#Scully journeys to find herself

[randomfoggytiger]

The idea that Mulder and Padgett are two sides of the coin is incredibly interesting. Both sides present some sort of danger for Scully and they both represent aspects of herself that she is drawn to. We know that Scully can be impetuous and walk the line of personal danger (Padgett), but her true self is the more controlled chaos of the Mulder side.

This reminds me of 3 XFiles symbols that are placed in Scully's hands and what they can represent: the milagro, the Apollo key chain, and the warped coin from Dreamland. They are all circular, so it's hard to find the beginning and the end because they are eternal but come to her at different junctures in her life. She has to put meaning and search for the significance in the Keychain, but the Milagro is more overt in that the heart's image is THERE. Her heart had been sliced and diced in various ways throughout the seasons. Her heart is conflicted with the meaning and need of Mulder's love/attention/partnership, her need to know her dad's love pangs her heart, her heart is broken when her sister dies, she longs for her heart to be held true by someone etc. The warped coin in Dreamland represents where she was in her life, especially in a partnership, that was muddled, unclear, and a bit undefineable.

Like the symbols, Scully is somewhat cast aside by the writers or maybe I should say the storyline. "Put the symbol, Scully's need to the side because we addressed it for a story this week but continuing with that thread is unnecessary" is what I imagine the writers saying. So, to me, it warms my heart when Doggett's one-time partner (can't remember her name) is given the Apollo Keychain because there is at least an attempt to complete some circle with that meaning as is the time when Scully finds the warped coin in the desk (was it season 9?).

Sometimes, I think that Carter wanted the showbto be more like a sitcom style in that each episode is on its own and the audience doesn't need any background information, but it was too entailed to be sitcom style. When I say sitcom, I don't mean that he wanted it to be funny only that the story is just for the 50 minutes (whatever time frame), resolved, and then move on. Next week, new story.

I now want to spend some time with the Mulder/Padgett coin analogy because there is meaning to the symbols whether the writers/Carter intended. It reminds me of what David Lynch said about not wanting to talk too much about the show because it limits what the audience can intuit. Let the film/show speak the story. Unfortunately I don't think that the Xfiles creator and writing team had those in depth thoughts and desire for the show.

That's a fantastic quote from Lynch, may he rest in peace.

And I agree-- The X-Files was intended to be an episodic series, tied together (perhaps) by the always "unknown."

Your analysis on Scully's gifts: fantastic. No notes, 10/10. Haven't seen Season 9, but I'm pretty sure it was Monica Reyes who found the coin then (I know she found the pencils); and it's been awhile, but I'm pretty sure Scully found the coin again in Alone when she was packing up to leave the office. Hm, gotta double check that.

I definitely think Mulder and Padgett being mirrors of each other in Season 6 was purposeful, as was Mulder and Jerse being mirrors of each other in Season 4. But I have a conspiracy theory: I think they're mirrors of who Scully thinks Mulder is. Since they haven't had "the talk", since their quest is still an "endless line", she chalks a lot of his behavior up to her perception of it. He does the same with her: in Milagro, he asks if Padgett was right to write her the way he did in his novel. Scully denies it (lies); but they both know: Padgett exposed that she's a living, breathing woman who wants more from life (and Mulder.) She has sexual desire-- though it's not towards Padgett, obviously-- and she drifts near Mulder to see if he'll turn away from the quest and towards her. Which terrifies Mulder, because... he can't, not until he has his closure.

Season 6 hammers home, over and over, that Scully hasn't made her peace with this life and is putting off a lot of that soul work by trying to focus Mulder's attention elsewhere. That's a huge task-- one she really can't, and shouldn't, do-- and it's one she's been looping back towards since Home ("what about your family?"), since Never Again ("my life is standing still"), since Detour (consorting in his motel room), since Fight the Future (asking him to think about if the FBI is worth it to him, asking if he came to her apartment drunk for a reason, leaving because she held him back, clutching his hand when he proved his devotion by saving her at the bottom of the world), since Dreamland I ("have something approaching a normal life"), since Arcadia (didn't deny she wanted to "play house"), since Alpha (became jealous over Mulder's new female associate), since etc. It's not until she's successful-- post-Millennium's kiss-- that that nagging feeling reasserts itself and won't let her go (Orison, En Ami, all things): in short, that she stops projecting onto Mulder what her heart is yelling at her to resolve. (It's the same problem they had in Elegy's hallway: "Why won't you be honest with me?/Is that what you think I'd do?" from Mulder; and confrontation then admittance-- "No..."-- from Scully.) She leans on him, depends on his strength, but doesn't want to face that sense of inadequacy: because it's not inadequacy, it's her inner self crying out to be recognized and accepted by herself-- not other fathers, not Mulder, not her work and her job and what she thinks she wants from life; but by who she truly is. So, instead, she focuses on becoming the best at her job (whatever it may be), on shoving away uncomfortable emotion, and of talking about "a normal life" while taking no actionable move towards it-- Mulder and Scully both practice repression, but in their own ways.

Thank you for sharing these thoughts! I got a bit carried away. XDDDDDDD

[scullys-girl]

how about an msr warm up prompt? mulder and scully sometime during the beginning of their sexual relationship:

(I haven’t written in over a year, bear with me.)

She’s mere moments from sleep when she feels the sensation of soft, grazing fingertips along her skin. Feather-light and tender, they brush heated wildfire in a few gentle strokes. For a split second, she’s convinced she’s dreaming, on the precipice of waking and finding herself alone in an otherwise empty bed, but then his fingers dance along the taut muscles of her abdomen, gently pulling her closer and sending a thrilling shiver throughout her body. She’s had many dreams about moments like these – fantasies. However, they pale in comparison to the electrified current that is presently holding her body hostage, tethering her to the man who is spooned up right behind her.

No, this was no dream. But she doesn’t dare open her eyes just yet to the precious moments unfolding.

He moves languidly, almost frustratingly slow, beginning his lips’ journey with open-mouthed kisses against the back of her neck. A soft breath of pleasure leaves Scully’s lips just as he suckles at her pulse point, teeth grazing the pounding artery beneath her dampened skin.

“Mul…” It’s a quiet, strangled gasp. “Mulder.”

Mulder hums against her spine, and she can feel his smile. “Is this okay, Scully?” he asks as the hand along her belly slowly moves upwards.

Scully nods, trying not to show just how desperate she’s becoming. But as soon as she feels the slightly calloused pad of his fingertip brush against her nipple, she can’t help but squirm under his touch. Arching her back, she nestles her bottom into the curve of his lap as he shifts with her, fitting their bodies together like two puzzle pieces. In this position, she can feel how hard he is for her, making her mouth water with anticipation and need. Oh, how she wishes there wasn’t a stitch of clothing between them.

“Yes,” she chants under her breath with another pass of his fingers under her sleep top; she just can’t help the way the breathy syllable leaves her lips.

“Scully,” comes Mulder’s heated reply. Kneading her breast tenderly, he nibbles on her earlobe, sending more jolts of pounding excitement to her center. Squeezing, flicking, pinching; he trails a single finger down her sternum, dipping it into her navel, before teasing the waistband of her pajama bottoms. “Scully,” he says again, deeper in vibrato.

Slowly opening her eyes to the quiet glow of yellow spilling in from the hallway, she turns her face to meet his eyes. They remind her of secret kisses and worn-out leather sofas. They remind her of home, of safety. Her heart thumps loudly.

Mul-der. Mul-der.

He smiles, lovingly stroking her rosy cheek. Scully smiles back, feeling a warmth radiate through her chest. This is still very new to them, having only made love a handful of times, and it still warms her heart that he takes the time to prioritize her feelings and makes sure she is fully on board with what they are doing.

Mulder nuzzles her nose and places a chaste kiss on her lips. “Hi,” he mumbles as they part.

Turning to fully face him, Scully wraps her top leg over Mulder’s hip and plays with his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp the way she knows he likes. She can feel his body shiver from her touch, his hard cock mere millimeters from the radiating heat between her thighs.

“Hi,” she whispers back, holding Mulder’s heated and loving gaze until she can’t handle the anticipation a second longer. Scully parts her plump lips, languidly swiping her tongue between them.

She needs him.

She loves him.

Flipping her lover onto his back, Scully hears the excited breath that leaves his lungs. Goosebumps spread across her skin instantly as her body reacts to him. She rocks her hips forward, gushing with sweet, sweet arousal. A moan leaves Mulder’s beautiful lips and she can't decide which she’d rather do next: kiss him or make him moan again.

“Scully.” He waits for her, whispering her name in awe.

Feeling bold, Scully nibbles on her bottom lip, maneuvers her hand into the front of his boxers, and grips his cock firmly. She leans in, almost whispering their lips together, but not quite close enough to touch. A deeper, longer moan fills her ears and that’s when she knows she’s made the right decision.

“That’s it, Mulder,” she praises with a purr. She begins pumping him up and down, his precum slick and needy like she is. “Let me hear you, baby.”

@today-in-fic

[cutemothman]

maybe you won't have to be mrs. spooky anymore

Squeeze is such an important episode for Scully. (And it's just a great episode in general! a truly classic motw) We've been talking a lot lately about Scully's autonomy and her decisions that led her down the path that she follows and I feel like Squeeze is a showcase of exactly that. Of how her decisions affect the narrative.

We start the episode with her listening to a colleague insult Mulder, completely unprovoked. They weren't even talking about Mulder. Colton asks her "How are you doing? Have you had any close encounters of the third kind?" He doesn't care how she's doing. He just wanted an excuse to bring up Mulder so that he could talk shit about him and then turn around to indirectly ask Scully to bring Mulder in to help on the case.

Scully wastes no time defending Mulder. I think it is very telling of someone's character when they stand up for people who aren't around to defend themselves. Scully certainly knows how it feels to be looked down on, especially as a woman in a male dominated field. Even though Colton asks for her help, it's obvious that he doesn't respect her the way that Mulder does. He even goes as far as to ask Scully to choose sides, to which she responds that she's on the victims side.

Ooooooh. That moment right there. It is a perfect example of why Scully chose to follow Mulder. They want the same thing. They want to catch bad guys. They want to help people. They want to find out the truth. She isn't throwing her life away, even though that's what her colleagues may see. She's choosing the path that she believes is right. This is the Dana Scully who chooses the side of the victim and stands up for her partner.

Another great moment is when Mulder says "you may not always agree with me but at least you respect the journey" This!!!! This boils down their relationship so perfectly. In the beginning, Scully disagrees with Mulder. A lot. But she's here for the exact same reason that he is. To find the truth. It reminds me of in season 6(?) when Mulder is defending Scully to Diana by saying the she makes him work for it. Yes yes yes. There's a great song by Tacocat called Dana Katherine Scully with the line "she wants to know what's out there, but she needs to know why". Scully doesn't take things at face value, but she doesn't belittle Mulder for what he believes. It's her scientific brain needing proof, and honestly, I think that's admirable. She wants to find proof not only for herself, but for the rest of the world. And for Mulder.

Mulder then tells Scully that if she wants to keep working with Colton, he won't hold it against her. He's not used to people sticking around. Scully was sent to spy on him. Of course he doesn't expect her to be in for the long haul. Her response is to follow him and say that she knows he has more evidence to back up his theory. She wants to find the truth! She's open to these possibilities even if they are kind of out there! She's following her orders to investigate(debunk) Mulder's claims of the paranormal with scientific evidence, and you bet your ass she's going to do it right! Scully and Mulder are on this journey for the same reason and by god she's gonna follow it to the end. She chooses to. It's her decision and no one else's. Maybe being Mrs. Spooky isn't such a bad thing.

[amplifyme]

Sometimes I think there may be a few Philes who may not realize the importance of this exchange in The Red and the Black:

SCULLY: Mulder, when I met you five years ago, you told me that your sister had been abducted... by aliens. That that event had marked you so deeply, that nothing else mattered. I didn't believe you, but I followed you, on nothing more than your faith that the truth was out there, based not on facts, not on science, but on your memories that your sister had been taken from you. Your memories were all that you had.

MULDER: I don't trust those memories now.

SCULLY: Well, whether you trust them or not, they've led you here. And me. But I have no memories to either trust nor distrust, and if you ask me now to follow you again, to stand behind you in what you now believe, without knowing what happened to me out there, without those memories, I can't. I won't.

MULDER: If I could give you those memories, if I could prove that I was right and that what I believed for so long was wrong...

SCULLY: Is that what you really want?

And when next we see them, Scully is about to undergo hypnosis to try to retrieve those memories. Because even when Mulder has begun to doubt the truth about aliens and the circumstances surrounding his sister's abduction (the sum of his lifelong quest), he wants to give Scully the memories she's missing. He just needs the truth. So it may not be want he wants to hear, but it's still - and always - what he seeks. Even if he doesn't like the answers.

I could watch that hospital scene on a loop for hours. It's so fraught with emotion. Mulder's sincerity and vulnerability, and the way his voice breaks. Scully's determination to have the answers even as the tables have been turned and she finds herself believing everything Mulder is now denying. Even then, they can't make the journey without the other by their side. Because one without the other just doesn't work. They're two halves of a whole. And I love that even now, decades later, it still impacts me in ways I can't explain. It's all in the heart.

Thanks to The X-Files Fandom Wiki for the transcript.

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]

@today-in-fic | ao3

Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who’s had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter Six.

Embarrassed, anger swirling through her, Scully storms out of the pool, throwing open the doors on her way out. She ignores the looks she gets for the way the doors bounce off the walls and startle a woman nearby. She doesn’t care, she just needs to get far enough away from Mulder and all things first class. She barely acknowledges the crewman passing who barks at her to get back to her own deck, Scully gladly goes, climbing over the now padlocked gate.

She’s done. Done with all of it; the dinners, the people, Mulder. He can live in his sad fake world with his sad fake fiancé. In a few days’ time, she’ll get off this boat and never the two shall meet again.

His words still ring in her ears. His words, his father’s words, whoever’s words- she doesn’t care, they’re all the same- the same closed minded people who don’t give a shit about anything other than themselves.

But that wasn’t Mulder.

She pushes that thought away, ignoring the truth, and forcing herself to mould Mulder to be like everyone else. If he did care about her he wouldn’t be worried about what his father thinks.

Why did it always have to come down to what father’s thought of their children?

She finds herself in the galley before she realises, the room completely crowded with people doing nothing with their lives and it angers Scully even more, this whole ship does, every person on it. She’s sick of crowded rooms, of seeing the same people every day.

The novelty of things wears off eventually.

She spies Charlie in the corner, happy, laughing with a group of boys he’s befriended. This journey had given him the freedom to just be a kid, to not have to worry about finding a job or the constant response of “No, you can’t work here”, “No, we haven’t got any jobs free for you”, “No, you need more experience”. He hadn’t won much in the terms of a job, either.

Seeing him now, Scully is envious. Despite the hardships, he was still free to be a child, they could go home and Mam wouldn’t push him to find a job and here, he could laugh with as many people as he wanted, hopelessly flirt with as many girls as he wanted and there would be no consequences, no rules or hearts broken because of a stupid mistake.

Not in the mood for company, Scully leaves the galley, about to head into her room and shut the world away for the rest of the trip before a familiar little voice stops her.

“Dana!”

Scully turns to see a little girl, blonde curls bouncing behind her, bound towards her.

A smile passes across Scully’s face at the presence of Agnes, momentarily forgetting her sadness and anger, she kneels to the girl’s height.

“Hello, Agnes,” Scully says. “Are you feeling better now?”

Agnes nods her head, her blue eyes bright and cheeks rosy with colour, so much better than the day before.

“You helped me better,” the girl says. In her hands she holds a brown box and extends it forward towards Scully. “I wanted to give this to you, to say tack sjalv…That is thank you in Swedish.”

Scully takes the box from Agnes, her thumbs slipping under the lid and opening it. A dancer dressed in traditional Swedish clothing appears spinning around as music plays from the box.

A music box.

Scully smiles, warmed by the girl’s gesture of thanks. She looks from the music box to Agnes, the girl’s smile radiating happiness, proud of her gift.

“Are you sure?” Scully asks, thankful for the gift but also having first-hand knowledge that they didn’t carry much and what they did carry was something extremely special to them.

Agnes nods. “It was Mama’s but Papa said we couldn’t keep it anymore, it’s too much space.” Her smile falters at that and Scully knows that it was either to be given away or sold to a stranger.

“I’ll take it Agnes,” says Scully and the girl instantly cheers up. “I’ll look after it and won’t let anything happen to it.”

Agnes happily nods and gives Scully and hug before running off back down the corridor.

The music box in one hand, Scully opens the door and sets the box on the table, a wee bit happier than she was before.

It’s strange how yesterday she was sat in a great big hall surrounded by shallow-minded people, eating food she could barely pronounce and today she is sat on the end of the bench eating mash and beef.

Well, eating being the desired action, she more than just picks at it.

She should probably eat it. All those times when she was younger, when she just wished there had been a slice of bread in the house remind her that she should eat food when she can, and eat all of it because who knows when the next time would be?

Her mood had lightened up with Agnes’ present but it hadn’t taken long for it to fall back down when she was alone. Maybe isolating herself wasn’t the best idea.

She doesn’t know why this whole Mulder thing had gotten to her so much. A similar thing had happened before, Scully had got in too deep with someone she shouldn’t and they had left her standing at a train station all night, never showing up. A constant cycle.

Whilst it had hurt to be humiliated, to walk back home with her tail tucked between her legs, she’d gotten over that situation fairly quickly and she’d done more than just dance with the man.

Scully tries not to think about the reasons, she was supposed to be blocking Mulder from her mind anyway, no dwelling on him.

“Decided dinner with your own kind is better then?”

Scully looks up to find Charlie opposite her, a smile plastered across his face from his ‘joke’. Sure, hilarious. She turns back to her food.

He sits down on the bench across from her. “I found your wee English fella before,” he tells her. That has her gaze shooting back up. “Well, he found me actually, jumped over the gate and all,” Charlie finishes with a smile at the memory.

Scully just frowns, why would a man who told her mere hours ago that he wanted nothing more to do with her go out of his way to talk to her younger brother?

“What did he want?” Scully asks, trying to sound as casual as possible. Inside, her stomach was doing somersaults.

“He just asked if I’d seen you, which I replied I hadn’t since the party and whatever glimpse I’d gotten of you before you ran out this morning.”

“I was with Agnes.”

Really, Scully doubts she’d spent no more than ten minutes with the lass but she wasn’t about to admit to her brother that she’d been laying in her bed depressed all day.

“Anyway, he said if I saw you to tell you to meet him by the mass at dinner time, he’ll be there.”

Scully thinks for a moment, calming the butterflies that fly in her stomach. Just what was Mulder playing at?

“He also said that you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to, but something told him you will.” Charlie frowns, staring at her for a moment and Scully feels incredibly awkward.

“What happened between you two? You were getting along at that party last night.” His frown chances into a sly, knowing smile.

Emboldened, Scully pushes her bowl out of the way, leaning forward so her face was mere inches away from her brother’s.

“You can wipe that smile off ye face cause ye don’t know nothing.”

She pushes herself away, standing up from the bench.

“You’re gonna go?” Charlie asks, leaning back also.

Scully nods.

“Can I have your food?”

Without a word, she pushes the bowl in Charlie’s direction. Curiosity and nerves blooming, she disappears off to find out what games Mulder wants to play.

A chilly breeze blows across the deck, the sun almost setting in the distance. It looks beautiful, the orange and purples that paint the sky. It’s clear, the islands just off in distance visible. There’s no one out, every one off in the halls eating dinner, a perfect time Mulder chose.

Scully sees him near the mass just like he said, hunched over and leaning against the rails. At first she thought he’d be sitting on them, not unlike their first meeting. Despite her confusion, her curiosity, and the slight annoyance at his ever changing mind, she smiles at the memory.

“Are you always so moody, then?”

At the sound of her voice he turns, almost surprised to see her there.

“You came?” he asks.

Scully nods, “I did. I almost had second thoughts leaving the dinner hall but I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.” She walks closer to him then, shivering in the slight chill, a mischievous smile flittering across her face. “So long as I’m not distracting you,” she almost whispers.

And while she smiles he does not, instead pain and regret etched on his face as he looks down at his feet.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologises. “I just…I feel bad for everyone involved in this, even Phoebe, she…she’s a lot but she doesn’t really deserve this.”

There’s a moment when Scully wonders if they’ll ever be able to have a conversation that doesn’t include Phoebe’s name in it but she thinks back to Mulder’s earlier words, how their relationship was complicated, so no, she doubts they ever will.

“What are you trying to say, Mulder?”

He looks up at her then, almost shy. “I guess what I’m trying to say that I want to do this. You and me. Us. If that’s what you want?”

Is it? Her anger at him casting her aside, at choosing his family over her, they weren’t friendly feelings. The need to see him today, the speak to him and spend time with him, that went beyond friendship, too. She’s known him less than three days and even in that short time span she can’t think of the moment when they overstepped the friends line.

She doesn’t think he knows either.

“You tried to kiss me when I walked you to the gate last night. Did you mean it or were you just drunk?”

“I meant it,” he admits. “I wanted to but you stopped me so I thought maybe you didn’t and then…then before you said we were just friends so why the change?”

“Because you pissed me off,” she tells him, if they’re going to tell the truth they may as well both be truthful. “Because your father is right, I am a distraction.” She walks that little bit closer, now only a foot or so away from them both being in each other’s personal space.

“Does that bother you?” he asks.

Scully thinks about that. ‘Distraction’ maybe isn’t the nicest word to use for someone but in this moment she doesn’t care what some little person who seems as far away as the islands around them are, thinks she is.

“No,” she finally answers.

Mulder smiles and slowly outstretches his hand towards her.

“I want to show you something…Distraction.”

Scully smiles at the little nickname and takes his hand. Mulder leads her to the rails, places her where he was just standing.

“Step up onto the rails,”

Scully looks at him cautiously. “What? Are you planning on us both jumping off together or something?”

Mulder ignores her joke. “Just do it,” he says softly.

Grasping the heaviness of the situation she does as she’s told, stepping up on the first rail. She lets go of his hand to grasp hold of the mass, clutching onto it for dear life as her feet wobble on the rail. With both of Mulder’s hands freed, she feels him take hold of her waist, holding her in place and instantly she feels a bit more secured.

“Are you sure we won’t get into trouble for this?” Scully asks, suddenly feeling cautious about any eyes that could be watching them.

“Why would we?” Mulder asks, incredibly close to her ear. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Correction: this whole step they’re taking is incredibly wrong but Scully decides not to dwell on that, instead basking it in, in the thrill of doing something that she shouldn’t be once more.

“So what am I supposed to be seeing?” she asks, turning towards him.

“Hang on a second.” He takes one of his hands off her side and uses it to cling onto the handrail, pulling himself up onto the bottom rail Scully stands on. She can feel every inch of his warm body pressed up against her, and still in her light and playful mood, she pretends to adjust herself so her entire body brushes against his. In response, the hand holding onto her clutches her tighter.

“Stop it,” he tells her, less lightly than before and Scully stops, allowing herself to just lean about into him.

“Look down at the water,” he tells her and she does so.

At first there’s nothing, just the waves caused by the ship as it ploughs on to their destination but then she sees it, a little speck of grey that appears in the air and disappears again. And another one. And a third.

“I see it!” she shouts with child-like wonder, as three dolphins jump in and out of the water one after the other.

A smile passes across her face in happiness and delight, watching the creatures appear and disappear. This is what he wanted to show her and it doesn’t matter that she’s seen dolphins before, doesn’t bother her that it isn’t something more special, this is enough, just watching them jump in and out of the water, the cold chill of the wind against the front but the warmth of Mulder behind her, it’s all she can ask for. Slowly, everything fades away; the presence of people tucked behind walls, the view around her and the sun that continues setting in the distance, the ship, and its rails that she stands on and finally even Mulder disappears. Her eyes close and she’s warm and happy, free of all worries and stress. There’s no start or destination, it’s just her and the wind and the warmth.

Her surroundings come back soon, Mulder being the first thing to return to her. Scully opens her eyes again and looks down to the sea, the dolphins having gone. The spell broken and she misses their presence.

Weightless and carefree, she turns around in Mulder’s arms, taking her cold hands away from the mass and rail and presses them against Mulder’s warm chest, warming them up.

“Happy?” he asks quietly.

Scully nods. She looks up from her hands to find Mulder’s face inches away from hers. There’s a bit of a height difference between them like this and she steps onto her tip toes, clutching onto to Mulder to hold onto to as she presses her lips against his, once again her surroundings floating away around her.

She’s glad this is their first kiss. The one on the way to the gate would have been drunk and rough but this is sweet and perfect and much, much nicer.

It doesn’t go beyond that, as much as she wants it to go further it’s fine as it is, there’s more time for that later, anyway.

She pulls away, eyeing him nervously but something else catches his eyes. Frowning, his hand climbs to her neck, slipping inside her collar to pull out her cross.

She looks at it from where he holds it between them.

“My dad gave me it,” Scully explains. “My older brother tried to sell it one time but I didn’t let him. Instead I hid it and told everyone I lost it, until it was time to leave and I started wearing it again.” She unclasps it, handing it to Mulder to look at it. “It was the last thing he ever gave me before he died, I couldn’t…I don’t…” she trails off.

“It’s yours. It means something to you.” She watches as he runs his thumb over the slim lines of the cross.

“I guess,” Scully agrees, staring at it. “It would have fed us, though.”

She watches him continue staring at it and it’s almost like he’s disappeared inside himself frowning and thinking as he continues to stroke and hold the necklace.

He looks to her, his eyes searching hers and an almost pleading look on his face.

“You can say no,” he begins, before stopping to swallow nervously. Scully waits, interested in what he’s about to ask her. “Can…can I draw you wearing this?” She’s about to answer with a yes before he cuts her off.

“Just wearing this?"

[iamprchung]

4th of July Fic-tacular - The Spider and the FBI

In a Walter Skinner fan girl celebration for the 4th of July, I'm reposting the epic holiday adventure 'The Spider and the FBI'. Well... I'm reposting the links to it anyway. Have a blast!

During an exhilarating road trip riddled with danger, Scully and Mulder are tasked with the unenviable duty of ferrying a federal nuisance from Portland to DC, with the mob hot on their tail and Mulder falling ill at the worst possible moment. With Mulder out of commission, Scully finds herself in the precarious position of solo guardian, until Skinner swoops in to ensure her safety, orchestrating a backup agent to join her on this perilous journey. As they traverse the country's highways, their mission becomes a high-stakes game of cat and mouse... Can they survive the ride.

The Spider and the FBI available on AO3

Chapters: 9 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dana Scully/Walter Skinner Characters: Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Original Characters Additional Tags: Humor, Road Trips, Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst, Romantic Fluff Series: Part 3 of Complimentary Mints

[mattatouile]

It's Pride Month so let me tell you about my journey with my sexuality, and what a supportive family can mean:

I grew up in the EXTREMELY RURAL Bible Belt/gulf coast of the United States. My parents sort of ...nominally took us to Baptist Church until I was about 8.

However, despite being homeschooled in the woods and briefly being church people, my parents were not bigots. When I was six, I asked my mom if Elton John was married to Kiki Dee because I saw their music video together and my mom sort of took a breath and said that some boys want to marry and kiss other boys instead of girls, and that's what gay meant. And Friends introduced me to lesbianism so like, I kind of got it early on. I shrugged and said okay. This was 1994.

I spent 25 years of my life thinking that my fascination/affection for breasts and desire to maybe make out with other girls was just what ALL girls were like. Why would you not want to kiss other girls????? Baffling. But my default was still heterosexuality. I am very femme presenting. I enjoy a lot of stereotypical hetero things. Had a crush on my karate sensei (he was BEAUTIFUL and GOOFY and KIND) and then I had like five years of emotional fluffing with a queer man which was a mess in retrospect.

And then. I moved out of Louisiana.

I met someone (a bad idea woman, but a woman) and had my first torrid and horrible relationship. But that's fine. She introduced my wife. She's the reason I came out to myself and my parents.

My mom was concerned. For reasons that weren't really my sexuality, but which I read that way for a while and it hurt but I knew it wasn't personal it was just a shock. She didn't argue or convince me, she just didn't send me a rainbow cake immediately. And she wanted to be the one to tell my father who was working overseas, and wanted to wait for him to be home to do it.

His response? "Yeah, that checks out." 😂😂🥹 After that she was chill as could be. Idk I guess she psyched herself out about my dad of all people.

He almost immediately bought rainbow Crocs to wear around at his job to support his gay daughter.

My siblings all responded with a shade of either "didn't you always say you wanted to make out with Scully?" Or "huh, I thought it would be [my younger sister]."

I choose the label of lesbian for myself right now, because it's easier than "wlw who sometimes I like the looks of a guy but would rather have a colonoscopy than a conversation with him."

Do I have some trauma from being told I was disgusting just for supporting queer rights in my hometown? Probably.

I guess the point of this is, it wasn't even easy for me to come out, and I KNEW my parents would be totally fine with it. I cannot imagine how long it would've taken me to get to that point without a supportive family and open household. Like I really might've just been the spinster aunt who was "too picky" instead of being happily married to my wife. She's the best. My family is the best. My stepkid's are queer as hell, and we've done everything in our power to make sure they know any identity will be respected and supported and our families have joined us in that.

It's not hard, y'all. And I'm so sorry for everyone who is not treated this way. I love you. My parents love you. My mother would give you the biggest hug and a delicious meal. My dad would do that thing where he rubs his big toes together and tries not to cry because it hurts him that people have to live without support and love. You would be welcome in our home and hopefully shown what family should be.

I hope every single queer person on this site finds family. Family isn't blood. Family is safety. Family is support. Family is knowing that you are cared for, no matter your identity, who you love, etc.

Happy Pride everyone. And if it's not a Happy Pride for you yet, I hope some day you get to know that joy.

[alexesguerra]

The Anubis Oracle: A Journey Into the Shamanic Mysteries of Egypt [With 35-Card Deck] The Anubis Oracle: A Journey into the Shamanic Mysteries of Egypt Paperback – September 12, 2008 by Nicki Scully (Author), Linda Star Wolf Ph.D. (Author), Kris Waldherr (Illustrator) --Brand New-- A divination tool to connect with guides from the Egyptian pantheon • A 35-card deck with original artwork by award-winning illustrator Kris Waldherr • Guidebook includes detailed card interpretations and 8 divinatory spreads • By the authors of Shamanic Mysteries of Egypt: Awakening the Healing Power of the Heart The Anubis Oracle is a shamanic guide to inner Egypt, a place of mystery, ancestral wisdom, and abiding love that resides within each of us. It is a place where the neteru--the archetypal deities and elemental spirits from the Egyptian pantheon--lead us on our journey of transformation, a journey designed to open our hearts and teach us the inner workings of the soul. The full-color deck contains a Key Card, a card for each of the 22 deities and 4 elements, and 8 composite cards that portray several deities together. These composites represent 8 major portals of initiation and complex archetypal relationships. The accompanying book provides detailed interpretations for each card and instructions for 8 divinatory spreads that include entering into the mystery, achieving higher love and wisdom, and identifying our sacred purpose. By divining with the neteru, the shaman within awakens. This allows the neteru to reveal the answers we seek in our personal lives and in our interactions with the world by connecting us with the wisdom, guidance, and shamanic mysteries of Egypt that live within us. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. CHAPTER 2 Nephthys The High Priestess Intuition / Mystery NEPHTHYS IS THE hidden or veiled one who serves as a medium between worlds. She comes to us in dreams, flashes of intuition, and visions. Along with Isis and Nekhbet-Mother-Mut, Nephthys is an aspect of the Triple Goddess. She relies upon spirit to direct her in all things and she holds the mystery teachings of life, death, and rebirth deep within her essence. The mother of Anubis, Nephthys is also the true Virgin, or the woman unto herself, in her manifestation as the High Priestess. In our shamanic visionary experience, she inspires the seeker as she whispers her secrets into the wind and dances exotically under the starry sky, with magnificent serpents winding around her beautiful bronze arms. Although she is less renowned than her twin sister, Isis, they are seen together on the walls of the temples and at either end of every sarcophagus in ancient Egypt. When Osiris’s body was scattered throughout Egypt, it was Nephthys and Anubis who helped Isis find and gather the parts to make him whole again. When Nephthys appears, she is working with your third eye and your sense of intuition, which will guide you further into the mysteries and to that which is hidden in your subconscious mind. She helps you to see in the dark. If you’ve pulled this card, be especially attentive or watchful for synchronicities. (What you may normally think of as a coincidence is actually the universe trying to gain your attention.) Pay attention to those sudden “hits” of inner knowing and guidance, and watch for those outer events or experiences that form synchronistic parallels to the inner messages you’re receiving. When you give yourself to the magic of Nephthys, she doesn’t stop at opening your mind’s eye; she also opens your heart. Allow your entire being to thrive as you begin to see things in a new way. CHAPTER 25 The Crested Ibis Sacred Archetypal Element of Air THE SACRED CRESTED Ibis, known to ancient Egyptians as the akh bird, is associated with the element of air and with Thoth as he relates to the cosmic mysteries. The Crested Ibis is in essence the phoenix rising from the fire. It speaks of rebirth and the clear thinking that gives you the understanding of your journey. The symbolism refers to the ability to conceive of a resulting creation in advance of its actualization. It refers to both the preconceived idea and the goal, all of which are contained in the mind. The domain of the element air includes communication, language, and articulation. It is through air that we speak words of power, and it is by making sound and music--toning, chanting, singing, speaking, and breathing--that we express the element air. Through our connection with air we find sound within ourselves and communicate directly from the throat. Aesthetics, including beauty and pleasure also exist in the domain of air. When this card comes up in your reading, it is time to look at how you express yourself, especially in your communications with others. You have a valuable ally in the sacred crested ibis. When you meditate on this card, you will feel your consciousness rise as you are uplifted to a higher perspective, from which you can see whatever situation or question you have brought in a new way. Use this perspective for clarity and thoughtfulness in your thinking and speaking. Breathe consciously the element air. Use the heart breath described earlier, or simply be aware as you fill with the breath of life. The element air will assist you to experience and express wisdom with joy and with a light heart so you can appreciate the humor and playfulness available all around you. CHAPTER V Higher Love and Wisdom Hathor, Set, and Wadjet THE MAGIC OF Hathor’s unconditional love prepares you to meet your shadow. Set, as the Holy Trickster, shows you your shadow and clears the pathway for you to receive Wadjet’s great awakening of life-force energy. It’s possible to meet your shadow fearlessly when you understand it’s not about what’s wrong with you. As you look honestly at yourself under the care of this triad, a new infusion of energy comes in to move you to the next level of consciousness. About the Author Nicki Scully has been a healer and teacher of shamanism and the Egyptian mysteries since 1978. She lectures worldwide and specializes in spiritual tours to sacred sites in Egypt, Peru, and other countries. She is the author of Power Animal Meditations and Alchemical Healing, and the co-author of Shamanic Mysteries of Egypt and The Anubis Oracle. Nicki lives in Eugene, Oregon, where she maintains a comprehensive healing and shamanic consulting practice. Product details Paperback: 176 pages Publisher: Bear & Company; PAP/CRDS edition (September 12, 2008) Language: English ISBN-10: 1591430909 ISBN-13: 9781591430902 Product Dimensions: 6 x 1.7 x 9 inches Shipping Weight: 1.4 pounds

[ladiesandwitches]

There was that the confidence, the same confidence that despite whatever journeys and chaos Mulder may drag her on so constantly, made her enjoy working with him, to trust him and to follow him. And yeah, if she let herself admit it, she did enjoy it a little; the strangeness, the puzzle to solve, discovering things that were unexpected or even outright bizarre.

"Fine," she allowed, a smile pulling determinedly at the corner of her mouth as she looked at him. "Maybe I do want to get to the bottom of this. But only because I saw it for myself, that something is in there attacking people, and that it needs to be stopped. That doesn't mean I think there's a haunted scarecrow or a curse on the maze or a dead body buried under the corn."

Whatever it was that had chased them, Scully was certain there was an entirely mundane explanation. Maybe a mechanical trick. Maybe that was why it couldn't leave the maze; maybe the power cables didn't stretch that far. She tried to think if she could remember seeing any nearby power boxes.

"I suppose we'd better find a motel," she concluded in resigned acceptance, looking at Mulder knowingly as she reached over the bar for some business cards. There were a couple for accommodation. She held up one for her partner to see; it featured a Las Vegas style font with a love heart in the corner. "Something tells me the 'Eazy Inn' is missing an 'Sl' from the beginning of their name."

Okay, so maybe Scully had a point. There wasn't a crime to investigate, but there was a mystery! Besides, more often than not, this kind of mystery ended up leading to a crime eventually, so they may as well get ahead of the game with it, no? The scarecrow was clearly malicious, so they'd be saving lives if they could work out how to banish it before it actually killed anybody!

Luckily, their drinks arrived and that seemed to distract Scully from the point she had been trying to make. Mulder took the chance to let her eat some of her food, figuring that if she was less hungry, she may calm down a little and agree to stay for a while. Somehow, that plan seemed to work, and pretty quickly he got the outcome he wanted.

"Two days will be enough," Mulder confidentially declared. Historically speaking, they did usually solve their cases pretty quickly. Or, if they didn't solve it, something usually happened to bring the case to an end after a few days. Why should this be any different?

And if it was different, Mulder was pretty sure he could convince Scully into staying for a few more days. As much as she liked to complain, she was usually pretty open to completing an investigation once they actually got started.

With a smug smile, he reached out to steal a few of her fries from her plate. "Don't act like you don't want to get to the bottom of this too," Mulder said before shoving them into his mouth. "You're just as curious as I am and you know it."

[spookyshipperfics]

What Lurks in the Forest

Chapter 2 is out now! This one gets spicey Find it on ao3 The Story So Far: Scully and Mulder investigate missing hikers and reports of a strange creature in the Appalachian woods; however, getting to the bottom of things proves harder than it appears.

Snippet (mid-chapter): Mulder couldn’t sleep. Rain pelted with such ferocity that he feared droplets would penetrate his tent like knives. It was so loud that he almost didn’t hear the metallic swish of the zipper.

“Mulder… hi… it’s me.”

Scully announced herself like he expected anyone else to slide into his tent in the middle of the Appalachian wilderness. The truth was, he still hadn’t really expected it to be her. Scully was so fiercely independent her uneasiness in the forest unnerved him. To appear in his tent two nights in a row wasn’t like her.

He pushed up on his elbows. “Is everything okay?”

She was a silhouette in darkness again. A shadowy form of her usual self.

“I can’t sleep,” she responded. “I keep… I keep hearing things.”

He couldn’t make out her expression, but he could see her tremble. Droplets of rain that failed to cling to her body hit the tent’s vinyl floor with a plop.

“Jesus, Scully. Are you wet?”

It was a rhetorical question. He knew she was. She’d just journeyed through a downpour to get to him.

She nodded. “I’m so cold.”

“Come here,” he urged, not caring if she ruined their only blanket and made them both miserable.

She took a step forward, then stopped. “My clothes… they’re soaked.” There was an uncharacteristic timidness in her voice that made him terrified of what she might do or say next. “Do you remember what you said about sleeping bags in Florida?”

His pulse fluttered in his neck. “Crawling naked into one with somebody else is the best way to regenerate body heat.”

“I believe your exact words were ‘with somebody else who was already naked,’ but yeah.”

“Scully, I don’t—”

“Turn around, Mulder.”

He laid down with a pounding heart, rolled onto his side, and angled his body away from her. He listened as she struggled with her clothes. Wet fabric hit the ground with a smack that almost made him jump. His cock stirred with the thought of Scully disrobing only a few feet away. He should offer her something of his to wear, but before he could formulate the words, she slid beneath the sleeping bag he’d turned into a blanket earlier with the hope this very fantastical thing would happen.

“Don’t turn around,” she whispered.

He froze as she inched closer. Her arm encircled his waist, his own arm lifting to make room for it. Her skin was cold from the rain, but a fire ignited in the pit of his stomach as she wiggled even closer.

Scully had turned him into the little spoon. Her head was between his shoulder blades, her naked breasts pressed flush against his back. The hand on his middle gripped him close as she trembled. He wanted to turn around and engulf her with warmth, but a “don’t” left her lips when he shifted.

“Stay just like that,” she warned.

His cock twitched from the huskiness in her voice. And God, her nipples, hard and firm against his back, were driving him insane. He cursed his shirt for keeping him from them.

The throw-away joke about sleeping bags worked better than expected. After a few minutes, Scully’s body burned against his, her shivering ceasing. Her hand, slowly and hesitantly, found the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric around her pointer finger.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm. You’re so warm.”

And, as if to prove it to him, her hand disappeared beneath his shirt to palm his abdomen. He almost gasped from the contact.

“You feel so good,” she uttered, nuzzling into his shoulder blades as her hand caressed him. His cock was hopelessly hard as her fingers ascended the bare skin of his torso. Hands that felt almost too delicate to have ever held a weapon—never mind fire a slug into his shoulder—splayed across his chest before trailing downward. Fingertips dragged across his lower abs, hesitating at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Is this okay?” Her voice was low; he could barely hear it over the rain.

He nodded. “Yes.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, but it certainly wasn’t to slip her hand beneath the elastic. He groaned as she edged forward, fingers embracing his length. A satisfied moan slipped out of her as if she foolishly didn’t expect him to be so hard.

Read the rest on a03

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XIX): For Whom the Phone Calls, and a New Beginning

Mulder's resignation.

It's hard to tackle this subject because Requiem's lingering shadow casts a long, gray, and confuddled interpretation (or lack thereof, post here) over the whole. In the Bellefleur motel, he tells Scully "There's so much more you need to do with your life"/"There's so much more than this" on the heels of the FBI's clenching jaw and her sudden illness. But how much of that statement is spurred on by her health and losses; and how much is born from Mulder's own desire to leave the conspiracy behind, closure in tact, and chase a better work-life balance with Scully?

As previously explored in this series, Mulder wasn't ranting and raving to get back on the files after his resurrection-- only jumping at the chance when he misconstrued Doggett's intentions (post here)-- and he wasn't ranting and raving to help Monica Reyes on her own x-files investigation until she pleaded for his help (post here.) In Vienen, he sent the Galpex oil rig files to Doggett first and only forced himself onto the mission (feeling miffed and betrayed, post here) when the other agent didn't care to look into the case. In Alone, he told Scully "You paid your dues there, Scully-- more than paid them." And he meant it: in that episode and in Essence, he only got involved to help (or protect) his partner. Mulder was going through the X-Files motions without truly putting his heart into it. But yet, he was torn up about leaving. Aye, that's the rub-- at what point did Mulder know he had to walk away, or perhaps even wanted to? Is it conscious or unconscious: something he wants, or something he knows will happen, period? What is desire and what is instinct? What is self-preservation and what is inclination?

This topic, I've decided, has to largely be set aside. We won't have answers in this post; but I do think we will, eventually (in Alone at least.) Or as close to answers as the show's lack of "domestication" will allow. Until that time, we press on.

THE CLOSING OF AN OLD CHAPTER

In the seven-year journey to closure, Mulder and Scully forged a partnership together: opening old wounds in order to air and clean them, supporting each other in times of love and crisis. He stood by her side during her cancer and she cut open his mother for his sake. Then he found Samantha and she spoke to god-- key parts in their paths to separate wholeness, necessary for their complete healing.

Then he was taken, swallowed up by aliens; then she took up his mantle and headed the files in his stead. Scully grew into a woman of diamond, impervious to the scratches of others (post here); and Mulder into a man who was forced to recognize his own limitations. She knew her time on the files was closing, and hoped to find Mulder beforehand-- and succeeded, and failed; and mourned and moved on (post here.) He was returned, blinking and afraid in the light of this new life-- not just the one that moved on without him, but the one that needed him. After almost dying (again) and seeing his own partner on the (possible) brink of death herself, and witnessing the aftermath of that great and tragic loss (via John Doggett's pain), Mulder decided not to have any regrets and openly showed his partner that he had embraced their child.

And then, Vienen. And then his fears were becoming realized ("When he's old enough, tell the kid I went down swinging.") This-- where he now fits in-- wasn't just about him and "the truth" anymore. He "needed" to be out there, but his baby (and Scully) needed him to be here, wherever 'here' was to this coming child.

And finally, between jumping in terror from a burning oil rig (post here) and flying back to the wrath of fire-breathing Kersh, a decision was formed: Mulder would take the fall; and hope against hope that his gamble-- and new dependence on Doggett-- would pay off.

It's about time, too: Mulder craves simplicity, normalcy-- air freely breathed without lies to taint it. Truth without danger. An idealist at heart, he recalls old memories and halcyon days through rose-colored glasses, confessing in Home, "...This brings back a lot of memories. My sister... all day pick-up games out on the vineyard, ride your bikes down to the beach, eat bologna sandwiches. Only place you had to be on time was home for dinner. Never had to lock your doors. No modems, no faxes, no cell phones.... You know, my work demands that I live in a big city, but if I had to settle down, build a home... be a place like this."

But Mulder is also a man who tied himself to his quest. In the name of his mission, he set aside "a normal life" to find his sister; then to expose the truth; then to atone for his father's sins; then to atone for "failing" his mother. At last, Samantha's closure set him free; and the FBI's new restrictions and Scully's sudden illness made him reconsider their (or her, or his) life on the files. Since his resurrection, however, those thoughts were set aside as PTSD bloomed to the surface and heavy topics had to be processed and dangerous quests "had" to be recklessly pursued.

But now... now he has a kid on the way; and that kid cannot become another failure on his part, albatross weighing him down with regret.

RESIGNATION

Doggett arrives back at the basement, finding Mulder once again in the office: full circle-- the same players discussing the same case. But this time, there are prices to be had and consequences to pay. 

Mulder is lounging in Scully’s old area-- a purposeful placement, the former head now straying away from his place at the desk-- feet propped up on her station and staring hard at the wall when his replacement barrels in, unaware of his presence. “Where’s the fire, Agent Doggett?”

“I’ve been called up to see Deputy Director Kersh-- as have Agent Scully and A.D. Skinner. I think it’s hitting the fan,” Doggett informs him, harried and rushed. 

“You mean with Galpex Oil?” He rises, shoulders sagging and posture slumped. His face is etched with a wearied emotion-- resignation. Perhaps depression. 

“Word came down that Galpex has lost the right to drill that entire Texas oil province.”

“That oil should stay right where it is.” 

“You should do everything in your power to make sure that it does,” Mulder adds, approaching through the shadows as his feelings melt into resolve.

“...Me?” Doggett parrots, cautiously, none the wiser at the other’s affirmative nod. 

The phone rings, like before (post here); and this time, Mulder doesn’t hide that he knows who it is. “That is the Deputy Director calling to tell you there is no need to see you,” he informs, without pretense-- voice clear and almost light. He’s made a decision-- one that he’s certain, in better moments, will be the right one.

Sensing something afoot, John Doggett listens, expression hawkish in anticipation.  

“That the blame,” Mulder continues as the ring tone drones on, “has been properly assigned for what happened out there on that platform.” 

Fiddling with his fingers, keeping his head down and eyes averted, Mulder turns away and walks to the front of the desk. “I’m out,” he confesses, lips pursed as he grabs his coat for the last time. “86’d, Agent Doggett.” 

He keeps his eyes down: humbled, swallowing the sting of humiliation.

“What do you mean?” Doggett says, at rigid, bewildered attention. Tilting forward, disbelieving, he realizes, “You’re out of the FBI?”

Coat on, Mulder mutedly drawls, “Kersh could barely contain his happiness when he….” Smacking one hand against the other, scrambling for words, his shoulders shrug off the blow. “...Stuck it to me," he adds, talking past the blockage in his throat.

Finally, the ex-files member looks up, grim, letting Agent Doggett fill in the blanks.

Smart man that he is, John Doggett deduces the truth. “So you’re taking a fall?” he pinpoints softly. 

Unable to deny it, Mulder tries to shrug it off as no big deal-- head flicking away, mouth pulled into a careless ‘well, you know’ expression. 

“Not for me?” Doggett begins-- he will not let a good man take the fall in his name. 

Mulder reveals he'd predicted this reaction-- he now knows his "replacement"'s character-- by rushing in and barreling over Doggett's objections with iron determination. “For you, for the X-Files-- you’re all the credibility this office has left. You have Kersh’s ear and you have seen it now. Out on that platform. You saw it for yourself.” 

His expression is wounded and determined: a sentence unto death has been passed, but like any true seeker he must be sure another searcher will continue to hunt for the truth. This man is his only hope-- perhaps Doggett’s temperament, his particular ability to move through the world, can do the good under Kersh that he, Mulder, won’t be able to do. 

Mulder's singular "you're" also stands out. It implies what his partner will confirm in the next episode: Scully won’t be coming back. Their time together on the files has drawn to a close. As previously discussed (here and here): while the FBI is a considerably safer career than most, the X-Files department is not. Mulder can no longer take the chances he's done in the past and risk not coming home; and he takes that lesson to heart... so much so that he steers Scully away from the files, too, when she sneaks back to help Doggett.  As much as this departure pains him, Mulder can walk away in good conscience: Agent Doggett has proved his integrity and his ability to follow the truth to its conclusion. “You saw it for yourself” is a way of acknowledging that he knows the other is a changed man, just as he was changed years and years ago by his own first encounters. He trusts and believes in Doggett. Moreover, he needs him there to do the work. 

The two men stare at each other, reading the honor and finality of the moment. 

THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY

And this is when everything clicks for Fox Mulder: one second, he's dejectedly mulling over his expulsion from the FBI, and the next... the phone rings again.

Mulder shades his eyes briefly, contemplating-- 

--then suppresses a smile and tilts his head from Doggett to the desk.

In that split second, something changed: he decided to trust that the files would be in safe hands; and let go.

"Answer the phone, Agent Doggett. You’re in charge here now." Leaning forward, he offers a handshake (his first)-- a gesture to repair what Doggett endeavored to build (post here.)

There's a last flash of stark emotion-- reality setting in during the act of verbalization-- that creeps into Mulder’s eyes: pain rising over impending loss, resolution firming in the face of change. Doggett sees this; and, moved, responds in kind, clasping his hand firmly in kinship. 

As the ringtone echoes on, Agent Mulder slips out the door, arms swinging stiffly behind him. His sister's picture stays behind with his reluctant replacement-- a beacon to help guide the next wandering, lost, and lonely soul. 

And as he disappears, we are left with one thought: Mulder, despite all odds, seems content. Not happy, perhaps; but not unhappy, either. Readjusting, surely; but as quietly and carefully as a rower might over a calm, unbroken lake. Easing into a new future, peacefully. Mulder is waking to a dream come true-- abduction, PTSD, and resignation notwithstanding.

Fox Mulder is getting his happy ending.

Or so he believes.

CONCLUSION

The sun has set on Mulder's reign.

What does this mean for him? A long spiral? Peaceful contentment? Despair over losing the past ten years? Excitement for the future? A combination of everything, or something else entirely?

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[slippinmickeys]

The Mesas of Deuteronilus Mensae (21/?)

“God, who packed this thing?” Mulder muttered into his helmet as he shifted the next case of weather balloons to the front. They were loaded in such a way that every time he pulled another one out, it made the next one more difficult to retrieve. It was normally a thing he would have kept to himself, but since they had deployed on their extended EVA, he and Scully had taken to just leaving their comms channel open all the time. Occasionally he could hear her talking to herself from the small lab in the back section of the Rover, a quirk he found charming and sweet.

“I know,” agreed Scully, responding to him through the hissing speaker of the comm. “The medical supplies they sent with us are not oldest to newest, as per protocol. Everything is in there, but I can tell just by looking at the lot numbers that they didn’t pack what was slotted to come.”

“Next time we go out on EVA, please make sure Powers is restored to full duty, will you?” he said, joking with her. “This substitute payload specialist shit is for the birds.”

He could sense her smile on the other end of the comm.

He turned to the horizon behind them, the vast vista, marred only by the tread marks from their tires. They were several weeks out from the HAB and well into the fan-shaped route that had been laid out to deploy the weather devices. It was relatively easy, mindless work; drive several hours, stop, pull out a weather balloon (which was more of a lightweight solar operated drone than what you might picture in your head), deploy, and move on. Scully had insisted on stopping along the way to collect soil and water samples, but they were still on schedule—and when one or both of them wasn’t out of the rover on mission, they were in the two seats up front, driving, listening to music, snacking, talking.

It was like being on a road trip with a new girlfriend, Mulder thought, with all the excitement of infatuation and adventure, knowing that when the sun went down, they would find each other in the dark. He’d never had so much sex in his life. In fact, he’d suggested more than once that Scully really ought to begin a study on the refractory period of a middle aged human male in low gravity, as there was something otherworldly—if she’d pardon the expression—about how often and intense their couplings were. She’d advised him that she was in fact recording statistics, but more informally, and in such a way that wouldn’t pass muster under peer review. He shook his head, smiling.

“Ready to deploy WBD-156,” he said into his comm-link.

“WBD-156, check,” came Scully’s officious-sounding response. “Location recorded, device pinging and responsive. You are go to deploy.”

Mulder switched on the device’s motor and gave its small solar panels one more hit with compressed air, then launched it up into Mars’ prevailing wind. “One-Five-Six deployed,” he reported, watching the little machine go shooting off into the salmon-colored sky.

“And that’s One-Five-Six logged with Base Base,” she said a moment later. “You’re done for the day, Mulder.”

“Copy.” Mulder secured the remaining weather balloons to the pallet of the trailer Rover 2 was pulling and made his way back along the side of the rover to the airlock.

The Rover was set up with its full complement of accessories for their journey. For short EVAs or for tooling around the mesas near the HAB, it was a single compartment with three wheels on each side, a small airlock that could only fit one astronaut at a time, and two captain’s chairs with full driving capability on either the starboard or port. Behind the ‘driver’s seats’ was a small galley, even smaller lavatory, and a collapsible Murphy-style table and benches with two beds on either side.

Decked out as it was now, it had—in addition to the open-air pallet trailer holding the weather balloons—a full second rigid section, linked to the driving compartment by an articulated pivoting joint enclosed by protective bellows. It looked rather remarkably like an articulated bus used in public transportation, only instead of more seating in the second compartment, it was fully outfitted with a traveling laboratory, small medical bay, and two more collapsible Murphy beds.

Mulder and Scully had taken to eating in the galley up front and sleeping in the beds in the rear when the sun went down. During the day, as they traversed their mission path, Mulder tended to drive while Scully rode shotgun or worked on samples in the lab. Perhaps they were falling into predictable gender roles, but neither seemed to mind.

Mulder approached the airlock and looked to the sun as he waited for the green light to enter. They probably had another hour or two of daylight left, and he hoped they could get back on the road, as it were, and use up the remaining daylight to knock a few more clicks off of their trek. They were making good time, but you never knew what could happen when out on EVA, and as they approached the apex of their journey—when they would be the absolute furthest from the safety and backup of the other Nerio crew members—Mulder got nervous.

In front of him, the light on the airlock turned green and he entered, pushing the button that initiated the pressurization. Like the one in the HAB, the rover’s smaller, one-man airlock had an automated vacuuming system in its floor that pulled the dust and other buildup off of the astronauts hardsuits. Though Mars had so far proven to be a totally sterile world, NASA would not risk any of the astronauts or colonists being infected with an alien microbe or bacteria should they ever pick one up on the sole of their boot, and so once you went through the airlock, a thirty second vacuuming process was required before you could pass into the rover or HAB.

Once the process was complete, the light kicked to clear and Mulder removed his helmet, stepping into the tiny ready-area of the HAB.

“Hey,” Scully said, stepping forward from where she’d been seated in the port side driver’s seat. She was wearing a gray jumpsuit that she’d taken her arms out of and tied around her waist, approaching him in a plain white tank top. The rovers were set to an automated heating system, pumping out more in the late afternoons in anticipation of the sun going down as a way to try to stay ahead of the frigidly cold temperatures of the Martian night. It was normally quite comfortable, but had a tendency to run a few degrees hotter than necessary this time of day.

“You want some help getting out of your suit?”

Mulder resisted the urge to make a sexual joke and merely threw her an appreciative smile. “Please.”

Despite the vacuuming process, the boots of their hardsuits were both beginning to take on a rusty stain that crept up the hard shell of the suit and approached the forest green stripes that looped around Mulder’s legs. The suits were also starting to give off a regolith-esque odor redolent of rotten eggs. Mars, it turned out, did not smell great.

“Might be time to Febreze the suits,” Scully said, unlocking the lower half of Mulder’s hardsuit from the top and gingerly raising it up so that he could step out of it without scraping his skin along the edges. NASA had sent along a liquid compound that combated the mephitic odor, but it could be cloying, especially in the cramped space of the rover.

“Oof,” Mulder said. “If you must. But let’s wait until after we stop for the night and we can retreat to the rear compartment.”

She slid several parts of his suit into the storage locker that housed them. “You want to keep going today?”

“If you don’t mind,” he said, glancing out toward the windshield of the rover. “Would love to get a few more miles behind us.

“Fine by me,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’ve got some things I can do in the lab if you want to drive.” With that she rubbed her hand up and down his arm once and made her way to the rear section lab.

Mulder pulled on the slippers he liked to wear in the rover and made his way to the starboard side driver’s seat.

“Oh,” called Scully from the back as he was running a systems check. “There was a system dump of correspondence about thirty minutes ago. I got a whole load of emails from home. Might be worth checking yours.”

“Will do,” Mulder called back, firing up the rover and putting it in gear, creeping forward until he got the engine up to full. He checked his nav screen, slightly adjusted his trajectory, and settled in for the drive.

The landscape in the area they were currently traveling was flat, a broad expanse of pale orange without many obstacles they’d need to navigate, which was good considering that Scully was on her feet in the back of the lab. It was technically against protocol to not be strapped in when the rover was in motion, but the vehicle had a second-to-none balance system of shocks and struts, and even when the terrain was rough, the drive had proved to be pretty smooth.

And the terrain here, Mulder observed, was about as flat as they were ever going to get. A good place for distracted driving. He double checked his path out the windshield and then turned to the computer screen just to the left of the nav system and pulled up his email. There wasn’t much—a couple of non-urgent updates from Mission Control, and a video file from Frohike that he’d look at later—but the last email in the list grabbed his attention. It was from Commander Ehrlich and was marked Confidential.

Mulder checked his route again and then glanced back to make sure Scully was still in the back before clicking open the correspondence.

“Mulder,” the email began. “Regarding our discussion from several weeks ago, I decided to take your advice and work the problem. Fairly certain the mission isn’t cursed (that was the stress talking), but as I sit at night and think about some of the issues we’ve been having, I’m more and more convinced sabotage may be the order of the day. I had every intention of reaching out to you so that you could talk me out of it, but then I found the attached in the mess this morning. I’m passing along to you before I reach out to Mission Control. Please advise.”

A low feeling of unease blossomed in his belly as he opened the attachment.

It was a picture of a note scrawled on a mission notepad, the writing sloppy and unkempt, the words twisting off to run down the side of the page as it ran out of room. The note simply read: “It is not fair. It is not FAIR. IT IS NOT FAIR .”

Immediately, Mulder felt an adrenaline dump. The nature of the handwriting itself spoke to a mind that was unbalanced, and the tone of the words pointed to an anger that had probably been festering for some time.

He stared at the picture of the note, trying to figure out what he would do about it.

“Everything okay?” Mulder jumped in his seat and turned to find Scully standing behind him, looking at him with calm expectancy. “News from home?”

“Uh,” he said, reaching forward to log out of his email. “Not exactly.”

Scully cocked her head at him and he was about to launch into an explanation—she was medical staff after all, and he thought it was probably time to loop her in—when the rover lurched to the starboard side and slammed to a stop with an almighty crack. Mulder, who was strapped into the seat, was shoved against the restraints, but Scully, who had been standing at his shoulder, had been catapulted forward and was now half on the floor of the rover, wedged in between the two seats.

“Scully!” Mulder shouted. He killed the engine and turned to Scully who was trying to sit up, flipping off the seat belt as he scrambled to help her. She hissed in pain and brought a hand to her temple, where a small gash blossomed with fresh blood.

“I’m okay,” she said, wincing, and Mulder worked an arm under her elbow to help her up.

She stumbled a bit as she tried to regain her feet, and Mulder realized that the rover was listing forward and to the right slightly, the floor uneven, as if it had been a car that found an enormous pothole. Finally, he lowered her into the opposite seat and reached up to pull her hand away from where she had it clamped to her forehead.

She hissed again as Mulder probed the skin around the small cut with his thumb, but let him fuss over her. After a moment, she knocked his hand gently away and reached up to touch the cut. When she pulled her hand down to look, there was a small spot of blood that was already beginning to congeal. “What happened?” she asked.

Mulder turned to look out the windshield at the land in front of them, now tilted unnaturally. The sun was closing in on the horizon, and he could feel a chill pushing in from the reinforced glass.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure if I hit something, or…”

“You didn’t see anything?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

“No, I…” He glanced down at the screen where the email from Ehrlich had been up not a moment before.

“We’d better go check it out,” Scully said, licking her lips. “It’s going to be too cold to go outside soon, and if we’re going to need rescuing, we’re going to need to get word to the HAB right away.” She didn’t need to explain that while they were equipped with more than enough supplies (they had twelve weeks worth of supplies for an estimated six week mission), it would still take another rover weeks to get to their location, and probably longer for them all to get back.

“Yeah,” Mulder said, standing to rise and trying to focus. “I’ll go. Do you want me to patch you up first?”

“I can do it,” she said, then nodded at the setting sun. “Sollight’s fading.”

He nodded and wasted no more time, pulling on his hardsuit while Scully shuffled to the back to attend to her injury.

Before he even stepped out of the airlock, the cold hit him. Despite the warmers in his suit blasting full, the bone-chilling temperatures of the red planet pushed at his suit from all sides. He would need to make this quick. Protocol dictated that no astronaut was allowed outside after the sun went down, and with good reason. Their hardsuits, despite being the absolute peak and standard of human ingenuity and technology, pulled too much power from the suit batteries at low temperatures—at the expense of the life support systems—and were no match for the nighttime cold on Mars.

“You doing okay, Scully?” he checked in as he stepped out onto the hard packed earth. She answered him with a crisp affirmative. He looked out at the horizon—the sky was getting dimmer. He glanced once at his suit’s heads up display and moved forward.

As he approached the right hand side of the rover’s front, he saw the issue immediately. The right front wheel of the rover must have fallen into some sort of hole, and the frame of the rover itself was resting on the hole’s lip. As he got closer, he was thinking that he could probably goose the engine to get the other wheels to compensate, but they would then run into the hole as well.

But then, something about the way the ground looked wasn’t right. He shook his head, thinking maybe the darkening conditions could account for what he was seeing, but that didn’t seem quite…

“Scully,” he began saying. “I think you might need to—”

And he suddenly pitched forward before he could finish his thought, swallowed by an all encompassing blackness.

[randomfoggytiger]

Here ya go!

All IVF Arcs Must Come to Their End

Most of these aren't NSFW, but they kinda fit the bill. :DDDD

Loose chronological order below¬

LONG FICS

@sunflowerseedsandscience's Someday Your Child May Cry

Mulder and Scully forge their IVF journey-- from S5 through Millennium-- despite Diana Fowley's machinations and Dr. Parenti's interference.

@cultureisdarkbeer's

**Note**: I'm pretty sure these two series intertwine.

When Two Women Collide

In a larger series featuring Mulder's history with Diana and Scully, Chapters 7-11 work through early Season 6 and the IVF arc.

Rooted in Friendship - Chapter 17

Dark AU warning: Scully locks herself in the bathroom to miscarry, not wanting Mulder to see her pain. He hears her, regardless.

@ghostbustermelanieking's auld acquaintance

S7 Mulder and Scully work through the IVF arc after he wakes in Amor Fati.

@scully-eats-sushi's You're Not Alone

Part 1 of a longer slow-burn after Millennium: Scully navigates her complicated feelings with the IVF arc and S7 casefiles.

BellyUp's Blood of Eden

Scully and Mulder support each other through S7's IVF arc (and other assorted trials and tribulations.)

I_cant_find_a_name's Left of a Miracle

Mulder and Scully work through the years, through the seasons, and through the episodes during the IVF arc.

@darwin-xf's Fox Mulder: Fired and Wired

AU: Mulder works through the IVF arc while suffering from brain disease.

Joan Humby's The Pattern

AU: Mulder and Scully investigate a Monty Props casefile while their IVF attempt and his past with Diana looms quietly in the background.

SHORT FICS

@alsoablankslate/tabulaxrasa's Things No One Notices

Skinner notices his agents' behavior during the IVF arc.

@agent-troi's What Only He Could Give Her

AU: Post Terms of Endearment Mulder is shocked Scully picked him to be a dad as well as the father.

@freckleslikestars's Jellyfish

In a followup to The Road to Family (Ao3), post Agua Mala Mulder slips Scully some encouragement (and a Snicker's bar.)

@iloveurscratchybeard's Snow in September

Mulder keeps Scully's hope alive.

ThexInvisiblexGirl's Under Cover of Darkness - Chapter 1

In a loose followup to Not Too Late, post Orison Mulder is there to comfort Scully when the IVF fails.

@gaycrouton's xfiles, 47

A short peak into Mulder's mind through Scully's request and early miscarriage.

@13starbuck42's What Comes Next (Ao3)

Scully changes her mind, allowing Mulder to come back to her apartment and help her grieve.

@storybycorey's This Is What It Tastes Like (Ao3)

Mulder soaks in the joy of possibility and pain of tragedy.

@allyinthekeyofx's Affirmation 2/5 (Ao3)

Part 2 of a longer lead-up to all things: the shock wears off, and Scully breaks down.

Singing_Violin's This I Can Do

Mulder can at least hold Scully through their worst moments.

@baronessblixen's

May All Your Dreams Be Bright (Ao3)

Mulder refuses to give up.

Unnamed

Scully is discouraged after seeing the Phoebe Green, once again.

The Deepest Cut (Ao3)

Diana Fowley trails after Scully to twist the knife.

Name Calling (Ao3)

Scully finds Mulder's list of baby names.

Unnamed

Mulder believes his Amor Fati dream was of their son; and begs Scully not to give up hope.

@jodithann827's Broken

Scully feels like a pretend woman.

@oceanofthesky/noifsandsorbees per manum

Scully realizes she can weather any storm with Mulder by her side.

Donna's

Miracles Await (Gossamer)

Mulder holds Scully while she cries, determined to address their new lines tomorrow.

Imagining a Life

Mulder and Scully wallow separately in their personal failures.

@peacenik0's In All Things - Chapter 1

Mulder and Scully take comfort by reestablishing their familiar banter.

@sixhours's Remnants (FFN)

Mulder and Scully discuss the "what ifs" they planned to do.

@softnow's marked maybe

Mulder will support Scully, even if-- he hints-- she adopts.

@mulderwantstobelieve's I Don't Want to Go Home Tonight (Ao3)

AU: Scully asks the ultimate question.

@tatooedlaura-blog's Done Pretending

AU: in the aftermath of failure, Scully and Mulder pick their pieces back up together.

Jaime Lyn's Full Moon, Near-Death, and Things Left Unfinished

Mulder and Scully are smashed in a car wreck and forced to confront their IVF failure while caught in limbo.

@i-gaze-at-scully's Words, Words, Words

Mulder finds Scully in her apartment crying, clutching a baby blanket.

@catarinquar/catarinquar's sportstar

Amidst a collection of memories, Mulder invites Scully out to the ball field to cheer her up after the IVF.

@alienqueequeg's Truth in the Dark

AU: Scully can no longer keep her distance after her period returns.

AngelsFallFirst's Nightmares Are Dreams Too - Chapter 1

AU: Scully calls after a nightmare, admitting she gave up and asking Mulder to move their relationship forward.

ML/ML_is_me’s (Ao3, Gossamer, DW, Invidiosa) Because It's Scully

AU: Mulder clings to hope, even with brain disease, even after failure.

@rachg82's Three Wishes

Late S7 Mulder and Scully work towards dating after IVF.

@adrianne68/2momsmakearight's All Things Plus One

AU: Mulder and Scully have a Plus One conversation after the IVF failure.

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow's Unnamed

AU: Mulder and Scully solidified their relationship during the grief period; but carried on quite well, afterward.

@lotsoforangesoutside/@lotzzoforangezoutside's Five Boxes (Ao3)

Scully invites Mulder to clean out Maggie's backroom.

gwinne/Gwinne's Domestic Inclinations (Ao3, Gossamer)

Mulder and Scully discuss their journey and its failure after their relationship shifts.

@television-overload's of our making (Ao3)

AU: In part one of an adoption fic series, Mulder and Scully briefly (and awkwardly) discuss their failed IVF procedure.

OFF-TOPICS

ulstergirl/ndnickerson's Abandoned Gardens

Sein und Zeit Scully angrily ruminates on the wreck Tena left in her son's life.

XPhileChai's There's Gotta Be More...

AU: Right as Mulder and Scully are recovering from their failures, a secret Diana Fowley daughter pops up in their lives.

@lyndsaybones's AU where Mulder and Scully move in together

AU: Mulder convinces Scully to still buy a house together after the IVF fails. (Follow up AU is, indeed, a followup.)

@msrafterdark's

Unnamed

AU: Mulder perseveres even after failure.

5 AUs Headcanon Fics

AU: Mulder and Scully marry post IVF failure... and are surprised not soon after.

Zoonr's (Ao3) Mesabi Ferrum

AU: Buried in Chapter Twenty-Nine of a longer Colonization fic, Mulder and Scully discuss their recklessness IVF pursuit.

Alelou's Continuity Series 01

Crack: For the fun of it, here's some lampshading at the IVF arc.

hi! could you please give your fic recs on the failed ivf but have sex to conceive naturally storyline 🥹

Hi, anon! I'm awful with recs, but maybe @randomfoggytiger and @lilydalexf can help with this?

[danascullyslookbook]

Still sans her cross necklace, Scully attends Mulder’s father’s funeral in his place. Though they did not have the best relationship, Scully know that it is meaningful for her to be their, but also to assure Tina that he is still alive. Why? She is going off her gut now. Funeral attire is very standard here, including the black suit introduced at the end of last season along with her new black trench (which is not really new anymore) and a ribbed undershirt.

For the record, this is the correct reaction to finding out your dead best friend is in fact still alive.

Speaking of faces, look at this face journey Scully goes through in the span of less than ten seconds. Concern, relief, love, sincerity. What a reunion.

As the story continues, she looks more and more tired. It makes sense, she hasn’t had time to sleep, she is exhausted, she is mourning. While still keeping herself looking kempt, you can still see how tired she is.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

He meets her in the hallway just outside the autopsy bay. She’s changed from scrubs into jeans and a green t-shirt with cap sleeves and his heart leaps when she enters his line of sight. He stands up a bit straighter, buoyed by her presence. He wants to hug her, but he stuffs his hands in his pockets instead. Off limits, he keeps reminding himself. Unavailable.

“Hi,” she says with a nervous little smile.

“Hey,” he responds with a broad grin. “Shall we?” he says as he tilts his head toward the exit.

It’s a wonderfully mild day and they walk the four blocks to Cafe Adamo, the orange Tooms file tucked neatly under his arm. They are mostly quiet as they walk, enjoying the warm breeze and lack of traffic noise. Scully lifts her hand to hoist her purse strap up on her shoulder and his stomach lurches when the sun catches on a large diamond ring on her finger. The ring finger of her left hand. It shouldn’t matter, unavailable is unavailable, but knowing that she’s getting married takes his already dashed dreams and stomps them into dust.

They sit at the same corner table they had on their previous visit and this time she orders an iced coffee, much to his relief; he’s not sure he can sit still through more foam-licking. He orders a drip, and as soon as their waiter leaves the table he has to say something.

“Looks like congratulations are in order,” he says, gesturing towards her hand with his chin.

She looks down at the table and startles a little, as if she herself hadn’t known the ring was there.

“Oh, yeah, um, thank you,” she replies tersely, avoiding his eye.

“When did that happen?” he inquires, morbidly curious.

“Uh, in late June, the twenty-first.”

His eyebrows lift a little. He’s sure she wasn’t wearing a ring the other times he’s seen her.

“That’s, uh, that’s great. Do you have a date set?” Why the fuck is he asking her about this? Right, because that’s what a friend would do.

“Yes, as of recently, it’s October thirteenth, this year.”

He chuffs a laugh, his head dropping close to the table.

“What?” she asks, her eyebrows knit in confusion.

He lifts his head to look at her with an ironic smile. “That’s my birthday,” he says flatly, and pink immediately rises to her cheeks.

“Oh,” she says as though she’s committed an embarrassing faux pas.

“Here, check this out,” he says, changing the subject and sliding the orange file across the table to her. “Eugene Victor Tooms, a seemingly typical, if not a little strange, man who was in fact a liver-eating mutant. He would eat his victim’s liver to sustain his own life, and then build a nest from newspaper and bile where he would hibernate for thirty years before repeating the pattern.”

“Bile? As in stomach acid?” Scully says with a doubtful tone that matches her expression.

“Yes ma’am, I had the unfortunate experience of coming into close contact with it and I can attest to its authenticity.”

“Mulder, humans don’t hibernate, much less for thirty years.”

“Well, Eugene Victor Tooms was hardly human, Scully. At one-hundred-twenty-one years young, he was on a steady diet of three livers per hibernation break.”

Their coffees are dropped off, but the conversation continues despite the interruption.

“The oldest human who’s ever lived is one-hundred-nineteen years old. On top of that, even if someone were to live to be one-hundred-twenty-one they certainly wouldn’t be healthy or fit enough to murder people and eat their livers, then have enough energy left over to build a bile-nest.” She’s animated, her hands punctuating her statements as her face quirks into an ‘I can't even believe I’m even having this conversation’ expression, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, if you don’t agree with my conclusions, Scully, then tell me what you think happened,” he says gently.

She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a huff, her shoulders deflating. “I don’t know, Mulder. I’d need access to the biological materials, to analyze them in a lab. We’d need to do a full physical work up on Mr. Tooms, genetic testing.”

Mulder bobs his head. “Well, that will prove difficult seeing as Mr. Tooms met his end under the teeth of an escalator,” he replies, and her eyes go big for a moment.

She shakes her head, closing the folder and sliding it back across the table towards him. “Didn’t it bother you, to work all these cases and never have any real answers?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs. “Yes and no. For me, it isn’t as much about the answers themselves as it is the journey towards the one great truth. Doors are opened along the way, avenues cleared, and it all lends itself towards moving me further along on my quest.”

She’s looking at him with soft, affectionate eyes. She’s really listening and it feels so fucking good. It’s not very often that anyone really listens when he talks. Really hears him.

“What do you consider to be your quest?” she asks gently.

“If I were really to narrow it down, to find my sister. Or to understand what happened to her.” His hand is sitting on top of the closed file and he startles a little when she reaches out and rests her palm against his knuckles. She gives him a sympathetic smile and then pulls it back, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat and busying herself stirring her coffee with a straw.

“Priscilla misses you,” he says, changing the subject again, and her delighted smile makes his heart swell.

“How can you possibly know that?” she replies skeptically, even though it’s clear that she wants it to be true.

“You think I can’t communicate with my cat?” he asks in mock offense, “what kind of roommate would I be if I didn’t learn to speak her language?”

Scully shakes her head, the smile still playing on her lips. “So how’d you end up being the one to keep her, anyway?” she asks, “she’s such a sweet cat, I’m surprised your ex was willing to part with her.”

Mulder takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “At the time that Valerie, that’s my ex, moved out, she was planning to spend some time bumming around Europe so she really couldn't take Priscilla. I think by the time she got back, she felt too guilty about taking her away so she just let me keep her. Prissy always preferred me anyway, so I think she was satisfied with the custody arrangement.”

“So, you’re still in touch with her, then? Your ex?” She’s not making eye contact, trying to act casual, but he can tell she’s curious to know if they’re still involved. He’s curious to know why she cares.

“Oh, yeah, we’re on good terms, always have been. We don’t spend a ton of time together, but I would still consider her a close friend,” he answers honestly.

Scully frowns a little. “Then why did you break up, if you get along so well?”

Mulder sits back in his chair, considering the question for a moment. “I guess there just wasn’t a spark, you know. We looked great on paper, very compatible technically speaking. She was my best friend, a great partner. There was just something missing, for both of us. I loved her, still love her, but not in that way that makes you go ‘shit, I could spend the rest of my life waking up next to this person.’ And we both wanted that, and thought maybe we could have it with someone else, so we broke up.” He leans forward again, elbows on the table top, and takes in her stoic expression.

After a moment of contemplation, she speaks. “How would you know, if you had ‘the spark’ as you call it? What does that even mean?” There’s a mild defensiveness to her tone and it confuses him.

“I think...I think you just know,” he says, meeting her eye. She swallows and then drops her gaze, picking up her cup and sucking noisily at the last drops of coffee that cling to the ice.

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]

@today-in-fic | ao3

Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who’s had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter Nine.

Mulder’s head was swimming, his brain couldn’t comprehend the knowledge as he strides towards his room. Scully is quiet beside him yet she still shimmers with rage, with fear and concern.

Her brother is downstairs.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks. She should be down there with Charlie making sure he’s okay, not running around with him.

He stops with a sudden halt, Scully crashes into him.

“Mulder…”

“Go downstairs, Scully,” he says, spinning to face her. “Go check on Charlie.”

She’s speechless for a second, maybe she’s only just remembering this as well. He sees that she’s about to turn around, to do as he says, but stops herself, shaking her head.

“He’ll be fine, they’ve probably already started the evacuation process.”

Right, there’s procedure for this kind of thing. Word that they have hit an iceberg gets around quickly, every member of staff will know what’s happened and they’ll know how to get everyone to the top decks safely.

The two of them proceed on with their journey, a steward hastily runs down the corridor, Mulder gives Scully an uneasy look.

Their destination is reached soon enough. There’s no time for manners, no time for knocking on doors and waiting to be let in, they need to be in there now.

It doesn’t surprise him to find it already unlocked and pushes it open. His family, and Krycek, turn to look at him.

“There you are. Hungry? You did miss dinner after all,” Father says, his eyes widen when Scully appears from behind Mulder. “What is she doing here, Fox?”

Mulder dismisses his father. “We don’t have time for all that. The ship hit an iceberg, that’s what I’m here to tell you.”

“Yes, I heard. I didn’t think that was true. Anyway, there’s a matter that I need to discuss with you—”

“It is true,” Mulder says, interrupting. “We were there. We saw it happen.”

“It’s not bad, is it?” asks Phoebe. Mulder hears the genuine concern in her voice.

He looks to Scully, wondering what to say. Scully remains quiet and emotionless beside him.

He turns back to Phoebe, answering as honestly as he can. “We don’t know,” he says. “What we do know is that the lifeboats only have room for a thousand and something people. There’s a lot more than that on board, more than half will die.”

Entirely preoccupied with Phoebe’s expression, how she mulls this information over with what seems to be distress he wonders for a second if he hears his father right.

“Not the better half, at least.”

If Scully’s energy had dulled out during this conversation, it’s cranked right back up to a thousand at the throwaway comment.

“How can you say that?”

Phoebe gasps. “But they said it couldn’t sink!” She wanders from the bed to the vanity, sitting herself down into the chair by it.

“I’ll get more information,” says Krycek, edging away from the wall. “If the ship is about to flood, we best make sure we’re not on it when it happens.” He walks towards the door, brushing against Scully in the process.

“Right, all that aside I want to discuss a certain unwanted gift I received upon entering the room—”

“It’s gone!” Phoebe cries, cutting Bill off. Mulder has no time to jump from the first issue to the second.

“What is?” he asks.

“One of my perfume bottles.”

“Are you sure?” asks Mother.

“Yes, I had six laid out and there’s only five here.” Her head whirls towards Scully’s direction. “You took it,” she accuses.

Mulder turns to look at Scully, dumbstruck over this entire situation. The look on her face tells him that she is as much confused as he is, speechless.

“I…I didn’t take anything!”

“You did when Fox brought you in here to draw that disgusting portrait of you.”

Mulder turns back to his father. In his hands he holds a folded piece of paper. An act of recklessness, a display of rebellion and his father holds the evidence in his hands, just as they wanted.

“I didn’t take your stupid perfume,” argues Scully.

“The note that was left was a nice touch indeed. Now you can keep us both captive and who’s clever idea was it to write that?” asks Bill.

Mulder looks to Scully.

“I thought as much.” Bill heads over to the fireplace, throwing the drawing into the flames. Mulder watches the embers curl the paper. A masterpiece burning to pieces.

“Can somebody search her at least!” Phoebe exclaims.

There was too much to process; the ship might be sinking, his father knows about their tryst and Scully’s just been accused of stealing. His head hurts.

“I’ll get someone to fetch the master-at-arms,” Mother says, running over to the door.

“I haven’t taken anything, Phoebe,” Scully helplessly disputes. Mulder makes eye contact with her and gently shakes his head, it’s a losing battle.

“Turn out your pockets then,” Father instructs just as Mother re-enters, telling them that the master-at-arms was on his way.

Mulder watches as Scully fists her hands into her skirt pockets. Her eyes widen and Mulder’s stomach drops to the floor, knowing what she knows.

Slowly, Scully drags out a vial.

“I told you!” Phoebe screams. “I told you she had it!”

Scully is gobsmacked, shaking her head as she stares at the vial disbelief. “I didn’t put that in there.”

“So you’re saying it just magically appeared there?”

Mulder doesn’t know what to believe. He racks through his memories of earlier. Had there been any point where he’d left her alone? Only when she had gotten undressed but she was in the bedroom then. The bottle she holds in the Sunset Ocean one, the one he put on her wrist. He never gave her the bottle. Did she pocket it when he wasn’t looking? Mulder feels a sense of betrayal run through his body.

“What seems to be the problem then?”

Mulder turns his head to see an older man standing in the doorway.

“There’s been a case of thieving going on,” Father explains. The man looks around the room before his eyes narrow on Scully, completely out of place in her plain peasant clothes.

“This one did it I take it?” the man asks. “Is that what she stole?” He motions to the bottle she still holds in her hands.

“According to my daughter-in-law, yes,” says Bill.

The man swipes the bottle out of Scully’s hands, handing it back to Phoebe.

“They always try,” the man says, taking out a pair of handcuffs and pulling Scully’s arms behind her back.

“They put it in there! That Krycek did when he walked past me.”

The man only laughs. “And the tales that this ship is currently filling up with water are true.” He turns to address Father then. “I’m sorry for your time wasted.” He begins to drag Scully towards the door. “You shan’t be seeing her again after this.”

“I didn’t take it, Mulder, I swear! They put it in there. You know they did!”

Mulder doesn’t know what happened. He didn’t see. He didn’t see her take it earlier and he didn’t see Krycek put anything into his pocket. He didn’t see.

Mulder stares at the floor, flabbergasted at the whole scenario. Father strays over to him, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

“I’m sorry it had to come out this way, Fox,” he says. “The ones we love always hurt us the most. You’re free of her now.”

Mulder says nothing, he just watches as Phoebe places the perfume bottle back in its place, a sly, knowing smile across her face.

This was ridiculous.

The ship was currently filling up with water and all these people can care about is stupid perfume bottles.

It’s typical. Typical rich people and unable to get their priorities straight.

Scully should’ve known better.

And Mulder. He knows she’s didn’t take anything, he was there for Christ’s sake and yet nothing, he did nothing to defend her.

She tries not to be hurt, to change that hurt into understanding maybe he was just as confused as she was.

Or maybe he believed she’d taken the bottle anyway.

Scully adjusts her wrists, the handcuffs cutting into her skin. Fury rushes through her when she eyes Krycek leaning against a door, a smug smile across his face. He knocked into her. He put the bottle in her pocket.

“They finally caught you, did they?”

Scully glares at him as she’s dragged into the office. “You put it in there,” she says to him.

Krycek just cocks his head slightly. “Did I?”

Scully’s pulled into the office. Through a doorway is a bedroom, in much of the same style as all third class accommodation. The office is plain; a desk, a pinboard, a cupboard full of different keys. A place for criminals of the minor offenses to be held until they dock.

Or until they drown, she thinks with morbid thought.

The master-at-arms briefly unlocks the bracelet, tugging Scully’s wrists up as he wraps the chain around a pipe then clips the cuff back around her wrists.

“I didn’t do it,” Scully says again. There’s no fight in her voice, no energy, she just wants someone to listen to her story, that’s all she wants.

But the man just ignores her.

“Now, you just stay nice and snug there, Miss Scully, we’ll sort this out later.”

Scully just rolls her eyes. There’s not going to be a later, does nobody understand that?

“Sir,” says a steward appearing from around the doorframe and out of breath. “There’s an issue in the third class. They need you.”

The master-at-arms eyes Scully with hesitation. She looks aimlessly back, her eyes flicking between the officer and Krycek.

“I can stay with her,” Krycek says. Scully looks away, annoyance flooding through her at the thought of Krycek being the person she’s about to spend her last hours with.

“I’ll be right back,” the master-at-arms says before he’s following the steward out of the office.

With one last attempt, Scully sighs, “I didn’t do it.”

The boy sits down at the desk, his feet immediately propped up and a gleefully smile across his face. He’s enjoying every second of this.

“I know,” he says. “But they all believe you did- The Mulders, the officer. Mulder,” he adds with a bite.

A twinge of pain pangs in Scully’s chests. No matter what excuses she came up for Mulder, the truth was clear; he didn’t believe her, and having it be spoken aloud just solidifies it for her.

Scully stares out of the porthole, not that she can see anything but her own reflection. A tornado of emotions spin within her. She’s about to die, handcuffed to a pipe, on a ship she never asked to be on, being accused of a crime she didn’t commit.

She could kill Charlie for his stupid ideas.

Charlie…She wonders where he is. Did he feel the collision? Is he heading towards top deck?

That steward had said there’d been an issue. Is Charlie apart of that issue?

Worry for her brother joins the already busy tornado of emotions.

“That picture…” Krycek says, and God, could he just shut up so she can die in peace, please? “I see what Mulder sees in you now. Shame such a body’s going to be wasted.”

His eyes rake her body, like he can see through her clothing. It makes Scully’s body go cold. Scully doesn’t bother hiding her disgust; she hates him; his stupid face, his stupid grin, his stupid mouth always having something to say.

But then what he’s just said hits her. Her disgust melting away for a second, she turns to him.

“You believe the ship is going to sink?”

He shrugs. “You and Mulder seem to.”

“That’s because it is. In about an hour or so. Half the people with it.”

“Guess I should go upstairs then.” He’s gets up from the chair. “I hope Mulder’s not too sad without you.”  And he’s out the door before Scully can call him back to free her. It’s no use, it’s what these people wanted after all, her away from Mulder- it’s just an added bonus that she dies.

With one last hopeless shake of the handcuffs, Scully allows her head to fall against the pipe, preparing herself for her fate.

Mulder’s head is buzzing, absorbing everything that’s happened in the last hour. Had it really been an hour since he was running about the ship with Scully? It seems ages ago. Time seems to have stopped existing on here, days turning into years, minutes turning into hours. Is there going to be a moment where it all rushes together and there’s no time at all?

They make their way down the staircase. The main reception is flooded with almost all passengers from first class. Much to Mulder’s bewilderment the band still plays and people still drink and carry on as if their lives weren’t in any danger.

“How long’s this going to last for?” one woman asks a steward clearly trying to hurry past and has no time for anyone’s stupid questions.

“Not long. Just a precaution,” the steward says before he’s hurrying along through the crowds.

“It’s the English and doing everything by the book,” Bill scorns, shaking his head.

“Go back to the rooms and turn the heaters on,” Mother says to her maids. “You know how cold those rooms get.”

Mulder watches with disgust as the maids do as their told and head back to the rooms.

Congratulations, Mother, you may have just killed them.

“And bring Tuppence her toy!” Phoebe shouts up to them.

In response to her name, the dog yaps happily. Mulder stares at it.

“You know, they don’t let dogs on the lifeboats? They take up too much space.”

Phoebe looks at him, mouth agape.

“Don’t be cruel, Fox,” Father scolds.

Phoebe hugs Tuppence closer to her body. “She’s tiny. If we have to get on a lifeboat, she can sit on my knee.”

Mulder just shrugs a whatever and turns away to watch the other side of the room.

“I don’t think anyone knows what the hell’s going on around here,” he hears Monica say.

Through the window, Mulder spies a gathering of people, an officer talking to them as they start preparations to lower the lifeboats.

“Come on,” he says, turning back to his family. “They’re starting to lower the boats.”

Mulder leads the way to outside, joining the formation of people. Around him he hears shouts of Women and children first! He watches as people begin boarding the boats; some calm, warming themselves with the knowledge that they’ll be back on the ship in no time, some children cry as their torn away from their fathers and one wife tries to drag her husband with her only to be pulled harshly apart by one of the crewmen in the lifeboat.

There’s a sense of urgency that doesn’t go unnoticed by Mulder. Flares go off around him as boats begin their decent to the water. He knows what others don’t; the lifeboats aren’t returning, this is it.

He thinks about Scully, alone, wherever she is. Would the crewman go back for her, he wonders or does she not matter anymore? He thinks about Charlie frantically searching the decks for his sister. If Mulder could find him, maybe he could tell him what happened and Charlie could go and find her. Mulder’s eyes dart around the deck, searching for the red-headed boy but people meld together, they all look like Charlie and then they don’t. It’s too busy and chaotic to try to find one person. No, if he wants Scully rescued he’d have to do it himself.

Preparations for the next boat begin underway and Mulder pulls Phoebe forward, a sudden need to get her and his mother on a lifeboat. He knows it has less to do with their safety and more to do with finding Scully.

“Right, come on now,” the officer instructs. Monica is the first to board, urging the less certain to join her.

Mulder nudges Phoebe forward.

“I don’t want to,” she says, her hand wrapping tighter around Mulder’s arm.

“You need to,” Mulder tells her, pushing her forward. Phoebe, however, fights back, stays rooted to her spot.

“No. I want to go back to my room.” She spins to face Mulder. “Take me back!” she demands.

Mulder can only laugh- at her stupidity, at her arrogance, she was once so much smarter than this and now he can only laugh.

“There’s going to be no room to go back to soon. You need to get on the boat, Phoebe.”

Still, Phoebe just looks at him like he’s spoken another language, staring back at him stupidly.

“No room to go back to?”

He tries not to let his annoyance seep through. Tries to be as gentle as he can with her, at least for this last time, then he never has to see her again.

“Phoebe, the ship will sink. Look around you, look at the urgency. They don’t have time for you to decide whether you’re getting on the boat or not. There’s not enough lifeboats to do that with, you either get on one now or you don’t and you drown. They are your options.”

It’s a shock to the system for someone to speak to her so directly, to tell her the truth as gruesome or as hurtful as it may be and as she tries to process this information, she just looks constipated.

“Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?”

Mulder looks away from Phoebe to glare at his mother. He says nothing, just allows the anger to wash through his body. He turns back to Phoebe.

“Please, Phoebe,” he pleads. For Scully’s life, “Just get on the boat.”

Phoebe nods, turning back to the lifeboat. Mulder taps the officer.

“Let her keep the dog,” he says. The officer is about to argue, his mouth opens but is closing as quickly. He nods.

“Teena will take Tuppence,” says Monica, reaching out her hand to Phoebe to help her in. “I’ll help you.”

Mulder watches as Phoebe and more people after her is loaded onto the boat and the boat begins to be lowered down before he’s turning away, his destination in mind.

“Where are you going?” he hears his father call from behind him. A hand reaches out. “Fox? Fox!”

Immediately, Mulder shrugs it off. “Get off me!” he says, spinning to face the man he calls his father.

Bill looks at him shocked, before recovering, that cold demeanour returning.

“Where are you going?” His father asks again. Mulder says nothing, allowing his silence to be his answer.

“You’re going to her, aren’t you?” Bill asks and still Mulder says nothing. Bill laughs. “She stole from your wife and still you’re choosing her. I didn’t realise I’d raised a stupid little boy.”

His fists clenching, mind swilling, Mulder shouts, “She didn’t steal anything!” A few people nearby turn towards them. Mulder ignores them. Bill, however, was never blessed with that ability and looks around at the faces self-consciously.

“We both know it was Krycek who put it in there.”

Bill just smiles. “Yes, it was. Of course, not that that matters. Who are they going to believe? A wealthy first class man or a whore from third class?”

Immediately after the words are uttered spit is flying out of Mulder’s mouth and onto Bill’s face, just as Scully caught him.

His father’s face swivels up in disgust as he wipes the saliva from his cheek.

“You two are a pair, aren’t you?”

“And we’re still better than you.”

With that, Mulder takes off, not sparring any more thoughts for his father. His only concern now was Scully, of finding her and freeing her and apologising over and over again for being such an idiot.