#also the woman playing scully is actually pretty good
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Hi everyone! I never really post fic on here ever but I signed up for the AO3 bingo and I *think* I may have something for my first square đ
This is "Crack Treated Seriously"
Tagging: @ao3tagbingo
Cutting it Close
10:57 AM- Fox Mulder's apartment
"Morning, Scully" Mulder said as he let her in and she quickly walked past him the moment he opened the door
Scully sat on the couch and let out a huge sigh "Good Morning, Mulder"
"Hmmm... judging by the way you walked in and were so quick to sit down, I'm not sure how "good" this morning is for you" he said, both with a smile and some concern.
He then noticed something different. Scully was in a typical casual Sunday outfit for a morning that she hadn't attended church with her mother. Jeans, a purple sweater... and a bucket hat???
What was this? Not Scully-like, for sure.
She must have sensed his confusion. Or the fact that he was staring at the top of her head and barely moving his eyes.
"Okay, you're probably thinking 'why the hat'" she said softly
"It's nice" he said "I've just never seen you wear one before like that. I had no idea you even owned a bucket hat."
"It's a long story" Scully began to explain...
The Previous Saturday, 3:32 PM
"Come on, aunt Dana, your hair is pretty! I wanna play with it!"
Scully had been babysitting for over four hours. Her energy battery, despite three cups of coffee and one Diet Coke, was nearly empty.
"Alright, Rachel" she replied slightly reluctantly "go ahead" she said as she squatted down and then sat on the floor while 4-year old Rachel sat on the couch behind her with her "Aspiring Hairdresser" kit next to her. It consisted of a hairbrush, a comb, a few ponytail holders and some hair clips. "Simple and safe enough", Scully thought.
Rachel began with the brush.
"Be gentle, Rach." Scully said, kindly. She wasn't one to want to crush a child's dreams but Ouch, she could feel that brush ripping through her ginger bob.
"I'm sorry, auntie Dana"
"It's okay, sweetie" she reassured her with a slightly pained smile. She was still feeling that brush even though Rachel had put it down.
What "Auntie Dana" had not counted on were the safety child scissors in Rachel's possession. She also didn't count on the fact that she was sleepy enough to get lost in her own thoughts for five minutes... enough time for Rachel to be a little creative.
Suddenly, Scully came to as she saw small chunks of red hair on her sweater. Her red hair.
"RACHEL SCULLY!!!" WHAT DID YOU DO???" Scully snapped. She began to touch the top of her head and then immediately ran to the bathroom for a look in the mirror.
Oh shit.
"Auntie Dana, I'm sorry!!!" Rachel said, beginning to cry. "Do you hate me now?"
Scully sighed. "No, I could never, Rachel. Just give me the scissors and never ever do that to anybody again ever. Promise me."
"I pwomise" Rachel said
The young girl jumped up towards Scully and Scully bent down to pick her up for a hug. She just couldn't stay mad at her. Rachel looked a little too much like she did at her age and her curiosity also was a trait the two shared.
Charlie, however... she had a bone to pick with her younger brother once he got home.
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Mulder's Apartment-
"I see" Mulder said. The story was honestly somewhat heartwarming for him. He felt Scully's pain (he even recalled Samantha doing something similar at that age with him as her "client") but the fact that even as an aunt, Scully genuinely loved her young niece so much. He knew she one day needed to be a mom. She loved kids and was incredible with them. He had also noticed that numerous times on cases. Hey, she even was gentle with the creepy ones they had encountered.
"Yeah" Scully said after removing the hat. It actually wasn't quite as bad as Mulder had expected.
"Scully" he said
She looked up at him "What?"
"You do know you're still beautiful, right? You know you're still the most beautiful woman in the world to me?"
Scully began to feel little tears form in the corners of her eyes
"I love you, Mulder" she said, grinning
"I love you too" He smiled
He pulled her in for a hug and kissed her completely bare forehead
"But do you want to see someone about this? I know a guy who is open Sundays..."
The End
A/N I refuse to accept that Charlie is estranged from the rest of the Scully family. I kind of see him as maybe being a divorced dad and having a couple kids. I want to believe (lol) he has an older son (the one who watched Babe on repeat, like Scully mentioned in "Home") and then Rachel. Writing this however makes me want to write more MSR stories with kids in them in addition to all the smut stuff I'm working on. If anybody has prompts, send them my way please and I'll love you forever đ
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Whelp, with yesterday we're back at school. Teaching first grade is hard, man đ Thank you guys, again, for going on this adventure with me :)
Felix Felicis
MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3
Chapter 17 - The Mulder Boys's Birthday Bash
[ DS ]
The Saturday of the Mulder Boysâs Birthday Bash, I find myself standing in front of my closet with the girls, frowning at my selection of dresses. âWhat about this one?â Holly fingers a yellow sundress.
âNah, itâs pretty but she looks like sheâs going to church in that one.â Sarah tugs on a dress with a daisy print on it.
âAre you joking? That oneâs even more Virgin Mary than the yellow one!â
Alex reaches into my closet and pulls out a navy two-piece dress I bought on a whim a few years back, but have never worn since then. âHow about this one?â
âA, thatâs perfect! Itâs classy, yet sexy, just what weâre going for!â Sarah shoves me towards my bathroom. âGo try it on, D! And wear those nude heels with it.â I take the dress out of Alexâs arms and the shoes from Sarah and change into the outfit quickly. The straps drape across my arms just below my shoulders and itâs low cut just enough for my comfort. My cross necklace gleams against my skin and I decide to keep it on for tonight. Since itâs a two-piece, thereâs just a sliver of skin visible between the top and the skirt, which flares out and swishes around my knees.
Slipping on my heels I step outside and the girls gasp in unison. âYes, thatâs the one! How does it feel D?â Holly pulls me over and I twirl in front of the full-length mirror, smiling as the skirt billows out around my legs.
âItâs beautiful, I love it. Thanks, girls!â
âThe Mulder boys wonât know what hit âem when you show up wearing that!â Sarah winks at me suggestively and I roll my eyes at her.
âYou know exactly that thatâs not why Iâm wearing it!â
Now itâs Sarahâs turn to roll her eyes. âYeah sure, just keep telling yourself thatâŠâ
âCome on guys, weâre already unfashionably late. Iâll just call us a cab, are you ready?â
I grab a shawl against the cold and my purse before we make our way downstairs to wait for the cab. When we arrive at the house, we can already hear faint party noises from the backyard and my heartâs beating hard against my chest when we walk up the front walkway to ring the doorbell. My gaze wanders around the front of the house, the glass veranda on the right catching my eye. Itâs completely different from our beach house, but itâs beautiful all the same.
The door opens to reveal Principal Skinner with a glass of whiskey in his hand and he holds the door open for us. âHello ladies, come on in! You look extraordinarily beautiful tonight! Follow me, the partyâs out back in the yard.â
He leads us through the house and I notice that itâs got polished hardwood floors and is furnished with antiques, giving it a cozy feel. We walk past the glass veranda which houses the dining room on the right and the living room with a massive couch to the left, which opens into the kitchen. The wooden staircase to the first floor is tucked away in the back. Skinner points us to the bathroom as we walk past it before we step outside onto the back porch and my breath catches in my chest.
They really went all out on this party, thereâs string lights twinkling all around the hedge and in the trees, catered food and a bar in one corner, round tables in the middle and a massive dancefloor with a DJ in the other corner. Holly whistles through her teeth. âMan, they sure know how to live it up. Why are our parties never this nice? Jesus, I think they invited half the town for this.â
âWell, thatâs on me I guess, they donât know many people around here yet so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to make new acquaintances,â Principal Skinner admits but Iâm only half listening because my eyes are too busy scanning the crowd. Sarah nudges my hip and tilts her head over to the bar and Iâm embarrassed that she knows exactly who I was looking for. There he is, deep in conversation with Skinnerâs wife, laughing at something she said.
Heâs wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and a crimson tie and while the sight of him in a plain t-shirt with jeans are enough to make my heart skip a beat, him in that suit is going to give me a heart attack.
âWould you look at that D, you color coordinated, matchsiiiesss.â Holly whispers in my ear and I give her a pointed look.
âShut up, Holly!â I hiss at her.
Just then, he looks over at us standing on the elevated porch and I can practically feel the slight burn his eyes leave as they travel up and down my body, giving me the once over. I hope he has a defibrillator. He flashes us a smile and raises his hand in a small wave, then continues his conversation with Arlene Skinner.
âCome on, girls, letâs put the presents on the gift table and get something to eat and drink.â âEat, drink and be merry for today you may die.â
At the bar we sidestep the wine for now, since we havenât eaten yet and I donât want to embarrass myself by getting tipsy and stumbling over my heels. With my luck, Iâll just faceplant at a certain someoneâs feet. âHuh, maybe heâll catch me in those strong arms of his, though, if youâre really luckyâŠâ
When he spots our little circle, Felix comes over to us wearing a boy version of his dadâs suit, only with short dress pants and sneakers better suited for running around with the other kids. Heâs tugging a tall woman along, with wavy brown hair and a kind face that seems somewhat familiar, but Iâm not sure where to place her. His face is flushed and he beams at us happily.
âYou came!â
âOf course we came, happy birthday Felix!â Sarah raises her glass to him and we all chime in with our Happy birthdays. The woman he came over with also raises her glass and ruffles his hair affectionately.
âThis is my teacher Miss Anderson, and Miss Carter and Miss Spencer and Miss Scully,â he introduces us while the woman takes her turn shaking our hands. She regards me curiously and her lips curve into a smile.
âIâm Sam, Foxâs sister and Felixâs favorite aunt!â His sister, thatâs why her face seemed so familiar. âSo youâre the enigmatic Miss Scully Iâve heard so much about. Itâs so nice to finally meet you!â She notices the surprised look on my face. âOnly good things, I promise. Felix wonât shut up about you when we talk on the phone.â I laugh, mostly because of the exasperated look Felix gives his aunt at revealing his secret.
âGlad to hear it, weâre having a lot of fun with him during recess! Nice to meet you, Sam. I really like your dress, did you get it around here?â
âThanks, but no, I got it back in LA, Iâm only visiting for a couple of days, I just couldnât miss my two handsome boysâs birthday bash!â
âHandsome, huh? You spoil me sis!â Her brother has snuck up behind her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and planting a kiss on her cheek. âHi ladies, thanks for coming, you look very lovely today!â We raise our glasses to him as well, wishing him a happy birthday and my drink spills over a little in my shaky hand. I pray that no one notices.
âSam Iâm so sorry to drag you away, but can you help me out and check if everythingâs alright with the caterers?â They excuse themselves and we decide itâs time for us to check out what said caterers have prepared, our stomachs already rumbling. Hopefully, the butterflies in my stomach will make room.
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[ Sam ]
After checking with the caterers inside, I return to the party, standing on the back porch to watch everyone have a good time and Iâm secretly a little proud of myself. Planning the party from all the way across the country had been stressful to say the least, but it turned out great. My gaze wanders around the tables and it catches on the tiny red-head and her three friends, who seem to be having a great time, laughing and chatting at their table.
Iâve heard many stories from Felix over the last few weeks but what surprised me the most was the way my brother looks at her. When I saw the way his whole face lit up when she walked in, I realized that Felix was not the only one taken with Miss Scully. Sheâs not his usual type - not that sheâs not pretty, she is, very much so - but sheâs actually nice. A vast improvement from the piece of work thatâs his ex-wife, let me tell you. I wonder if heâs thought about asking her out yet.
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[ DS ]
After dinner, weâre treated to another visit from the little Mulder, whoâs breathless from the game of tag with his friends. âHey Felix! Are you having a good time?â He nods enthusiastically, trying hard to catch his breath.
âYeah, auntie Sam did a really good job! I canât wait for my cake, she said itâs really huuuge! And the DJ is playing aaaall my favorite songs, too!â
Suddenly shy, he shuffles his feet a bit and then, gathering all his courage, he looks up at me and holds out a tiny hand. âMiss Scully, will you dance with me?â
âOf course, birthday boy, come on.â
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[ Sam ]
Once Iâm finished making another round of checking that everythingâs running smoothly, I spot my brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the party. Stopping on the last step, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. âGreat party, huh?â
âYeah, you did a pretty good job sis. And Skinnerâs managed to gather up quite a crowd. Almost everyoneâs here tonight!â
âYou know what I think? Youâd be just as happy if it were only you and one other special guest here tonight.â He turns his head a little, frowning.
âWhat?â I motion my head to the woman whoâs currently talking to Felix at her table. âAah. Is it that obvious?â I snort derisively
âAre you kidding me, bro? Iâve known you all my life, I can see the hearts in your eyes from a mile down the road. Have you asked her out yet?â
âNo⊠Iâm so nervous around her I can barely string more than a few coherent words together. She probably thinks Iâm a huge idiot. I asked her if she believes in aliens, Sam!â We watch as Felix holds his hand out to her, asking her to dance with him. Heâs so cute I can barely stand it.
âIâm sure thatâs not true. You should take a page out of your sonâs book though, boyâs got game!â My brother laughs as the somewhat mismatched pair sways on the dancefloor.
I release him from my embrace, an idea popping into my head. âYou should go and cut in.â Now he fully turns to me and looks at me like Iâm crazy.
âWhat? NoâŠâ Heâs making his panic face.
âWhat yes! Carpe diem, right now!â I give him a gentle shove in the direction of the dancefloor. âGo! Iâll handle the music.â
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[ DS ]
Of course, I canât say no to the little charmer and we make our way to the dancefloor and I sway with Felix in time to the music, twirling him around until he giggles.
âYou look really handsome tonight, Felix!â
He smiles shyly and narrowly avoids stepping on my shoes. âThank you! You look really beautiful too.â
âYouâre absolutely right, son. Mind if I cut in?â A tingle shoots up my spine at the sound of his voice and Felix nods, stepping back. His dad holds out his hand to me. âA dance for the other birthday boy?â
âWell technically, itâs not your birthday for a few days.â I tease him, but I slip my hand into his and he spins me against him, wrapping his right arm around my waist, clasping my left hand in his tightly. The DJ fades into a new song and I groan inwardly as Sonny and Cherâs âI got you babe!â starts droning from the speakers. We sway for a few beats before he whips me across the dancefloor in a quick waltz. Over his shoulder I can see countless pairs of eyes following us but for once, tonight, I donât care because all I can feel is the burn of his fingers resting on the sliver of exposed skin of my waist and the tickle of the hair at the back of his neck against my hand. God, this guy can waltz.
On the last few notes, he twirls me out with a grin on his face, tugging on my hand to bring me back in and then he dips me back for the grand finale. Dips me. The move takes me by surprise and I laugh, breathless when he brings me upright again.
âI donât think youâre supposed to dip your lady in a waltz!â I realize my Freudian slip a fraction of a second too late. âYour lady? What the heck, Dana.â
He just shrugs nonchalantly, still grinning. âIf I fancy to dip my lady, I will dip my lady! Thank you for this dance, Miss Scully!â He bows his head and I chuckle, curtsying. âThe pleasure was all mine, Mr. Mulder!â âWho ARE you?â
We step off the dancefloor and I return to our table, sitting down still a little bit out of breath, only to be met with three incredulous stares. âHere we go, 3, 2, 1âŠâ
âWhat was that, D?â Holly.
âOh my God, the two of you on the dancefloor!â Sarah.
âThat was incredible!â Alex.
I shrug, picking up my glass, but I canât hide the blush on my face and smile around my straw. âMr. Mulder can waltz.â Iâll never live this down.
Sometime after the birthday cakes came out, Felix appears at my side again and leans against me heavily. I can tell heâs coming down from his sugar-high. âMiss Scully, remember how I told you about the encyclopedia on butterflies?â
âYeah I do, what about it?â
âWould you like to see it?â He looks up at me hopefully and I agree, glad to get away from the action for a while.
âOkay, come on!â Together we climb the steps to the back porch and he tugs me inside into the living room where we sit down on the couch. I can finally slip off my heels while Felix runs to get the encyclopedia and after returning, places it on my lap curling up into my side. He opens the heavy book and shows me his favorite butterflies, explaining in great detail whatâs so special about it.
His voice gets more and more quiet with each new butterfly until he stops talking altogether and looking down I realize that he fell asleep, completely wiped. Coming off my own sugar high, I scoot down lower into the cushions and lean my head back against the back, closing my eyes. Just for a second.
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Only One Choice, Chapter 12
Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 15, 1996 9:06am
Subject: This weekend
Hey,
It was good to run into you yesterday. Your sister seems nice. Is she older or younger? I remember you said you had three siblings; where do you fall in there?
Let me know if you can come by this weekend. Priscilla promises to provide a better beverage selection this time. She was unimpressed with my hosting abilities.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 15, 1996 10:23am
Subject: RE:This weekend
Hi,
I was surprised to see you in Georgetown again, what brought you by? Not your drug dealer again, I presume (disclaimer to anyone reading this that itâs a joke). Iâm the third of four; Missy is two years older than me. Our oldest brother is Bill and little brother is Charlie. Do you have other siblings, aside from the sister you told me about?
As for this weekend, Iâm free in the evening on Saturday. I had the thought, though, that itâs perhaps not appropriate for us to be spending time alone at your apartment. Not that I think you have or would behave inappropriately in any way, just for proprietyâs sake. Sorry if that seems old fashioned. Maybe we can get dinner? Send my regrets to Priscilla.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 15, 1996 4:45pm
Subject: RE:RE:This weekend
Given the later half of your email, it probably wouldnât be a good idea to admit that I went by that coffee shop hoping to see you there again. So letâs just say it was indeed to pay a visit to my dealer.
Nope, Samantha was my only sibling. Mom and Dad divorced after she disappeared. It was far from a Hallmark movie, but I turned out okay (I think).
Scully, if you donât trust yourself around me behind closed doors, all you have to do is say so. Jokes aside, I can respect that. I actually have an idea of something we could do that is very public and not at all inappropriate. Will you trust me if I tell you itâs a surprise?
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 16, 1996 9:36am
Subject: RE:RE:RE:This weekend
I go by that coffee shop most Sundays, sometimes with my sister or mom, sometimes alone. Iâm not sure what your dealerâs typical hours of operation are, but I tend to be there around noon. For future reference.
Iâm sorry to hear about your parents. I would say you turned out pretty well, but then again I hardly know you.
I will trust you with a mystery public outing so long as you let me know what to dress for and also if there will be food involved. Something you should know about me; if you donât feed me I turn into a Gremlin.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 17, 1996 8:56am
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend
Hey, sorry I never got back to you yesterday. I wonât bore you with the details, but suffice to say that criminal profilers are not immune to workplace drama.
As luck would have it, my dealer runs a blue light special at 11:30 am on Sundays, so I tend to be in the neighborhood around that time. A stunning coincidence.
I think you know me better than the vast majority of the people I interact with at this point, save for a select few. Iâm not sure if that speaks as much to the fact that I like hanging out with you as it does to the fact that I donât have many friends. My spooky reputation tends to scare people off, but Iâm not exactly crying in my cornflakes over it.
I wouldnât want you to turn into a Gremlin on me, so refreshments will be provided. Wear something you can move in, definitely not a dress or heels (it pains me to say this). Can I pick you up at 5:00?
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 17,1996 2:31pm
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend
Workplace drama knows no bounds. Iâve been getting the silent treatment from one of the other pathologists because I questioned whether theyâd calibrated the scale before weighing internal organs.
I think youâre overestimating how well I know you, Mulder. I know next to nothing about you, outside your interest in the paranormal and a bit about your childhood.
Iâm resisting the urge to ask what you have planned. Why donât we meet somewhere? If youâre taking me UFO sighting...we better see a UFO is all Iâm saying.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 18, 1996 9:10am
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:The weekend
I want to make a comment on the fact that weighing internal organs is part of your job description, but I spent an hour today debating whether someone sticking pencils in their victimâs eyes is some kind of Freudian penis envy thing.
You know more about me than you think, Scully. You know Iâm a cat person, and that I have terrible taste in beer. Also that I like Radiohead and am not beneath asking a woman out while sheâs trying to do her job. Iâll offer you a bonus fact, or more accurately a confession: I didnât really need to come down to Quantico last week when we had coffee. I just wanted to get coffee with you. Donât tell my boss.
Now you have to tell me something about yourself. Itâs only fair.
If there were any good places to spot UFOs around here, Iâd take you in a heartbeat. If youâre ever up for a road trip out west, let me know. Washington State is a hotbed of UFO activity. Plus they have really good coffee.
Can you meet me at the Hoover building? Iâll drive us from there.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 18, 1996 1:19pm
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend
So what was the verdict on the pencil/penis eyeball situation? Fruedian or no?
Iâm touched that youâd go so far as insubordination to have coffee with me, however I hope you wonât make a habit of it. Next time you come down here Iâll have to email your boss and ask him if you got permission to come out and play.
Something about me...I like to read a lot. I think Iâd say Jane Eyre is my favorite book of all time (not that you asked). Iâm also addicted to bubble baths. Actually, reading Jane Eyre IN a bubble bath is pretty much my idea of heaven (ideally with a glass of wine).
Iâve been to Seattle once. Too much rain, though it was very green and pretty. Isnât that where Bigfoot lives?
Iâll meet you at the Hoover building on Saturday at 5, wearing my very best ball gown and stiletto heels.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 19, 1996 8:13am
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend
No verdict will be reached unless and until we catch the guy and have occasion to ask him if he was using his pencils as...pencils. Profiles are all theory, which can be both interesting and frustrating.
I wouldnât advise you to contact my AD, heâs kind of a dick. Iâll ask him to write a note excusing me from work next time.
Jane Eyre? I wouldnât have expected that from you. Itâs a very romantic book, and entirely centered around two people who never should have worked as a couple coming together despite numerous obstacles. Is that something youâre into?
You get 95 points for knowing that Bigfoot lives in Washington (you lost 5 for calling him Bigfoot; heâs known as Sasquatch out there). My dream vacation is lurking around the forests of the Pacific Northwest, Squatchinâ.
Itâs a date.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 19, 1996 3:46pm
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend
Donât ruin my favorite book by overanalyzing it, Mulder. If youâd like to trash Wuthering Heights, be my guest. I pledge my allegiance to Charlotte.
Your dream vacation sounds like it might end in death from exposure, or perhaps a good old fashioned bear mauling, but who am I to tell you how to spend your paid leave?
See you tomorrow, at 5. And itâs not a date.
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 19, 1996 6:55pm
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend
I would always rather be happy than dignified.
(A little Charlotte to arrive to on Monday)
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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.
Interview with Audrey Roget
Audrey Roget has 10 fics at Gossamer, with some different ones at AO3, fanfiction.net, and her website. You might know her from her very good fics or as part of Musea, a collective that all wrote fic and posted X-Files fic recs. Iâve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Three Times Dana Scully Didnât Go to San Diego for Christmas and The Shirt. Big thanks to Audrey for doing this interview.
Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? A little, yes. Not so much by folks who were around in those days. I sometimes go hunting for beloved stories from the early years, both those I read and loved, and those I never got around to. I am always delighted to hear that later generations of fans have stumbled across my stuff, especially since I havenât posted anything new in a number of years. Itâs fantastic that both years-long fans and new ones are out there continuing to rec fic from all eras, and to maintain archives for fans yet-to-be born. What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? It may sound corny, but the main thing I think of, and the thing that has ultimately been most valuable and lasting, has been the friendships. The feeling of having found a tribe â not just of TXF fans, but of other people who could be as enthusiastically engaged as I was (if not more so) with fictional stories and characters â was mind-blowing. Since I was a kid, I had often mulled over the books/movies/TV I loved and speculated internally about what happened off the page or off-screen, or created new stories for characters in my head. But, except for an elementary school phase where I and my two BFFs regularly played Charlieâs Angels, I hadnât engaged in that kind of gleeful immersion in a fictional world with others until TXF fandom. My involvement in fandom followed pretty quickly from getting hooked on the show, so for me, itâs all one big ball of experiences. Even as my interest in/involvement in fandom has waxed and waned over the years, Iâve been lucky to remain friends with wonderful people who I originally connected with as fellow fans.
Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?
My initial entrĂ©e to the fandom was through fanfiction. I didnât get interested in the show until mid-season 5. Around the same time, I read an article in a zine called Might (co-founded by Dave Eggers) about this thing called fanfiction that people would write and publish online. At first I thought it was satire or a joke â the fic cited involved Wilma Flintstone and a polished sabre tooth, as I recall â but then realized this was an actual thing. So I figured that a show then at the peak of pop culture must have fanfiction, and I went looking. Early on, I scrolled atxc on a daily basis and downloaded stories. But I didnât engage in discussions about the show on Usenet, since I only knew how to access it with my Earthlink email client, and I didnât want to post using my real name.
Later, I set up a pseud address with Yahoo and subscribed to a couple of email fanfic/discussion lists, and stayed subscribed to those for years. There was also a period in there somewhere â of maybe only a year or so, when I think about it â when Iâd often nerd out into the wee hours with other fans via IM chat groups. That was around the time the small writersâ collective Musea was founded, and we were active for several years after the showâs initial run. In the early aughts, I followed many authors to LiveJournal and eventually set up my own account and stayed involved in fandom that way, until it mostly dispersed as well. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? In a word: Chemistry. I had casually watched a couple of episodes during the first four seasons, but Iâm not a huge sci-fi/horror fan at heart, and the story lines didnât immediately grab me. But I happened to tune into The Red and the Black in 1998, and BOOM. For the first time, the intense layers of emotion and attraction between Mulder and Scully really struck me â and then of course, upon further viewing, I realized it was unmissable, an essential element in the fabric of the show. As a wise woman once said, a switch had been flicked. Mulder and Scullyâs magnetism was like nothing Iâd ever seen, and though I eventually came to appreciate the storytelling, humor, production values, and other components that made the series so successful, watching those characters interact has always been what kept me coming back. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? I was part of a list-serv discussion group for The West Wing for a while, which was a fun melding of character and plot analysis with political discussion. Later, I got into the House, MD fandom, again mostly as a fanfic reader/writer. I was finding that other fandoms, unlike TXF, were more dispersed, the networks of people structured more loosely, if at all. There were fanfic and discussion communities on LiveJournal, and fanfiction.net was the other main hub for posting and reading, but if there was anything centralized like Gossamer, Ephemeral, or the Haven, I never found it. Within all those fan communities, as in TXF, there were partisans for various characters and pairings, and flame wars erupted over plot developments that outraged this faction or that. One main difference was that those other shows had larger, ensemble casts and more varied subplots. So on one hand, there was more opportunity to explore back stories and multiple perspectives. In House MD in particular, there were several entrenched rival shipper camps, which were about equally grounded in canon, rather than TXFâs central ship. I was less into TWW fic, but my impression was that readers were less militant about their pairing preferences than TXF or House fans. Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?
I was deeply fascinated by Greg House for several years. (And the love-hate chemistry between him and Lisa Cuddy was a strong draw for me.) House MD came early in a wave of TV shows centered on anti-heroes, and Hugh Laurie brought amazing complexity and thoughtfulness to the character.
Philip and Elizabeth Jennings (The Americans) are a lethal pair of antiheroes. The inherent moral conflict of a sympathetic narrative from their POVs, and the global political conflict they embody was TV catnip for me. The internal struggles at the hearts of those characters were so exquisitely written and performed, they completely fascinate me.
The West Wing felt so much like a show created specifically for me. Iâm especially fond of story arcs and scenes that centered on CJ Cregg, Charlie Young, and Josh Lyman. Though I loved Martin Sheenâs human portrayal of Jed Bartlet, the fact that he was the President always made him a little untouchable in my mind. But CJ, Charlie, and Josh were basically hard-working functionaries who were ambitious and idealistic and funny and flawed, and they spoke to me. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?
I do continue to think about Mulder and Scully and watch episodes somewhat often. Iâll sometimes run a favorite episode as background when I want something comforting on. I read TXF fic pretty regularly, which can inspire me to go back and watch a particular episode or story arc I havenât thought about in years. Just recently, I started listening to The X-Files Diaries podcast (@XFDPodcast, @admiralty-xfd), and thatâs a fun dive into the characters, and how other fans react to and interpret episodes.
Every once in a while, a TV show or movie â and more particularly, the characters â will grab my attention and make me curious about how fanfic writers have interpreted the original material. Random example, I saw Singinâ in the Rain for the first time in a theatre a couple of years ago, and the chemistry of the three leads sent me to AO3 as soon as I got home. I also loved the first season of Mercy Street and found some well-done stories in that fandom. I usually peruse the Yuletide gifts every year and have been amazed by the sheer variety, creativity and cheekiness of the output. There are a bunch of other shows Iâve followed faithfully, and sought out fanfic â Broadchurch, The Killing, Agents of SHIELD, Elementary, The Good Wife. Although Iâve found some well-written stuff in those fandoms, Iâve rarely gotten the same charge from them as reading TXF fic. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?
syntax6 (@syntax6) â Universal Invariants/Laws of Motion. Iâd also shout out to synâs Hunter fics, too â well worth reading even for those who have never seen or particularly loved the show itself.
JET â I re-read Small Lives Awake every year around Thanksgiving time. Other annual holiday re-reads: Revelyâs The Dreaming Sea and Jordanâs Through the Fire (both set at Halloween).
Amal Nahurriyehâs Casey universe â the rare post-col fic that felt hopeful, made extra intriguing by a kick-ass original character. [Lilydale note: the series starts with Machines of Freedom and has lots of additional fics and snippets.]
Prufrockâs Love â Finding Rokovoko was genuinely terrifying and tender.
melforbes (@melforbes) â Seaglass Blue is a recent favorite, lyrical and bittersweet.
These are just a few (apologies to those that didnât come to mind immediately). Fortunately for readers, thereâs an astonishing number of authors who have written in TXF fandom whom you can depend on for a good yarn, insightful character study, and/or ingenious âfixesâ where 1013 went awry.
What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?
Probably the two set in my own (former) backyard of Southern California: Enivrez-vous and Ravenous. Iâd first read the Baudelaire poem that was the source of the formerâs title back in university days, so I was tickled to be able to use a few lines as an epigraph. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? Itâs not out of the realm possibility. Iâd meant for âThree Times Dana Scully Didnât Go to San Diego for Christmasâ to be followed up with âAnd One Time She Did.â In fact, the idea for that never-finished story was what inspired âThree Timesâ in the first place. I have a couple of scenes sketched out and â unusually for me â even know exactly how to end it. Every year, November rolls around, and I think I should finish and post itâŠmaybe in 2021?
Where do you get ideas for stories? Sometimes itâs from my environment. âEnivrez-vousâ and âRavenousâ describe places that Iâm fond of, that made me want to place Mulder and Scully there. âWhat Not to Wearâ has that element too â I set it in Memphis as a tribute to a great trip there with a sister Musean. But WNTW was also inspired by a kink challenge in a years-ago LiveJournal thread, so sometimes ideas come from fandom discussions or even other fanfics. In the House MD fandom, a fic by another writer made me want to continue the story, and the author kindly allowed an authorized sequel. What's the story behind your pen name? I wanted my pseudonym to sound like it could be a real personâs name â or at least, maybe like a romance writerâs pen name â rather than an online handle. I also wanted to use a slightly obscure fictional character, to amuse anyone in the know. I had long had a bit of an obsession with Whit Stillmanâs 1990s film trilogy, which started with Metropolitan; the 3rd installment, Last Days of Disco, came out the same year I started down the TXF rabbit hole: 1998. The central heroine of Metropolitan â who is mentioned in or makes a cameo in the other two â is Audrey Rouget, a lover of Austen and, eventually, a book editor. I altered the spelling of the last name as a nod to every writerâs companion, Rogetâs Thesaurus. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? I have a few close friends â from outside TXF fandom â who know that Iâve written fanfic. I donât know if they know my pseud; if they do, or if theyâve ready any of the fic, they havenât said so to me. They are fannish sorts themselves, but not really TXF fans. A smattering of other friends and family members know or could intuit that Iâve been a fangrl on some level for years. My boss, whom Iâve known for about 3 years, recently mentioned off-handedly that she was really obsessed with TXF âback in the day,â and I am DYING to know if she got involved in fandom, but donât think Iâll ever work up the courage to ask.
Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? Most of the X-Files stuff continues to be generously and steadfastly archived by Forte at The Basement Office. The House MD stories and some TXF things are at fanfiction.net; same for AO3. If ever post anything new, it will probably go to TBO and AO3. I really ought to get it all together in one place, one of these daysâŠ
(Posted by Lilydale on April 6, 2021)
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I like the ep. Good acting, writing etc. A good villain, Skinner is good and there are some good M/S fights, intermixed with their usual disregard for e/o's personal space. I love the "I wouldn't change a day" scene (Scully's last line in particular) but obviously disagree intensely with that ^^^ aspect of it. I think most MSR fans do. Certainly the show went on to prove that Mulder's indisputable soulmate is Scully (in this life and any other). At this stage, the writers were still denying the importance of that central relationship though.
More importantly, there are major holes in Mulder's past life regression session, even if Melissa's IS real which is not necessarily established either. Scully makes some pretty good points as to her unreliability but Mulder's supposed pastlife narrative is even more unreliable. His session comes only AFTER he's listened to Melissa's, indicating he may have been prompted by hearing all of her stories and just *wanting* to believe. Interview 101, as Scully points out in "Syzygy", is to interview subjects separately so you can tell if there are any inconsistencies. Someone pointed out years ago that Mulder mentions CSM appearing in a pastlife in WW2 but that character would actually have been alive at the time, even if he was a baby sucking on his first smoke. Also if he's a German woman why is he talking in English, in an American accent? People criticised DD's acting at the time, which is fair. But ALSO the lack of change in Mulder's voice and mannerisms can be taken as a sign that his testimony is unreliable. Melissa's voice and mannerisms change dramatically with each life/personality she inhabits. All we get from Mulder is a slight Southern twang towards the end. The out of universe answer to this discrepancy is that Kristen Kloke (?? actress playing Melissa) is a better actor than DD, but the in universe answer is that Mulder is weaving a tale of lost but enduring love that he wants to believe. This is very much consistent with Mulder's character and the source of his quest (the loss of Samantha). He is a man in search of that ONE person who will provide meaning, healing and completion. BUT keep in mind that "The Red and the Black" also later questions the legitimacy of Mulder's, Scully's and Jeffrey Spender's regression memories, and they are from THIS lifetime so.
Last of all, let's say there is some legitimacy to Mulder's regression memories. (He couldn't tell them where the bunkers were any more than Melissa/Sarah could, which also speaks to their unreliability, but whatevs). Scully was still present in all of Mulder's past lives, whether they were real or fabricated, so she is definitely in his circle of most loved ones. Maybe she was his sister sometimes or his mother sometimes (she sort of acts as both in their current lifetime). My personal headcanon for the Civil War lifetime is that Sarah and Sullivan grew up together. They were childhood sweethearts, even tho he was a little strange and sensitive. He was quiet and brooding and she sort of protected him from society a bit. They got engaged in their late teens because that's what you did. She might have known he was gay or maybe she just thought he was different. When the war starts up, Sullivan enlists like every other good southern boy, even if part of him really just wants to run away from society, from convention, from his engagement to Sarah. He loves her but he knows that love doesn't fulfill him the way it seems to do other men. He starts to understand why when he meets his sergeant. He admires him from afar for a while, distinguishes himself in battle, even as he starts to lose faith in the South's cause. Sullivan and his sergeant share intense experiences, save each other's lives, build a silent trust. In time, they become lovers. Sullivan wants to desert because he knows he's fighting on the wrong side but he can't leave his sergeant who feels bound by his duty to his men. They spend the night before that final battle together in the sergeant's tent. The South is on its knees and they both know they may die the next day. In the heat of battle, Sullivan sees his soulmate go down first. He knows they have lost the battle, the South has/will lose the war and he has nothing left to live for. He commits suicide via Yankee, his childhood friend Sarah finding him wounded before he dies in that bloody field. She tells him she loves him because she does (altho who knows, maybe she's started to fall in love with a hot nurse...). Point is, the white het dudes on TXF writing staff tried to imply that, in that lifetime, Mulder and Scully were fellow soldiers and nothing more because what more could *possibly* exist between two MEN?? Bullshit. Sullivan Biddle was super gay, he ran off to a sucky war cos he was in a gay panic, he fell in love with his brave and gorgeous compatriot, they had lots of gay tent sex then died together, hoping that in the future they'd be able to live their love out in the open, ideally in a slavery-free world. (We're not there yet but đ€).
THE END.
âThe field where I diedâ was a good episode, but one thing bugged me . Which was that it eluded toïżŒ Mulder and Melissa (not Scullyâs sister) being eternal soulmates and that Scully always was there to but as other people.
Now maybe itâs the romantic in me but I just think Scully and Mulder are the real soulmates and that if there was really such thing as past lives, they would be together forever.
Did anybody else have this issue? Just curious.
#txf#the x files#the field where i died#david duchovny#fox mulder#dana scully#msr#mulder x scully#forever#i've said it before and i'll say it again#sullivan biddle was super gay and in love with his sargeant#if i still wrote fic i would fix this ep thusly
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Only the Light Ch. 20
20/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scullyâs abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3
I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry.Â
Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.
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Scully is granted maternity leave, though itâs only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is âa piss-poor bargain.â And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so sheâd like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman canât be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, sheâs already tried and failed.Â
As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulderâs perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emilyâs picked up any new words. Personally, heâs working on âalienâ and if you ask him, sheâll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters canât be far behind, much to her motherâs dismay.
On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesnât question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds.Â
After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emilyâs nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead).Â
Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, âEm can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.â So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldnât ask for more.
That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and heâs gotta turn it.Â
Heâs baffled when, upon announcing that itâs Emilyâs bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink.Â
Scully raises an eyebrow at him. âWhat, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?âÂ
âNot that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.â
Scully scoffs. âI forget. You were a Vineyard boy.âÂ
Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. âOh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,â she teases. âCare to confirm or deny?â
âIf I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,â he testifies.Â
Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet.Â
âThatâs not too hot, do you think?â she asks Missy, who tests it as well.
âThat should be fine.â
Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. âJesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?â
âBabies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,â she says matter-of-factly. âTheyâre more susceptible to the cold.â
âI think the cold will be the least of her worries,â Mulder quips.
âIf you really think itâs too hot, Iâll turn it downâŠâ Thereâs a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.
âNo, no, you know what youâre doing,â he assures her. âYouâre her mother.â
As she lowers Em into the sink, Scullyâs heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her?Â
One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is natureâs own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughterâs skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose.Â
Scully squeezes a pennyâs worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. âCome on, get in here. Youâre not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?â she says with a smirk.
He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. âAlthough, technically I am getting my hands cleanerâŠâ
She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.
Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. âSomeoneâs cracking dad jokes,â she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.
Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emilyâs head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girlâs tuft of strawberry hair. Scullyâs full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. âOkay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?â
Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream.Â
And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partnerâs porcelain face. âScully, youâre bleeding.â
Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. âShit.â She turns away, goes for a tissue. âI havenât had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,â she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. âMissy--â her voice shakes involuntarily, â--will you dry Em off?â
âUh-huh.â She nudges Mulder. âWill you grab a new towel from the linen closet?â she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.
Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Emâs hair as best she can. âWhat a pretty girl!â she gushes. âAll clean!â
âYee!â Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room.Â
âTime to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.â
Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girlâs hair, and she laughs like a music box.Â
âMol-dy.â She spits it out in halves, as if sheâs been rehearsing.Â
Mulderâs eyes water with recognition. âMulder? Mul-der? Is that what youâre trying to say?â
âMoldy,â the girl declares again, certain of herself.
Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. âLooks like youâre Moldy now.â
Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. âYeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.â
Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. âWait, whatâs going on?â
âEm called me Moldy,â he tells her, full of satisfaction.
âOh.â It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, sheâs just distracted. âMissy, will you get a diaper on her before thereâs an accident? I would but Iâm still--â She gestures to her nose.Â
âYeah, yeah.â Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. âPJ time, Em!â They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.
As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated.Â
âAre you okay?â He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land.Â
âIâm fine, itâs fine.â Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise.Â
âYouâve got to see a doctor,â he pleads. âThis could be...â
âThis could be what, Mulder?â The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. Sheâs never liked being told the obvious.Â
âScullyâŠâ He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesnât, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. âThe Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.â Heâs careful not to lump Scully in with their group.Â
âAnd what do they know?â she retorts. âOne of them was sick. One.â
âOkay, well, donât you think itâs better to be safe than sorry?â he reasons. âYou have Emily to look out for now.â
Scully rolls her eyes. âDonât guilt trip me. Itâs a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.â
âYeah, but they donât happen to you. You just said--you havenât had one since you were fourteen.â
She clenches her jaw. Heâs right, and sheâs playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. Sheâs gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.
âFine. Iâll get it checked out, but theyâre gonna think Iâm insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.â
âThatâs a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.â
âWell, youâre the one who wants me to go, so youâre not out of the woods.â
âGood, Iâve finally got some company!â
Scully smiles in spite of herself. âYes, yes you do.â
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It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.
Scully snags a doctorâs appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror.Â
Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldnât accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didnât let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully canât take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst.Â
And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that itâs hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep.Â
The doctor laughs, but itâs not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the womenâs claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. Theyâll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. Thereâs a quip about how itâll be on the governmentâs dime since it covers Scullyâs insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI.Â
A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. Thereâs no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario.Â
The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how sheâs doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?
For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when itâs over.Â
The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully werenât trained in radiology herself, if she wasnât able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isnât an option.Â
âItâs a tumor, isnât it?â she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. âIn the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.â
âYour doctor will call with the results,â the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.
âNo, no, you canât do this to me,â Scully sputters. âI know what I saw, and I donât have any time to waste.â Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. âI have an infant daughter.â
The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. âPerhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.â
âYes. Please.â
And it is talked through, though thereâs no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. Thatâs the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scullyâs doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scullyâs brain, it is the bottom sheâs been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.
Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter sheâs just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. âWill you do something for me?âÂ
Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.
âWill you take me to Mulderâs?â Scully mumbles. âI would just take the car but...I canât face mom right now. I donât want to risk it.â
Missy bites her lip. âAnd what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?â
âThe truth,â Scully says curtly. âShe doesnât need the backstory.â
Missy drives past their building, though sheâs not completely sold on her sisterâs reasoning. âDonât you think she might wonder why you arenât coming home to your daughter?â
âI know sheâll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,â Scully snaps because she needs to. âI donât care.â
âOkay.â Missyâs voice is barely perceptible. I donât care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words.Â
They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulderâs building.Â
âI can pick you up when you need it,â she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. âIâll bring Em.â
âIâll figure it out,â Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.
-------------------------------------
They sit on Mulderâs couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.
Scullyâs watery eyes brush Mulderâs face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partnerâs shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?
She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his.Â
Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.
Permission granted at last, Scullyâs lips travel to her partnerâs jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldnât have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if sheâs making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much.Â
His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.
She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?
He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved.Â
Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. âMay I?â He is breathy, awe-struck.Â
âOnly if I can do the same.â Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach.Â
It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully.Â
He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.
Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places sheâs only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this.Â
She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all.Â
Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.
Mulder didnât expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldnât take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time.Â
He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now heâs putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesnât know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that heâd be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?
He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast.Â
Where does he go from here? The dusty routine heâs used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways heâs touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.
A drop of water hits Scullyâs skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. Thatâs what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. Itâs a baptism of unfortunate proportions.Â
She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. âShh, shh, itâs okay.â She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. âItâs okay.âÂ
His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend.Â
Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting.Â
If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, sheâs acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it.Â
She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. âFoxâŠâ Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture, she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. Sheâs overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.
âDana, no. You.â
She doesnât need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go.Â
âAm I hurting you?â
Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last.Â
Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the worldâs insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what itâs about, isnât it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him.Â
She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid.Â
She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesnât come to a head, sheâll die right here, she thinks.Â
She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that sheâs not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience.Â
And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him.Â
âIâm sorry,â she cries into his ear.
âWhat?â He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that sheâs hurt.Â
âNo, no--â She scrambles to stay with him. âThis--â she pants â--is so good.â She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. âIâm just sorry to be the one to go.â
He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. âFuck, honey...donât say that, donât even think thatâŠâ
They wonât linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time.Â
Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats.Â
Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that heâs been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?
They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partnerâs head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.
âYou are the only proof Iâll ever need that this life is worth it,â he murmurs. âJust you.â
Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. âI donât know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.â
She rests her cheek against his. âI love you too, F--Mulder.â
Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.
#i have been working on that last scene since uhhh...october#i apologize for any emotional distress this and the following chapters will cause lmao#probably only two or three chapters left!!!#thank you for reading <3#only the light fic#missy and scully fic#txf#txf fic#the x-files#fox mulder#dana scully#melissa scully#mine
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Xueâs Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)
Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucketâs not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised Iâm not getting out until the rideâs over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67â @amazingiam00â @kalliravenneâ @indecisive20somethingâ @2musiclover2â @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lockâ @wingedcatninjaâ @arvitâ
Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!
A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE
FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU
So weâre starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?
Oh come on, Chads, youâre out in nature and youâre playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!
Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...
If the wendigo eats his dick as heâs peeing Iâm immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.
I canât tell if it did or not, so Iâm not paying yet.
Aw, Sammy...
"I should have told you the truth.â *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDNâT
FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.
A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating treeâs fucking good at his job, man.
âThereâs nothing there, itâs just...woods,â Sam, I donât know if Jessâs death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods âin the middle of nowhereâ (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.
Ehehehehehehehehe heâs so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit
At least youâre coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.
âBullâ oop-
Oh Deanâs a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.
AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN
Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesnât turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.
Oh, Haleyâs a cutie! Which oneâs her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?
Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?
That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.
Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.
Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, thatâs more heads to worry about.
How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? Iâm impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe Iâm just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.
Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?
âWhatever that thing is, it can move.â And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.
Ahhh, so Samâs go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. Heâd make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.
Go Grandpa Exposition, go!
Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!
OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.
Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!
âCorporealâ doesnât sound like a real word, but then again, English doesnât sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.
Samâs gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.
AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along Iâm gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Luciferâs spawn or something?
âOh sweetheart I donât wear shortsâ. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?
Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasnât into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...
Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp
OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY
âItâs probably the most honest Iâve been with a woman. Ever.â See. Bi. Bi bi bi.
So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?
*carefully places death flag on Roy*
Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what Iâm saying?
Thatâs not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?
*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I canât even confirm or deny it. Dammit.
Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?
Daddy Neganâs journal is a e s t h e t i q u e .
Iâm so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boyâs a demon. Heâs a demon, Iâm telling you.
At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*
*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*
True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?
âSaving people, hunting things, the family business!â Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.
I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, Iâd be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.
Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. Itâs so heartwarming.
Pennywise wendigo! I didnât miss you, whyâre you here to burst my happy bubble?
Iâm starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.
Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.
Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, Iâm glad they do.
Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.
Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please donât remind me of that! Those poor people!
Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.
TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*
Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.
Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.
FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, letâs find him before itâs too late!
A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?
SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.
DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW
Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I canât even begin to describe it.
Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!
Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?
Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. Itâs unnerving, but still.
TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW
Graphics are...alright, but itâs the thought that counts!
Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?
...
I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I
Haleyâs a lesbian, thatâs why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, sheâs really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???
Ah, the siblings parallels again. Letâs hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.
âMan, I hate camping.â Really. Really really. Really.
âIâm drivingâ
...
SAM WINCHESTER IâM SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL
Itâs just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???
I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! Iâm fully invested in both brothers and their story, and Iâm cheering them both on! Letâs get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!
Six stars out of five!
ââââââ
This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!
Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and Iâll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!
- Xue
#xue's supernatural dare#spn#supernatural#dean winchester#jensen ackles#sam winchester#jared paladecki#text#i had a really bad day today with my constant pain and aching from the chemo#but this really brought genuine smiles to my face!#what a good show#what a wonderful show#how the FUCK did they fuck it up later#well#i guess i'll find out when i get there lmao
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redux ii, aka the reason i am sending david duchovny my therapy bill:
mulder nearly collapsing when he sees scully in the icu brings the sucker punch counter to 4! expect exponential spc growth over the next 45 minutes!
thinking MANY thoughts about "i came here because you asked me to" vs "she lied because i asked her to" vs "then you have to lay it on me." sucker punch count: 6 (one for mulder v skinner and one for the first hospital visit)
unfortunately i get where bill is coming from. like i know he gets worse in the emily arc but with the limited information he has, all the accusations he's throwing at mulder do make sense. like WE know that mulder would rather die than have this happen to scully, and WE know that mulder has been off trying to save her, but from bill's pov his baby sister is dying and her crazy coworker whom she's pretty obviously in love with is feeding her a bunch of lies that are going to make her die faster, and she loves him so much that she'll just follow him no matter what. what we know that bill doesn't is that mulder will also just follow her no matter what
mulder answering the phone on the verge of tears with "one sorry son of a bitch speaking" has no right to be so funny
insane how the syndicate plot in this ep makes absolutely no sense but the character work with the mulder siblings and the scully family is so well-done and heartbreaking that this manages to be one of the best episodes of the show
(yes i know that's not sam. but HE doesn't)
speaking of samantha, props to megan leitch for having three really distinct versions of sam so far. the original clone is this plucky action girl, sort of who mulder i think wants his sister to be, or pictures his sister as. she's the most little-kiddish, the most optimistic. the scientist clones are cool and detached, ready to exploit mulder's greatest wish in order to get his help. and the "real" sam is a skittish, traumatized young woman, a lot closer to what sam probably would've been as an adult than what mulder would like to believe. sucker punch count for the mulder-sam interaction: 7
"if scully dies, i will kill you," he tells the smoking man, and he's not lying. not at all. sucker punch count: 8
side thought but the makeup team did a really good job of making scully actually look terminally ill for the first time all arc
and i love that scully actually gets to be scared! this is such a terrifying thing to happen to her but she's put on such a brave face this whole time so that she can stay with both her job and with mulder without causing either of them too much pain. but she can't deny it anymore: she's dying. and she will beg, scream, pray, put anything in her neck if it means she gets to stay
okay. The Scene. oooooooohh boy. if you've seen my gifsets before you know that i've already seen the scene where mulder sobs at scully's bedside in the middle of the night, but i've only ever vaguely had the context that he's planning to play ball with the smoking man. with the full context, the scene completely changes meaning. it's not "please don't leave me," it's "i've lost you either way and there is nothing i can do." she'll either die or hate him for taking the deal. but at least her anger means she's alive. sucker punch count: 9
kim manners: "i want you to go to scully's bedside and act like the world is ending and it's your fault." dd: "okay bet"
i started writing a different point here but it JUST hit me that the reason mulder is so quick to trust skinner despite scully's suspicions is because he has information that she doesn't. he knows about zero sum. he knows what skinner did to try to save her, and i bet he never told her. he knows that skinner wouldn't betray them because of everything he's sacrificed to help her, and she has no fucking idea
okay actually the point i was going to make: i think we all forget sometimes that mulder is actually really really good at his job. him sussing out blevins was a complete shot in the dark, and part of it was because of how badly he didn't want to believe the traitor was skinner, but he also had to make some FAST inferences about what blevins wasn't telling him in the scene where he's asked to accuse skinner
the awful awful laugh mulder does on "because i knew you'd talk me out of it if i was making a mistake" is going to haunt me forever. it's WAY too real. this might be dd's best performance yet, but this specific line delivery is horrifyingly honest. it's fucking devastating. he loves her so much. sucker punch count: 11, because i missed a sucker punch in the maggie-scully scene. i know i'm mostly focusing on mulder here but that's just because gillian anderson has been giving this level of performance in pretty much every episode since paper hearts and i've already talked about it ad nauseam
really great redirect with the first elder talking about their colleague solving the fbi problem. you think he means the smoking man recruiting mulder, but he ACTUALLY means the assassin killing the smoking man. because the smoking man is getting sloppy. because his weird fucked-up version of love for mulder and scully is becoming a liability
i know a lot of people are annoyed that we don't actually see scully telling mulder that she's in remission, but i actually don't mind it. it's such a personal moment that i feel like inviting the audience in would almost be voyeuristic. it belongs to mulder and scully alone. besides, it lets us imagine the possibilities to our hearts' content in fic- i've seen mulder almost passing out when she tells him, i've seen mulder kissing her, i've seen the doctor telling them both at the same time, i've seen (my personal favorite) scully so overwhelmed with everything that's happened that she bursts into tears when telling him and mulder assumes the worst... there are endless ways it could've gone, and we get to explore all of them
ending with mulder crying alone outside of scully's hospital room as her (his) family and skinner all celebrate inside is an insane choice. this is the best news he could have ever heard, but it's not a victory in the way it should be. he finally has to face up to what she means to him- remember, when kritschgau asked what his greatest wish was, the answer should have been to see sam and it wasn't- and it scares the hell out of him. and there's no guarantee something like this won't happen to her again. they have no idea what that chip will do. he doesn't know how long he can keep saving her. he thinks he's found his sister, but with the smoking man "dead," his only link to her is gone. the smoking man is dead and he didn't get to kill him. what does that mean for him? for scully? he knows how to love her. that's all he knows. but does he know how to live? sucker punch count: 12
i did in fact send a no-spoilers liveblog of this to flatmate (we just finished dod kalm together so he doesn't even know the cancer arc exists) and feel compelled to share this tidbit as my closer: "savid duchosbny when i catch you..."
david duchovny you are NOT seeing heaven
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Returning from vacation was a bit difficult, of course, but now they had so-called recharged themselves and were better able to work and take care of the children again.
Same time, little Walter and Nomura were going through some weird phase where they definitely wanted to wear a bear outfit, even in the heat. Little Walt's bear outfit was red and little Nomura's orange.Â
 In addition, the twins had grown at a rapid pace, as well as had learned to walk, so resting with them really didnât become anything when the very fast-moving twins were curious about going to just about anywhere, even where they wouldnât have been allowed to go.Â
 But nonetheless, Walter kept playing with these and looking after them, even though it was a much harder job than watching the schoolâs students, which was no easy task either.Â
 One day the rest of the family had already gone to work and school and Walter happened to have a day off, when he had naturally also had to look after the twins. He was currently playing with Carrietta when there was a knock on the door.
He lowered Carrietta carefully and went to the door to see who was really there. Walter opened the door, making his expression sour when he saw the newcomers. Mulder and Scully.Â
After a little courtesy, he let inside the duo. They still wanted to inquire about what was happening at the hospital, as well as the events that preceded it, when Walter had been helping Jim and others with a demanding task that had unfortunately managed to get the attention of outsiders as well, even though they had tried to avoid it, and in that rush he had hurt himself quite badly. But luckily because he wasnât a human it had been helpful and he was now in as good shape as he would never have hurt himself.Â
Scully still seemed very skeptical about all this. The woman was clearly unwilling to believe that trolls and trollhunters existed, let alone magic, which usually appeared only in storybooks. Mulder, on the other hand, watched and listened with great interest to everything and was actually very surprised when Carrietta toaded the scene curiously.Â
Admittedly, that curiosity vanished for a moment as the girl began to be a little shy and perhaps even intimidating these strange people in their home. Walter squatted protectively to reassure Carrietta. He really wouldnât give his daughters anyones guinea pig, at least not without a fight, that was for sure.
âWhat is that?â Scully asked.Â
"That? She's my daughter Carrietta," Walter growled and glared at the woman less kindly.Â
 During that exchange, Jim, Claire, little Nomura, and little Walter arrived from school. They looked at these agents a little confused. Jim also glanced pretty ugly at Scully, perhaps because he was also perhaps a bit of an overprotective big brother who didnât like the way his little sister was talked about.Â
Scully said nothing more but headed a little to look at the apartment, which Walter had, of course, given permission for, albeit quite coldly. Also mentioning that he hoped the agents would disappear as quickly as possible so he wouldnât have to help with that.Â
 The schoolchildren moved to the big table to do their homework and Walter was going to go put the food so it would be ready when the schoolchildren got their homework done.Â
He was already at the kitchen door when he collided with Scully. The woman's behavior had changed and this was actually trying to flirt, which made Walter confused. He just froze, and couldn't really deny the woman, but in the end he pushed Scull away, noting that he was already married and that his wife wouldn't be very happy if he knew what had happened.Â
 That's where Walter was right.Â
In the end, Mulder and Scully were happy with what they had seen and left. Walter stood in the dining room, looking at Jim and Claire a little begging, not to tell her, because he did not wanted quarrel with Barbara right now.Â
 But Jim still decided to tell.Â
So when Barbara returned from work, she learned that Mulder and Scully had visited. What he didn't like was knowledge of what Scully had done. Although Jim had carefully mentioned that the enterprising person had been Scully, not Walter, and that Walter had even rejected the woman's applause, expressing that he was already married.Â
 It still didnât help terribly, as Barbaraâs feelings swelled to the surface or perhaps a slight jealousy, so she expressed her case to Walter perhaps a little unnecessarily loudly, but eventually apologized to Walter for her overreaction. But Barbara didn't promise to be very kind if she met Scully again.
#trollhunters#stricklake#jlaire#drama#x-files#mulder and scully#walter and barbara#romantic#random#the sims 4
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XF Fic: Too Much, Just Right
I fear that if I donât post this now, I may never post it.
Summary: Mulder/Scully smut. Dom Mulder. NC-17. Classic PWP. Mulder and Scully get kinky on a vacation to Big Sur. Thatâs it, thatâs the plot. Itâs embarrassingly long, what else is new.
It satisfies two prompts from the Dec â18/Janâ19 @xfpornbattleâ, which, LOL, could I be any slower?
Those prompts are:
Dom Mulder draped over Scully's back, pounding into her and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear while playing with her clit. Bonus if there are people nearby.
and:
Dom Mulder blowjob, slapping Scully's cheeks with his dick while she touches herself
I reserve the right to revisit this setting, by the way, because Big Sur is the most surreal landscape Iâve ever visited, and itâs a BIG Mulder/Scully mood.
If Iâve not scared you off, keep reading, friends. Unbetaâed. Sorry for the typos or tense slips. I tried to catch âem all. If you like it, hate it, it makes you feel something, anything, please let me know.
He books them a cabin in a redwood grove on the California coast. Their cell phones lose reception as they begin the winding drive through Big Sur, dramatic scenery seemingly all around them â jagged cliffs and primal, roaring ocean waves on one side; mountains and thick forest on the other. It feels like the edge of the universe.Â
They are in a rented Jeep, with the top taken off, and Mulder had popped The Beach Boyâs Pet Sounds â somehow at once upbeat and melancholy, not unlike him â into the CD player.
They are relaxed, happy. Blessedly alone.
âNo shared apartment walls out here, Scully,â he says, his voice dark and low, the way it always sounds in the evenings when he takes charge.
His hand lands on her thigh and she jumps. He smirks. She feels off balance â the rush of the wind around the Jeep, Brian Wilsonâs voice, the sheer edges and the blue sky â and it feels good.Â
âNo neighbors. Iâm going to have so much fun making you scream,â he promises. âJust you and me in the middle of nowhere.â
...So he hadnât realized there would be another cabin about 20 feet away from theirs, occupied by a friendly couple in their twenties who wave when they pull up, just as the sun is setting. She shoots him a trademark raised eyebrow.Â
âAll alone in the middle of nowhere, huh?âÂ
In the end, it works out. Ed and Mary are lovely, and they spend the evening sitting around a fire pit between the two cabins, sharing a cache of West Coast IPAs, pinot noir and marshmallows. Sadly, Mulder and Scully have to politely turn down the coupleâs generous offer to enjoy some fine California Gold marijuana, what with the federal employment and all.Â
A couple hours later, it is well and truly dark. Scully knows from past trips out to Big Sur when she was young that the sky is full of stars, though they canât see it from their vantage point beneath the thick canopy of redwoods. She feels warm from the fire and the drinks and the easy camaraderie. She feels happy, relaxed, far from her responsibilities.Â
âReady to hit the hay, Scully?â Mulder asks, a voice so sweet sheâd almost forgotten the mood heâd been in earlier.Â
Almost.
She felt warm all over again.
âYeah, if we want to get up early tomorrow and hike, I suppose weâd better.âÂ
And so they say goodnight to Ed and Mary, who say theyâd be outside a little while longer, making sure the fire safely dies down. Very responsible.Â
The cabin is small but well appointed â for once it really is a nice trip to the forest. It has sliding glass doors, and once they were inside, Mulder drew the curtains almost all the way. Almost. It would be unlikely Ed or Mary could see anything from their vantage point, but not entirely impossible if they ventured out of the clearing. The walls are thin enough that she can hear Mary laughing at something Ed said outside. Â
âGuess it would be a little rude to make you scream, Scully,â he says, and she jumps, because Mulderâs low voice is right against her ear, and she hadnât even realized he was behind her.
âI guess so,â she says, not happy about how shaky her voice is already.
âMaybe Iâll just have to settle for making you whimper. Making you beg. Making you moan.â
She could settle for that. Doesnât really feel like settling at all, actually.
âAnd maybe, Scully, if youâre very good, and you promise not to make too much noise, maybe I will let you come.â
She watches her own chest rise and fall, listens to the sound of her own breath. He is so annoyingly, wonderfully good at this. It was hard, at first, for her to accept that she liked it â that bossy Dana Scully liked being bossed around in bed. She supposes itâs not particularly shocking. It might even be predictable. It took Mulder next to no time to figure out, brilliant profiler and whatnot. But itâs still hard to be vulnerable with someone when you want them to treat you as an equal in a relationship. Harder still when you also work with that someone in an environment where it is imperative that they treat you as an equal.
Needless to say, she got over it.
âWould you like that, Scully? Would you like me to make you beg?â he asks, running his hands up her sides, and she canât help but shiver.
âYes.â
âTake your clothes off,â he says, not a whisper anymore, and his voice is enough to make her jump.
He stalks out from behind her as she sheds the fleece jacket sheâd worn to keep warm by the fire, then her t-shirt, then her jeans.
âStop,â he says, when she was down to her underwear and bra, simple but matching black cotton.
He kisses her, hands in her hair, like heâd been waiting to do it since heâd made his now-amended promise back in the Jeep all those hours ago. A needy sound escapes from the back of her throat, and she canât tell if sheâs squirming because of embarrassment or desire but sheâs pretty sure itâs both.
She is out of breath when he pulls away.Â
âYouâre so beautiful, Scully. Youâre perfect,â he says, and while she doesnât think of herself that way, in that moment, she believes him.
âI want to make you deliriously happy,â he tells her.
She leans into his chest as he strokes her hair.
âBut first,â his voice drops again, his hand goes from stroking to gripping the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling back so she looks up at him. âYouâre going to suck my cock.â
He is good at that â setting her at ease with sweet little touches and then jolting her back into their kinky little game â and she is a real sucker for it.Â
She glances in the direction of the bed, but he shakes his head. She feels herself get hotter. He pulls a pillow off the bed and places it in front of him. She knows what he wants, but she wants to hear him tell her.
âOn your knees, Scully.â
Sheâs always been good at following directions. When she is settled, he unbuttons his fly. He takes his cock in hand, but instead of pressing it against her lips, he rubs it against her cheek. She feels herself blush and then he gently taps it against her cheek, and then a little harder, and thatâs something new and Christ, itâs almost too much, which means it makes her wet.
âDoes sucking my cock turn you on?âÂ
She silently curses him for expecting her to speak in this condition. âYes. Please,â she says, although sheâs not entirely sure what sheâs asking him for.
He slaps his dick against her cheek again and she squeezes her legs together. Too much. But God, she likes it.Â
âYou can play with yourself,â he says. Of course she can, she is a grown woman, and she can do whatever she likes to her own body⊠and yet on this evening, in this mood, she wouldnât dream of it without Mulderâs permission.
He puts his cock in her mouth, and she takes him up on his offer, slipping her hands inside her panties and finding herself predictably wet.
She takes him as deep as she can, concentrating until she gets into a rhythm, then looking up at him and making eye contact. He groans, and sheâd smirk if she could.
âIâve been waiting all day for this, Scully,â he mutters. âBeen thinking about sliding into your mouth since I started teasing you in the Jeep. I could barely concentrate out by the fire, I wanted you so bad.â
She moves the busy fingers under her underwear a little faster, and he notices.Â
âIt makes you wet to have my dick in your mouth, huh?âÂ
She moans around his cock. Too much. Just right.Â
Kinky sex with Mulder never fails to remind her what a good interrogator he is. He is constantly talking to her, asking her to react, asking her to admit her secrets â yes, I want you to make me beg, yes, I want to suck your cock, yes, I like having your dick in my mouth. It is a temporarily lopsided power dynamic â there is no doubt that Mulder is in charge right now â but thereâs rarely any sense of force. She wants every filthy thing he does to her, and he makes her tell him that.Â
It is overwhelming to be the object of his intense focus, his questioning, his curiosity. At first it was terrifying how little she could hide from him. It is still a little scary â in an exciting, pulse-quickening way that reminds her why she turned in her stethoscope for a gun. Itâs also oddly comforting: She doesnât have to hide, or pretend, with Mulder. She just has to be herself, strange quirks and kinks and all. He could see through any pretending she could try.
She takes him a little deeper, deep enough that it makes her eyes water. A gentle thumb wipes away a tear that had formed at the edge of her eye. She looks up into his eyes and when he smiles at her, she nearly melts.Â
âHands where I can see them, now, Scully,â he says, and she reluctantly stops touching herself.Â
Mulder withdraws from her mouth a moment later, and helps her to her feet. He steps out of his jeans, then pulls his t-shirt over his head.Â
âDid you enjoy that, Scully?â
That he calls her by her last name, even now, as she wipes the corner of her lips, itâs somehow a thousand times more intimate than if heâd used her first name. Itâs like he sees right through whatever walls she might want to build, flimsier than the walls of this cabin, outside of which the fire is still burning as Ed and Mary keep talking.
âYes,â she says simply, finally, answering his question. Then she flicks her eyes at his erection. âI could feel that you enjoyed it as well.â
Despite how much she likes it when heâs in charge, she canât help but try to claw back a little pride.
âOf course I liked it,â he says, pulling her close against his erection. âWhatâs not to like about my buttoned-up partner getting on her knees to take my cock down her throat while she plays with herself?â
She moans -- an embarrassing, unintended, not very quiet moan.Â
âWhat did I tell you about being quiet, Scully?â he teases, followed by a sharp swat on her ass.Â
Too much. Just right.
âI canât help it,â she whines, a whisper.
âWell youâd better try, if you want me to let you come.â
On any other evening sheâd laugh. Sheâd scoff at the idea that anyone could *let* her do anything. But it isnât any other evening and sheâs ready to dissolve into a puddle at his feet and so she bites her lip and she nods like a --
âGood girl,â he says.
When she is back in her right mind she is going to murder him. Or buy him breakfast. She canât really be sure.Â
He shoves her -- shoves her! -- onto the cabinâs king size bed, which takes up most of the small space. Her pulse is racing.Â
Scully knows, rationally, that there are lots of reasons people like any manner of kinky sex -- the trust, the intimacy, the letting go of responsibility, all of those things are appealing to her. But she thinks the biggest draw is the sheer thrill. She doesnât know what Mulder will do next. She is a little afraid but terribly excited, the way she is as a roller coaster cranks its way up a hill, or when her heels click on the pavement as she chases a suspect. She slinks backward on the mattress, away from him, back up against the headboard, even as all she wants is his touch.Â
He slips out of his boxers.Â
âWhere ya going, Scully?â he asks, all boyish charm and wolflike grin. He yanks one leg, hard, pulling her down the bed until sheâs flat on her back again.Â
âMulder, please, I --â and she stops, because she doesnât even know what to say.
âYou looked very pretty with my cock in your mouth, Scully. Would you like me to touch you? I havenât yet, have I? Touched your pussy, I mean,â he says, marking that last bit with a firm squeeze of her left breast.
âNo,â she replies.
âNo, you donât want me to touch you?â
âOh, god, please touch me. You havenât, but please,â she begs, and itâs embarrassing to beg, but itâs also hot, and itâs also all she can do, because if Mulder doesnât touch her soon sheâs going to lose her mind.Â
He slides her underwear, embarrassingly wet, down her legs, his fingernails scraping their way.Â
âTurn over,â he says.
She does, arching her ass up almost unconsciously. He gives it a playful smack and she moans.
âWhat do you want?â he asks her, drawing his penis up and down her labia, teasing.
âI want you to touch my clit,â she says.
He waits. She waits.Â
âNo,â he says, the only real warning she gets before he slides his cock inside her, to the hilt.Â
She cries out -- and his hand covers her mouth.
âWhat did I tell you about being quiet?â he growls.
The feeling of him inside her -- hot and hard and so big -- is overwhelming. But she knows she wonât come without his fingers on her clit, and so does he. Heâs going to keep teasing her.Â
He moves his hand away from her mouth. Sheâs prone on her stomach and heâs draped over her, all over her. His lips are against her ear.
âAre you going to be quiet for me, Scully?â he asks her.
âYes,â she whispers.
âGood,â he says. âWe wouldnât want our friends outside to hear what a little slut you are, now would we?â
Too much. Just right. She whimpers, muffling the sound into the mattress beneath her.Â
âI bet youâd like to rub your clit right now, wouldnât you?â he asks her.
âYes, please,â she says.
âBut youâre not -- why arenât you touching yourself?â he asks.
She squirms, just another subject of his interrogations, just as helpless against his probing questions as any of them have ever been.Â
âBecause you havenât let me,â she admits. âYou havenât given me permission.â
âThatâs right, and Iâm in charge, arenât I?â
She has heard Mulderâs voice crack like a whip. She has heard him bellow, heard him snarl, heard him command a room of men with just his words.
But this â this rough, ragged whisper, so close to her ear she feels it more than she hears it â itâs so unbearably intimate, so unnerving. It reverberates to her very core.
âYes,â she admits. âYouâre in charge. Please.â
âPlease what, Scully?â he asks, as he slams into her. âDo you want to touch yourself?â
âYes,â she breathes. And then: âNo. I want you to touch me. Please.â
âThatâs my girl,â he says.Â
Before she knows it, two fingers are working her clit in tight little circles as he pounds into her. In another moment she might envy his athleticism, be impressed by his coordination. But all she can do right now is moan into the pillow beneath her, overwhelmed, overloaded.Â
Too much, just right.Â
âI told you to be quiet, but you just canât help yourself, can you?â he asks.
She assumes all he can hear is a moan, but what sheâs muttering into the pillow is: âPleasepleasepleaseplease.â
âI like it when you canât control yourself, Scully,â he mutters. âBecause even if you canât -- I can. You know that, right?â
âYes,â she whispers. âYes yes, please, please.â
âCome for me,â he says, his voice practically a growl. âCome for me, Scully.âÂ
Sheâs so worked up that a few flicks of his wrist is really all it takes for her to tumble over the edge, as sharp and severe as the cliffs they drove past a few hours ago.Â
âThatâs rightâ he says, so fucking smug she wants to suffocate him, except sheâs busy gasping for air herself.Â
Sheâs coming down as he starts moving faster. She realizes, appreciatively, the amount of self-restrain that was probably necessary for him to focus so singularly on her orgasm. She arches a little higher, moans a little breathier. He deserves it, doesnât he?
âGive it to me,â she moans, knowing what buttons to press, wanting it to be as good for him as it was for her. âPlease, Mulder.â
A moment later he spills into her, collapsing on her back, overwhelming her, surrounding her in the best possible way.
For a moment they both just lie there, flattened, useless, happy, sated people. Scully feels empty in a good way, a way she rarely feels. Divorced from her worries, from her expectations. Elated.Â
He slips out of her, slides to her side and spoons against her.Â
âGod, I love you, Scully,â he murmurs into her shoulder.Â
âI love you too, Mulder,â she says, pressing back against him.
âI hope I wasnât --â
âStop. It was perfect,â she sighs.Â
A beat.
âBut I hope we donât run into Ed or Mary tomorrow.â
#xf fic#xfiles fic#dom mulder#xf fanfic#xfiles fanfic#Mulder/Scully#msr fic#msr smut#xfpornbattle#myfic
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In the Bond-Chapter 19
Summary: Lilah often wished sheâd never said yes to working with the Gecko brothersâusually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when sheâs hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.
Word Count: ~6,300
Warnings: Smut
A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.
Taglist: @symbiont13
Start from the beginning  Previous Chapter  Next Chapter Â
Read on AO3 Â Masterlist
Sheâd made the call not really knowing how it was going to go. Lilah had an address, a plane, a packed weekender bag, and not much else. Sitting at the airport bar was the extent of her plan. She tipped back the last of her beer, eyeing the mirror that reflected the entrance.
Kate was early. Lilah checked the digital clock next to the wall of liquor. Sheâd asked her to be there at one. It was barely twelve thirty. There was something to be said for punctuality, a quality she had found strangely lacking in most criminalsâgo figure. Lilah signaled for another round, two fingers in the air, her free hand gesturing at the approaching woman.
Dressed in a long sleeved shirt and jeans, her hair tumbling in soft waves around her face, Kate looked barely old enough to even be in the bar. Lilah supposed that was true, though sheâd never bothered to ask Kateâs age. She fixed the bartender with a soft, sweet smile and didnât even get carded.
Sliding onto the stool next to her, Kate rested both arms on the bar top, âHe doesnât know Iâm here, by the way.â
There was no need to expound on who Kate meant. Lilah doubted that Seth could have stopped Kate, even if he wanted to. And yet, a small part of her appreciated the discretion. An angry, possibly vengeful, Seth was one variable she didnât have the energy to contend with on this particular trip. And still, it chafed that he hadnât reached out. Lilah hadnât received a single text message or call. It hurt her more than she cared to admit.
Not bothering to spare Kate a glance, Lilah shrugged, âWouldnât matter if he did.â
âIt might.â
âDoubtful.â
Lilah knew she sounded petulant, but she couldnât quite make herself care. She sipped at the too expensive beer and leaned lazily back in her seat. Kate fiddled with the bottle, thumb rubbing at the label.
âSo, Iceland?â
Smiling, Lilah nodded, âReykjavik, actually. Thereâs a huge church there, and the knife is in, like, a reliquary.â
Sheâd had to look up the definition of reliquary when Brasa told her about it, tablet in hand, finger swiping from one picture to the next. When Lilah had commented that they were lucky it was in a church and not in another private collection, heâd sighed and said heâd rather deal with the private collector. The capital âCâ, Church, could be a harrowing enemy.
Lilah disagreed. A church of this size and age was unlikely to have up to date security systems. And, to be fair, a lot of churches were underfunded, which left little to know staff to wander the halls in search of delinquent women looking to pocket ancient relics.
âUh huh,â Kate drawled, taking a swig, âHow do you expect us to get in?â
Lilah shrugged, âI hadnât gotten quite that far.â
âUh huh,â then, âHow far have you gotten?â
Hands giving a sweep around her, Lilah pronounced, âThis is about it.â
âUh huh.â
With an expression that was nearly a glare, Lilah groaned, âStop saying that.â
Kate shrugged, âIts just that you usually have a plan. Way before we get to the airport.â
She was right, Lilah usually had a solid plan before they even left for the job, before they even bought the plane tickets or booked the motel. She didnât like being rushed, but the reality was that they needed to get the job done and get back as fast as humanly possible. For this job, Lilah was willing to wing it just a little.
âI know,ïżœïżœïżœ Lilah sighed, taking a deep pull, âThis was sort of last minute. There was...an attack.â
She didnât think it would be wise to hide what had happened from Kate. Context and background information usually sat well with her. Like Lilah, Kate liked to know what, exactly, she was dealing with. And, there was part of her that just needed to tell someone.
Beside her, Kate stiffened, âWhat kind of attack?â
âBenny tried to open the portal,â Lilah explained, waving away the bartenderâs offer of another round. Â While they waited for the check, she continued, âA lot of the people he was with died. Some of them were injuredâhorrifically. The knife is all we need to close the portal for good.â
That, and a shit ton of Brasaâs blood. Heâd told her over and over again that heâd put in safety measures, that there was nothing to worry about. Lilah was dubious, at best.
Nodding, Kate slipped off the stool and looked at Lilah expectantly, âWhenâs the flight?â
Lilah glanced again at the clock, âAbout an hour from now.â
Kate frowned, âWeâre not going to get through security in that time. Why didnât you tell me to be here sooner?â
Smiling coyly, Lilah lifted a shoulder, âProbably because weâre flying private. Weâve got plenty of time.â
Head cocking to the side, Kate regarded her closely, her mouth parted in something near enough to a smile, âI guess youâd better show me your plane.â
Leaning down, Lilah grabbed her weekender and slung it over her shoulder, âBoarding is that way.â
The plane was exactly as she remembered it, right down to the stewardess offering them a glass of champagne for the flight. Lilah settled into the plush seat and sent off a text to Brasa to let him know they were on the tarmac.
When she looked up from her phone, she noticed Kate tossing hers back into her bag, likely doing the same thing.
âSo, you do any research on this church?â
Lilahâs head ticked to the side, âA little. Its huge. Big olâ pipe organ thatâs pretty famous.â
Kate sipped her champagne, âYou read that off Wikipedia?â
That was exactly what sheâd done, right after Brasa spelled out the name for her.
Laughing, Lilah confirmed, âPretty much.â
âYou got a way in?â
âThereâs services a couple days a week,â Lilah said, resting her head in her palm, âI figure, we go in with the church crowd, sneak away, hit up the reliquary, walk out with the church crowd.â
Kate blinked, âYou said its a big church. Do you know your way around?â
âJavier got me some maps,â then, âI told Brasa weâd have a seventy two hour turnaround.â
Brows coming together, Kate shook her head, âIt might not be that simple.â
âYou and the boys do it all the time.â
Lilah and the boys had done it many times over.
âYeah,â Kate shot back, âIn banks, in museums, jacking cars. Weâre stealing from a church.â
Lilah rolled her eyes, âWhatïżœïżœs the difference?â
Her expression closed tightly, and Kate took a beat too long to respond, âIts the church. Its...God.â
Ah. Touchy subject.
Taking a deep breath, Lilah chose her words carefully, âTechnically, they stole it first. The knife is Xibalban, it belongs to Brasaâs people. Weâre not stealing it. Weâre just..playing a bit of Robin Hood.â
Kate glared at her, âYou canât be Robin Hood when youâre sitting on a private jet, Lilah.â
That was fair.
âPoint. Then, weâre reverse Indiana Jones-ing it.â
Laughing, Kate shook her head again, âI donât think that fits, either.â
âWell, we canât all be Richie with the pop culture references, can we?â Lilah retorted, half amused, half annoyed.
âNo,â Kate murmured, âHe really does have a connection for everything.â
âOh, my god, he does,â Lilah agreed, one hand covering her eyes, âThe first day I met him, he called me Scully. And then he proceeded to show me that there are, in fact, things that go bump in the night.â
Heâd actually flashed his fangs at her, his eyes glowing behind his glasses. Lilah had scrambled back from him, too scared to even scream. It had been Seth that had calmed her down, had told her what they were doing, what their mission was. It had been Seth that set her on the path she was on now.
âThat sounds like Richie,â Kate said with a small smile, âHe likes to go ahead and rip the band aid off.â
âThatâs one way of putting it.â
It had taken about two days before Lilah could bring herself to sit within ten feet of Richie, and even longer before they had a conversation over three sentences long. Once sheâd gotten over the initial shock, Lilah had grown to really like Richie. Despite the constant one upping and the long tangential digressions on canon, he could be sweet. He could also rip a person in half. Pros and cons being what they were, Lilah had eventually put him on the (extremely) short list of her friends.
They stopped for fuel in New York, and then they were taking the last leg of the trip. Landing went smoothly, and a car was waiting to take them to the hotel Brasa had booked. It hadnât occurred to Lilah to ask him to book something low key and under the radar. When they pulled up to a swanky awning with gilt embellishments, she cringed internally.
Lilah appreciated a good hotel like most any other person. When she was on a job, though, it was always better to stay at a highway motel. Less surveillance, and if the police showed up, there were usually more concerned about the drugs in the room three doors down than a single woman drawing as little attention as possible. This was...ostentacious.
âI bet the beds in there are phenomenal,â Kate said as she walked ahead.
As she took in the extravagant lobby, Lilah couldnât help but agree, but they would pale in comparison to the bed she shared with Brasa. Nothing could or would match those mattressesâwhich she still hadnât asked Javier about. She resisted the urge to check her phone for the thousandth time, looking for a message from Brasa. Heâd been busy dealing with the wounded, dealing with increasing calls for violence, dealing with all the things that came with governing a growing mass of people. She didnât want to add to that.
As Kate predicted, the beds were pretty fucking good. Soft as clouds. Silky sheets. Very nice, but empty. Lilah would have slept on a futon to have Brasa here with her. She missed his presence, missed his touch. Since sheâd left Jackknife Jedâs, Lilah hadnât spent more than a few hours without him.
Spoiled. Lilah was fucking spoiled, now.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lilah focused on unpacking her pajamas for the night. First thing in the morning, they would scout the church, find their entrance and their exit. Maybe come up with a few back up plans. She was pretty sure that the base plan sheâd spouted off on the plane was their best option. But, she liked to have some alternatives.
As she crawled into bed, Lilah reached out and touched the bond. He was tired, she could tell. Gently, she suggested that he sleep. Lilah was met with a wall of stubborn willpower that had her physically rolling her eyes. Turning to her side, she reached up and turned off the bedside light. If he wasnât going to get some rest, she definitely would.
Lilah slept hard. It was the kind of sleep that could make someone wake up and not know what year it was, the kind of sleep that stole the freshness of the morning. On her back, hands near her face, she blinked up at the ceiling as she tried to get her bearings in the unfamiliar room.
The shower was on, water sloshing.
Kate.
Her bed was warmâhot, even. There was a weight on her legs and hips, hidden by the comforter. She shifted, surprised when the weight moved with her. It continued to move even when sheâd settled, enveloping her from belly to knees.
Hands. There were hands trailing up her sides, sliding underneath her pajama top. She sucked in a breath, releasing it forcefully when they cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. The comforter shifted, rolling in a singular wave upwards until the fabric parted to reveal dark hair and brown skin.
Brasa.
He smiled at her as he climbed her body, his eyes reflecting darkly in the low ambient light of the room. She smiled back, hands resting on his shoulders as he settled over her.
âHi,â she said lowly.
He echoed her, leaning down to kiss her sternum. His mouth was warm, his hands massaging along her waist and down over her hips. He nuzzled her skin, rubbing his cheek against her neck and collarbone.
Lilah relaxed into the pillows, let him do as he liked. Her fuzzy mind reveled in the feel of him, his tongue tracing patterns ahead of his fingers. He pushed her shirt up and over her breasts, palms cupping them together. When he drew a nipple into his mouth, her body arched up, knees clutching at his sides.
Her thighs rubbed sensuously against bare skin. She bit her lip as she realized that he was very clearly naked, and very clearly aroused.
The shower cut off, drawing her attention. She tensed beneath him, turning her head to look towards the closed bathroom door.
Undeterred, Brasa pulled at her top, trying to get her arms through it. Lilah pushed at his shoulders, jerking her head towards the bathroom.
âKate is literally going to walk out any second.â
His jaw clenched unhappily, but he let go of her top. Lilah pulled it down over her chest with one hand, the other reaching up to touch his cheek.
âIâll be home soon.â
Lips pouting, he nodded. In between one blink and the next he was gone, though Lilah was left with the distinct feeling of his mouth pressed firmly to hers.
She was right, though. The door to the bathroom opened and Kate wandered through it, towel drying her hair. Lilah sat up and flicked on the bedside light, rubbing at her eyes.
âI didnât mean to wake you.â
Lilah waved her off, âI needed to get up, anyways. You take all the hot water?â
Kate smirked, âFor the price of these rooms, it should take at least three days to run out of hot water.â
âYou can thank your resident sun god for that,â Lilah drawled as she rose from the bed, picking up her clothes for the day from where sheâd set them the night before.
âYou think he takes tithes?â
There was a strange kind of sarcasm in those words. No bite. Just barely touched with the dark amusement that came with doing the things that theyâd had to do in the last year and a half. It peeked out periodically from behind all their lips, cut through tension, acknowledging the oddity that was their lives.
Lilah shrugged, âI can ask him next time weâre in the temple.â
Kate paused from where she was combing through her dark locks, âHe has a temple?â
âYeah,â Lilah answered from the bathroom door, âI mean that literally.â
âWeird.â
âYou have no idea.â
After showering and getting ready for the day, they headed out into the city. Lilah managed to Google Translate her way through ordering the pair of them a coffee that they drank while they walked. The church was pretty big. Scoping out the entrances and exits took most of the morning. By the time the noon services started up, Lilahâs legs were demanding a break.
The pews were filled with churchgoers as they took a spot near the back of the sanctuary. Lilah spent about ten minutes distracted by the artwork and the architecture before she realized that Kate was softly crying.
âWhatâs wrong?â
Sniffing, Kate shook her head, âI havenât, you know, been in a church in a long time.â
âOh.â
Lilah was not good with soothing crying people. She looked awkwardly around, grateful that most people were focused on the sermon ahead of them and not the weird American girls behind.
âYou know my dad was a preacher, right?â
âI,â Lilah whispered, âDid not know that.â
To be fair, not a one of their crew delved too deeply into each otherâs backgrounds. That was the trade off: they worked together as a team to hunt down rogue culebras, might even share a few stories of their more notorious exploitsâno digging into old wounds.
âHe was.â
âOh.â
âAfter my mom died, he kind of...lost God. He drank a lot, and I had to take care of my brother and me.â
âThat must have been hard.â
âYeah,â Kate said, her voice cracking, âAnd then all of this shit with Richie and Seth started happening. And then Amaru. I thought Iâd never feel right in church again.â
âOh.â
Kate cut her a look, âStop saying that.â
âSorry,â Lilah said on reflex. âI donât know what else to say.â
Shaking her head, Kate lifted a shoulder weakly, âNothing to say, really.â Then, âI miss it. Miss the ritual of itâpraise and worship, sermon, invitation, closing. You know exactly what to expect.â
Ah. Lilah lifted her toes in her winter boots, knowing what Kate meant, and not knowing how best to respond. She sat next to the woman throughout the sermon, not a word of it in English. Then, when the nonverbal cue for prayer sank into the crowd, she tapped Kateâs arm and jerked her head to the side.
âNow?â Kate asked.
Lilah smirked, âWhy not?â
While the congregationâs heads were bowed, giving them an opening. while all eyes were closed and no one was looking about, Lilah and Kate disappeared into a back hallway and towards a series of meeting rooms. Lots of unlocked doors. They moved through the halls, ducking into a bathroom when steps sounded a little too close.
Eventually, they found the pastorâs chambers. Lilah was pretty fucking shocked when Kate pulled out Sethâs lock pick set and went to work. Impressed, she leaned against the wall opposite the door, keeping watch while the other woman worked.
It took several tries and one foul oath, but Kate got the door open. They slipped inside, and Lilah tapped her phone to pull up the picture Brasa had sent her. She showed it to Kate, her eyes scanning the shelves.
And there it was. Sitting unceremoniously on a low shelf, holding up a set of biblical commentaries. Lilah paused, thinking that this was deceptively easy. Gilt in gold, the reliquary was formed in Gothic angles and sharp spires. Serving as a stand for the knife, one could be forgiven for almost missing its significance.
With care, Lilah checked it for a pressure switch, then pulled the knife from the stand. As she stood, she held it out for Kateâs inspection.
She looked at it, looked at Lilah, and shrugged, âI guess thatâs it.â
âI guess,â Lilah muttered, slipping it into her bag.
They tip toed back into the sanctuary, right as the invitation started. People were walking forward, taking the hands of church elders, making commitments to God. Lilah sat in the pew with her pilfered relic, feeling as if the room had tilted ever so slightly to the left. As soon as was socially acceptable, she rose and headed out towards the street.
On the walk back to the hotel, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon, Lilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, âYou know, when I think of all the jobs weâve pulled, this one was surprisingly anticlimactic.â
Kate nodded, pushing her hair out of her face, âAfter the year Iâve had, I could use a little anti-climactic.â
Lilah had to agree. After one too many high intensity situations, the ease of this theft was so very welcome. And strange.
When they reached the hotel, they took advantage of the little restaurant at the back of the building. Lilah ordered a nice wine and a pasta with a heavy cream sauce. Though it smelled amazing, she found that she could only pick at it, full after just a few bites. She wasnât surprised. The adrenaline of having taken something that didnât belong to her often suppressed her appetite.
Despite only eating a small portion from her plate, Lilah tipped the wait staff well. The meal was delicious, even if she wasnât in the mood to eat. No need to take it out on anyone else.
When they returned to their room, Kate flung herself haphazardly on the bed, her boots hanging off the end. She flicked on the TV, saying, âYou want to tell me about this knife ritual thing?â
Lilah opened her mouth to speak, and found that she didnât have words. Brasa had been remarkably reticent to give her details about what they needed to do to close the portal.
âI honestly donât know,â she answered, finally, âWe use the staff, the cup, the knife, and some of Brasaâs bloodâthatâs as far as Iâve gotten.â
Lifting a brow, Kate regarded her steadily, âNo magic incantation?â
Huffing, Lilah rolled her eyes, âI mean, probably. Thereâs always some sort of magic rhyme to shout into the abyss, right?â
âFor sure.â
With Kate momentarily distracted by the television, Lilah pulled her phone out and tapped out a text.
L: Got it.
She set the phone down, intending to get comfortable on the bed. No sooner had she sat down to remove her boots did it vibrate twice, indicating a text. Lilah picked it up, tapping on the screen.
B: Excellent. ETA?
Smirking, Lilah pulled up the keyboard.
L: Tomorrow, late. Midnight, maybe?
His response was almost immediate.
B: You plan to leave in the afternoon?
L: Depends on when Kate wakes up.
There was no immediate answer, and Lilah set the phone aside. She tugged off her boots and socks, leaning back into the pillows.
âHave you noticed,â Kate started, her voice cutting through the noise of the television, âChanges?â
Lilah cast her a look of confusion, her brows coming together.
âSince you and Brasa got together. Like, physically?â
Thinking about it, Lilah pursed her lips, âI donât think so?â
The sentence came out more like a question because she honestly didnât really know. With everything that had been going on outside of her, it hadnât occurred to Lilah to look inwardly.
âI mean,â Kate continued, one hand rotating, her palm pointed towards the ceiling, âObviously, you know about the immortality.â
Lilah nodded, though the concept had been purposely set aside so that she could deal with the more pressing matters of the bond and her growing relationship. She figured that she had plenty of time to deal with it later.
With a âtskâ, Kate reached over and grabbed the remote. She shut off the TV and threw the control down. Then, she scooted over to the edge of the bed and pulled her legs up and underneath her.
âI knew it would be different...after. I knew things would changeâmore than they already had.â
Lilah nodded. Different was all that Lilah had known for so long that it had made the complete circle all the way around to perfectly normal. Looking into Kateâs face, though, Lilah could tell that their unique circumstances, the odd path of their lives, wasnât all that the other woman meant.
Kate tucked her hair behind her ear, âI havenât slept in two weeks.â
Spluttering, Lilahâs brows rose in surprise, one hand covering her mouth.
âI mean,â Kate continued, leaning forward in concern, ânot really. Not like I used to.â
Hands up in question, Lilah asked, âWhat the fuck does that mean?â
Kate sat back, her shoulders dropping, âI,â she stopped and shook her head, âI sleep maybe a few hours a night, wake up, stay awake for a few hours, and then sleep another hour. Thatâs it.â
Looking around the room, Lilah found herself once again trying to find words of comfort. She was not good at this.
âThat must suck.â
Kate, thankfully, laughed, âIt does. I tried everything. Sleeping pills, weed, hot baths, I ordered a special tea from the internet. Do not recommend, by the way.â
Mouth in half a smile, Lilah rolled her neck, âIâll keep that in mind.â
âAnd thatâs not all of it,â Kate went on, âI donât get hungry, not really. I eat. I can eat. But, if I donât think about it, I wonât.â She fixed Lilah with a hopeful look, âIs it like that with you?â
It took Lilah a moment to think of her answer, âNo.â
All the air went out of Kate. She picked at the bedspread, âOh.â
âIts still new,â Lilah said quickly, unable to take Kateâs down expression. âIâm just now learning how to use the bond.â Her eyes turned to the ceiling, âFor the first, like, six months I didnât even acknowledge that it existed, let alone participate.â
Kate huffed, âOh, Richie wasnât about to let that happen. He said heâd spent enough time knowing and not acting.â
Lilah frowned, âWhat does that mean?â
Expression indulgent, Kate said, âThey know it immediately. They know it.â
Brasa had known, had said as much in the first minute of conversation. Lilah had been too intent on getting away to ask questions. Now, she wished she had. The book on bonds had been helpful for troubleshooting and basic knowledge. The way in which bonds worked, how they changed the bonded, was vague, at best.
âDoesâŠâ Kate trailed off, her eyes looking away, pink tinting her cheeks, âDoes he, you know, feed you?â
She blinked, âI mean, yeah. Usually after he takes it from me.â
Nodding, Kateâs gaze seemed to lose focus, âFor the first two months, Richie would insist on it, every day. Â He said that it would make me stronger.â
âBrasa said that same thing.â
Another nod, âI do feel stronger. There are mornings where I wake up and I feel like I could run a hundred miles.â
Lilah barked out a laugh, âMaybe I need to insist a bit. Get me some of that energy. With everything that has been going on, Iâm constantly tired.â
The treaty, the bond, Seth, Benny, learning a her new role, the injured, all of it was building up into one  big ball of awful. Lilah had to constantly remind herself that, as stressed as she was, her bondmate was likely infinitely more frustrated and exhausted. The thought made her reach out for him. He felt stable, but his side of the bond was pulled somewhat shut. Open enough that she could tell he was physically well, but closed to any detail as to his feelings. Lilah pulled back as gently as she could, not wanting to disturb his privacy.
They watched a few more episodes of really bad reality television while Lilah double checked their flight itinerary. Sheâd gotten a confirmation email to her inbox for a car service after lunch. Everything just sort of fell right into place. Theyâd gotten what theyâd come there for, their exit was prepped, all they had to do was pack up and get in the car.
Lilah stared at the ceiling, half listening to the reunion episode of the show. Over the din of yelling voices and accusations, she began to feel...a little bit useless. The planning, the coordinating, the logistics of every job sheâd ever done had been something sheâd taken care of personally. In this case, all sheâd had to manage was getting a partner that, in the end of it all, the job hadnât required. And then, everything had gone so god damned smooth that is made Lilah suspicious.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Kate pushing from the bed and tugging on her boots, âIâm going to go to the evening service. You want to come?â
Eyes narrow, Lilah asked, âTo the church we just robbed?â
âYeah.â
âNo thanks.â
Kate shrugged and grabbed her coat, slipping the hotel key into her back pocket, âIâll be back in a few hours.â
âHave fun,â Lilah deadpanned, shaking her head.
She watched as Kate gave her a little wave and headed out, the door closing softly behind her. The room settled into relative silence, only the drone of the TV to keep her company. Rubbing at her eyes, Lilah rolled from the bed and grabbed her pajamas.
The shower was perfunctory, going through the motions to get the grime of the day off her skin. She toweled off and pulled on her clothes. Dirty laundry in hand, Lilah stepped out of the steam filled bathroom. She tossed her used clothes into her bag and stood near her bed, staring at nothing.
Annoyed with the newest episode of the show, Lilah grabbed the remote from Kateâs bed and shut it off, leaving the room completely silent. She continued to stand there, looking at nothing. Lilah stood there long enough for the heat to kick on, startling her. She glared at it and rolled her eyes, catching her reflection in the mirror.
There were smudges from the last of the dayâs makeup underneath her eyes, but the shadows werenât there. She leaned in, noting that the usual breakout along her chin had cleared up, the skin smooth. The whites of her eyes were stark and clear against her irises. Maybe there had been changes. Maybe Lilah had been too distracted to notice.
Her hair was still a bit thin along her temples, the permanent line between her brows still there from near constant frowning at a computer screen. The scar from when sheâd fallen and cracked her chin open in that bathtub at age five remained, a thin line just beneath her bottom lip.
Maybe not too many changes.
The air in the room rippled. Gasping, Lilah braced herself with her hands out. Stillness. Feeling the air stutter in and out of her lungs, she glanced around, looking for danger. When nothing but the sound of the heater kicking off met her expectant gaze, she dropped her hands.
Another ripple, this time with the accompanying scent of coffee and caramel.
âBrasa?â she called out to the empty room.
Ripple.
âI am here, querida.â
Lilah spun in place, an aborted shout stuck to the back of her throat. She clocked the broad shoulders, the warm brown eyes, and sighed.
âI think Iâve asked you not to scare me like that.â
Ticking his head to the side, he offered her an unrepentant smile, âBut then I wouldnât get to hear your heart beat so beautifully in excitement.â
âThere are other ways to achieve that, you know,â she said ruefully, one hand coming to rest where her heart was, indeed, beating a pounding rhythm.
Brows quirking, Brasa gathered her to his body, arms folding around her waist, âYou have a point.â
âOf course I do,â she retorted, rising on her toes to kiss him briefly, âWhat brings you here?â
He pressed his forehead into the skin of her neck, breathing deep, âI missed you.â
Arms draped over his shoulders, Lilah laughed softly, âIts only been a day. Weâve been apart for much longer.â
Letting out a long breath, Brasa said, âI disliked it then as much then as I do now.â
Lilah tightened her grip on him, swaying a bit, âIâll be home tomorrow.â
âToo long,â he groused with a shake of his head.
She pulled back, cupping his jaw with both hands, âIts faster than I anticipated. I could be gone another whole day.â
The hands on the small of her back clenched, and Lilah heard the fabric of her t shirt tear. Gasping in shock, she twisted her body and found that he ripped the shirt up to about the middle of her back.
Saying his name in censure, Lilah stepped back, holding the shirt away from her body and assessing the damage in the mirror. There was no saving that shirt, not without a sewing machine that she not only didnât have, but definitely didnât know how to use.
Firm hands turned her so that he could look at it, and Lilah caught the banked pride in his expression as he tugged, âOops.â
âOops?â Her voice was high and incredulous, âThatâs all you have to say? âOopsâ?â
He shrugged, his palms following the line of her spine until the fabric bunched around his wrists, âPerhaps it is an improvement.â When she fixed him with a doubtful look, he went on, âPerhaps I can make it up to you.â
Her brows lifted in interest, but she said nothing. He took that as a âyesâ, his hands slowly rounding her waist to rest below her breasts. Watching in the mirror as his hands encircled them, gently rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
Humming against her skin, Brasa played with her lazily, the distinct lack of urgency lulling her into a low simmering arousal. Lilah leaned into him, her hands resting on the dresser to keep her balance. In the mirror, her reflection undulated. The long line of her throat exposed as she tipped her head back against his shoulder.
âBeautiful,â he groaned, teeth catching her ear.
Lilah focused on his face in the mirror, watched as his eyes devoured her image. His hand rucked up her shirt, squeezing her breasts together, their touch no longer teasing.
Mouth laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach, Brasa leaned his weight into her. He pinned her to the dresser, shifting her to the side when one of the pulls dug into her belly. Lilah arched back, catching his mouth, the angle too acute for her to get anything more than the barest of kisses.
She whined, tugging on his arms so that he would let her turn around. He held her still, and she could feel the shape his mouth against her skin, spreading into a wide smile.
âDid you need something?â
Lilah grit her teeth against the honey of his words, the way they melted over her, the cajoling tone peeking out from underneath. After so long where heâd given in to her easily, after heâd offered no quarter in the building of her pleasure, the teasing chafed.
She writhed, shimmying her hips against the erection behind her, trying to get him to break. He took it, took every bit of her want, absorbing it so that she only got the tiniest ricochet in return. It left her wanting with such force that she could keep the needy moans inside.
It might have been his name she was chanting, might also have any one of the nonsense syllables that he had been known to pull out of her. All Lilah knew was that her core was clenching down on nothing when it could be fluttering around his hands, or better yet his cock.
Brasa repeated his question, his voice dropping down into his chest so that it came out in a harsh rasp. Lilah nodded, biting her lip. Through the bond, she felt his pleasure, felt how satisfied he was to watch her fall apart in his hands.
Teasing fingertips traced the waistband of her shorts, dipping just below, âIs this it?â
Again, she nodded, her eyes squeezing shut as he pushed down past the elastic to rest all four fingers against her mound. She widened her stance and rocked forward into them, getting a little bit of needed friction.
âFucking wet,â he groaned, one arm wrapping around her middle and pulling her up and into his body, âYouâre ready for me?â
For the third time, she nodded, relieved when he pulled down her shorts just below the crease of her ass, his other hand pressing her forward so that she was leaned over the top of the dresser. She heard the sound of shifting fabric, and then he was pressed against her opening.
With the taut band of her shorts cutting into the meat of her thighs, Lilah could only drop her forehead to the dresser as he pushed steadily forward. He was careful with the initial thrust, hands massaging.
âGood?â she heard from over the pounding of her ears.
Rising, Lilah rotated her hips, seating him deeper and relishing his sharp inhale, âVery good.â
One hand grabbed her chin, turning her head so that he could kiss her, his tongue dipping inside. He kissed her like that as he pumped slowly inside, taking up once more his unhurried pace. Lilah swallowed around a dry throat, her hands closing into little fists.
âMore,â she cried out, hoping to coax him into a faster, harder pace.
He chuckled. And though his pace remained the same, the intensity kicked up a notch. He buried his cock inside her all the way each time, the intermittent sound of skin slapping against skin overtaking the silence of the room. Slow. Deep. Unhurried. Brasa fucked her as if he had all the time in the world, as if he wasnât at all concerned about coming.
It built inside her in intervals that were so small Lilah barely noticed them until it was too late, until her pussy was contracting around him in dizzy pleasure. Brasa snarled, his hips grinding against her ass, one hand holding her steady as he arched over her body.
Lilah relaxed her upper body against the dresser, blinking slowly as Brasa grabbed her hips and pulled them back hard. The air was punched from her as he did it again. And again. He got another five or six good thrusts in before he hissed and she felt him pulse.
When it was over, Brasa pulled out and adjusted her short before doing the same with his down pants. He wrapped his arms around her and walked her back to the bed. Lilah went, reaching back to ruffled his curls.
She hummed as he helped her to lay down, his big body molding to her side, âThat was nice.â
He pet her hair, âIâll do it again when you get back.â
âPromise?â
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Jake getting adventurous and sneaking a vibrator into Amys underwear and she has to sit through an interview as he toys with her
Ok so I tweaked this a little and this came out of nowhere but I really love the idea of this so ... find it under the cut! đ
He waits until sheâs well into reciting the third paragraph of Subsection Eight before running his thumb over the button in his pocket, pressing once to keep the device at its lowest speed. Â
To her credit, there is only the slightest falter in her voice, short enough to be considered a tickle in her throat by anyone other than him, and he takes great pleasure in knowing that while the tickle does exist, it is actually much further down. Â
He keeps the vibration on low for the rest of her speech - subtle enough for Amy to be aware of its existence, not quite strong enough to gain anything more than heightened senses. Alternates between the on and off button once her part is over, tampering the urge to smile as she keeps her gaze steadily focused on the boardroom in front of her, clearly refusing to break the facade that everything isnât Completely Normal. Â
Her hand lands with a quiet slap on his inner thigh fifteen minutes later as the vibrator begins moving steadily at full speed, and heâs pretty sure heâs got this win in the bag. Â
It had all started out as an idle bet (admittedly, like a lot of their shenanagoogles do) - an attempt to make what had threatened to be a boring day into something far more interesting. The dangling carrot of a glowing evaluation had led to Jake signing up for the next HR seminar - this one being held at another precinct downtown - and Amy, after such a stellar display of preparation at the nine-nineâs turn, had been invited back to show off her âimpressively professional portfolio of knowledge on the topicâ.
(Heâs pretty sure that detail alone had turned Amy on before their bet had even started, but that was just an added benefit.)
The Lock-n-Play panty vibe was a relatively new addition to their repertoire - among the few items recently purchased from their preferred sex shop - but one that was quickly becoming their favourite, if only for itâs handy magnetic tabs that kept the vibe in place (because really, is there any universe where Amy Santiago isnât a massive fan of a well-placed set of tabs?). Â
She had been halfway through casually mentioning (read: straight-up bragging) her quoted professional manner as they got dressed this morning when the idea had come to Jake, the toyâs remote still sitting on his dresser from itâs weekend workout and catching his eye as he reached for his watch. He hadnât ever thought that sheâd actually go through with it - which is on him, really, because his wife rarely steps down from a challenge - and mentioned it merely as a passing joke until he noticed the spark of interest in his wifeâs eyes, and realised that there was a chance that this could actually happen.
The conversation was quick: their terms clear. Amy would wear the vibe in her underwear, with Jake having sole possession of the remote. He could activate it anytime he liked, as long as he adhered to the kill sign (three quick squeezes of his wrist) if actioned, and the only thing Amy had to do was not break her Professional Sergeant at a Seminar role. If Jake won, he got to choose their movies for the next two weeks. If victory went to Amy, he had to eat a salad for lunch every single day for a fortnight.
(There would also be the added benefit of nightly foot rubs, but given the baby that was currently growing in his wifeâs uterus, nightly massages were kind of a given.) Â
The stakes werenât necessarily high, but both of them loved to win; and Jake would be straight-up lying if he didnât admit that just the idea of his wife secretly being buzzed to climax in a boardroom full of strangers didnât turn him on more than a little. Â
From his position at the front of the room, Andrew The Presenter switches over to non-verbal communications, and for no reason other than sheer curiosity Jake switches the vibrator into itâs highest mode, biting the inside of his cheek as Amyâs shoulders jump in surprise.
It only takes a minute before she shifts forward in her chair, resting on her elbows before wriggling slightly in her seat; and to anybody that cared to pay attention to her and Jakeâs position at the back of the room it would have looked like nothing more than a restless woman waking up her limbs. But Jake knew better - knew that the tip of the vibe raised slightly, ergonomically designed to cup a womanâs clit in all the right ways - and there wasnât a doubt in his mind that Amy was maximising the opportunity for pleasure while it lasted. Â
He gives her another twenty seconds, waiting until the wriggling seems to have stopped before pressing the off button once again, not even pretending to ignore the exasperated look she throws him from over her shoulder. He gives her a wink, to which she responds with a roll of her eyes, and he is always going to be in love with what they have together. Â
She pulls him aside during the coffee break, leading him down an unfamiliar hallway into a stationery supply cupboard (her knowledge of its presence, he assumes instinctual); pulling him in for a hungry kiss as soon as she hears the lock click into place. Their makeout session is hurried and passionate - the kind of teeth-gnashing, body-pawing kisses you give each other when you know thereâs not enough time for what you really crave - and as they move to return back to the group he offers her the chance to call off the bet, no questions asked. (The foot rubs after all, were already a given, and heâs pretty sure that stack of green stuff they put on top of nachos counted as a salad.) But she stops in her tracks, eyes blazing as she presses a hand to his chest and gives her answer in no uncertain terms:Â
Donât you dare stop.
Itâs the clear arousal in her voice that keeps Jake from activating the vibrator again for another forty minutes, waiting until a slideshow on Something Boring begins playing before sliding his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie, sliding his thumb casually over the power button and slowly working the vibe back up to itâs previous level. Â
Her hand lands back on his upper thigh after another few minutes, the grip tightening slightly when he presses the button again, and he takes his hand out his hoodie, grabbing her wrist and moving it towards his own - a silent reminder that heâll stop in an instant, if she only asked. But she wriggles her hand out of his grasp, returning to the previous position, leaning back in her chair in what completely fails to be a casual pose. Her fingers creep towards his inner thigh, a movement that undoubtedly brings his growing hard-on to her attention, and she leans forwards again to let out a shaky breath. Â
The high level buzzing is quietly audible through her uniform now, perhaps more noticeable because his imagination wants it to be, and her ribs begin to expand and contract at a steady pace. Â
Jake knows that if he keeps this up, Amy is absolutely going to climax - perhaps too far into the sensations the vibrations were giving to realise that she would be doing so in the middle of a seminar - but he also knows that his beautiful wife is not quiet when she comes. Itâs one of the many (many) things he loves about her; the clear display of unbridled passion that courses through her, the way her voice tends to shake a little as she calls out his name - or yes, or fuck, or a combination of the above. Â
But she hasnât given the signal, and there is a good portion of his blood that is most definitely not pumping through his brain anymore, and so he obeys the silent instruction, and keeps his finger on the increase button.
She excuses herself a few minutes later, standing quickly and offering an apologetic smile, pointing to her growing baby bump as the reason for nature calling. Her boots tap quickly across the tiled floor as she exits, head ducked down low to convey the urgency of her steps (a movement that he is certain is not an act). Â
He waits another couple of minutes before switching off the vibe, hoping the remote holds enough range; and his phone buzzes shortly after, the notification on his locked screen telling him that Babe â„ïž has just sent him an image. And while heâs absolutely bursting at the seams to unlock and look, he also knows that it will most certainly lead to a wet patch on the front of his jeans, and there really is no coming back from that.
And so he trains his attention back to the Manual of Boredom in front of him, reading through various scenarios involving Employee A and Colleague D, all the while trying desperately to get his mind to focus on arithmetic ⊠asparagus ⊠Scullyâs foot fungus ⊠all the genuinely unsexy things in life. His phone vibrates again, another text from his wife causing his mind to nearly implode, and time has somehow completely come to a standstill. Â
Amy leans in to kiss his cheek when she returns, using the closeness of her position to whisper in his ear just how hard sheâd just come, and Jake absolutely needs this seminar to end now - right now, please oh god, end now. Â
It takes another hour before they have a lunch break - a solid hour of Jake running through a breakdown of all Transformers - Autobots, Dinobots and Decepticons inclusive - and when Amy finally stands, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the parking lot he follows willingly, by now completely unable to contain a gigantic smile from taking over his face.
She drives their car up to the very top of the garage, parking in an empty spot right at the edge of the otherwise abandoned section before sliding over the gears and settling onto his lap. Her nimble fingers find the lever to the side, dropping the seatâs backing towards the rear, his zipper descending just as quickly. Â
It doesnât last long - both of them way too close to the edge for it to be anything but quick - but by the time they need to head back to the seminar itâs fairly safe to say that Jake no longer has a hangup about having sex in a car in a garage. Â
She packs a salad for his lunch the following morning, pulling him in for a longer-than-normal kiss as he lets out a defeated sigh, and while Jake knows that while he technically lost the bet, they both got to have some pretty great orgasms yesterday and really, how could that ever be considered a loss?
(and when he receives an email a year later, reminding him of an upcoming refresher course on HR, he absolutely sets up a plan to raise the stakes for Sexy Seminar, version 2.0.)
#just a little something that came to me when I read this prompt#thank you anon#secret sexy seminar fun#how to make training fun: the Jake and Amy edition#peraltiago smut
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My contribution to the @xfilesfanficexchangeâ is for @gaycroutonâ. This has truly been a labor of love for me because I adore Nicole and I adore Dreamland. I hope I did it justice!Â
Prologue
Once upon a time, there was a guy with the improbable name of Fox Mulder.
There was also a woman - his FBI partner, whom he was clearly in love with - named Dana Scully.
They started out happily enough, as these things go. He had a job he found invigorating, and she had⊠well, she had the same thing. From the outside, it seemed like they both pretty much led normal lives. But year after year, it became increasingly clear that wasnât exactly the case. They could be doing other things: hobbies, vacations. Each other, even. But they never did.
What a waste, if you ask me.
Fox Mulder pissed away his chance at that life. And Iâm not saying this to be judgmental or cruel; Iâm saying it because I know. I know, because I used to be the guy.
My name is Morris Fletcher, and even I couldnât get Fox Mulder out of his slump. Pretty pathetic, actually. Maybe youâre wondering how I remember any of this? Maybe youâre wondering why Iâm even here?
Well, itâs a long story.
CHAPTER ONE
HIGHWAY 375
GROOM LAKE, NEVADA
SUNDAY MARCH 12, 2000
5:56 PM
The rental sedan cruised westward along the highway, its engineâs roar the only sound cutting through the silence of the desert evening. Dust billowed behind it as it sped towards its destination, which was nowhere in sight at the moment.
Inside, Fox Mulder squinted, adjusting his visor in an attempt to keep the slowly setting sun from burning his retinas. It was getting close to six âo clock, and according to his source, he only had until six-thirty to get to the facility. Scully snoozed next to him in the passenger seat, and he took advantage of the straightaway to steal glances at her sleeping face, every once in a while the thud of the rumble strips jarring his attention back to the road.
His attention, which heâd expected to be on flying saucers and top-secret test flights, had instead been focusing more and more on that face. His partnerâs face, specifically her lips: the ones heâd finally kissed at the New Year just a few weeks ago. Things had been pleasant between them since; downright flirty even, sometimes to the point where he felt like he was in high school again. And much like high school - in his experience, anyway - neither of them had made another move. If this were a courtship ritual, it was slower than that of a pair of snails.
The world hadnât ended, however, and sheâd conceded that. Something new had begun, and he hoped a significant change would come soon. He figured the ball was in her court now, and as much as he hated playing by the rules, when the love of his life was at stake, he was prepared to wait this out as long as he absolutely had to.
Scully stirred and he jerked his gaze away, looking straight out the windshield instead, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. She yawned and out of the corner of his eye he could see her adjusting her clothing, eyeing him surreptitiously as she gently swiped at the sides of her mouth.
âAre we almost there?â she asked, pulling the mirror on her visor down to check her face, presumably for sleep indentations. He wished she didnât behave this way around him; if only she knew how perfect he thought she was in every single way.
âShould only be a few more minutes,â he answered. âYou know, you slept on the plane, too. You feeling alright?â
âIâm fine, Mulder,â she sighed. âIâm sorry, I should have offered to drive.â
âNo, itâs okay,â he said quickly. He didnât want her to think he wasnât grateful for her presence, especially since sheâd come along begrudgingly anyway. âYou get that beauty sleep, Scully.â
She gave him a tight grin, and he hoped that quip had come out right. Maybe he should have said she didnât need beauty sleep? Maybe he should have said she was beautiful no matter how much sleep she got?
Maybe he should just shut the fuck up.
âSo remind me, Mulder⊠why are we doing this again?â she asked, and he was glad for the reprieve of a change in subject. She didnât sound annoyed, just curious.
âThe first aerial photos of Area 51 were taken from a Russian satellite a few days ago,â he said, practically gleeful. âI was contacted by this source shortly afterwards. He claims to have some information we would find, and I quote, âhighly interesting.ââ
âAnd this is⊠the same source as last year?â she asked.
Mulder shrugged. âIâm not sure, actually,â he admitted.
âHow do you know this isnât a huge mistake?â she asked. âWeâre on thin ice as it is. The X-Files are, I should say.â
She was right. Skinner had not-so-subtly warned them that Kersh was watching their every move, looking for any excuse to shut them down. It felt like the end was nigh no matter what they did, and rather than admit this to Scully heâd preferred to follow her lead and stay out of trouble. But this was Dreamland. Area 51. The opportunity to have access after all these years was too good to pass up, and perhaps worth the risk.
âItâs different this time, Scully,â he explained. âNo sneaking around. With the names and credentials he gave us, we should be able to get through the gates this time, as long as we arrive by six-thirty.â
âAssuming we arenât stopped first by a bunch of men in black with guns?â she asked. Their last trip to Groom Lake had been a bust before it even began.
âHe said heâd make sure that wouldnât happen,â he insisted. âAll we can do is try, I guess. Worst case scenario, we donât get through.â
âNo, Mulder,â she corrected him, âwe could get arrested. We could be detained. We could lose our jobs or at the very least, get suspended. I can think of a lot of worst case scenarios, including the one where we both end up getting shot for trespassing.â
He grinned. âWhereâs your sense of adventure, Scully? Not to mention that enthusiastic optimism Iâm so used to.â
She rolled her eyes. âIâm just saying, this had better be worth it. Iâm already exhausted and the thought of doing a red-eye tonight to get back in time for work tomorrowâŠâ
Mulder sighed. He felt bad for dragging her along, but heâd had little choice in the timeframe his source had specified. A Sunday evening rendezvous on the other side of the country when they were supposed to be back at the office the next morning was bound to make anyone grumpy.
âI owe you one, Scully,â he said.
âYou donât owe me anything, Mulder,â she replied. âJust promise me when this is over, no more talk of UFOs until I get a bath and a decent nightâs sleep.â
âDeal,â he grinned. âI know how much you like ânormal.ââ
Heâd been wondering for a while now if Scully was only still with him out of obligation. Perhaps she was tired of this life. Perhaps she wanted something different.
Donât you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car, settle down and live something approaching a normal life?
âThis is normal, Mulder, for us, anyway,â she smiled. She briefly caught his eye then turned to look out the window, adept as ever at letting a charged moment slip through their grasp. He was glad sheâd said as much, but he wondered if she truly meant it.
Suddenly she noticed something up ahead, pointing. Mulder gripped the wheel with both hands and put on his game face, hoping beyond hope there wouldnât be a replay of the last time. He noticed Scully glancing around them nervously as if she expected the same. But when he pulled up to the gate, presenting the fake names and credentials his source had provided, they were waved through without any problems whatsoever. They were flanked on either side by a security detail, but as Agent Fox Mulder drove onto the property of Area 51 with all but a welcome mat, he couldnât help but throw a shit-eating grin at his partner.
âSee? Easy as pie, Scully.â
âOnly took us seven years,â she grumbled.
Seven years plus a lifetime, he thought to himself.
As they drove, he followed signs that read USAF and Nevada Test and Training Range . Most of the buildings were unmarked and, although the sun was setting, he could see what appeared to be crafts of some kind inside them, mostly obscured in their hangars by shadow, their sharp edges illuminated dramatically by an orange hue. He looked with wonder, and could see Scully craning her neck to see as well.
âWhat do you think they are?â she asked, and Mulder quirked an eyebrow.
âNever mind,â she smirked knowingly.
They approached Hangar 19, the one at which his source had instructed him to wait, just as the sun dipped down below the buildings. Nameless sentinels with guns stopped them, and instructed them to park next to a gate about twenty yards from the entrance. They were then told to get out and walk to the hangar.
Scully stepped out of the passenger side cautiously, closing the door, catching Mulderâs eye across the roof of the car as he did the same. He straightened his jacket a bit, preparing to finally come face to face with his elusive source. The guards watched the duo closely as they entered the facility, and Mulder looked around for someone to meet them, but there was no one inside.
They stood there, dwarfed by enormous machinery on all sides, and while he wanted to believe they were welcome this time, he couldnât help but take in the sight greedily, hungrily, as if it could be snatched away at any moment. There were no aircraft in this building, but he saw several unidentifiable machines.
They wandered around the dimly lit room, taking it all in. Every machine in the room was silent and dark save for one a few feet away, which had several small blinking red lights on the front, like a colony of bats ready to receive him.
âHey Scully, check this out,â he called, waving her over to the machine. It was slightly taller than he was, shaped a bit like a large teapot. As he got closer he noticed a thrumming blue light swishing at the top. It appeared to be in standby mode.
âWhat do you think it does?â she asked.
âNo idea,â he replied. âBut it looks a lot like Stewie Griffinâs time machine, doesnât it?â
Showing no sign of picking up on his reference, she wandered around the device, studying it. âMulder, there are radiation warnings printed on this thing,â she said with slight alarm. âWe arenât wearing protective gear.â
Slam!
The door theyâd entered through was suddenly slammed shut. The device then illuminated completely, aquamarine lights blinking along the sides, chasing each other up the sides of the machine like some kind of dubious carnival attraction. There was a loud humming sound as if it were charging some kind of energy. Mulder instinctively felt around for Scully, finding her wrist, pulling her close to him.
The lights picked up speed as the humming grew louder, and while he wasnât completely blind to the possibility that they could be in serious trouble, he found himself almost hypnotized by the unusual apparatus. Holding her tightly by the wrist he took a step closer, and she didnât stop him. He glanced over at her; she seemed just as mesmerized.
âMulderâŠ?â she breathed, eyes wide.
The only thing he could see in the darkness was the blue light illuminating the angles of her face as she stared up at the machine, and the last thing he remembered was the arc of her nose, the gentle curve of her jawline, before the room exploded with a bright white light and they were both propelled backwards.
***
He groaned uneasily as he came to, not quite registering what had happened. The lights had gone off the machine, plunging the room into total blackness. Mulder couldnât see a thing. He was extremely disoriented and felt a lump in his throat as he fumbled around in the dark.
The first thing he noticed was that his hand was empty: it no longer held onto his partnerâs wrist. His instinct was to call for her but his head pounded and he was so dizzy he needed to find his footing, to gain purchase. Mercifully, the light at the top of the machine clicked on, and his immediate surrounding area was bathed in an eerie blue light once again.
He wasnât sure exactly what possessed him, but he looked down at his empty hand, noticing something alarming.
It did not look like his hand.
At first he thought it was perhaps a trick of the light. It was hard to see much of anything. But when he looked again he knew, with visceral immediacy like a punch in the gut: these were most definitely not his own hands. They were nicely manicured, the skin soft-looking and delicate. Feminine. The phrase knew it like the back of my hand bounced around his mind and suddenly he realized why: these were familiar hands, all right, but not because he knew his own so intimately.
It was because he knew Scullyâs.
What the fuck was happening?
This precise thought had occurred to him hundreds of times during his tenure on the X-Files but this time it was more panic than confusion. He touched his face and instead of a five âo clock shadow he felt a smoothness he wasnât expecting. His hair was longer, softer. And while Mulder was quicker to trust his gut than most, the reality of his situation hit him in waves, comprehension drowning him in slow-motion:
Iâm not me.
Iâm someone else.
Iâm Scully.
Not in mind, for his thoughts still belonged to him, but in body: which he slowly allowed himself to sense, to feel. He couldnât see any details: any evidence of the contours of a feminine body were hidden beneath his clothes, which he could now ascertain were her clothes. A faint scent of something floral, maybe lavender, wafted around his head. Tiny knees and slim legs peeked out beneath his skirt.
His next thought hit him instantly, as if the slow-motion had given way to freeze-frame.
Where is Scully?
The hangar was suddenly filled with the sounds of gunfire, their welcome wagon turning not-so-welcoming. He ducked down, concentrating on one immediate concern: find her. Find her now.
âScullaaay!!!â he yelled, but the cry came out in her voice, and he clapped his hand over his mouth so as to not draw any fire towards her. Him. Himself as her. Whatever. Then, as if summoned by his very thoughts, a hand grabbed his own. A male hand, large and very much in charge. At first he worried one of the men with guns had seized him but what he heard next was the most jarring thing of all.
âMulder, itâs me!â
The urgency was Scullyâs, but the voice was not. It was a male voice. It was a familiar voice.
It was his own voice.
Despite the gravelly timbre and deep pitch, he sensed that innate feeling of trust he felt when she was nearby: the Scully aura. Trusting his intuition, he gripped her hand and followed her, his own little legs struggling to keep up, tripping on ridiculous high heels that already hurt his feet.
âScullyâŠ? Whatâs happeningâŠ?â he mustered, and as he expected this time, the words left his mouth in her voice.
âI donât know, I donât know,â she replied in his low pitch. âBut we have to get out of here.â
Her command was unnecessary as sounds of gunfire still rang through the hangar. He could hear, but could not see, the men firing at them. It didnât matter; all he knew was that they needed to get out of there, and fast. He could see the exit fifty feet away. Forty, thirty, twenty⊠he was briefly reminded of a large white dome, the hum of a thousand bees and the smell of corn crops.
The desert chill slapped him in the face as they broke free of the facility. They werenât at the entrance anymore; he wasnât sure exactly where they were, but everything was in better focus than usual. He could clearly make out the words on the signs as they rushed back to where he thought their car was - NO TRESPASSING, USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED - and thought perhaps maybe there was a reason Scully had always been a better shot.
Finally they were racing across dirt, and what had been a nearly-impossible task of running in Scullyâs heels was now an actually-impossible task. He stopped, panting a bit, more out of habit than actual necessity - how was Scully in such good shape? - and bent down to remove them.
âAre you kidding me?â she huffed, out of breath, and her typical sarcastic tone felt even more caustic coming out in his own gruff baritone.
âIâm not used to these,â he snapped defensively, clutching the pair of heels, and they continued running until they made it to  their car.
By the time they reached it, he noticed the gunfire had ceased, but he was by no means convinced they were in the clear. Scully stopped to look back at the hangar, hand on the door handle, paisley tie fluttering in the breeze. For the first time he got a good look at her- or rather, himself.
As she spun to look at their surroundings, his thoughts were inconveniently critical: why does my hair look like that from the back? Are all my ties that ugly? and I really need to find some more constrictive underwear. It was the strangest sensation to be looking at, essentially, a clone of oneself in the flesh.
Scully, muscle memory evidently prevailing, clambered into her usual spot in the passenger seat, her long legs awkwardly crushed against the glove box. Mulder climbed into the driverâs seat and started the engine, tossing the pair of shoes into the back.
He stretched his foot out but couldnât reach the accelerator, inwardly cursing all of the times heâd teased Scully for her âlittle legs.â In a panic, he shifted the seat uncomfortably close to the steering wheel, and gripped it tightly. He could barely see over the wheel.
They were parked directly in front of a chain link fence, and he wasnât sure if escape was even possible, but with very few options left at this point, he threw the car into reverse and jammed his shoeless foot against the pedal, hard. He could feel the vibrations up his leg as the car jerked backwards for a few seconds, then he shifted into drive and tore ahead, breaking through the gate easily and hurtling off into the dark desert night.
Mulder noticed puffs of sand exploding, surrounding them like tiny geysers, evidence that their pursuers were back and did not intend to let them escape. Too terrified to speak, he pressed his foot all the way to the floor. In spite of the danger, as he heard telltale pings against the bumper, he was grateful heâd checked the box for rental insurance back at Lariat. Â
After several minutes, the sounds of gunfire faded. Either the discounted loyalty upgrade sedan heâd chosen had outrun their pursuers, or theyâd simply decided they werenât worth the trouble.
Both he and Scully stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Neither seemed to know how to begin. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she was sitting stock still, eyes wide. Finally, ever the rationalist, she spoke.
âSomething really weird happened out there, Mulder.â
âYeah.â
He felt like an idiot; in seven years of unexplained phenomena, this might be the absolute weirdest, and it was ridiculous that neither of them had anything to offer each other besides well, that was weird . Her sentiment hung in the air, however, and along with it his presumption that she was not nearly as calm as she appeared to be.
âItâs okay, Scully,â he lied. âItâs gonna be okay.â
It was the wrong thing to say.
Predictably, she turned to face him, absolutely enraged. He couldnât even process what was happening, much less his own emotional response to any of it, but he could definitely process hers.
âMulder! â she said, now very panicked. She waved her hands, which were his hands, in his face. â I'm you, and you're me! We are very much not okay!â
He didnât have to look at her to tell how upset she was, and he knew her eyes were fiery even in a shade that was not typically their own. She sat back into her seat and closed her eyes, putting her hands against her head. âThis is not happening, Iâm dreaming. Obviously this is a dream.â
Mulder sighed; denial was typically her first response but how could she deny a situation like this? This had happened, regardless of the mechanics, the science of it, whatever that was. She would have to accept it before they could do anything about it.
âUnless Iâm sharing your dream, Scully, which I donât think even we have the bad luck to relive, this is very much happening.â
She didnât seem to be listening to him, rather muttering to herself. âThis is both physically and biologically impossible.â
âAnd yet, here we are!â he interjected, raising his voice for the first time. Scully put her head between her legs, mumbling ohmygodohmygodohmygod into what he realized was his own crotch.
âThat machine,â he said, doing his best to come up with something, some kind of explanation that could satisfy her. At least to the point where she could actually engage him in a coherent conversation. âThe one with the radiation signs, remember? We were standing in front of it when this happened.â
She looked up, pinning him with a flabbergasted stare the likes of which he hadnât seen since their early days together. âMulder, are you suggesting that thereâs a body-swapping machine hanging out in the middle of a random hangar in Area 51? And we just happened to walk by as it just happened to activate?â
âIf youâve got a better theory, Scully, Iâm all ears,â he replied.
âWhat could the purpose of such a machine possibly be?â
âI donât know,â he fumbled. âSome kind of torture tactic? Maybe a way to make people appear crazy so they canât reveal any of the governmentâs secrets?â He looked back at the road. âSure seems to be working on you,â he muttered under his breath.
Thankfully, either she didnât hear him or deemed the task of chastising him for his editorial commentary low on her priority list.
âWe need to go back there, itâs the only thing I can think to do,â she said, her reasonable tone finally somewhat identifiable in his own timbre. âMaybe they can reverse it.â
âScully, in case you didnât notice, an entire squadron just chased us off the base,â he pointed out. âWe canât go back there, not right now, anyway.â
Scully glared at him through his own eyes. He thought heâd probably never looked so stern. Sitting back into her seat once again, she crossed her arms, and her expression evolved into one that he finally recognized in his own features as undoubtedly Scullylike.
âWhat was that thing you said earlier, Mulder? About worst case scenarios?â
He groaned, and she sighed heavily; it was the same sigh of frustration heâd heard from his own lips on plenty of occasions. The exact same. It was unsettling.
âIâm sorry,â he said, although he certainly hadnât planned or anticipated anything like this. For the first time, his mind flashed through a multitude of possibilities and problems that might come along with this new arrangement, regardless of how exactly it had occurred.
âSo⊠what do we do?â she asked dumbly, more to the universe than to him. She sounded as impotent and sluggish as he felt.
As if her deflation had the opposite effect on him, he was suddenly so freaked out he felt his hands, Scully's hands , physically shaking. He couldnât get a proper grip on the steering wheel, they were sweating so much. He saw a little dive bar off the side of the road, pulled over to park in the tiny parking lot, and shut the car off.
âFirst things first: we both need a drink,â he declared.
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Loveâs Austere and Lonely Offices
Title: Â Loveâs Austere and Lonely Offices
Author: Aloysia Virgata
Rating: PGÂ
Words: 5758
Timeline: Season 9
Summary: Â â A letter is in fact the only device for combining solitude and good company.â -- Jacques Barzun
Authorâs Notes: This fic was written in 2015. I couldn't bear the thought of their only communication in all that time being the "Dearest Dana" letters. (Which I added to just a teeny-weeny bit. Also added a little to Scully's Carterlogue to William.) Scully quotes from (what else?) Moby Dick and Mulder from The Divine Comedy. The title is from Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden.Â
Fe3O4 is magnetite and R2NCl is chloramine. I know my little ads are cryptic, so there's an addendum at the end for those interested parties. (See the end of the work for more notes.)Â Â
Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, May 26 2001 In this world, shipmates, Sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers. R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5 **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, May 29 2001 These have not the hope to die. Developments? Nothing on my end. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 18 Jun 2001 Things are calm for now and hopefully communication can be somewhat regular for a time. I have a cash-under-the-table job at the moment and it covers basic needs. I know you wanted to come, but this is no life for a child. I will be home as soon as I am able. I know that goes without saying, but it makes me feel better to say it anyway. I have to go now. Tell me about William. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 18 Jun 2001 Mulder, It's so good to hear from you, you have no idea. Have you made any progress yet? There have been strange goings-on since you left, but I don't know what to make of any of it. I don't know whom to trust right now and just tell everyone I cannot contact you. I have not been able to make any sense of my last inquiry and am at a standstill. Please tell me everything you discover and let me know what I can do. Don't leave me in the dark on this, Mulder. You can't protect us that way. Let me be of use. Things are fine here. William eats well and sleeps less well, but I nap when I can. He's growing nicely and can focus his eyes for very long periods already and tracks objects at two feet away. His head control is excellent and he is already making deliberate reaches for objects rather than just grasping reflexively. He makes a gurgling sound if I run my finger up the midline of his foot. In addition to snapshots and videos, I have been keeping a journal of all of his changes for when you get back. My mother helps as much as she can but the truth is I prefer to be alone. She wants to talk, and doesn't understand that I just can't right now. I think she's afraid of the quiet and fills it up with noise. She talks to me but doesn't say anything. You know how to let me be silent, Mulder. I miss that. Frohike says William looks like me and Byers says he looks like you and Langly says he looks like Jack Ruby. Which is pretty much what you'd expect to hear from the three of them. Write when you can. Pictures attached. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Jun 2001 He still looks like Skinner to me, your feeble protestations of fidelity aside. He's got your eyes, Scully, and I wonder whose warped sense of humor he's going to claim. I'm not surprised he's ahead of the developmental curve. You read him Brian Greene while you were pregnant. That sets the bar rather high for a baby. Let your mother in. You're all she has nearby and she won't forgive herself for everything that's happened if you don't. Smile and nod, Scully. You do it better than anyone I know. Learn to let people love you. I haven't found much yet because I don't even know what the hell I'm looking for. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Jun 2001 We can only hope that his sense of humor is all his own. I think our particular brand of amusement wouldn't go over too well with the preschool set. Can you imagine Career Day, Mulder? We're going to have to be vague. Pictures of William attached, including one of him eating my hair. Have to run. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 28 Jun 2001 We'd be a hit at Career Day. You could tell them about your Invisible Guy Autopsy. And you know all the kids would want to hear about my time in low orbit. I'm leaving here soon, so it may be a while before I contact you again. Thank you for the pictures. I cannot believe how William has grown. He looks like his own man now instead of just a newborn. I know I once said I never saw you as a mother before, but I must not have been paying attention. You're beautiful, Scully. I miss you both constantly. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 29 Jun 2001 Mulder, I hope nothing serious has happened to necessitate this move and that you have made some headway. I am still having no luck. I'm going to start teaching at Quantico soon. I feel like I'm abandoning you in some way, Mulder. Abandoning our work. But I can't do field work like I used to - not with William - and Doggett and Reyes are doing a good job. I think you'd be impressed. William has been going to sleep at around 10 at night and sleeping until 6 or so. He is such an easy baby and already a hit with the ladies. I bring him to work sometimes and he's quite popular. Skinner gave him a stuffed McGruff the Crime Dog, but he prefers the doll you gave him and sleeps with it now. He's still rather small for the basketball, but that was never my sport anyway. I played field hockey, so free-throw instruction falls to you. Attached is a video of William laying on Skinner's desk. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 Jul 2001 He spit up on Skinner's desk? I could watch that all day. You're damned lucky it wasn't Kersh's or you'd be freezing your ass off in a Minnesota field office right now. And of course he's a hit with the ladies, Scully. Not everyone's as hard of a sell on the Mulder men as you. I made it to Wal-Mart and printed out some of those pictures you sent. Keep them coming. Don't ever feel like you're abandoning the work. The most important thing is that you and William stay safe and chasing mutants and government conspirators isn't really conducive to that. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you're okay. The job at Quantico will be good for you both. I'm doing a little air guitar of "Hot For Teacher" right now⊠**** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Jul 2001 Mulder, I'm sorry it has taken me a bit to get back to you. My mother and I took William to the beach for a couple of days. I dipped his feet in the surf and I was reminded that seawater has a similar chemical makeup to both blood and amniotic fluid. We crawled from those primordial seas so many millions of years ago and carry some of it inside of us to this day. I know you get seasick, but I think we are hardwired to crave the ocean and I want to take William sailing when he's older. I think he has the genes for it. You may not be a sailor, Mulder, but you know the unquenchable lure of the unknown and thrill of riding out a storm. I had a good time with my mom and tried to do as you suggested. She asked after you and I am confident that whatever else she thinks of my life, she accepts that you're an integral part of it. I start teaching next month and I must confess to some anxiety. It has been so long since I stood in front of a lecture hall. I've gotten used to an audience of one for my technical soliloquies. And Van Halen, Mulder? Really? What happened to the King? **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 4 Aug 2001 Was it Chincoteague, Scully? It's right around Pony Penning Day, isn't it? When he's bigger we'll get a place out in the country and let him pick out a pony of his own. And hell, I'll take some Dramamine and we'll all go sailing too. Get out your list-making paper and get to work. I'll be back soon and we'll have the rest of our lives to get it done. P.S. - I always kind of got turned on by your technical soliloquies, so you may want to be careful around some of your more discriminating students. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 5 Aug 2001 Mulder, We went to Assateague, actually, but he did see the ponies and we found horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore. Despite 445 million years of existence, they've scarcely changed at all. It makes you think, I suppose. All the work we humans do to better ourselves and horseshoe crabs have attained perfection. And a pony?! That's a pretty heavy upgrade from your fish. I was thinking we could move more slowly from Cyprinidae to Perissodactyla. Perhaps a stop at Rodentia would be appropriate if you want to venture into mammalian territory. (Are you getting turned on by this?) William holds his head up and looks around without any trouble at all. He wants desperately to sit up and is so frustrated that he can't manage it yet. Any news? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, August 13, 2001 For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense. Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ? **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, August 15, 2001 And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little worth... I'll let you know if I hear anything. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Aug 2001 Let me know if we can move lunch on Wednesday to 12:30. I printed out pictures from our trip and made you some copies. I will bring William's Celeste Sun toy with me at lunch if that's okay with you. Charlie, Larissa and the kids are coming in for Christmas this year. Talk to you soon. Mom **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 21 Aug 2001 Mom, That would be fine. Thank you for printing the pictures for me, and William will be fine without Celeste until Wednesday. **** Letter received on September 8, 2001 William Mulder 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833 8-14-01 Dear William, I can only hope this finds its way to you but even if it doesn't, it's something I had to get on paper. Walking away from you and your mother is the single most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I did it for reasons that I tell myself are right and noble, so why do I feel like I've let you both down? All I want is for you to be safe and I tell myself that leaving and searching for answers is the best way to do that. But the truth is, William, that your old man isn't making much headway here. Your mother sends me pictures and videos of you and sometimes at night I can close my eyes and recall your new-earthling smell. But it's not the same. I know your mother and I know that every night she shows you my picture and tells you I'll be home soon. I don't want to make a liar of her and I promise you both I'm doing the best I can. Every day I fight the urge to let this all go and come home, but I feel I have more to accomplish before I return. One day I hope you will understand all of this. One day I hope I will. I have no real wisdom to offer you, but let me at least tell you this. I have made many mistakes in my life, but through them all, I have tried to do what I feel is honest. And I have learned - as you doubtlessly will - that the right thing is not often the easy thing. I don't know what this world is going to be like when you are older or what role you will have in it, but to thine own self be true, William. I hope to see you soon. And in case your mother forgets to tell you: Elvis > Three Dog Night Hips before hands The Knicks will always be better than the Miami Heat Love, Your father **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 12 Sep 2001 Scully, let me know you're okay. I know you don't work at the Pentagon, but please check in. On the move again, but will write as soon as possible. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 13 Sep 2001 Mulder, We are fine and no one we know was hurt. While it feels as though the world is falling apart, knowing you're okay gives me something to hang on to. There's a long line of people waiting for this computer so I must run, but I got your letter to William. Be careful. We miss you. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, September 17, 2001 There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke⊠Quantum suicide? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, September 18, 2001 And downward to the secret things we went Biloxi MI - 6/ 86 Camden NJ - 11/91 **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Sep 2001 Mulder, Thank you for your help on the case. Do you have any updates on your end? Not much to tell here. I'm enjoying teaching very much; the students are so engaged and interested. It's a nice change from the endless parade of world-weary cops and agents. Were we ever that fresh-faced and eager? Thinking of you and aching to see you. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Sep 2001 It is no longer safe for me to contact you. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 24 Sep 2001 Mulder, What's going on? Please find a way to let me know what's happening. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 13 Oct 2001 Mulder, William and I baked a cake and we sang Happy Birthday to your picture. We went shopping for presents and William picked out an oven mitt. I tried to steer him towards the Yankees DVD collection, but he was adamant that you needed protective gear. I have begun to entertain theories of genetic memory. Please let us know you're all right. Many happy returns of the day. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 17 Oct 2001 Hey there partner. Wanted to thank you again for the CPR. They don't really cover that in entomology doctoral programs though, so I'm hard pressed to return the favor. I know you're a mother but I assume you still eat so let me know if you want to grab a bite next time I'm in DC. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 Oct 2001 Dr. Bronzino, Thank you very much for the offer, but it would not be appropriate at this time. Dana Scully **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Oct 2001 Mulder, I know you can't tell me where you are and I am trying to respect what you're doing but this feels impossible sometimes. Not everything has to be a crusade, does it? You wanted to find your sister and while it wasn't the resolution you wanted, you found out the truth. Isn't that enough? We can have a life now. We have a son who needs both of his parents. Let this go, Mulder. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 4 Nov 2001 Mulder, I don't even know why I'm writing this. I don't even know if you're alive. Attached are pictures of William in his Halloween costume. He went as a skunk and can sit up perfectly. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, November 21, 2001 Lost: Norwegian Elkhound Answers to Heinrich Come home, Heinrich We miss you ****                    Â
                                           December 3, 2001
Mulder,
I am so concerned for your safety right now that it is overwhelming. I am trying not to be angry with you - truly I am - but it isn't easy. I know what you've told me, I know we discussed all of this and I know we agreed it was for the best, but the reality is proving far different than the theory. As a scientist, I ought to have expected it and yet I was completely blindsided.
I asked you once years ago if we could just get out of the car and you looked at me like I was crazy and you kept driving. And I stayed. Hundreds of thousands of miles I've traveled with you, Mulder. Endless black ribbons of highways full of nightmares and lost souls and we went after them with badges and guns because we had a job to do.
But I'm asking you now - not as your partner, but as the mother of your child - to get out of the goddamned car. I can't live like this anymore, Mulder, and I will not subject William to it.
I love you but I cannot do this for the rest of my life.
I have nowhere to send this letter.
****
                                                               December 15, 2001
Mulder,
William said "Da" when he saw your picture today. I have a video.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Dec 2001
Hey Danes -
Our gang's catching an earlier flight from Puerto Vallarta and I wanted to see if you'd be free for dinner. I'm trusting you to pick a not-shitty restaurant because last time I left it up to Bill he said he knew of a "really good Italian place" and took us to the fucking Olive Garden and I swear to God Tara put some of those breadsticks in her purse.
Can't wait to meet my new nephew (you have a kid, Danes!) and see if either of my rugrats is taller than you yet. They're growing like weeds and Larissa's firm is keeping us in Mexico until the resort's finished, so they're all sun-kissed and blonde and I'm mostly a giant freckle.
Mom specifically told me not to ask about William's father, so I'm asking. This Fox guyâŠwhat's up with him? Is he good to you? Bill paints him as a kind of Anton LeVay meets Forrest Gump character, but Bill thinks condoms are Satan's party balloons, so what the hell does he know about relationships?
I'm bringing a case of fine champanya to ring in the new year.
Charlie
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Dec 2001
Charlie,
I can't wait to see you all! It's been far too long since your jet-setting crew has ventured this way. Things with William's father are complicated, but it's due to factors beyond either of our control. I don't mean to be curt, but that's all I can say right now.
Dinner would be great. William still doesn't go to bed until fairly late and can be kept happy with a steady supply of food. He has an excellent pincer grasp.
Did Bill really take you to the Olive Garden? That's classic.
****
                                                               December 31, 2001
Mulder,
We celebrated Christmas at my mother's and Bill and Charlie and their families flew in. I have lots of pictures to show you of all of the kids together. William is babbling like a champion and I gave him a crayon to draw a picture for you on the back of this card, so turn it over. I remember New Year's Eve two years ago. Zombies, Mulder. And then you kissed me and here I am wishing maybe the world had ended after all because I'm remembering zombies with fondness and what the hell is wrong with my life and my God I miss you.
There was half a bottle of champagne left and now I'm drunk.
Happy New Year
Putting this card with your other unsent mail.
****
                                                                 January 1, 2002 Dear William,
One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys; a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.
Know this, William, for it is the most important thing I can hope to teach you: It is not a weakness to love someone. There may come a time when it will be the only strength you have.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002
Dearest Dana
I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002
I am physically shaking right now seeing your words - wishing it were you speaking them to me. I want so badly to see you too, but you are still not safe here. You don't sound like yourself, Mulder, and it's frightening me.
Where in the world have you been?
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002
I've seen things I cannot accept and don't know how to change. I feel like the fight has gone out of me and all I want is to come back and put this time behind us.
I will be home soon.
Details to follow in the usual manner.
****
Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, January 8, 2002
It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.
ncrl
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 10 Jan 2002
Mulder,
I hold no hope you can respond to this. Or that it reaches you. I only hope that you are alive.
I cannot help believing that you jumped off that train because you knew what I now know - that these "super-soldiers" - if that's what they are - can in fact be destroyed. That the key to their destruction lies in the iron compound at that quarry.
I am scared for you, Mulder. And for William. The forces against us are unrelenting. But so is my determination to see you again. To regain the comfort and safety we shared for so brief a time. Until then, I remain forever yours,
Dana
****
Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, January 14, 2002
The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.
Fe3O4
****
Letter received on January 27, 2002
Dana Scully 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833
1-16-02
Not much time to write Sorry so short saw your note Agreed on Fe3O3 though not sure how yet Love to you both
****
                                                              February 2, 2002
Mulder,
I got your last letter and nearly wept with relief to hear from you. I hope this can all end soon. I pray you stay safe until then.
Not sure what the weather is like where you are, but the most beautiful snow has fallen here. William and I have been playing in it at every opportunity and there's a respectable snowman in front of my building now. William likes to eat the snow and blinks when the flakes cling to his eyelashes. He looks more like you every day.
I send regards from Skinner and the Gunmen and my mother lights candles for you.
I wish I had an address to send this to.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 11 Feb 2002
Mulder,
I am hesitant to contact you in this way because I know it is a risk, but I am beginning to fear the worst for William. I don't know what he is but someone does and they are trying to hurt him. I have been working with Reyes and we suspect it all goes back to that artifact I found in Africa, though I can't say I truly understand it. My mother says our son is a miracle and that I must simply accept him as that. But how can I do that, Mulder? After what happened to Emily, how can I not want to know how he came to be whatever he is?
William has been taken from me twice now and I am starting to despair of ever being able to protect him. All the sacrifices we're making right now - what if it comes to nothing? I don't know what to do.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 11 Feb 2002
Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to the following address.
****
Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, February 23, 2002
O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength, you who, for my salvation, have allowed your footsteps to be left in Hell, in all the things that I have seen, I recognize the grace and benefit that I, depending upon your power and goodness, have received. You drew me out from slavery to freedom by all those paths, by all those means that were within your power. Do, in me, preserve your generosity, so that my soul, which you have healed, when it is set loose from my body, be a soul that you will welcome.
****
Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, February 24, 2002
Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.
****
Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, March 20, 2002
All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.
Gunmen dead.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 26 Mar 2002
John,
My thoughts are with you and Barbara at this time. Take care.
Dana Scully
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 26 Mar 2002
Thanks Dana. It's been hard but the closure has come as a relief after all this time. I hope you are coming to terms with your own loss as well. They were the good guys.
John Doggett
****
                                                             April 20, 2002
Mulder,
I have come to an act of desperation. I have had no way of contacting you - no way to talk this over with you - and so I had to make this choice alone. I have had assurances that our information is to be expunged from every record and I tell myself moment by moment that this is his only chance at a normal life, but what if I have made a mistake that can never be undone?
I vacillate between thinking I have sacrificed my own happiness for his and thinking I have sacrificed him because I am not strong enough to accept what he is. What if that's the case? What if I was just too afraid to see him suffer? Watching Emily die slowly through the glass left me so cold I thought I'd freeze everything I touched, but I didn't know how to grieve for her. They had no right to take those ova from me, no right to create her, and no right to destroy her. She was supposed to be mine and whatever other children were created should have been mine also. But by the time I came to terms with the fact that I was truly her mother, she was already gone. What if the same fate was in store for William? I don't know that I could have stood it.
All I wanted was a child - your child, as the years went on - and I just cannot understand why anyone would create these lives for the express purpose of later destroying them. I don't think we can ever fully know what William means to the Project, but they wanted him dead, Mulder. They wanted to take our son and kill him and would have in time and came close even as I watched over him, and all this before he turned a year old. Jeffrey Spender came to me - terrible things have been done to him - and said that no matter what he did to undo the changes to his little body, William would never have any peace from the men who have been working towards the ends you and I have been fighting.
I believed him, Mulder. I looked into his ruined face and I believe he was telling me the truth and I believe it still. I did the only thing I could think of to protect our son and I can only hope now that you can forgive me.
I don't know what else to do but keep going. It's all I've ever known how to do.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Apr 2002
Dana, what in the hell have you done? Pick up your goddamned phone.
I just got off the phone with mom a little while ago and she's half-hysterical and I'm not far from it myself. What were you thinking? You put your son up for adoption, Dana? That really struck you as the best possible solution? That's what you have a family for. To help you. And no matter how bad things were you should have come to us. I don't know what has happened to you over the years and I don't think I even know who you are anymore, because my sister would never have done something so insane.
We could have taken him in for you if you couldn't deal with being a single mother. God knows where Fox is and why you put up with the crap he dishes out is beyond me, but he has molded you into a woman I don't recognize and I think there is something severely wrong with both of you.
I have faith that you are not beyond salvation, Dana, but you need to cut your ties with him. Come out to San Diego and stay with us. I have already contacted an attorney about having the adoption reversed and because of the extreme emotional duress you've been under he thinks there's a very good shot that Tara and I can get temporary custody while you get your life back together.
It's not too late for you. We love you and want to help, but you have to let us. I am praying for you.
Your brother,
Bill
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Apr 2002
Hey Squirt. Just got an earful from Bill. Mom's too freaked out to be coherent.
I don't know what the fuck is up with you the past few years Danes, but the shit seems to have royally hit the fan of your life. Despite what Bill thinks, you were always the smartest one of us and if this is what you thought was right, well, I guess I have to trust that. I'm just so sorry that you're dealing with this.
We're moving to Marrakech in June for a restaurant Larissa's designing and we have this awesome house with plenty of room for decompressing Feds. Take some leave and come stay for a while.
Worried about you, big sister.
Charlie
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 24 Apr 2002
Dana, I am so worried about you and I think you might need some professional help. Please return my calls. We need to talk.
I love you.
Mom
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002
Dana
Please call if you ever need to talk. I am here for you.
Monica
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002
Monica,
Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002
I hope this finds you well. Just wanted to see how you were doing.
John Doggett Â
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002
John,
Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 9 May 2002
Dr. Scully,
My name is John Reits and I am a parapsychologist. I'd like to meet with you concerning a former patient of mine. Please contact me at this address or give me a call at 714-555-0146.
****
E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 May 2002
Scully -
Do you ever answer your phone anymore? I need to see you in my office at once. Drop what you are doing and get over here now.
It's about Mulder.
****
The End
****
Notes:
Addendum:
R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5
The Warrior Princess Super-Soldier chick had a node on the back of her neck (around the C5 vertebra) and had informed Scully that chloramine was being introduced into the water supply to transform the populace into super-soldiers. Scully was reminded of the water tampering in Braddock Heights (Wetwired).
****
Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ?
Mulder has discovered evidence of a connection between chloramine and magnetite, but isn't sure what it is.
****
Quantum suicide?
Scully's hoping to get some help on the case from 4D. Quantum suicide - as it pertains to the many-worlds interpretation and the case - encompasses the idea that all moments (however unlikely) with possibilities of occurrence greater than zero are experienced in some dimension.
Mulder's reply is just directing her to some related case files. Which I made up.
****
It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.
ncrl
Mulder's train will arrive at the New Carrollton train station at midnight
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Pinky Promise
Mulder and Scully in the aftermath of the âYou should try it sometimeâ comment. But, Mulder and Scully style... so you know, the roundabout way.
Over the Rainbow played as Scully watched Sheila and Holman walk away, hands clasped and huge smiles on their faces. She could not help but smile as she watched them, obviously quite in love with one another.
She could feel Mulder at her side, his nervous energy nearly palpable. She glanced at him, and she saw his jaw clench as he stared after the couple. She looked at him more intently, trying to catch his eye. He caught her look, and he glanced at her, clearing his throat. He hit his hands together, fists on top of each other.
âMulder,â she said, trying not to smile. âWhat did Holman mean?â He fidgeted a bit more, and she bit her cheek to stop her laughter.
âWhat did he mean about what?â he asked, not looking at her, but at the floor.
She could not stop her smile, so she turned slightly to hide it and give him a second to collect himself. He cleared his throat, and she turned back toward him.
âSo, uh .. I donât think weâll be flying out tonight. Not only because of the weather, but Iâm pretty sure thatâs our pilot over there,â Mulder said, pointing toward the makeshift bar, toasting the people around him. Even from where she stood, Scully could see his cheeks were flushed from drinking.
âHuh,â she said, nodding and crossing her arms. She bit her lip as she looked around at the happy revelers, living their normal humdrum lives. She sighed, releasing her lip, feeling a pang of jealousy at the easy carefree lives they must lead.
An apparently popular song among the class began to play and everyone cheered. They all gathered on the dance floor, shoving past her and Mulder. She caught his eye, and he nodded toward the exit, stepping in that direction. One more couple hurried past her, and she followed behind him.
He waited at the gym door and looked back at the crowd once more, a small smile on his face. She caught up and watched him watching them. He caught her eye again and opened the door, letting her go through first.
She hid a smile as she rubbed her hands together before locking her fingers. The woman at the sign in table wished them a good night and Mulder answered in kind. Scully stopped in front of a case of trophies, looking at them as if they were incredibly interesting. Mulder walked up beside her and she could see him watching her in the glass.
âSo, I was thinking, as Holman and Sheila left, the advice you gave him must have been pretty good. For it to work so well, I mean. What exactly did you say to him?â she asked innocently, turning to him with wide eyes.
He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, his hands spread wide. âYou know, guy stuff,â he said, tilting his head.
âGuy stuff? Hmmm,â she said, nodding her head and looking back at the trophies.
âYeah, guy stuff,â he said, putting his hands in his pockets.
âIâm just curious what guy stuff a man who never dates and doesnât have a significant other could offer up to a man who is basically in the same situation,â she said, turning to him with her arms crossed.
âI mean, I wouldnât say never,â he said, in a wounded tone.
âMulder, do you have a secret life I donât know about? Iâve never heard you ever mention a .. date or someone youâre seeing,â she said, hopefully hiding the hurt she was feeling.
âWell .. itâs been .. I havenât .. not for a while, but it doesnât mean Iâm not good at it,â he said in a hurt tone, stepping away from her and heading for the outside door.
She raised her eyebrows and followed after him, hurriedly walking through the door and avoiding a rather large puddle. He was a few steps ahead of her, and she had to almost run to catch up to him.
âYouâre good at it, Mulder?â she asked, avoiding another puddle. âHow would you quantify being good at dating?â
He stopped walking, turned around, and stared at her. âHow? Scully, I can be, no, I am very charming,â he said, shaking his head. She finally caught up and stopped, watching his eyes.
âYes, Mulder,â she said, licking her lips. âI am aware you can be charming, thatâs not what I meant. Iâve seen your charm, been on the receiving end of it myself, but is date charm different than your regular run of the mill charm? Iâm simply curious.â
He stared at her for what felt like a long time and then he stood up very straight, adjusted his tie, and buttoned his jacket. He smoothed his hair back and then extended his hand to her. She eyeballed it and looked at him with a frown.
âHello,â he said, a big smile on his face. âIâm sorry if Iâm a few minutes late. I had a work thing that I couldnât get away from until now. Itâs Dana, right?â His hand was still extended, waiting for her to take it.
âOh. Are we doing this?â she asked in a stage whisper, to which he nodded. âMy name is Dana, yes, but you can call me Scully,â she said, as she took his hand in hers and shook it, flashing him a dazzling smile.
âScully? Thatâs interesting. Iâm assuming thatâs your last name? I also go by mine, which is Mulder. Itâs nice to finally meet you,â he said, squeezing her hand and then letting it go.
âWell, Mulder,â she said, smoothing her hair with her fingers. âI go by my last name for work, whatâs your reason? Do you have a horrible first name or something?â she asked with a giggle.
He raised his eyebrows at her as his smile grew. âWell, itâs rather embarrassing,â he said, dropping his head and glancing up at her coyly.
Jesus Christ, she thought, her heart pounding, what were they doing? This was not what they did. Flirting with each other had been an unspoken agreed upon no-go area. Since that day in his hallway, they had not spoken of what happened, but let it slide like most things between them. Keep it hidden, never speak of it, until it or something else caused it to blow up, that was how they operated. Now here they were, having a faux date. And flirting, for fuckâs sake.
Yeah, this was a fantastic idea.
âGo on then, letâs hear it,â she said, smiling at him, the one she did not show him too often, teeth showing and everything.
He stared at her, his eyes on her smile, his own creeping back onto his face. âIâll only tell you if you promise not to laugh,â he said conspiratorially, looking around and checking for other people, before looking back at her with his eyebrows raised.
She raised hers back and nodded. He leaned in and put his hand on her hip, pulling her to him. Her mouth went dry and her heartbeat ratcheted up when his mouth landed close to her ear.
âItâs Fox,â he whispered, his breath warm, causing her to shiver slightly. He pulled back and his fingers squeezed her hip before he let go. She swallowed hard, and she saw the happiness in his eyes.
Oh, that was how it was going to be. Okay, well two could play that game.
She giggled and looked down, before looking up through her lashes. âWell, the name suits you,â she said with a quick wink, before smoothing her hands down her blazer, over her breasts and down to her stomach. His eyes traveled along with her hands, and she knew she had him.
âIâm so sorry I wasnât able to change into something nicer for our date, Fox, I mean Mulder, but work kept me later than I had anticipated,â she said, her hands remaining at her stomach. âI normally donât dress so stuffy for a date. Iâd prefer to wear something a bit more .. revealing.â He exhaled loudly and she had to bite back a smile.
âYou .. itâs .. I like what youâre wearing,â he said, clearing his throat and shifting his weight.
She put a hand on his arm and laughed. âThis old outfit? Thank you, you are sweet. How about we go grab a bite to eat? Itâs finally nice out. Would you like to walk to the diner close to here?â
He stepped back and gestured for her to go first and she did, again avoiding the larger puddles of water. They walked the few blocks to the diner not saying much, both undoubtedly thinking they were playing with fire. It was dangerous to be sure, but also deliciously so.
Arriving at the small diner, he held the door for her, smiling as she passed. She felt happy and lighter than she had in recent weeks. Being stuck on background checks, and practically chained to a desk, was enough to make her want to pull her hair out. Yes, they were not technically supposed to be investigating X-Files, but God, it felt good. She may gripe about it, but being in the field, discussing theories, and seeing Mulderâs over-exuberance made her happy. This was their bread and butter, and hell had she missed it.
âWelcome!â a waitress said as she spotted them. âGlad to see it finally stopped raining, but boy we sure needed it. Sit anywhere you like, not too many people out tonight. Must all be over at the high school celebrating the reunion. I donât think Iâve seen yâall before.â
âOh! Weâre actually on a first date,â Mulder said, grinning at her and then putting his arm around Scullyâs shoulders. She almost jabbed him in the ribs, but the waitress looked at them so happily, she forced a smile.
âWell, arenât you two just the cutest? Come on back, Iâll seat you now,â she said, grabbing two menus and leading them to a table. Scully pushed his arm off and gave him a look. He smiled and shrugged, clearly having a fun time.
âHere we are, you two just give a holler when youâre ready,â the waitress said as she walked away.
âThank you,â Scully said, sliding into her seat and picking up her menu. She was not too hungry, but maybe a milkshake and fries would be good.
âGet anything you want, money's no object,â he said to her, winking at her above his own menu, before disappearing behind it. She said nothing, but rolled her eyes when he was not watching.
Deciding on their food, they called the waitress over. Scully ordered a chocolate milkshake and fries and Mulder ordered a patty melt. He told the waitress, with yet another wink and nod toward Scully, that he felt sure she would share her milkshake, so he would just get a water. She laughed and wrote it all down before walking away.
âSee? Charming,â he said, leaning back and putting his arm on the chair next to him, appearing at ease and happy. Scully shook her head and rolled her eyes.
He perked up, cleared his throat, and smiled at her. âSo, tell me about yourself, Scully. What do I need to know about you?â he asked with the grin that made her stomach wobble.
âOh, you know, typical Navy brat. Grew up in many places, have two brothers and one sister, but she has passed. My mother is still living, but my father passed years ago. Iâm a medical doctor and an FBI agent,â she said, smiling wide at him.
âWow. An FBI agent. Working on any interesting cases?â he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.
âWell, the division I work in, itâs kind of different than the others at the FBI. We investigate .. the odd cases. The ones that other people might not find worth their time,â she said with a shrug.
âOdd cases? Wow, that sounds interesting. What kinds of cases do you mean?â he asked, leaning forward eagerly.
âOh, well, at the moment, Iâm actually stuck on desk duty. My partner and I have been .. downgraded to background checks and pulled from our regular cases,â she said, shaking her head.
âOof .. that sounds bad. Is it boring? It sounds boring, especially when your other work sounded very interesting,â he said, giving her a sympathetic look. âDo you miss the other work?â He stared at her and she knew that this was the real Mulder asking, not charming date Mulder.
âI do miss it,â she said quietly, staring back at him. He took a deep breath and nodded at her as the waitress brought over their food.
They ate, smiling and stealing glances when the other was not looking. Mulder cut one half of his sandwich in half, and put it on her plate of fries, as he grabbed a handful of them and put them on his plate. She smiled at him, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite. He winked at her and then ate his own food.
By the time she had finished her food, she was too full to finish her milkshake, so she slid it over to him. He grabbed the glass with a grin and drank the rest of it. She shook her head, watching him with a smile.
Mulder paid for the bill, making a show of taking out his wallet and putting his card down, while she grinned. They walked back to the high school to pick up their car. Music still reverberated inside, along with cheers and applause. He nudged her and she smiled before they got in the car.
It was a quiet drive back to the motel. Scully looked out the window, the town still wet from all the recent rain. Hoping the motel would have no more catastrophes, she sighed, knowing they still had to share the room. It was not the first time and it would probably not be the last, but this time felt a bit different.
Before she could think about it too much, they pulled up to the motel and parked. Unbuckling their seat belts, they walked to the door of the hotel room. Deciding to continue with the faux date one last time, she stopped at the door and turned to him, her hand on his chest.
âI had a really nice time tonight,â she said looking at him sweetly. âIt was fun and the company was enjoyable.â He put his hand over hers and held her gaze. She smiled and looked down before biting her lip and looking up again.
âI donât normally do this, especially on a first date, but, would you like to come in? Stay the night?â she said, watching his eyes. She saw them darken and dilate, at the same time she felt his heart rate speed up. She grinned at him before dropping her hand, reaching for her room key, and opening the door. âI mean since all of your shit is already in my room ..â
Turning around, she looked at him and smiled. He swallowed and cleared his throat, before exhaling out a big breath. They both seemed to know that once they crossed the threshold, the pretending was over. He stepped toward her and blocked her in the doorway, making her heart race as he loomed over her.
âI donât normally do this either, but considering the circumstances,â he said in a low voice. âI guess Iâll need to stay the night, eh?â He pushed back slightly and brushed past her, his body connecting with hers briefly.
The fucker, she thought, closing her eyes and taking a breath. She opened her eyes and walked into the room. He was standing in the room taking off his tie and his coat. Turning toward her, he grinned, and she shook her head.
âYou want the bathroom first?â she asked, back to being regular old Scully and Mulder, and he shook his head. âOkay, Iâm gonna head in then.â She grabbed her pajamas and headed into the bathroom.
She looked at herself in the mirror, shaking her head, before stripping out of her clothes. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and put on her pajamas. She blew her hair dry until it was just slightly damp and then left the bathroom, all of her clothes in a bundle. She put them in her bag as she watched Mulder sitting on the bed, looking at the same papers from the other day.
âThink about it, Scully, the ability to control the weather because of oneâs feelings. Unable to control how he felt, it just exploded out. Itâs pretty amazing, and also sad,â he said, looking up at her. âBut at least it had a happy ending. I have a feeling this little part of Kansas is going to be a little more colorful after today.â He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she groaned. He got off the bed with a chuckle and walked past her into the bathroom.
Her clothes put away, she walked to the bed, pulled the covers down, and lay on her side with a yawn. Tired after the last couple of days, she closed her eyes, hoping to get to sleep soon without too much thought of Mulder sleeping beside her.
The toilet flushed and then the bathroom door opened, but she kept her eyes closed. She heard him drop his things in his own bag, and then the bed dipped under his weight, his body close to hers under the covers. She opened her eyes and sighed, knowing sleep was going to be hard to find tonight.
Mulder was quiet, and she could hear every breath he took. As she was about to turn over and lay on her back, there was a thump against the wall. Then another three in quick succession, then two more.
âAre you kidding me?â she groaned quietly, as the thumps continued in the same pattern. She sighed and closed her eyes with a whine.
âScully, listen. Do you hear it?â Mulder asked, excitement in his voice.
âYes, Mulder, I hear it. Thatâs the problem. Jesus ..â she groaned again.
âNo, no. Listen ..â he said, sitting up and hitting his hand against the bed in time to the thumps against the wall. She kept her eyes closed as he did it but opened them when he began to speak again. âWe will .. we will .. rock you. Iâm not crazy, thatâs their pattern, right? There! It is!â
She sat up and looked at him and started to laugh. He was right, it was that pattern. âItâs .. an interesting .. motion. But,â she said with a giggle. Mulder started clapping to the beat and then began to sing, loudly.
Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise Playin in the street Gonna be a big man someday You got mud on your face, you big disgrace Kickinâ your can all over the place Singin' We will we will rock you We will we will rock you
The thumping continued. Laughing, Scully joined him, clapping out the beat of the song, and singing loudly.
Buddy, you're a young man, hard man Shouting in the street Gonna take on the world someday You got blood on your face You big disgrace Wavinâ your banner all over the place We will we will rock you Sing it We will we will rock you
Mulder threw the covers back and stood up. Scully continued to clap out the beat as they sang louder, and he danced around the room. She laughed as she watched him, and he grinned at her.
Buddy, you're an old man, poor man Pleading with your eyes, gonna make you some peace someday You got mud on your face Big disgrace Somebody better put you back into your place We will we will rock you Sing it We will we will rock you Everybody We will we will rock you We will we will rock you Alright
Mulder mimed playing the guitar at the end of the song, and Scully doubled over with giggles. A loud pounding was heard on the same wall and they both stared at each other, eyes as big as their grins.
âSHUT UP!â yelled a voice.
âWEâRE JUST ADDING TO THE MOOD!â Mulder yelled back, Scullyâs giggles now deep belly laughs.
âFUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!â the voice yelled back.
âNO, FUCK YOU!â Scully yelled back, amid her laughter, and Mulderâs eyebrows shot up. She shrugged and he grinned.
âARE YOU DONE?!â he yelled.
âARE YOU?â Mulder yelled, crossing his arms, his smile happier than she could ever remember seeing before.
âFUCK YOU!â he yelled once more.
âNO, FUCK YOU!â they both yelled simultaneously, staring at the wall, waiting for a comeback. When none came, he leaned across the bed for a high five. She slapped his hand, and they both laughed again.
He laid back down and she followed, both on their backs as they continued to laugh quietly. She was finally able to stop, and she wiped her eyes. No more sounds were heard from the other side of the wall and she heard Mulder let out a sigh.
âActually, I hope we didnât cause too much trouble. For the woman especially,â he said quietly.
Scully felt arousal course through her, hearing that his thoughts were focused on the womanâs pleasure. She always thought he would be a considerate lover and those thoughts were just confirmed.
Stop it, Dana, she thought. These thoughts are dangerous with him so close to you, after this evening, and this case. Wait until youâre home and then think about what that means. How it would feel to be on the receiving end of that focus. Stop it.
She stayed quiet, hearing his breathing began to even out. God, he could fall asleep so fast sometimes, it made her crazy. There she was, acutely aware of how close he was, how wonderful he smelled, how charming he could be, and apparently how attentive he was to his partner.
Partner, or lover? she thought with an internal scream. Which would you prefer, Dana?
She closed her eyes and was about to turn over and away from him, or maybe go sleep in the car, when the backs of his fingers brushed against hers and his pinky locked with her pinky. He said nothing, but held tight to her.
She noticed his breathing seemed to have stopped and when she squeezed back, it began again. She turned her head so he did not see her smile. At the same time, as though they had rehearsed it, she turned to her right and so did he, their joined pinkies settling on her left hip. She sighed and closed her eyes, his fingers resting on hers and his breathing slowing close behind her.
She lay there, happy in that moment. No threat or sadness had forced them to seek each otherâs touch. He reached out because he wanted to touch her. He was not pushing for more, not saying anything, and yet they both knew that this was a big step.
Usually, if they had to share a room, they got a cot or there was a sofa. If they did have to share a bed, they did not touch, at least not consciously. She had woken with her body close to his, or his arm around hers, but she would shift as soon as she realized it.
This was different. She heard and then felt him fall asleep, his body twitching. Taking some deep breaths, she squeezed his pinky lightly. With a smile, as she began to fall asleep, she tapped out a beat against her pillow with her other hand.
We will we will rock you
Yeah, she grinned, one day he would.
After all, he did just make her a pinky promise.
#The X Files#XF Fanfic#Rain King#Faux Date#School Reunion#Humor#Fluff#Sharing a Room#Sharing a Bed#Sleeping Together#Overhearing Sex#Promises
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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.
Interview with Slippinâ Mickeys
Only 3 stories by Slippinâ Mickeys ended up at Gossamer, but sheâs written many more stories than that. Sheâs also one of the few authors who posted numerous stories during the showâs original run and then again in the revival years. Iâve recced some of my favorites of her stories here, including Last Chance Falls and Currahee. Big thanks to Slippinâ Mickeys for doing this interview.
Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?
I would say that it does and doesn't surprise me. It surprises me that anyone would want to read something I wrote all those years ago, (only in that I was an actual teenager at the time, and had no chops at all -- I've grown a lot as a writer, and honestly have trouble reading my old stuff because I would have made much different creative decisions now). But the fanfiction that came out of the original run of the show -- from almost day one -- was so rich and varied and a lot of it so well written that I am not the least bit surprised that people want to read it today. I go back and read old favorites often, and am always thrilled to find something that's new-to-me, even if it's 27 years old.
What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?
The first thing I think about when I think about my fandom experience are the friends I made along the way. The X-Files came up with the internet, and there was a whole new way of connecting with people that liked the things that you liked. To this day, I am good friends with many people that I met through the show back in 1997-98. When the revival came about, I dove back in, and made new, more recent friendships that are just as rich. I love the show, but I also love the people I met along the way.
Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?
I first got into the show's online community on some random message board that I think I probably found through a Yahoo search one day in a computer lab on my university's campus. I connected with one woman from Greece named Fay that day, who invited me to join a group of women that chatted about the show after it aired on Monday nights. After the first time I hooked up with them, we talked almost daily via ICQ. Later, in the early aughts, I found the forums on Mighty Big TV/Television Without Pity, where some of the most intelligent discussion was going on. The forums were heavily moderated, and so they were always on topic, and it was just a smart, funny, great place to be.
Eventually, I started working for TWoP as both a writer and moderator (surprise! A lot of people don't know this because TWoP protected the identities of their mods so well, but I was the X-Files board mod after Jessica left!). It was my first paid writing gig and opened doors for me both professionally and personally. Two TWoP recappers were in my wedding!
What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?
Fanfiction opened my eyes to storytelling as a medium. I'd obviously gone to school and read books, but it opened my eyes to words to could do and be. It was a heady time. There were stories of every stripe. Short, long, canon-compliant, AU, experimental, you name it. We had such gifted writers, too. To this day, I'd almost rather read a piece of well written fanfic than a good book. Fanfic made me want to be a storyteller myself.
What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?
It was the 'ship. God bless the ship. My first episode was Never Again, but I didn't watch again until I was sitting with my college roommate freshman year and she was like "sorry, but I have to watch The X-Files on Sunday nights." That first episode was Redux. The next week was Redux II, and by then it was all over for me. The lengths Mulder and Scully would go to for each other? And the relationship wasn't even sexual? Here were two people who loved each other. Really loved each other. Selflessly. I was SO IN.
What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?
At first, I started reading it. This was back when you could only watch the show in reruns or on those VHS tapes that were sold in three packs that had two eps on each tape (I still have the trading cards that came with them), so after I burned through the VHS options (of which there were few), and set my VCR to tape the weekly reruns on FX, I needed MORE. I found fanfic. And in fanfic, Mulder and Scully actually like, kissed and maybe even had sex! I read everything I could get my hands on. Pretty soon, I wanted to write it myself.
What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?
Things are tough these days. It's a hard world to live in, and politics aside, it just feels like everything is falling apart around us. When I first found the show, my life was in a bit of upheaval and I dove into the fandom to distract myself. I'm doing the same thing these days. When the show ended, I left the fandom and lived without it for about 15 years. But when the revival came (and really only after finishing season 11 -- season 10 didn't do much for me), I dove back in. I have quite a few more responsibilities these days, but when I can't watch the news anymore, I log on to XF Twitter (I use my fandom account far more than my IRL account) or Tumblr and get lost for a while. And most nights find me reading or writing fanfic before bed. When the world gets better (I'm cautiously optimistic) and the show has been off the air for years and years, will I leave again? Maybe. But for now, it's once again my happy place.
Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?
Nothing hardcore. The X-Files is my ride or die.
Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?
I do an occasional episode or movie rewatch. Not too often, but when I'm jonesing and have 45 free minutes, I'll put one on. But I'm writing fanfic again, and I get hit with inspiration at random and odd intervals, so it's safe to say I find myself thinking about Mulder and Scully probably more than is healthy.
Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?
All the time. The old stuff, the new stuff, the good stuff. If I have five minutes and my kid is entertaining himself? I'll happy pull out an old favorite.
Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?
I'm reluctantly abstaining from this question, as I'm still active in the fandom and I know that naming favorites will hurt some feelings.
What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?
Of The Eight Winds is probably my favorite. I've had a lot of fun writing AU's lately. It's a nice creative outlet, taking our favorite agents and plunking them in a totally different world.
Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?
Do I! I have a whole ass queue. It's frankly irresponsible.
Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?
I was writing professionally before I had a baby, and I took years off to be a stay at home mom. Once my kiddo was finally in school full time, I started writing again. With the pandemic, that's for the most part on hold, as I just don't have the bandwidth to dedicate to professional work. Fanfic is easier to play with when you only have five minutes here or there, and it's also great exercise when it comes to plotting and prose, so I'm  sticking with fic for now. When the kiddos are all back in school, maybe I can start getting paid again.
Where do you get ideas for stories?
I get a lot of prompts that I just adore. And honestly, a lot of times, I'll post a stupid picture or ridiculous prompt of my own on Twitter and get dared to write it. If the idea gets stuck in my craw, I generally have to exorcise the demon.
What's the story behind your pen name?
Bad Blood had just aired and I was obsessed with it. I wanted to pay homage to it, so took Mulder's "who slipped him the mickey?" quote and ran with it. Do I regret that? Sometimes.
Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?
My husband knows and is supportive. He's a working writer, so he supports my endeavors, though I know he wishes I were doing something I could monetize. But it makes me happy, and ultimately: happy wife, happy life and all that jazz.
The friends of mine that I've made through the fandom all know and are super supportive.
As for the rest, well... I have a nom de plume on purpose!
Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?
All my newest work is on AO3. My old stuff can be found on various archives. Like the truth... it's out there.
Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?
I'd leave it with: we're a blessed fandom. The show we stan (even with the real stinkers, there's always something to love) keeps giving, the fellow fans are all some of the smartest, sweetest, and most dedicated people out there... we've been blessed for 25 years, and I don't see that stopping any time soon.
(Posted by Lilydale on August 11, 2020)
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