, and how much it hurt when she realized he was using it as a means to get her out the door.

“No,” he finally says. “I was the one who was out of line. I’m the one who’s been out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong, Scully.”

He sounds so sad, and she wants to ask him why. She wants to understand him. She wants to be understood by him. The empty space around her feels infinite.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She hangs up and waits for the room to stop spinning before she picks up her glasses and the ibuprofen, though she doesn’t take any. She lets her pounding head and queasy stomach serve as a reminder of her mistake, a mistake she has no intention of repeating.

Mulder is her partner. He cares about her, but not in the way that she only just realized she secretly wants him to. She’s not sure if that secret way is romantic in nature, she just knows she wants more. More than fruitless searches for invisible boogie men and a never ending series of cheap motel rooms. More than banter and inside jokes and a shared distaste for gas station bathrooms. More than this.

She’s brushing her teeth, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror, when she feels a wet tickle in her nostril. A drop of bright red blood falls into the sink basin, splattering over white porcelain like a mini crime scene. She was going to tell him about the nosebleeds. About the MRI appointment she has later this week. She was just waiting for the right time.

Now she can’t help but wonder if she holds secret expectations about how he’ll respond to that news and the type of support he’ll provide. She can’t set herself up for that kind of disappointment. She won’t. Never again.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Various Storms and Saints- Prologue

"You still haven't told me if he's cute or not."

Scully sighed and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck. Nobody could make her regret bringing up a subject as quickly as her sister when she put her mind to it. "No, Missy, I haven't," she allowed. "Because it's irrelevant. Mulder's good looks aren't the reason I miss working with him."

"So you admit it? He is cute?"

"Missy. Can we please have a serious conversation, for once?"

"Fine, fine," Melissa acquiesced, though her tone made it clear this point would be revisited in the future. "Tell me why you miss working with him, then."

"Well... part of it is the cases we tackled together," Scully said. "The autopsies I'm stuck doing now that the X-Files are shut down seem so boring in comparison to murderous clones and mind-controlling worms in the Arctic."

Melissa whistled. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a little bit of a come down. What's the other part?"

"What other part?"

"You said the cases are part of the reason. So what's the other part?"

Scully closed her eyes. How to define this most indefinable of relationships, especially to Melissa, who so often seemed to think every person in her life fit into a neat box? "I miss the way he spoke to me," she said finally. "He never talked down to me, not even when he was standing so close I practically had to break my neck to meet his eyes. He made me feel like the things I have to say are important... that they carried real weight with him, even when he didn't agree with me." She chuckled ruefully. "Which was most of the time. He's always shown me a respect that I don't get that often, being surrounded by men in positions of authority who all love to hear themselves talk."

"That does sound like it would be tough to leave behind," agreed Melissa. "Couldn't you... I dunno, lobby to be his partner on whatever assignment he's on now, though? Then at least you'd still be working together even if it wasn't in the X-Files."

"He's working with someone else," said Scully darkly. "At least he was on his most recent case. I don't know if they're officially partners or not."

"And you don't like whoever it is," said Melissa knowingly. "I can hear it in your voice." "I don't really know anything about him," Scully admitted. "But... there's something strange about him, you know? He just makes me nervous." There had been something about Alex Krycek's fresh-faced innocence that had seemed less than genuine, even if Scully couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Bad vibes, huh?"

"Maybe." Scully sighed. "For all I know, it's just my jealousy getting in the way because I want to be the one out there with Mulder."

"See, I knew you liked him," crowed Melissa, and Scully groaned, exasperated.

"Melissa. It's not like that."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Melissa huffed. "Hang on a sec, okay?" The phone was muffled, as though Melissa had put her hand over the receiver. Someone's voice asked a garbled question, Melissa gave an equally garbled response, and a moment later, she was back. "Hey Danes, I gotta go, okay?"

"Wait, Melissa, what's your--"

"There's a meditation session I'm supposed to lead and they're waiting for me. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"But Melissa, where are--" There was a click, and the line went dead.

Scully dropped her bedroom extension back into its cradle on the nightstand and sank back onto her bed with a sigh, snuggling into the cardigan she'd pulled on over her work clothes when she'd walked into her apartment. She'd come home from work for lunch, having finished her morning teaching session a little early, and had been available purely by chance when Melissa called for the first time in two months. Phone conversations with her older sister, while always welcome, tended to be exhausting these days. She hadn't seen Melissa in years, not since the day after her graduation from medical school. Melissa hadn't made it to the event itself, but she'd shown up at the party her parents had thrown her afterwards. Melissa hadn't understood her sister's disappointment, and Maggie Scully, as she so often did, had defended her elder daughter to her younger.

"You know big ceremonies aren't really your sister's thing, Dana," she'd said, patting Scully's shoulder consolingly. "She barely sat through her own high school graduation. Just be thankful she's here for the celebration, all right?"

Sitting through a graduation ceremony was boring, to be sure, but that hadn't stopped Scully from doing it for all three of her siblings when they'd finished high school, plus for Bill and Charlie when they'd finished college. In her opinion, it had nothing to do with how exciting or boring the ceremony itself was, and everything to do with showing up for the people she loved when their hard work and accomplishments were recognized.

Showing up. That was something Melissa had traditionally had difficulty with, when it came down to it.

They hadn't even had a working phone number for Melissa last Christmas when Ahab had passed. Scully, tasked with handling everything while her mother waded through her initial shock and grief, had called every friend of Melissa's she could think of, trying to locate her sister, and had failed. She'd been reduced to sending a letter to Melissa's last known address in hopes it might get correctly forwarded. But it never got to her, as was evidenced three months later when Melissa had called home, chatted with Maggie cheerfully about her recent travels, and then had asked to speak to her father and had been completely lost when her mother had burst into tears.

"Free-spirited" had always been how the family had described Melissa. But deep down, in her darkest and most shameful thoughts, the word Scully sometimes landed on was "selfish."

Scully's cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She half-expected it to be Mulder, begging her to do another autopsy he couldn't trust with anyone else, but it was Roy Seekamp, a fellow FBI pathologist whose office in the Hoover building was next to Scully's.

"Where are you?" asked Roy. "One of the AD's came looking for you but your office is locked. Skinner, I think his name was?"

"I came home for lunch. What's going on?"

"Something big is going down in Virginia," said Roy. "Some hostage situation with an escaped mental patient."

Scully frowned, confused. "Why would they need me for that?" she asked.

"I don't think they actually need you or anything," said Roy. "The AD was just looking for you to let you know your old partner is there on the scene."

Scully's heart skipped a beat. "Mulder is there?" She got off the bed and raced out of her bedroom, tearing off the cardigan and snatching up her bag. "What's he doing there? He's not a hostage negotiator!"

"No idea," said Roy. "I think AD Skinner just wanted you to hear it from him. You coming back to the office?"

"Yes," Scully said, pulling on her shoes. "Be there soon." She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her bag, then looked down and realized she was still clutching her cardigan. She folded it in half and draped it over the back of her couch on her way out the door.

It stayed there, untouched, for over a month.

[numinousmysteries]

more a headcanon that got out of a hand than a fic. tw: 2020. that whole thing. [on Ao3] @today-in-fic

For years they feared a mass contagion of extraterrestrial origin spread by swarms of bees. Instead, the virus that grounds the world to a halt is an earthbound molecule transmitted invisibly through laughter, kisses, shared spaces, and spoken word.

A pall falls over the house. Banished from campus, William half-heartedly watches lectures on Zoom. Mulder starts the tiger show but turns it off in disgust before the first episode ends. 

Scully is the only moving part, chugging along in sharp contrast to their inertia. She’s long existed in the liminal state between the sick and the well, the living and the dying, but the sheer volume of devastation brought by this virus is wearing her down. Out of desperation, the hospital administration pulls her off her normal caseload and assigns her to the overcrowded ER. 

On a purely scientific level, the work—the once in a lifetime opportunity to chart a course of treatment for a novel virus in real-time—is thrilling. There are no textbooks, decision trees, or best practices; only instinct, trial and error. But this isn't just cells in a microscope—it's a protein expanding and exploding in human bodies. Bodies with children, parents, spouses, loved ones. Bodies that can no longer fit in the hospital morgue and need to be carried out to refrigerated trucks lining the streets outside. She's never felt like more of a failure.

She doesn’t want to talk about the work. She comes home still masked and then locks herself in the guest room in an attempt to protect them from whatever she’s been exposed to during the day. 

“Hey, Will,” Mulder whispers conspiratorially one April afternoon. “Did I ever show you how to pick a lock?”

But their son has all of her practicality and simply shakes his head in resignation. They compromise with a private salute to their personal healthcare hero, clanging pairs of All-Clad pans out the kitchen window to herald her arrival home. Even through her N95, they can tell it makes her smile. 

*****

William watches lectures and does his problem sets, but his heart isn't in it. Staring at the screen all day isn't as engaging as exploring physics in-person with his professors and classmates.

Mulder's got them in the habit of running laps around the property for exercise—or, as Scully says, to prevent bed sores and blood clots in their otherwise sedentary lives—and sometimes they'll do what William calls "prison workouts", push-up, planks, and bodyweight squats until their quads ache. They'll toss a ball in the yard or play one-on-one basketball on the rusted net in the driveway. 

Mulder knows their son is miserable, marooned in this house with his parents, so he's trying his best to keep the kid entertained. Secretly, he enjoys this little stolen time with his son. The kid should be out there, learning about the world and his place in it, but this could also be their last chance to spend every day together like this, and he knows better than to take it for granted. He just wishes Scully could be with them and not on the other side of a locked door.

They FaceTime with her and can hear her in-person voice preceding its echo on the phone by a few milliseconds. Will calls it mom from the future and mom from the past. They both wish she could be here in their present.

"Can we please come in?" Mulder begs quietly to the closed door one night, tracing the grooves of the wood with his fingertips. "We can all wear masks. I just need to see you." His voice cracks with need and desperation.

"I don't know," she says. "I'd never forgive myself if I got either of you sick."

"But you feel fine, right?"

"For now, sure," she concedes. "But I could be incubating the virus. Asymptomatic transmission is real and happening all over the world."

"What if we're outside, appropriately distanced, and wearing masks?"

He can hear her thinking, then sighing, from the other side of the door. "Fine. You two go outside first and sit on one end of the lawn. Then I'll come out in a few minutes and sit several feet away."

"Great!" He leaps to his feet to gather three lawn chairs and tell William the plan.

Muller and William set hers up closer to the house then measure out about six feet further out in the yard before placing two chairs for themselves.

They take their seats, put on their masks, and wait for her to emerge.

His heart breaks a little when he sees her. He watches her go to work and come home every day through the window but he hasn't noticed how thin she looks or gotten close enough to see the dark hollows under her eyes. He knows it's been rough for her. She’s tougher than most but this situation is unbearable. He's tempted to close those six feet between them and take her into his arms, coronavirus be damned.

"Move further back," she says, waving her hand off in the distance when she sees them.

He notices William is about to protest but he brings his hand to the kid's forearm and shakes his head. She's the boss in this situation. They're lucky enough to get to see her, what's a few more feet?

*****

The days drag on. Experts talk about flattening the curve. The curve does not flatten. Experts advise not buying masks, to save them for the healthcare workers who need them most. Experts say to wear cloth masks. Experts say cloth masks are not effective. The president advises drinking bleach. Bodies keep piling up. Scully keeps showing up for work and secluding herself at home. 

"Listen, why don't you quit or take some time off?" he asks her through the door. “We can afford it.” 

"I took an oath," she says solemnly and the conversation ends. He knows better than to fight against her sense of duty. He knows better than to argue she should put her own health first. The only cards he has to play would be himself or William, but she keeps isolating herself to keep them safe.

William itches to go beyond the property on his runs. The dirt road that leads away from the house is typically empty so Mulder doesn't mind if he does a few miles out and back.

"I’ll cross the street if someone is on the same side as me," William says. That's enough for Mulder.

"Should we make sourdough?" William asks one afternoon, briefly looking up from his phone.

Mulder doesn't know where this sudden culinary interest comes from but he's excited to do anything that gets William away from his screens. Especially something they can do together.

They consult with Scully who, of course, knows about starters and mothers, live cultures and pre-fermentation. From the other side of the door, they take notes.

"We'll cut your slices real thin and slide under the door," Mulder says.

The grocery store in town is doing curbside pick up so they order their ingredients online and then drive up to receive their bounty.

They mix the starter together first, watching as the liquid thickens and bubbles in a mason jar. It reminds Mulder of their old kitchen science experiments from William's childhood. Baking soda and vinegar volcanoes. Mentos in soda, although Scully didn't like the cleanup after that one. Just like he was as a kid, William is methodical and delighted by chemical reactions. 

The starter has to rest in the fridge for several hours so they take a break to research recipes. No one has ever made bread in this house, he thinks. Scully's a good cook, but she prioritizes nutrition and efficiency. She's not about to spend hours in the kitchen plodding through the steps of an elaborate recipe. Mulder is even less so. His culinary prowess has expanded from his bachelor days, when boiling water was an occasion, but he still sticks to the basics, evolving as William's tastes grew and matured.

Why had they never done this before?

"It smells good!" Scully shouts from her quarantine.

"At least we all still have our sense of smell," William jokes.

At night, Mulder and Scully sit with their backs to the door and try to inhale the familiar scent of each other. He hasn't touched or held her in weeks. It's the longest they've gone without physical contact since he was dead and buried. And the longest they've gone without sex since the first couple of months after the trauma of William's birth. He'd do anything just to hold her hand, rest his palm on the small of her back, bury his head in her hair. He knows this is harder for her, but it isn't easy for him either.

After William retreats to his room for the night, he knocks softly on her door. "Are you up?" he asks.

He hears her get out of bed and step over to the door.

"I'm up," she says, softly.

"What are you wearing?"

She gives him a hollow pity laugh. "I miss you."

"I'm right here.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, I know," he says. He knows in the deepest reaches of his being. "I miss you so much."

"Let's go somewhere when this is all over."

"Mmhmm," he agrees. "You and me on a beach. I'd say Will, too, but I'm pretty sure he's sick of us—or at least me."

"How's he doing?"

"He's holding up alright," Mulder says. "It's tough for him but I think he's putting on a brave face for my sake."

"He's a good kid."

"The best."

They're quiet for a minute. He strains to hear her breathing on the other side of the door and imagines her sitting there.

"Are you sure I can't come in?" he asks. "We can wear masks. Sit on opposite sides of the room."

"Mulder, no."

"I really want to see you."

*****

By May, it's warm enough for them to spend most of the evening outside, sitting or walking (at a safe distance) together for hours. Will retreats to his room to do homework or, they suspect, chat online with his friends, but Mulder and Scully like to stay out until after the sun sets, talking or just enjoying each other's company in the silence.

"You haven't gotten sick yet," he says, one night, initiating his latest plea to get her to open the door between them. "And I read case numbers are going down. Don't you think we can relax a little?"

"Trust me, I want to," she says with a sigh. "I miss both of you."

"You have no idea how much I miss you," he says, seriously.

"I think I have some idea," she says, the corner of her lips arching into a smile. 

"Do they know if this thing is sexually transmitted?" he asks. "We can wear masks. That could be kind of hot."

"If we're close enough to do that, I think we're close enough to infect each other," she responds quickly, making him realize she's also thought about it and that makes him smile in turn. 

They're quiet for a while, walking and feeling the air cool down as night settles over them. These chaste days feel like the early years of their partnership. He isn't sure what's worse—never having touched her or not being able to know once he knows how sweet it can be to be. Actually, he's sure the latter is worse. Now he knows what she feels like underneath him, what her skin tastes like, the sound of her little moans. They've had phone sex, quietly, from different ends of the house, after she let him leave her little pink silicone vibrator outside the door one night.

"I wish it were you," she sighed over the phone the first night.

"It can be," he said. "Just let me in."

"You know I can't."

Back on their walk, his dick pulses just thinking about the way she sounded on the phone that night. Husky, breathy, like a storm building and breaking overhead. The first time they were together, the force of her orgasm blew him away. He knew she wasn't putting on a show for him by how embarrassed she seemed afterward. He kissed her gently on her neck, her breasts, her collarbone as she came down, her breathing slowed, and let her know he'd never seen anything sexier in his entire life. Scully screamed when she came. She twisted her tiny features up in a gasp that seemed to straddle the line of pain and pleasure. Her whole body came along for the ride, spasming and pulsing, and he knew he'd spend the rest of his life trying to see that again and again. Fortunately, there were lots more times after that. As William got older, they'd learned to be quieter, which only made it more thrilling when he left for college and she realized she could come with abandon again. Of course, COVID brought him back, and sent her into the guest room, so they hadn't had a chance to be loud in months.

"Call me later," she says. It's a demand, not a request.

"You know I will," he replies. "I'm torn. I want to stay out here and be with you, but I also can't wait to go to bed and talk to you."

"Well, I was hoping we'd do more than talk."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, I know," she says. "I'm also looking forward to that."

Crickets fill the silence of the balmy spring evening. It's nice, just being with her like this. At this point, he'll take whatever he can get.

"I spoke to Frohike today," he tells her.

"Please don't tell me he's bought into these ridiculous conspiracies about the virus," she rolls her eyes over her mask.

"He has some interesting ideas," Mulder smiles. "But you know he's mostly harmless."

*****

She's among the first at the hospital to get her first vaccine dose that winter. William and Mulder celebrate from their side of the door with whiskey shots of their own.

"I still need the second dose in a couple of weeks, and then it takes two weeks after that to be effective," she says.

"But we're on the right track," Mulder calls out.

"The end is in sight!" William shouts.

“To our hero,” Mulder toasts, clinking his shot glass against the door. He never thought he’d be so intimately familiar with the texture of their guest room door. 

"Where should we go on our vacation?" Mulder asks. “You know, when this is all really over.” 

"I'm going back to school," William says.

"Good!" Scully calls from her side of the door. They both know how much he's missed his friends and his classes. In a few weeks they’ll pack him up with masks and home tests and warnings to avoid superspreader events. It’ll be a mostly virtual semester, but still good for him to get out of the house.

"I guess that leaves me and you, woman," Mulder says to the door. "Where am I whisking you away to?"

"Somewhere warm," she says longingly. "On the ocean."

"That can be arranged," he says. He's dreaming of long afternoons in the sun—well, as much actual sun as Scully will allow—holding on to her as they wade out into the ocean. Full days where they don't leave their hotel room bed. They've earned it. She certainly has.

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 11: Almost Heaven

Washington, D.C. Scully’s apartment Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 9:05 pm

Scully raised her arm and checked her watch for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last hour. With a sigh, she got up from the couch and turned the TV off. It was no use anyway. She’d tried reading, she’d tried cleaning, and she’d even gone through her closet, finally putting all the summer clothes in a suitcase and storing them in her basement. The movie she hadn’t been paying any attention to was just the last straw. Nothing made her stop thinking about calling Mulder.

Just call him, she thought, exasperated with herself. You dropped a bomb on him in the car earlier. You might as well call him now instead of waiting for your usual bedtime conversation.

She’d tried all day to not succumb to the temptation to pick up the phone. If she wanted to keep being in Mulder’s life, things needed to change. She’d drive herself crazy if she kept up being caught in the middle between her hopes and reality. He was her best friend, the person she wanted to find truths with and uncover lies. But she had to learn how to accept that what she felt wasn’t the way he thought about her. He needed her in his life as his touchstone—and she wanted him as her romantic partner. And if she didn’t want to end up getting hurt, she needed to get back to treating him like a friend and not like a potential lover.

The thought that they would never be what she had hoped for only a few days ago, pierced her heart, and she swallowed. I’m not a lovesick teenager. I’m going to be alright, she assured herself. They’d been friends for years, and she had loved their relationship. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be just as happy if things went back to the way they had been.

She checked her watch again and shook her head at herself. This was getting ridiculous, she was torturing herself for no reason.

With determent steps, Scully walked towards her phone and carried the portable to her living room window, looking outside. The parked cars lining the street were illuminated by the streetlamps, the wet roofs from the earlier November rain reflecting the light like sparkling stars.

For a second, she thought one of the cars looked like Mulder’s and squinted her eyes, trying to check if she could find her partner. You’re losing your mind, Dana, she thought. Stop seeing him everywhere and just call him already. You’re starting to see ghosts!

With a deep sigh, she pressed speed dial 1 and listened to the phone connect. Mulder picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice tense. She had been right, Mulder had probably been agonizing all afternoon about their conversation, and she closed her eyes against the sudden realization that she was the cause of his anguish. I should’ve called him right away, she thought guiltily.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she replied quietly, suddenly as anxious as Mulder, even though she didn’t know why.

“Hey, Scully, everything ok?” he asked immediately, and she kept her tone light.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I know this is not our usual time to call. I hope I’m not interrupting whatever you’re doing?”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting. I was just thinking about the case. You were right. The gunmen couldn’t find anything more on the sighting. It turns out Mr. Murphy is kind of known for having seen—,” he trailed off. “Phenomena.” She could hear the defeat in his voice and wished he was sitting in front of her now so she could touch him. With a shake of her head, she ruthlessly squashed that thought. This was exactly what had gotten her into trouble this weekend. He was her friend. Friends didn’t want to stroke each other’s hair, hug and hold each other, kiss, and touch each other’s bodies. With an internal sigh, she admitted to herself that she had still a long way to go before she was truly going to be in a place where she would be ok with just being Mulder’s friend.

She realized she’d been quiet for a while and focused back on Mulder’s breathing coming through the line.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said seriously. Mulder grunted in acknowledgment, both knowing that there wasn’t much to say about the case anymore.

“So, what have you been up to? Did you have a good rest of the day?” he asked tightly, fishing for any information he could about what she was going to do. She heard a crack through the line and realized that he was eating sunflower seeds.

“Not much, did some chores, did a bit of reading. Pretty uneventful.”

“Did the medical journals have any new interesting mutants?” he joked, and she felt warmth spread through her, happy that he knew her this well.

“Nothing that would be considered an X-File, I’m afraid,” she joked back, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. It was going to be alright, she decided.

The crack of another sunflower seed being snapped open came through the line, and she smiled.

“I made a decision, Mulder,” she said calmly, reminding herself why she had called. “I’m not going to take the job offer.”

Mulder didn’t reply, and she felt the urge to fill the silence with an explanation. “I thought about it and tried to imagine what it would be like. And I realized that I couldn't even imagine it.”

She gripped the phone tighter, feeling her sweaty hand slip on the receiver, uncomfortable to be this open about her feelings. “And I thought about everything we’ve experienced, Mulder. All the things I still want to find, the questions I want answers to.” She took a deep breath and soldiered on. “We’ve got things to get done, Mulder. And I don’t want to do it without you either—not even temporarily,” she finished quietly.

There was a long pause, and finally, she could hear Mulder let out a long breath. “I’m glad, Scully,” he said earnestly, and Scully closed her eyes.

“Well, I’ll let you go then, Mulder,” she breathed, the relief making her nearly dizzy. She waited a moment for his reply, but when it didn’t come, she added a soft ’Good night’ and hung up the phone.

Scully placed the receiver back in its place on the side table and made her way into her bathroom, preparing to get ready for bed. She was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the last few days.

Scully was just brushing her teeth and pulling the jar with her nighttime cream from her cabinet, a headband holding her hair back when a soft knock sounded on her front door, and she turned in surprise.

She hardly got unexpected visitors. At least not the ones that knocked, she thought wryly. The only one who ever dropped by this late was—Mulder. Of course. But how could that be? She’d been on the phone with him only ten minutes ago. There was no way he could’ve driven over here in that short amount of time.

She hurried over to the door, and after a brief check through her door viewer, she pulled it open. “Mulder?”

Mulder pushed past her without looking at her, and she closed the door behind him, turning around in surprise. “How did you get here so fast? Did something happen?”

“I was sitting in my car when you called, trying to get up the nerve to come up here,” he explained, starting to pace her living room. She leaned back against the doorjamb, watching him, her brow furrowed.

He suddenly stopped and turned to her, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Why, Scully?” he asked. “I don’t understand. Why did you even have to make a choice?” He pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. “I just don’t get it. You’ve been the one who’s told me that we shouldn’t give up. That we would get the X-Files back if we played our cards right. And Skinner makes one job offer, and you’re doubting everything?” He looked at her with wide, questioning eyes, and she turned her own eyes to the floor.

How could she explain to him that it wasn’t just about that? She did believe they’d get the X-Files back, but she had felt like that was no longer enough. Not anymore. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling for the right words. How could she explain that she had tricked herself into believing she could have it all this weekend—that she had wanted what Dana dreamed of when she was sitting alone on her sofa on lonely Saturday nights? But that was completely on her. How could he have known? “I don’t know, Mulder. I guess—I guess I just felt—like I wanted something else.”

Mulder watched her wordlessly for a moment. “I thought I had made it clear. Back in my hallway a few months ago,” he began, and her eyes flew up to his. “Not just your importance to the X-Files—but also to me. Personally.” His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, and she could see his anguish. “I thought you felt it too.”

Scully’s eyes searched his face for what he was talking about. Of course, she remembered the hallway and everything that nearly happened there. How could she forget? “Felt what too?”

“Oh, come on, Scully. If I remember correctly, you wanted that kiss just as much as I did. Because if you didn’t, let me tell you, you were sure sending mixed signals!” He put his hands on his hips, his body language a clear challenge.

“Yes, Mulder. Yes, I wanted to kiss you. But what does that have to do with this? Why are you here?”

“I just want to understand! How can you even think about walking away from this, from us after everything—after what I told you—” His voice trailed off, and for a moment Scully could see the young boy he must’ve been. His eyes were huge and sad, and despite his confrontational words, she could still hear the vulnerability in his voice.

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his chest, looking up at him. “I wanted that kiss very much, Mulder. But I just don’t understand you sometimes.”

He leaned closer, almost as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t miss a word of what she was saying, and that gave her the courage to go on. “Why did you invite me to come along to West Virginia this weekend?”

“Because the gunmen had found Mr. Murphy’s message on an internet site and his memories of the Mothman seemed accurate,” he explained slowly, clearly still not getting where she was going with this.

Scully nodded, her thoughts confirmed. He’d never intended anything personal to happen during the weekend.

Mulder was still watching her, his eyes darting between hers. But he kept silent, so she tried a different route to make him understand. “Mulder, why did you brush me off last night, when I came over to your motel room?” She searched his face, trying to see the truth in his reaction. But Mulder looked utterly confused.

“Brush you off? What do you mean?”

“When I came over to your room, Mulder, when I asked you if you wanted to take a break, spend time together, go out to dinner, maybe go to the movies?” She realized her voice had started to get an edge to it and took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was not Mulder’s fault, she reminded herself. Just because she had thought he’d finally made a move to turn their almost kiss into a getaway weekend with hopefully a real kiss or two, didn’t mean that’s what had been on his mind.

Mulder’s eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Because I thought we could maybe spend some time together, looking for that Mothman. Reconnect. Remember how much fun we had when we were investigating these cases? How you’d call me crazy—and then go on a boat with me anyway to find Big Blue?” he smiled sadly. “I wanted to see you smile, and have some fun for a change, instead of all the shit details we’re stuck with every day now.” He placed his palm against the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, almost tenderly. “Remember when we were in that cemetery in Bellefleur, Oregon? Our first case? The way you were shaking from the cold and the rain, your lips were blue. And yet you were so excited,” he smiled affectionately at her. “And your laugh. Despite it all, you laughed like you were the happiest person on the planet.” Mulder shook his head and took a deep breath. “Something changed for me that day, Scully. I knew I never wanted to ever do this alone again—and I wanted to have that this weekend. I didn’t want it to end, keep investigating until we were laughing about this case like we did back then.”

He let his arm drop and took a step back. “I guess that’s why I asked you if you wanted to come along. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you. Make you smile, do something exciting together, and maybe even show you a Mothman.”

Scully snorted, and Mulder laughed, reaching over and taking her hand in his. “That’s what I don’t get. You seemed to look forward to the weekend as much as I did. But then something changed. And it seems to be about—,” he paused, looking at her uncertainly, “not being in the mood for pizza?”

Scully just shook her head, squeezed his hand, and pulled him over to her sofa. They sat down together, never letting go of each other’s hands. “It’s not about pizza, Mulder. I guess we didn’t have such different ideas about the weekend after all. I wanted to spend time with you as well. And that Mothman did sound interesting—at least until it started to rain, and I was freezing—in the wrong clothes,” she explained, and Mulder looked chagrined.

“I should’ve told you that you would need hiking gear, shouldn’t I have?” He grimaced, and Scully nodded but didn’t reply. That wasn’t the point she wanted to make, though. “Why didn’t you want me to touch you?” she asked quietly, and Mulder’s brows drew in confusion.

“Didn’t want you—. Scully, what are you talking about?” He grabbed her other hand as well and pulled her closer, their faces only inches apart. “I don’t understand. And I really, really want to. When did I say I did not want you to touch me?”

“When I wanted to see if you’d gotten hurt. You moved away from me so fast, you’d think I’d burned you.” She bent her head down, ashamed of her neediness. She felt like a child, getting rejected over wanting a hug.

Mulder let go of her hand and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face back to his. “Scully look at me.” When her eyes met his, she could feel them fill with tears, and she swallowed, trying not to let them spill over. This whole emotional roller coaster of a weekend was catching up with her at that moment. “There is never any time when I would not want you to touch me. Trust me on that,” Mulder said earnestly. “The reason I moved away was because I did hit my head pretty hard in the forest, and I didn’t want you to make me go to a hospital to get checked for a concussion.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Scully stared at him in disbelief. “Mulder—,” she started, but he put his finger against her lips to silence her and then bent his head down. “Scully, would you mind checking my head? I think I hit it pretty hard yesterday,” he said quietly, but his voice trembled slightly.

Scully stared at him until a slow smile broke out over her face. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kneeled next to him on the sofa, tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the bump. She gave the back of his neck a little scratch while she was at it, and he raised his face to her, only inches away. Scully let her hands glide to his face, cradling it between her palms. “Your head seems to be fine, Mulder. Although—,” she whispered, but before she could finish whatever she had meant to say, he leaned in and softly covered her lips with his.

With a moan, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Mulder didn’t waste any time and lifted her off the couch and into his lap. She felt her heart thunder in her ears and straddled his legs, gripping his hair with both of her hands. He moaned into her mouth and pressed her hips closer to his, jerking against her. This was what she had been hoping for all weekend. It’s still the weekend, her mind filled in helpfully, and she ruthlessly squashed the thought down, far too busy trying to get another moan like the one before out of Mulder.

She felt his hand sneaking under her sweater, stroking up her back, and a wave of heat coursed through him. Scully pulled back slightly, trying to catch her breath while Mulder reached out to pull her in for another kiss, but she put her hand against his chest, softly stopping him from moving in again.

“That’s why, Mulder. That’s what I thought I could never have.” She gave him a soft kiss on his upper lip and followed it with a nibble on his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if I could keep going day after day, knowing that you didn’t feel for me what I feel for you.”

Mulder leaned his forehead against Scully’s. “You’ll never have to wonder about that again, Scully. Not as long as I’m alive.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she could feel his smile against her lips. Before he could deepen the kiss again, she got off of his lap and held out her hand to him. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, Mulder? I feel like we’ve done enough talking.”

Mulder didn’t need to be told twice.

[is-on-its-way]

Breathe Deep

Episode:  s02e08 One Breath

Part 1, Part 2

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

Maggies POV The answer, watching him now, was just so simple. He was in love with Dana. Fiercely and profoundly. She felt foolish for ever thinking it could be anything else.

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

Maggies heart was breaking and filling with a blood chilling profound fondness at the same time. Her heart broke for this man as he screamed and wailed a bravado that did nothing to mask the sheer terror she knew he was feeling in this moment. She knew because she was feeling the same way. He was acting out the turmoil she felt inside. Despite this she knew she couldn’t quite grasp the depth of his care for her daughter, for his obvious love for her.  

She knew love when she saw it and this was love. She had had her suspicions all throughout Dana’s disappearance. Perhaps even before then, from the little smile that crept across her daughters face whenever she spoke of him. She’d put his self flagellation down to his guilt over losing her. The tortured look in his eyes whenever she showed up to his apartment with a tray of lasagna or soup looking for more details or updates, but mostly a motherly instinct to have him fed. He needed to be alive to find her after all, and she knew he wasn’t feeding himself properly. 

The answer, watching him now, was just so simple. He was in love with her. Fiercely and profoundly. She felt foolish for ever thinking it could be anything else. 

She squeezed Dana’s hand and walked around the curtain into the hallway.

“Stop!” She shouted in a voice remembered from when her children were small, and they did. It always felt like magic when that happened, her children had rarely done so. She walked up to the security guard and Fox. 

“Let go of him, he’ll behave, won’t you Fox?” She looked at him hoping he would calm enough to work with her. “For Dana?” she added, when he still glowered.

“I…” he started angrily and then tossed his arms forward so his jacket was thrown back on his shoulders, collar still askew, from where the security guard had pulled him, discombobulated it.

Maggie reached up and fixed the collar.

“This is my daughters partner.” She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t correct or explain further. “He’s distraught. Can’t you see that?” She stared down the security guard, hoping he was feeling ashamed,

“He can’t behave like this ma’am.”

That’s fine, he just needs to talk to the doctor so he can get the information he needs. He’s with the FBI.”

She waited as both men remained stuck in their poses and egos. 

“Will you let him go? Please?” She asked softly.

The security guard threw his hands up and stepped back. 

“I’m gonna be right over there, you hear me?” He said to Mulder. 

“Yes Sir” mulder saluted at him insolently and turned to Maggie. 

“Lets find a doctor.” She said and he nodded following her to the nurses reception desk.

Maggie asked for the doctor to be called back. He had disappeared for whatever reason and the nurse said she would call them when he was available. 

“Come on, Fox lets sit for now.”

She walked towards the bed where Scully lay and felt him tense next to her and stop.

“I can’t” he whispered as doubled over breathing ragged. 

It was like looking through a terrible looking glass at her own pain. 

“Come here” she said placing a hand on his back and guiding him left to a row of seats against the wall. He let her guide him and when they sat and she looked up at his face she could see tears where running down his cheeks and his fine brow was crinkled. He was on the edge of breaking down completely, she felt it emanating from him in waves, breath shallow and quick.

“Fox?” She said taking his hand. “You need to breathe okay?” He was shaking his head looking up at the ceiling lights.

“Breathe in, i’ll count.”

And she counted slowly to five “and exhale.” She counted again, he had closed his eyes but was listening to her and breathing with her. She patted his hand. “That’s good.”

She kept increasing the count until it got up to ten and then he started doing it automatically. His body relaxing back into the wall. 

“She’s here with us.” She was soothing him as well as herself. “Thats all that matters right now, we got her back. Whatever happens now…” her voice broke “Whatever happens, she’ll be with us. No one can take that away.”

Mulder looked at her, tears trembling in his eyes, more sorrow than she’d ever seen in them before. She wasn’t sure he had taken in what she’d said, he had a hardened look on his face that scared her a little. 

“Do you want to see her? You can hold her hand.” 

“No” he said to forcefully. “No” he repeated softly. “I cant. I have to know what happened and then I have to find the people responsible. I can’t…” he swallowed and then took a deep steadying breath. 

“You’ll stay with her? No matter what? Make sure she doesn’t… Make sure nobody touches her?” 

“Yes and Missy will be here soon and Charlie’s coming when he gets off work.”

He nodded and then said “I’ll put in a call to skinner get some FBI protection to stand by her room.”

He stood and rubbed his face.

“Will you come get me if the doctor comes?”

“Yes, of course.”

And he strode off on his long legs fishing for the cell phone in his jacket pocket. 

@today-in-fic 🙏

[thursdayinspace]

I was going to do a complete season 1 review for the rewatch, but instead I did a close reading of this scene from 1x24 The Erlenmeyer Flask, because I can’t get it out of my head, I love it so much.

Scully: Wait a second. Mulder? I just want to say that I was wrong. Mulder: It's all right, don't worry about it. Scully: No, um, if you'd had listened to me, we wouldn't be here right now. I should know by now to trust your instincts. Mulder: Why? Nobody else does. Scully: You know, I've always held science as sacred. I've always put my trust in the accepted facts. And what I saw last night . . . for the first time in my life, I don't know what to believe. Mulder: Well, whatever it is you do believe, Scully, when you walk into that room? Nothing sacred will hold.

This is a big moment for various reasons. It’s a defining moment for their partnership. This is almost a summary of the season.

Possibly the biggest thing for their partnership is her admitting she was wrong and Mulder’s reaction to it. We don’t know this, but from all the context we have of his life at this point, it’s safe to assume that Mulder doesn’t get apologies very often. “I just want to say that I was wrong.” It’s important to her to let him know that. And that alone says something about the way she sees him. He’s generally seen as crazy and paranoid. But not by her. More than that, she sees him as a person with feelings that can be hurt, and she wants to make sure he knows that wasn’t her intention. “I should know by now to trust your instincts,” that is a huge thing to say and has to be something that needs a minute to sink in for him. She trusts him. Which is something he knows already to an extent, but to hear it said that openly after how vehemently they disagreed on this is a different thing.

In that context it’s worth looking at their exchange after visiting Doctor Berube. She tells him: “I mean, this has reached the point of absurdity, Mulder. We're out here on half a hunch off of a cryptic phone call chasing down a clue that's based on nothing but speculation.” She voices her mistrust of Deep Throat and Mulder asks her “You think he does it because he gets off on it?” To which she replies: “No. I think he does it because you do.” And then she walks off, effectively ending that argument, she doesn’t have anything more to say. She’s made her point. And to come back from that the way they do in this scene, that is a real testament to how much respect they have for each other. Yeah, he was right. And yeah, he gets that she has to ask the uncomfortable questions.

Just the fact alone that she thinks he deserves an apology is a lot; she doubted him and she’s sorry for that because she knows he’s not crazy. They’re partners and they work as partners. She’s not there with him right now because he asked her. She’s there because she genuinely wants to be and genuinely believes that his explanations of the facts hold value and that she takes them seriously. And nobody ever takes him seriously. He points that out to her right away.

In fact, his whole interaction with her in this scene shows a vulnerability that needs the context of the rest of the season to be fully understood. He could say all of these things to anybody else, word for word, and it would simply be the equivalent of a shrug and a “fine, let’s move on.” But with everything they have been through and with the way we’ve seen them opening up to each other, this means something very different.“It's alright, don't worry about it.” I mean. Shit. The thing is, it probably is alright on the surface. It is a way to shrug it off. Not being taken seriously has to hurt, but he’s used to it, so really, she shouldn’t worry about it, she’s there now and that’s all that matters. But it’s not all that matters to her.

His reaction to her telling him that she should know to trust his instincts? “Why? Nobody else does.” The way he says this, it doesn’t sound like he’s testing her. It sounds a little bitter, but that bitterness is not directed at her. After years of being at best ignored, more often ridiculed, of course he doesn’t have a more positive reaction to something like this at hand. But I don’t think there can be any doubt that it means something to him. She smiles after he says this, and that also says something: she doesn’t count herself among the people who dismiss him and she gets that he’s not dismissing her. She sees the self-deprecating humor in his response. She also hears the “thank you for not being one of them” in his response. His face stays sincere. He isn’t challenging her, but he needs to know why she’s sticking around. It’s such a loaded response. You can hear a lot of things in it if you want, which makes it such a well-written exchange: he is a little confused as to why she’s sticking around, he’s thanking her for being there, he’s bitter about and/or used to nobody believing him, I mean, hell, it isn’t even impossible to find a flirty note in there. In any case, he’s downplaying her apology not because he doesn’t appreciate it, but because he didn’t see it coming since most likely nobody has ever bothered or seen the need before. At the same time, he’s telling her he trusts her too.

Scully has had her beliefs challenged, and she shows right here and right now how much of a scientist she really is. She is ready to admit that one theory hasn’t worked, so she is prepared to examine a different one that looks more promising. This is one of her core traits: she never clings to her theories out of some sense of vanity. She doesn’t have to be right. She just wants to understand, and she needs facts to do so. Poking holes in things is part of science, to see how well it holds up. It’s about getting as close to the truth as they can. And with the evidence to support Mulder’s arguments, she can be convinced to have a closer look at his theory. She says: “I've always held science as sacred. I've always put my trust in the accepted facts.” And that’s what is being challenged here. This is seriously stretching the boundaries of what she accepted to be fact. But she doesn’t stubbornly cling to what she believes. It’s a process, and she respects that as much as he does. Their arguing is never just for the sake of it.

Scully says: “For the first time in my life, I don't know what to believe.” How big is that? But this is something that reiterates and reinforces something we have seen throughout the season again and again: they trust each other. She isn’t afraid to admit her insecurity to him. They’re faced with something she can’t wrap her head around, when knowing things is kind of her job? She makes herself very vulnerable with this statement. His response picks up on that and tells her she’s right to question everything: “Well, whatever it is you do believe, Scully, when you walk into that room? Nothing sacred will hold.” He’s telling her it’s okay, it is all a bit hard to believe. He’s well aware of that. This is not trying to convince somebody to try mayo instead of ketchup with their fries. This is about the fundamentals of her worldview. He does not expect her to be convinced. He is sure she will be impressed. But he accepts her doubt, he always does. “Whatever it is you do believe.” No pressure, but here’s a cool thing that will definitely give you some answers. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen, but that’s a different story.

This little conversation between them is such a pivotal moment. It truly shows who they have become individually and as partners. It wraps up the season very nicely and at the same time cements the foundation of their partnership for season two. Because they can have a conversation like this one and understand what the other one is saying, their pining after each other at the beginning of the next season makes sense. They’ve become very important to each other, they show each other their vulnerable sides, they take care of each other. This little conversation sums that up perfectly.

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 16: The Space Between Words

Prompt: "No, I'm not okay"

A moment in "Per Manum" after Scully breaks the bad news to Mulder. Rating: T, wc: 913

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Never give up on a miracle.” His voice sounds loud to his ears, and he hopes – no, prays – that she hears them, understands him. Whatever she wants to do next, whatever she wants to try, he’s by her side. He’s not giving up on this, or her. On them.

They cling to each other like castaways after a shipwreck. Mulder bites back his own tears, wanting to give Scully the chance to grieve. This was her dream long before it became his, too. He holds her as tightly as she lets him, wishing he could take the pain away from her.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into her hair, needing to say the words as much as she needs to hear them. She squeezes his neck, her face pressed against his chest. She takes a deep breath, as if taking him in, and loosens her grip on him. He searches her face, playing it by ear. She sniffles a few times, avoiding his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.” She steps away from him, using her thumbs to wipe away her tears. “It was- well.” Her words are heavy with pain, and he doesn’t just hear it—he feels it. Feels the weight of her disappointment. The anger, too. This has been stolen from her.

“You don’t have to stay,” Scully goes on, and as hurtful as her words are, he chooses to ignore them. He stands there like a prop, watching her pace. There’s nothing she can do. There’s nothing to plan, to execute. There’s just nothing.

When she lost Emily, he watched her channel her emotions into signing forms, arranging the funeral, and everything that came after. After losing her father, he couldn’t stop her from throwing herself into work. He tried, only to realize that all he could do, was extend a hand, hoping that she’d reach for him. All he can do tonight, is do the same. He’ll stay here, waiting. He’ll be here for her when she’s ready.

“Mulder, I’m fine,” she says, the words a needle prick on his skin. He’s heard it before, countless times. He’s come to loathe the word. She mumbled it when she lay dying. Screamed it when he couldn’t stop staring at her, blood dripping from her nose.

“Thank you for waiting, I appreciate it.” Her voice is cool and smooth as steel. A shield she’s put up in front of herself. Like he’s not her friend or her partner. Like he’s not the man she asked to be the other half of the equation. He’s had a part in all of this, too. A piece of his heart is woven into her loss, into her pain.

“I think I’ll just go to bed.” She nods at him as though he were a stranger. “I’m just-” She doesn’t finish the sentence, leaving it hanging just like she leaves him standing there. His eyes follow her to her bedroom and his legs twitch, prepared to follow her. The bedroom door clicks shut behind her and the silence that follows tears the air from his lungs. He bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood. He no longer tries to stop the tears from falling.

*

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when his cell phone lights up, flashing Scully’s name. His head throbbing, he reaches for it and presses the phone to his ear.

“Hi,” he says softly, his tone full of tears and dreamless slumber.

“Hi.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, trying to get comfortable. He may be used to sleeping on a couch, but he’s not used to sleeping on one that’s designed for someone much shorter. His muscles protest as he sits up.

“No,” is all she replies. She’s quiet for so long that he wonders if she’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time she falls asleep on him. How often has he told her stories on the phone late at night, only to notice that her reactions become fewer and fewer until all he could hear was her even breathing or even a soft snore.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” he asks.

“No.”

“I have good stories,” he teases, hoping to elicit the smallest of giggles, a reprieve. There’s only silence on the other end. The pain sits too deep, is still too raw.

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” he says quickly, trying to keep her on the line. She could hang up any second, and he’d still be here, waiting. “Scully, I know that you- but I need to know, to really know… are you okay?” The silence pressed down like a weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. The second stretches like a piece of old gum.

“No,” she admits, her voice trembling. “I’m not okay.” He gets up from the couch and tiptoes around the couch, hoping for a sign. “Can you- come back?” And there it is. He’s at her bedroom door in an instant, knocking softly. She opens it, her face tear-streaked and her eyes puffy.

“You didn’t leave?” Every word is soaked in tears.

“I didn’t leave.”

“Can you…” but her voice breaks before she can finish and he understands. He opens his arms wide and waits for her to step in. Once he has her, he starts rocking her gently.

“Thank you for letting me in,” he murmurs into her hair.

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

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

‘Twas the night before Christmas on Larkspur Lane;

Ev’ry corner held loneliness, sadness and pain.

The house reeked of sorrow beyond all compare.

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

For many a moon we stayed dormant and still,

Awaiting some guests to our house on the hill,

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

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

But as the clock ticked further into the eve,

We worried that there might be none to receive;

Maurice in his topcoat and I, pale and gaunt, 

Lamented a Christmas with no one to haunt. 

When, what to our wondering eyes should appear 

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

They searched through the mansion, as their flashlights beamed

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

Our grayed, ghoulish faces grew flush with delight

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

Foolishly thinking themselves to be brave,

They were perfect, exactly the targets we craved!

The one with red hair, spouting theories a-flurry

Was doing her best to get out in a hurry,

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

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

In eighty long years, I’d never quite seen

Two hearts locked at impasse like these two had been;

Denying their feelings, year after year

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

At eleven o'clock, the grandfather did chime,

Giving we two just an hour of time

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

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

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

As we worked to uncover their secrets and shame.

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

And these two were a challenge with so little time.

Maurice began prodding him– Mulder, his name —

To help find the answers he couldn’t explain;

Run down his issues, a glum inventory

(All of them paramasturbatory)

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

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

Her unconscious yearning, though present, was faint

For her partner, displaying impressive restraint.

I had to give credit, for weakness she lacked;

Resisting that man was a heroic act!

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

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

We considered retreating back up to our beds

While the agents ran into brick walls in their heads.

But something about them had told us instead

These two star-crossed lovers were better off dead.

(You might fairly ask why a couple of ghosts

Would decide to become such abom’nable hosts,

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

Remember: they trespassed, thus earning our spite.)

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

And eventually they’d watch the other one bleed.

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

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

Getting him to believe was a simple first leap,

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

‘Twas easy as shooting two fish in a barrel

Or singing a well-trodden old Yuletide carol.

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

Covered in blood, all trust broken, for sure.

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

How amazing a true partnership could be!

But then, in a twinkling, we heard Mulder speak

In a voice that grew strong after starting out weak:

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

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

Grabbing her hand, they took off like the lark,

Sprinting away, lost to us in the dark.

Maurice was upset, and I, Lyda, distraught;

Our scheme to turn foursome had all been for naught.

But the spirit of Christmas, alas, was not lost

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

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

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

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

@admiralty-xfd

[actual-changeling]

This post by the lovely @thursdayinspace violently hit me over the head with a baseball bat, so here we are. Dropping this mid-Pusher ficlet on your porch like a cat presenting a dead mouse. Technically this is canon-compliant if you squint a little.

I also wrote a longer post-episode fic a little while back, which you can find right here.

50% angst, 50% hurt/comfort, 100% yearning, the usual. Unofficial title for this one is "terrified with you".

———

Scully can't remember the last time she was this afraid.

No, not afraid—terrified.

Absolutely and utterly terrified for Mulder's life. She watches as the other agent (a name, he has a name) fits the bullet-proof vest around his chest, a thin wire running underneath it and connecting to what looks quite similar to a headset; one is waiting for her next to the screens.

If it were any other case, the sight of the defensive gear would calm her, maybe even offer an anchor to hold onto, but not this time. Not with Modell. Theoretically, wearing only a vest is often enough because, unless they're dealing with someone who knows how to shoot, the chances of the suspect hitting the body at all, let alone a small, moving part such as the head, are minuscule.

Modell is in no way experienced with a gun, but he doesn't have to be.

Mulder knows how to aim to kill, and nine times out of ten, he will hit what he is aiming at. He can use him, abuse him, force him to shoot whomever he pleases before commanding him to kill himself, and all she will be able to do is sit and watch.

The agent (she tries and fails to recall his name) steps away to respond to an incoming radio call, leaving Mulder half-stuck in the vest and the two of them in silence.

She shifts in her chair and turns her head until cold metal is digging into her cheek, already hearing her own voice list injury after injury, his body laying lifelessly in front of her.

Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the head, self- (she can hear her own breath, too shallow, painful in her lungs) self-inflicted.

Self-inflicted. Suicides. Every single one of them died by their own hand. She really likes his hands.

"Scully."

Mulder's voice is soft, dipping into a tone he rarely uses and only ever with her, and she feels more than she sees him stepping closer. He raises his hand, gently grabbing her jaw and nudging it towards himself. Scully knows if she were to flinch away, he'd let her and not try again, but his fingertips are warm against her skin, a warmth she finds in his eyes, too.

Concern rolls off him in waves, and she presses his palm to her cheek, covering his hand with her own.

"Let me go in with you," she tries, knowing he will fight her on this harder than usual. It's a futile attempt, yet she still has to say it—for her own peace of mind and the small chance that he'll say yes.

"No, Scully," Mulder responds, an edge to his words, "one person putting themselves in danger is enough."

Separating never does them any good, but they keep doing it over and over, searching for the definition of insanity in the distance between their bodies.

"Why does it have to be you?"

It's a question she already knows the answer to, and his thumb brushes along her cheekbones as he shakes his head. A calming gesture, a way of offering comfort without addressing whatever it is that's spinning its net around them.

"You know why. I'll be fine, probably not even gonna have a scratch on me."

Scully hums quietly, evading their conversation in favour of discreetly tugging him closer; not that agent what's-his-name is paying them any attention. She blinks up at him, unsuccessfully suppressing the urge to study his features as if it's the last time she will see them flushed with hot, red blood (she hates that she finds it sticking to her hands in more than just her nightmares).

The curve of his lips and nose, the familiar line of his jaw, the affectionate glint in his eyes. So much left unsaid and yet visible to anyone who looks at him, at them, to the point where Modell could spot it from far away. She tightens her grip on his wrist without really meaning to, but Mulder only smiles.

"I will be fine, Scully." They both know he cannot make any promises, but maybe they can lie to themselves for a little while longer.

The radio crackles, popping their haphazardly created bubble, and she hesitantly lets him go. Mulder runs his thumb down her cheek, lingering on the corner of her mouth before stepping back, and the agent whose name she doesn't care about picks up where he left off.

"You better be," she mumbles, suddenly shivering in the cold of his absence. I need you alive.