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sisterspooky1013 · 1 year ago

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Gaslight, Chapter 23/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Washington, D.C.

The J. Edgar Hoover building is just as ugly as he remembers it, though the memory itself is foggy and based on only a few short visits during his training at Quantico. He decides that the best course of action is to join a guided tour, as opposed to attempting to explain his conundrum to security and likely finding himself escorted out of the building.

He woke early, pulled from sleep before sunrise by a confusing and haunting dream. Someone was screaming that name—Mulder—but he knew in his heart that it was directed towards him. A woman was calling for him with so much terror in her voice it made his stomach turn. The feeling that was still buzzing in his veins when he woke was stark helplessness, a feeling that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop whatever was happening to her.

Surrounded by tourists in jeans and Mount Vernon T-shirts, he stands out in his suit and tie until they pass through the metal detectors and enter the bowels of the building. It has the mildewed, dust-embedded smell of aged tile panels and burnt toner, which he finds oddly comforting. The guide points out key areas and retells the history of the Bureau in a practiced but unimpassioned monotone, and Jeff slowly drops back until he’s bringing up the rear of the little pack. When they come to the end of a hallway that breaks off in two directions, the rest of the group hangs left while he goes right, holding his head high and tucking the bottom half of his visitors pass into the breast pocket of his suit jacket to obscure the big block letters that give him away as a trespasser.

He wanders seemingly identical corridors, attempting to make eye contact with the other suit-wearing professionals who pass by in hopes that he will be met with recognition. To his surprise and disappointment, no one pays him any mind at all, save for one woman who gives him an appreciative leer and a wink. He starts to read the placards mounted on the wall beside each door: Electronic Records, Computer Crimes, Conference Room 403. Next to a stately looking set of double doors the placard reads “Walter Skinner- Assistant Director” and just after passing by he turns back and reads the sign again. The name feels familiar, though he cannot place it.

The latch on the door gives way with a sudden snap and he startles, taking one step back as a balding man in gold wire-rimmed glasses steps out and nearly crashes into him.

“Excuse me,” the man says brusquely as he pulls the door closed behind him. “Can I help you?”

He gives the man a once over. Tall, barrel-chested, his mouth set in a stoic but not unfriendly line. Again Jeff feels an unrooted sense of familiarity that he can’t tie to any event, or place, or time.

“Jeff Spender,” he says, offering his hand. The man takes it with an iron grip, holding Jeff’s eye as he pumps his arm up and down twice.

“Walter Skinner,” the man replies as he gives Jeff his own appraising look. His eye lingers on Jeff’s partially hidden badge before returning to his face, chin lifted in a show of dominance. “Are you with the Bureau, Mr. Spender?”

“Uh, formerly, yes,” he says, which is technically true. “Have you been with the Bureau long, Mr. Skinner?”

“Assistant Director,” Skinner corrects him. “And yes, over twenty years.”

“I’m actually looking for an agent, or potentially a former agent, who worked out of the Hoover. His name is Mulder. Do you know him, by chance?”

Assistant Director Skinner gives him a long look with unblinking eyes. Whatever thoughts are spinning behind those wire-rimmed glasses, he isn’t giving anything away.

“No, that name doesn’t sound familiar,” he finally says, and Jeff feels an odd mix of disappointment and relief. “Is there something else I can help you with?” Mr. Skinner continues. “Locating your tour group, perhaps?” he asks with a pointed look at the hidden badge.

Jeff feels his face grow warm, but he does his best to conceal his reaction.

“No, thank you, I was just headed back up to the lobby,” he says, then extends his hand again, which Mr. Skinner accepts. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

He turns and walks down the hall towards the elevators. After pressing the call button, he glances over his shoulder to find the Assistant Director still standing just outside his office door, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, watching him. He nods and the A.D. nods back, and the elevator doors slide open with a ding. Mr. Skinner continues to wait and watch as Jeff steps into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby, and it’s only when Skinner is about to disappear behind the closing doors that he finally turns away.

Jeff exhales forcefully, feeling like he dodged a bullet, and the car lurches and then begins to descend. The lights illuminate as they pass by the fourth, third, and second floors, and then the doors slide open to reveal the bustling lobby of the building. Jeff moves to the side as all the other occupants file out, but he doesn’t exit. On impulse, he reaches out and hits the button marked “B” and the doors slide closed again, carrying him underground.

He is delivered to a nondescript hallway intermittently lined with metal shelves and sagging copy paper boxes. It’s eerily quiet and seemingly unoccupied, but he still winces at the loud clip of his wingtips on the linoleum. He passes by a supply closet, a set of bathrooms, and an unmarked door before the hallway ends at a stairwell that advertises itself to be an emergency exit only. He turns back, feeling frustrated and confused.

He pauses just outside the unmarked door. Like Assistant Director Skinner’s office, he’s compelled to take a closer look without understanding why. He grabs the doorknob and is caught off guard by a sudden flush of warmth spreading from the crown of his head and down his body. It’s a peaceful, content sensation that evokes a strong emotional response, and he clears his throat as it tightens. With a shake of his head, he turns the knob and pushes the door open.

The room is rectangular with a second, glass enclosed area at one end. There’s a desk pushed into one corner, and heaps of boxes are piled on its surface as well as the surrounding floor. It looks long unused, but it doesn’t have the musky, moldering smell he’d expect. It smells faintly like perfume, actually, so faint that he can’t identify the source of it. He approaches the desk and pulls open one of the drawers, which is a clutter of pens and paper clips, and a stack of post-it notes with “sucker” written on the top note in neat, flowing script.

His phone rings and he startles, scrambling for his pocket as his heart pushes up into his throat and then begins to hammer.

“Hello?”

“Jeff. Where are you?”

His heart sinks.

“Hey, Diana, how’s the case going?” he asks casually, kicking at the carpet with the toe of his shoe. It looks relatively new and out of place in such a forgotten corner of the building.

“Fine. I tried your office and the house but you didn’t answer. Where are you?” she repeats, barely concealing the irritation in her voice.

“I’m in D.C., actually,” he tells her, his tone indicating that she should take this to be good news. “I wanted to surprise you.”

There is a long, sharp silence.

“I very explicitly asked you not to come down, Jeff,” she says carefully.

“I know, but I—”

“I’m not interested in hearing whatever bullshit justification you cooked up,” she interrupts. “Meet me at my hotel in two hours. And in case this isn’t clear to you, Jeff, I am very unhappy right now,” she concludes.

Something blunt bounces off the top of his head and he winces, touching the spot on his scalp that it collided with.

“Diana, I’m sorry—”

The line goes dead, and he tucks his phone back into his pocket. On the floor beside his feet he finds the offending item: an extremely sharp pencil with a pristine, unused eraser. He looks around, trying to locate the source of the projectile, and then finally he tips his face up to the ceiling. There are at least a dozen more, all wedged into the ceiling tiles, and countless pockmarks indicating that they are far from the first batch. He tucks the pencil into the pocket of his jacket and makes his way back to the lobby. He’s on the other side of security, steps away from the front doors, when someone calls his name.

“Spender!” says a man, blond and bulky with a cheesy smile. “No shit, it’s really you!”

Jeff narrows his eyes and searches the man’s face, but he isn’t familiar. The two men walk toward one another and meet with a quick, casual handshake.

“I apologize, I can’t seem to recall your name,” Jeff says, chagrined, and the man makes an exaggerated expression of incredulity, holding his arms out and dropping his jaw in mock offense.

“It’s Nick Sellers, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember me!” he chides playfully, slapping Jeff on the upper arm.

“Sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be,” he admits, still coming up empty even with a name to accompany the face.

“Don’t worry about it. The Academy was, what, almost fifteen years ago now?”

The Academy. Quantico. He still can’t remember the man, but knowing that he was a fellow recruit is helpful context.

“Has it been that long? It feels like lifetimes ago,” Jeff says. “You work out of the Hoover?” he asks, and Nick nods.

“Been here since I finished basic training,” Nick says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ve seen a lot of new agents come and go, but few with as much promise as young Jeffrey Spender,” he adds teasingly.

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve done alright,” Jeff offers demurely, and suddenly Nick perks up.

“Hey, we should grab lunch and catch up. Are you free now? I was just about to walk down to Old World Deli.”

Jeff checks his watch. He isn’t in any hurry to face Diana, and he hasn’t eaten anything since before leaving Philly. And if Nick has been working at the Hoover all this time, he must know something about Mulder.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he agrees, and the two men exit the building side by side.

The Old World Deli is noisy and bustling with a melting pot of suited professionals and wide-eyed tourists, and offers an assortment of sandwiches and salads. The first forty minutes of their meal are spent catching up on their lives since Jeff left the Academy, and he pretends to recall information Nick offers about himself and the classes they were in together at Quantico. Jeff learns that Nick works in counter-terrorism, has a wife and two children, and an alarming level of hatred for the San Francisco 49ers. As they finish their meals, the pressure of time asserts itself and Jeff decides that it’s now or never.

“During your time at the Hoover, have you ever worked with or known of an agent with the last name Mulder?” he asks with what he hopes is a casual tone.

Nick sits back in his chair and pushes his bottom lip out, considering.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, why?” he says after a beat, and Jeff shrugs.

“What about Dana Scully? Was there an agent by that name?”

“Dana Scully?” Nick repeats, and Jeff nods. “No, never heard of her.”

Jeff sighs and runs one hand across the back of his neck.

“Is something the matter, Jeff? You seem…I don’t know, unsettled, I guess,” Nick says sincerely, tossing his napkin on his plate.

Jeff looks at this man, who is purportedly a friend but whom he cannot remember. There’s really no way to tell the story that doesn’t sound preposterous, but he feels like he’s so close to an answer, and he can’t afford not to take every shot available. He leans in and Nick mirrors him, the two men now huddled over the remains of their lunch.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he begins, and Nick cracks a small, skeptical smile. “Twice now I’ve had someone, complete strangers, tell me that I look exactly like a man named Mulder. The second time it happened, they told me that this man, Mulder, worked at the FBI, out of the Hoover, and his partner was a redhead named Dana Scully.” Nick’s eyebrows lift, but he doesn’t say anything. “If it were just the one time, I could write it off as a coincidence, but twice? I feel like there’s something to it, and that’s why I drove down here. But so far all I’m hitting are dead ends.”

Nick watches him for a moment, blinking rapidly.

“That uh…that sounds disturbing, Jeff. I can see why that would be…disturbing,” he says haltingly. “But you know, stuff like that happens all the time.”

Jeff cocks his head and scoffs.

“Does it? Do you regularly have strangers call you by another name? Mistake you for someone else?” he asks, slightly less kindly than he intended.

Another blank stare, another series of erratic blinks.

“Yeah, I mean…you know, um…hey, maybe we can go back to the Hoover and ask them to look at the employee files and see if there are any Mulders in there, would that make you feel better?”

A momentary surge of excitement quickly dissipates.

“Sure, but that kind of information is confidential, isn’t it?” he counters. “You can’t just waltz into HR and ask them to search employee files.”

Nick’s mouth hangs open for a beat.

“I work in HR,” he says awkwardly. “I can look it up. Just, uh, don’t tell anyone, okay?” he adds with a nervous laugh.

“I thought you said you worked in counter-terrorism,” Jeff points out.

“Right,” Nick says, then just stares at him. “My wife works in HR,” he blurts out.

“Your wife who you just told me ten minutes ago stays at home with your kids?” Jeff asks.

Now Nick’s mouth is opening and closing like a hungry fish, his eyes flicking back and forth. Jeff hears the squabble of radio chatter, and then a shriek of feedback that makes Nick’s hand fly to his ear.

“Fuck!” he says sharply, turning away.

Cortisol. Adrenaline. Fight or flight kicks into gear. Jeff pushes away from the table, the screech of his chair drawing looks from surrounding patrons.

“Jeff, wait,” Nick says, knocking his own chair over as he quickly stands.

Jeff doesn’t stick around to hear what he has to say. He runs back to his car, his lungs burning, and drives across town to Diana’s hotel. He came to D.C. looking for answers, but so far all he has are more questions.

Diana is much later than promised, and he waits for her with raw nerves and a pit in his belly.

He’s more sure than ever that something untoward is going on here. That man, Nick, was some kind of decoy, being fed information and answers—but why? Someone is going to great lengths to prevent him from uncovering who Mulder is, and the more roadblocks they throw in his path, the more desperate he is for answers.

Diana slumps through the door and gives him a weary look before she kicks off her heels and crosses to the bathroom. He’d forgotten, in his panic over his unsettling lunch date, that she’s upset with him. That suddenly feels like the least of his problems. She returns in cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt, leaning against the counter of the kitchenette and leveling him with an irritated glare.

“Diana, I know you’re pissed at me, but something is going on and I need your help getting to the bottom of it,” he says, making no attempt to placate her.

“You need my help?” she repeats with a scoff. “I’m busy, Jeff. I’m working. That’s why I came down here, you may recall.”

“Listen to me, Diana. Do you remember that name I mentioned? Mulder?”

Her expression falls momentarily, but she quickly recovers.

“Sure, from your little friend in the coffee shop,” she says derisively.

“Well, it happened again. Someone called me that name: Mulder. It’s no coincidence, and it’s not meaningless. There’s something to this, Diana, and someone is trying to keep me from figuring out what,” he tells her.

“Who else called you that?” she asks, seeming unsettled.

“A new patient. I went by the Hoover today and ran into some guy—Nick Sellers—and he told me we were at the Academy together but I don’t remember him at all. Do you remember that name?”

“Sure, Nick Sellers. I think he’s in counter-terrorism now,” she says flatly.

“Well I’ve never seen the guy before in my life,” he continues, “and some of the things he was saying weren’t adding up. But the kicker is, I think he was wearing an earpiece.”

Diana stares at him for a beat, then moves away from the counter and begins to rummage in the mini fridge.

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, and he feels a flare of anger.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” he barks at her.

“Yes, Jeff, I’m listening to what you’re saying,” she says tartly, her back still to him. “You sound like one of those paranoid conspiracy theorists.”

He blinks at her, flabbergasted.

“Are you serious? You don’t find it at all strange that twice in the past week and a half someone I don’t recognize has called me by a name I’ve never heard? And that my new patient said this Mulder person worked for the FBI?” He decides to leave off the detail about Dana Scully and the coffee shop, lest she get the wrong idea.

“What I find strange,” she says as she begins to mix an airplane bottle of rum and a can of coke, “is that you drove down here even after I very explicitly asked you not to.” She picks up the empty ice bucket and turns to him, holding it out. “Would you go get some ice, please?”

White hot rage floods his veins. He stands and takes two steps forward, snatching the ice bucket out of her hand and tossing it into the corner of the room. Diana doesn’t flinch, just watches him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Why are you so hung up on me driving down here?” he shouts. “I’m telling you that I think something seriously disturbing is happening to me, and all you care about is that I didn’t follow your fucking orders? Are you my wife or my warden, Diana?!”

Her jaw sets and she re-crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Your warden?” she repeats in a low growl. “Is that how you see me? I’m not the one who cheated, Jeff. That was you. I’m not the one who lies.”

“That was years ago, Diana! I know I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. I truly am sorry every day. But I–I can’t live like this forever. I can’t live under your microscope.”

He’s softening a bit under the weight of his guilt. She has a way of doing this, of making him forget why he’s angry by reminding him what he put her through.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t want you to come down here, Jeff?” she asks tightly. He nods. “Your father is being sued. Some business deal out of Washington that went sideways—the details don’t matter. But I was trying to respect his privacy. He didn’t want you to know.”

There it is again, that familiar sickening feeling. Somehow, he’s always the one who is in the wrong.

“Oh,” he says, lamely.

“Maybe if you could just trust me, Jeff, if you could just believe that I have your best interests at heart, you wouldn’t feel like I have you under a microscope,” she says with equal parts sadness and anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sitting heavily on the foot of the bed.

Diana slowly moves to sit beside him and rests her hand on his knee.

“I’m worried about you,” she says gently. “All this about someone wearing a wire—maybe your head injury was more severe than we thought. Have you been taking your medication?”

“Sometimes. Not very consistently,” he admits.

“Maybe you should take some time off work, make an appointment with Dr. Phan and get checked out,” she suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you promise me you’ll go home tomorrow? Take your meds and get some rest? Maybe you just need a break, Jeff.”

“Okay. I will. I’ll head home in the morning.”

“Good. Hey,” she says, waiting until he looks at her. “I’m on your side,” she tells him with an affectionate smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He forces a smile in return, though he feels anything but happy. He feels like his grip on reality is loosening by the minute.

“Thanks, Diana. I’m sorry I’ve been so—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts him. “For better or for worse, right?”

“Right.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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ismelinor · 1 year ago

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A Dustland Fairytale (1/12)

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 1: The Starting Line

The castle was stunning – teeming with life. She could see why Missy had come here; she always cared about the ‘energy’ of a place, or the aura, or something. Scully was more focused on tangible things, like whether everyone wanted her dead.

It was, admittedly, odd for her – a magic user – to come looking for sanctuary in Camelot, but after the…incident back home, she didn’t have much of a choice. The only place her mother could think of to send her was Camelot, where she might find a home with an old family friend, Walter Skinner, and pursue her dream of becoming a physician under his guidance.

There were, of course, two tiny issues with this plan: first off, magic was banned in Camelot – and Scully practically breathed magic. She knew her magic was made to heal, and sometimes it got a little over-eager. That was how she’d gotten herself into trouble in Ealdor – a few bones set or aches eased could be explained away easily enough: the townspeople knew she read every apothecary’s book she could get her hands on. But then she’d seen the little Turner boy – being born blind was a death sentence in a farming town like theirs – and her heart just broke. She so wanted him to be healthy and safe that her magic let loose. She had no idea how she did it – no idea if she could do it again – but everyone saw the light leave her and wrap itself around the babe like a blanket. When the light faded, the boy’s eyes opened, blue and bright where they had been glassy and…well, Scully didn’t get to see what happened next because she’d been tackled to the floor by Farmer Andrews screaming bloody murder.

Her parents had managed to talk the villagers down from handing her over to King Cenred, but only on the condition that she’d stay far away. And though she was sad to say goodbye to her family, she’d always yearned for more – more than collecting the eggs every morning; more than sitting around waiting until some farmer ten years her senior decided she was good enough to marry; more than a woman in a small village could ever hope for.

That led on to the second tiny problem. She was a woman, and this world was not kind to women. She did not believe what her brother Bill said, that women were made to stay at home, to look after children and mend socks. Nor did she subscribe to her father’s belief, that she had a man’s mind in the body of a woman. Women were just as capable as men of being great thinkers, great fighters, and great leaders. But that didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t safe for a woman to travel alone, or that nobody would agree to train a woman to be a physician.

So, in true Scully fashion, she combined her two problems to come up with a solution: she’d use her magic to disguise herself as a man – that should be enough to get her safely to Camelot, and there she’d convince Skinner to take her on as an apprentice and do her best to hide her magic.

That might, she thought as she looked between her outstretched hand and the man levitating six feet above the ground, be easier said than done.

~~~

She hadn’t meant to startle the man, but when she’d entered the apothecary, she hadn’t even realised anyone was in there. Scully was looking around curiously – or, rather, nosily. She’d never seen so many instruments or strange plants, and she’d been leaning over to get a closer look at an oddly shaped vial over the fire when she’d knocked into a chair. There was a loud scraping sound, followed by a shout of surprise, and then a man she hadn’t spotted before was falling backwards from the top of a ladder – and she’d flung her arm out without a moment’s hesitation to stop his fall.

She lowered him to the ground carefully, and he turned to look at her, eyes wide with surprise. He was bald, a little younger than her mother perhaps, and his expression of shock was already morphing into one of exasperation. Yes, this must be Skinner.

“Er…I apologise, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Scully tried after a long moment.

The man stared at her in disbelief. “What in the name of the gods were you thinking, boy? Don’t you know sorcery is punishable by death in Camelot? They executed a boy your age just this morning for conjuring a flower for a girl. If anyone had seen you-”

“Nobody saw me except for you, sir, and my mother has sent me to you because she remembers you as a friend to magic.”

Skinner rubbed his forehead. “I will not turn you in, since you may well have saved my life, but there are no friends to magic in Camelot – or if there are, they don’t live long. Do I make myself clear?”

Scully nodded.

“Your mother sent you to me? Why?”

“I want to train to be a physician, sir. I’ve learnt the basics: wound dressing, collecting herbs, a few poultices…but I’d like to learn it all. Anything you can teach me.”

Skinner squinted at her. “What’s your name, child?”

“Scully, sir. My mother is Margaret and my father is William.”

“Scully is the family name. What is your given name?”

Scully shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “Danyl, sir.”

“Lying does not make for a good first impression, boy. Margaret and William have two sons: one named for his father, and one for his uncle, who is my brother by marriage. Neither, I imagine I need not tell you, is named Danyl. So who are you really?”

Scully sighed; this was not going particularly well. She dropped the glamour and heard Skinner’s sharp intake of breath. “Dana, sir. I am their youngest daughter. But please, sir, I know I’ll make a good physician – I’m a fast learner and a hard worker.”

She saw his expression soften a little. “You’ll not cause me any trouble? I get enough of that from the prince.”

She nodded eagerly.

“Fine. I’ll clear out the storage room for you to sleep in, and in the meantime, you can make yourself useful. Take this. It’s a sleeping draught for the princess; I’ll show you how to make it later. Go down the steps, across the courtyard, and up the stairs directly opposite. And no trouble. Understand?”

“Down the steps, across the courtyard, up again. Got it.”

~~~

Scully made it at least twenty paces out of the apothecary before finding trouble, and she figured she should get some credit for that.

But as she stepped out into the courtyard, she heard a cry of distress. It came from a boy cowering behind a shield, running along one side of the square as a group of knights jeered at him. One of them was throwing daggers at the shield; his aim was good, Scully could admit, but it was an absurdly dangerous game, and the poor boy was shaking. She strode over and stood in front of him, glaring at the knights.

“You’ve had your fun; leave the boy alone.”

The knight who had been throwing the daggers walked over to stand in front of her, laughing. She felt the anger rising in her chest – she couldn’t stand bullies. The man was tall; Scully suspected that he was one of those men who used his size to intimidate others. Well, she wouldn’t be intimidated.

“We were only having fun,” the man said, grinning obnoxiously.

“I don’t think he was having fun,” Scully replied, jerking her head at the boy behind her.

“C’mon, they’re only training daggers! They’re not sharp enough to hurt anyone, are they, Tommy?” he sneered at the boy, who Scully could now see was actually a man – older than her, certainly.

The man, Tommy presumably, mumbled something under his breath and scurried away. Well, a thank you would have been nice.

Scully turned her glare back to the man in front of her. “Training daggers or not, you could have hurt him. Grow up.”

The man looked down at her sardonically and said, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Scully stepped closer, returning his stare. “Only a small man uses his size to intimidate. Besides, I dare say I could take you down a peg.”

The man leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I could have you in the stocks for that.”

Scully scoffed. She may not have been from these parts, but even she knew that squires didn’t have that sort of sway, no matter how highly they thought of themselves. “Who do you think you are, the king?”

The man grinned. “No, I’m the prince. Mulder.” He stuck out his hand, as if they were making polite introductions.

Now, there were two sides to Dana Scully. One was a woman who followed the rules – didn’t like people who broke the rules – who did as she was told, and who bowed to authority (at least, when she believed in the integrity of that authority). She was a logical young woman, and she saw the logic in keeping out of trouble. But she hadn’t yet grown out of the righteous fire of adolescence, and she had another side to her: a reckless side. It’s what had led her, more than once, to do something she shouldn’t on a dare from one of her brothers. It’s what led her to stand up for this squire, when it would have been wiser to avert her eyes.

As she stood in front of the prince, staring at his proffered hand, the two sides of her were at odds. She knew, logically, that he could well have her put in the stocks for what she’d said. She knew, logically, that her best bet was to apologise. She knew, logically, that rejecting a handshake from a prince was not a good start to her career in his court.

But her whole spirit rebelled against it. This man was grinning – laughing at her – and, prince or no, he’d been tormenting a boy barely out of the schoolroom.

She put her hands on her hips, glared up at him, and said, “Respect is not a birth right, and I do not shake the hands of men I do not respect.”

Two of the knights who’d been egging the prince on made to grab her, but the prince waved them off, still with that infuriating smile on his face.

“No, no, let the boy go. I’ve rather enjoyed not being respected. It’s always educational to experience something new.” He winked and led the knights away, leaving her flushed with anger.

~~~

Scully was still fuming by the time she reached the royal quarters. She wondered if the princess would be as arrogant as her brother – though she was starting to worry she’d never find out. There had to be thirty rooms in the royal quarters, which were build like a maze besides, and Skinner had given no indication of which belonged to the princess.

She caught sight of a blond head, barely visible behind a pile of sheets.

“Excuse me!” she called out.

The boy blinked and scurried over. He reminded Scully of a puppy, somehow – over-eager and panting a little.

“Hello, I’m new to Camelot, and I’m looking for the princess’ chambers. I have something for her from the court physician.”

The boy smiled. “Of course, I’ll take you there. My name’s Pendrell, by the way. I’m the king’s manservant. If you need any help settling in, or, or, directions around the castle, I’m your boy – man!”

Scully smiled and followed him down the corridor. “Thank you, Pendrell, that’s very kind of you. I’m Scully; I’m training to be the physician’s assistant.”

Pendrell chattered on eagerly, and seemed almost disappointed when they reached the princess’ chambers. “Here you are, then. I hope I’ll see you around soon.”

Scully gave him a wave, which he tried to return before remembering that he was carrying a load of laundry.

She looked at the princess’ door and sighed. Frankly, she’d had enough of stuck-up nobles for the day. She’d never been one to cower from a task that needed doing, though, so she stepped up and knocked firmly.

“Enter.”

She did so, and looked around the room in awe. She’d never seen a bed so large, or so many fine things in one place: books, candles, jewellery, beautiful dresses, a maid arranging flowers by the window. And standing in a shaft of sunlight, as handsome as any of her fine things, was the princess. She had a pretty face and a kindly smile which put Scully at ease immediately.

She curtsied. “My lady, I have a tincture for you from the court physician.”

“Danes?” Was that-?

The maid in the corner span around – and, yes, it really was her! Missy, in the princess’ chambers, wearing a maidservant’s dress far finer than anything either of them had worn back home.

“Missy!” Scully forgot the princess entirely as she wrapped her arms around her sister. She clung on desperately, feeling Missy’s tears on her shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Melissa?” Scully jumped back at the princess’ voice.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my lady. Here,” Scully said quickly, handing over the tincture. She’d only left Skinner’s quarters three candle-marks ago and she’d already made a scene in front of two royals. This was probably not what he meant when he told her to stay out of trouble.

Missy brushed a tear from her eye and said, “Oh no, it’s my fault – only I was so surprised to see you. Samantha, this is my-” she cut herself off, looking at Scully’s apparel uncertainly. Of course – Missy could see through the glamour, but she was still dressed in Charlie’s tunic and slacks.

“I am Melissa’s brother, my lady. My name is Scully, and I’m training under Skinner to be a physician.”

The princess looked over at Missy with an affectionate smile. “Well, any relation of Melissa’s must be a friend of mine. She’s an angel, as I’m sure you know. I must go and speak to my father, but please make yourself at home here, Scully. I’m sure the two of you have lots of catching up to do."

Scully curtsied as she swept out of the room, and then Missy’s arms were around her again.

“Oh, Danes, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. But what are you doing here? Why are you pretending to be a boy?”

Scully told her tale – from healing the Turner boy to seeking out Skinner – but when she got to her run-in with that awful prince, Melissa only laughed fondly.

“This squire, was he brown-haired, broad? A little thuggish?”

“How did you know?”

“His name’s Tom. He’s Sir Colton’s son, and he’s a real piece of work. Mulder saw him hassling me this morning – telling me how good he is with his sword – ugh. You know the type. The other maids and I are used to that sort of thing – there’s nothing we can do. But the prince always puts them in their place. He makes sure they know they’ll pay, even if the king wouldn’t do anything.”

Scully had to begrudgingly admit that the prince might not be all that bad.

Missy grinned. “And he’s cute too, don’t you think?”

Scully sniffed. “I didn’t notice. I was distracted by his arrogance. His sister is much nicer. Prettier, too.”

“Oh, she’s not his sister. She is very pretty, though.”

“She’s not? I thought she was the princess.”

“Well, she is. Her father’s the king. He married Prince Mulder’s mother after the last king died, maybe ten years ago now.”

“So which one of them will take the throne when their parents die?”

“Samantha. It’s a strange story, actually. Back when Mulder’s parents were king and queen, they tried for years to have a child, but couldn’t. Spender was royal advisor back then, and a close friend of the king, so they agreed to name his daughter heir. Samantha was only two years old then. But almost as soon as she was named crown princess, the queen found out she was pregnant. Of course, it was too late to reverse the process, so they couldn’t have their son as heir.

“Is he bitter? Prince Mulder, I mean?”

“No, I think he’s glad, really. Court politics wouldn’t suit him at all. Mulder is…not like the princess. He’s too fiery to sit on a throne and mediate land disputes all day long. Mulder’s always running off on some odd quest or other – it drives the king mad.”

“Does he get along with the princess?”

“Oh, yes. They’ve always been close – partners in crime. Like Charlie and me.”

“Perhaps they’ll marry, then. The whole heir business wouldn’t matter in that case.”

Missy looked thoroughly put off by the idea. “Oh no, I don’t think so. They’re practically siblings. No, I hope not. I hope not.” She was emphatic, and Scully wondered if her sister might have a personal interest in the question. She had called Mulder cute, after all. Well, prince or no, Scully would kill him if he messed Missy around. Or castrate him, at the very least.

“Enough about these nobles. How did you end up here? Last I heard, you were living with Ellen out in the lower town selling charms. Look, I’ve kept mine all these years,” she said, pulling it out from under the collar of her tunic.

Missy smiled. “Now, I know you don’t believe in destiny, Danes, but that’s the only explanation. Ellen had just had her baby, and coin was short, so I said I’d bring my charms to the citadel where some wealthy merchants would be sure to buy some for their wives and mistresses. But along the way I was attacked by bandits – they didn’t hurt me, but they took all my charms – months of work. I couldn’t go back to Ellen empty-handed, and give her another mouth to feed. I was totally distraught, thinking I’d have to get back to Ealdor, somehow, when the princess came across me crying. I had no idea who she was, but she had the sweetest aura I’d ever seen, and I told her everything. She said it would be alright, took me by the hand, and brought me to the castle. She let me sleep on the pallet in her antechamber, and in the morning she told me she’d spoken to the queen, and I could be her maidservant if I liked. I’ve been here ever since, and I’ve never had a cruel word from her, or from the prince.”

Scully looked at her shrewdly. “But you have from the other nobles? The king and queen?”

“The queen is…not a cruel woman, but she is cold. She chooses not to see how her people suffer under the rule of her husband. Her own son, even. But, Dana,” here, she lowered her voice, “The king is a bad man. Ruthless. He will kill you if he discovers your…talents. You cannot be safe here. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure, Missy. And I’ve always wanted to be a physician: now I can. Wouldn’t you call that destiny?”

Missy smiled, a little teary-eyed. “Oh, well you’re still my baby sister. I’m glad I can at least look out for you here. Why don’t you come with me to the feast tonight, and I’ll tell you who everyone is, and who to avoid.”

~~~

That was how Scully found herself standing rather awkwardly against the wall of Camelot’s banquet hall. If she’d ever taken the trouble to imagine what a feast fit for nobles would look like, which she hadn’t, she would have been pretty close: enormous piles of food, freely flowing ale, ruddy-cheeked lords pinching at panicked serving girls – Camelot had it all.

The only aspect that didn’t quite fit her vision was a travelling bard, welcomed as a special guest by King Spender. Scully had imagined bards to be young, energetic and spritely men – surely the job demanded such – but this bard was greying and tired-looking. His song was slow and soporific, and Scully found herself leaning more and more heavily against the wall.

And then she realised she wasn’t the only one: there was Prince Mulder, struggling to keep his eyes open, and Skinner resting his head on a hand, and Missy falling against the princess’ shoulder. Scully clamped her hands against her ears the second she realised what was happening. This was bad. The entire court of Camelot was drifting to sleep before her eyes. She had to stop that song.

She looked over at the bard, who was staring right at her. The first thing she noticed was his sad, sad eyes. He stopped his song and the silence in the hall was suffocating.

“You must be Scully,” the man said slowly.

Scully stared at him. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry to cut your destiny short, child.”

At the front of the hall, the royal family were blinking awake. The king was muttering something about magic and the dungeons. Scully took a step closer to them, though she had no idea what the bard intended, or what he meant by her destiny.

The bard moved to the centre of the room, followed by a whirlwind of tablecloths and papers. “King Spender, you are a tyrant and a madman. You sentence men, women and children to death with a wave of your hand, but no understanding of what death means. I will teach you what death means.”

King Spender stood and slammed his hands on the table. “Guards! Arrest him!”

The bard flicked his hand and the guards struggled against invisible restraints. “You cannot hurt me more than you already have, you foolish man. You killed my son. My only child. Do you remember his crime?”

Spender twisted his mouth distastefully. “If I had him killed, he must have been a magic-user. All magic-users are corrupt. He deserved to die, just like you.”

The bard laughed hollowly. “He had no magic. He pulled a flower from his sleeve – a sleight of hand, to impress his sweetheart. One of your knights saw and cried magic because you have created an empire of fear and mistrust. But your empire is built on legs of sand and I will bring them down. A life for a life. A son for a son.”

It all happened so quickly. Barely a second, in which the future hung in the balance: Scully saw the flash of silver as the bard plucked a carving knife from the air whipping around his head, and before she knew what she was about, she was diving across the hall to knock Prince Mulder flat. As they hit the floor, she heard the impact of the knife burying itself in the wall behind the prince’s chair.

She looked down into the prince’s wide eyes, an inch below her own, and for one moment – despite herself, despite everything she believed in, and everything she didn’t – she saw her destiny in his eyes. And then she heard the bard being tackled to the floor and remembered herself; she rolled off Prince Mulder’s body and scrambled to her feet.

The hall was in chaos. Lords and ladies were clinging to one another, the king was yelling, and the bard had been knocked out on the floor. The uproar only subsided when the guards dragged the bard out of the hall.

The king looked over at her, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted. She tried not to flinch. “You saved the prince’s life,” he stated.

Scully glanced over at Skinner, unsure if she was expected to respond.

“This warrants a reward,” he declared in the same imperious tone. “You are trustworthy, I suppose.”

Scully opened her mouth but couldn’t think of what to say. Skinner replied for her: “The boy is trustworthy, sire. I can vouch for him; he’s my nephew.”

She’d won Skinner’s loyalty, at least, if he was willing to lie for her.

“Then you will be rewarded with a position in the royal household. You will be Prince Mulder’s manservant.”

Scully and Mulder had matching expressions of horrified disbelief.

“Sire,” said Mulder stiffly, “I have no need of a manservant.”

The king waved his hand dismissively. “You are a prince, and it’s time you started acting like one. You will have a manservant.”

Mulder clenched his jaw but said nothing.

Scully looked over at Skinner, who only shook his head.

The remainder of the meal was strange, to say the least: the king announced that the sorcerer would be executed the following day, which was followed by raucous applause, as if a grieving father’s death were a cause for celebration. Mulder and Samantha, to their credit, sat through it stone-faced – though in the prince’s case, that could have been lingering moodiness from the dreadful affliction of being given a personal servant. The life of a prince must truly be a trial.

As for her, Scully stood by Missy’s side in silence, wondering how on earth she was going to survive as manservant to the prince of Camelot. Beyond the fact that she knew nothing about serving, she couldn’t exactly keep a low profile, tending to the whims of a royal. And Prince Mulder, whatever his faults may be, did not seem to be a stupid man – how long could it possibly be until he figured out she was a woman – or, worse, a magic-user? Yes, she’d be the next execution ordered and these pot-bellied, wine-addled nobles would cheer her away to the pyre.

It was with that comforting thought that she drifted off to sleep on her first – and perhaps last – night in Camelot.

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 12 Review: Diary Queen

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 12

The Simpsons Season 32, episode 12, “Diary Queen,” may be the sweetest offering of the series. It’s not only sentimental and self-esteem-positive, it’s downright edumacational. At least for Bart, who certainly learns a lesson. Thankfully, as the episode explains by example, he probably won’t retain it.

“What’s the matter, Bart? I figure you’d be used to failing by now,” Edna Krabappel once consoled the spiky haired kid who seemed so determined to get through school without schooling. Marcia Wallace, who played the Springfield Elementary teacher, died unexpectedly in October 2013. Edna’s death was first acknowledged in “Four Regrettings and a Funeral,” from season 25, when Bart wrote “We’ll really miss you Mrs. K” on the chalkboard. He only wrote it once. Her death was punishment enough. Both the character and the voice actor were instrumental in the chemistry of The Simpsons, and chemistry happens to be one of the few things Bart’s ever excelled at in school, even pranking a talent show in the “Haw-Haw Land” episode. But he gets his beakers crossed in the latest installment.

“Diary Queen” opens with an inspired West Side Story song parody, “Too Nice” replacing “Tonight.” It’s time for Ned Flanders’s annual yard sale, and he’s on a holy mission to undersell eBay. Comic Book Guy is looking for a broom to play Quidditch on, Waylen Smithers is going to score some kitsch, and Ned will finally toss those fuzzy dice Maude bought him to the bottom of an impulse item box of jokes he did not get. The Flanders family are parting with their humble possession in a public bid for humility, in case no one notices. Ned gives up Rod’s teeth. Todd consigns his toys to the auction block on the grass. “Playing is a sin that we regret,” one of the Flanders kids explains.

Ned’s bizarre outdoor bazaar is the only segment which has any meanness in it. The Springfieldians want to take advantage of Ned, and openly mock him. Carl and Lenny turn the yard sale into a yarn brawl, and Jimbo’s gang buys commemorative plates just to smash them. It’s enough to send Ned looking for the fans he always carries around in case of stress-induced hot flashes. As Patty and Selma are flicking ashes into Rod and Tod’s baby shoes, it seems Nelson, Bart, and Millhouse are the only ones worthy to buy Ned’s treasured mementos. And, of those, only Nelson’s purchase is authentic. He buys all the bad words, like “adultery” and “fornication,” which Ned cut out of his old religious texts. Nelson has a genuine use for them, you can just tell.

Bart and Millhouse buy the books. Even without the offending admonishments, they swear they’ll still find useful ways to better themselves. Their haul winds up being the fiery centerpiece for a supercool skateboarding feat which no one will ever see. It’s an old joke, but we do get to notice how big Millhouse’s nose looks when he’s picking it. One book, which gives the title to the episode, is spared the conflagration of Bart’s daredevil jump: Edna Krabappel’s diary. Bart recognizes the Ds and Fs, and Millhouse recognizes the smell of Parliament Lights 100s. It’s very telling how these are the most recognizable clues. They are each ready-made character punchlines.

The diary is a font of information. Bart and Millhouse learn all the teachers work night jobs during school hours, and the many lonely secrets of Groundskeeper Willie. But their first use of it is inspired gaggery. Bart learns Superintendent Chalmers keeps his car keys behind the visor. The two kids not only steal the car but take advantage of a free yogurt offer at a car wash. The idea that taking the yogurt and ditching the car is a “perfect crime” is great kids’ logic. It is a little odd, however, that Springfield’s Chief Wiggum sees fourth grade car thieves as inspiration for a little personal time with Officer Lou, but it works within Simpsons logic.

The central point of the episode is Bart’s relationship with his dead teacher, and his relationship with himself. He actually believes someone he thought only saw him as troublesome also considered him “smart as a whip.” It leads him to believe he actually has potential, which he translates to: all the time he was showing his butt he was showing promise. This spurs him into thinking about getting seriously educated. Not only does he try but he succeeds on his first dry run, resisting the urge to draw a skeleton head on a multiple-choice test grid, and getting an A. Not only does he finally understand how his sister Lisa doesn’t suck, but he puts himself on the same level.

Lisa goes through all the stages of jealousy, and even realizes she’s on the verge of obsession when even her imaginary comfort pony begins to look like Bart. This makes it worse, because realizing he is the only thing she can think about only makes her dwell on it. Lisa is usually the family genius, and how she reacts to Bart doing well really depends on the circumstance and need for story conflict. For instance, when Bart had to apply geometry to miniature golf in an early episode, Lisa brought a Zenlike understanding of all things which putt. Lisa does Bart a disservice tonight in the guise of doing the right thing. It’s her MO.

Of course, Marge and Lisa don’t trust Bart’s recent good grades, but while he comes up clean to Marge, Lisa digs up the dirt. Bart correlates “cruel” with “lying” because “they’re both great.” He thinks he’s going to win a Spelling Bee just because he has the potential to do it. Would it have been less cruel for Lisa to let him see how far his belief would get him? She’s set him up for worse humiliations just for an edge at science fairs.

Millhouse gets a few good gags tonight. When Lisa starts developing a rash because of the stress of not crushing her brother’s potential, he pulls cream out of his fanny pack labeled “rash stash.” Groundskeeper Willie is a highlight of the episode. His character has one of the most interesting takes on passive aggressive behavior in comedy. It’s not that he gets it backwards, so much as he pays it forward: Terrorizing Bart with the idea of simmering a new pet into rabbit stew when all he’s thinking of is how much bunnies love stewed carrots.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 11 Review: The Dad Feelings-Limited

By Tony Sokol

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 10 Review: A Springfield Summer Christmas for Christmas

By Tony Sokol

Subtle social commentary makes its way into the episode. As this is the first episode since the Trump presidency, it opens with a Bald Eagle flying a sign asking “Is it safe yet?” We learn Ned doesn’t find Bill Maher funny. A priest tells Bart and Millhouse reading someone else’s diary in church is not the worst thing you can do within the hallowed walls. Moments later we see the priest handcuffed and escorted past the pews by the police. We can only wonder what offenses are happening at Reverend Lovejoy’s competition.

Fat Tony (Tony Montagna) tells his henchmen his crime family doesn’t kill children, “We wait till they’re 18.” Lisa is kept up at night by the cold dead eyes of Mike Pence. Subtle subversive commentary can be found when Principal Skinner declares the drug-free portion of the school assembly a success because Lisa, the only one in the auditorium, tells him she doesn’t do drugs. But the scene comes shortly after we learn Dr. Hibbert is pushing kiddie-Xanax “sleepies” and “dopies” on her. The best bad side effects are “Portuguese insolence” and the “tendency to see yourself as others see you.”

The episode has quite a few sight gags which work well. The sign outside the Spelling Bee contest reads H-E-A-R, and we see one of the losing contestants ripping up a dictionary on the way to the exit. When Ned starts to preachify in the treehouse, he only stops because Bart is drawing back a trigger finger on his slingshot. Mrs. Krabappel’s beloved cat not only was not harmed during the making of the episode, but was a willing participant, according to the closing disclaimer. One of the stills in the photo montage is of Krabappel watching The Bob Newhart Show, which Marcia Wallace was a regular on.

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For the majority of The Simpsons’ run, Mrs. Krabappel was a sexually independent woman who was often “looking for a substitute to teach me a lesson I sorely need.” She began dating widower Ned in “The Ned-Liest Catch” from season 22. They married in secret and stayed together until her death in “The Man Who Grew Too Much.” The cause of Edna’s death has never been revealed, except in a non-canon, future-set episode. For this installment, Wallace’s two lines are taken from earlier episodes. “Diary Queen” will be her last appearance.

This is a different kind of arc for The Simpsons. “Diary Queen” is on an uplifting trajectory until Lisa knocks it off course, and ends in a sudden life-affirming crash. Bart’s final warning to Marge, “I’ll go over the edge if you try to make me feel better,” is wonderfully skewered, but the final twist is a dose of treacle. The episode was originally slated to premiere on Valentine’s Day, and is a sweet sendoff.

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starbuck09256 · 5 years ago

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A chance of chess

Early MSR AU

Tagging the always wonderful @today-in-fic

rated PG (at least this first part)

The soft spring breeze fills his nostrils as he runs through the park. His breath steady as his heart rate increases. Since moving back to DC he has been to a few parks trying to find the one with the best route. This one is filled with cherry tree blossoms and beautifully lined trees. It also has some basketball courts and an area where people can play chess. The neighborhood isn’t really close to his own home but it’s worth the extra 10 minutes of running to get here. The biggest ticket will be the coffee shop, with a decent cappuccino and a good drip at a decent price. He wonders if this is where he will fight the monsters that Patterson has been bringing to his tiny lair in the basement. After being so successful with Monty Props he earned the right to leave the normal BAU section into a forgotten dungeon in the basement. But he loves it down there. The noise dimmed the lights bright and his focus uncompromised by the chatter of useless gossip around him. He can leave the area a mess and no one cares. He can stay until 2am without someone lecturing him to go home and get some so called “rest”. This park is beautiful and the neighborhood is not as up and coming as to guarantee an overpriced lack luster cup of joy. He continues around the path sees a set of one man sitting alone at a chess table small pieces placed on their respected places as he looks down at his watch. Another gentlemen finally gets up walking over to the balding man and touches his shoulder. He gives a sad expression that even in the few short years he has been with the FBI is idneitifalable even at this distance, the death of a person seems to manifest in similar ways across the races. The sadness that racks through the bald man's eyes is paulable. His broad shoulders sigh in defeat as he starts to look at the small pieces in front of him. He hasn’t played a game of chess in awhile. In one of his advanced psychology classes they use it as a way to understand the mind of others. Chess is a game played first in the mind and then on the board, intent, sabotage, traps, or just luck playing in a way that riddles the ways of society. His heart rate comes down and he walks to the man. He hasn’t packed up yet and while he doesn’t want to intrude he sees an opportunity to further his love of the game. But the man stands he is younger than Mulder thought his broad shoulder and the way he carries himself scream military. Mulder can’t help himself.

“Wanna play a game?” the bald man gives him a sad smile.

“Not today, but tomorrow I would be happy to kick your ass.”

Mulder can’t help but smile. “Pretty sure of yourself there?” he can’t help but grip.

“See you at 7.” the bald man walks down towards the street turning to walk down the block.

He’s ran around the park twice. He got there early already invigorated by a new challenge. He even reviewed a few classic chess moves last night. The bald man is there setting up quietly. Mulder approaches.

“Ready old man?” he says as he jogs up to the table.

“I doubt I’m a whole lot older than you Mister?”

“Fox Mulder, just Mulder is good.”

“Walter Skinner, Skinner is fine.” Mulder nodded and sat down.

“You ready?” he asked.

Skinner adjusted his glasses and peered over the younger man.

“Absolutely. White or black Mulder?” He takes the white and helps set up the board.

The two of them were evenly matched in skill. Mulder tries different psychological games on the older man with no success. After several stalemates and a win for each of them. Mulder thanks Skinner.

“Same time next week kid?” Skinner asks and Mulder nods.

And so it goes for several months when Mulder was in town. Skinner and him would pay two times a week. They would talk about the nonessential things, Skinner was a hard man to read. Mulder ends up doing most of the talking. Then on one buserly morning Skinner wasn’t there. Mulder looks around and waits for almost an hour. Another gentleman whom he knows by the name of Frohike comes over.

“Skinman is in the hospital.”

“Shit, what for?”

“He was shot had to have an operation and the best doctor flew in for it. Heard the doc is quite a looker.”

Mulder sighs and takes his pieces back to his basement. He taps his fingers along the case file. Finally after concern eats at his resolve he heads back to the park to ask which hospital Skinner is at. Two hours and a phone call to Patterson later he is outside Skinners room watching a beautiful redhead in a white coat annihilate him at chess faster than Mulder thought possible. He could feel her laughter through the door, her bright hair was just like her smile. She was so tiny in that over-sized doctor coat even though she had 2 inch heels on. Mulder is slightly fixated on her. He knocks on the door waiting for an introduction. Skinner grunts as he welcomes him.

“Had to come down here for your weekly ass-kicking?” Skinner mutters moving in the hospital bed to shuffle his big frame with the wires from the IV. Mulder chuckles.

“Hi Fox Mulder, glutton for punishment.” he smiles at the pretty doctor. Skinner interrupts him “Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI” she steps back slightly, and Mulder can’t help feeling a little smug at the clear pass Skinner is throwing at him.

“Doctor Dana Scully.” her grip is delicate and strong at the same time.

She smiles at him. Mulder can not help stare into her deep sea blue eyes. He clears his throat, her hand had felt warm and welcoming in his hand. She has soft delicate features and he realizes how right Frohike was, she was more than just a looker.

“So how is the old man doing?” his voice doesn’t hold back the concern he feels.

“Not that old Mulder.” Skinner coughs. Scully chuckles.

“He.. uh... took a bullet about 2 centimeters away from the lung cavity. He is very very lucky to be alive. Even if he is terrible at Chess.” her eyes darting to Skinners.

Skinner coughs again. “Yea, yea. I lose to this fool a lot too.”

Mulder can’t help but chuckle at that. Skinner has certainly gotten better and he has become much less rusty.

“Ah, So your a doctor and amazing at chess?” Mulder asks and Scully blushes slightly at that.

“Uh I would say your friend is not that good, could be the meds though.” She is polite and not egocentric.

“So Agent Mulder, maybe you can shed some light on the creep men that keep coming by and peering in on Mr. Skinner. Since Mr.Skinner refuses to provide any details as to where and when he was shot. Maybe you as his friend can convince him to bring the perpetrator to justice.” Mulder eyes dart to the man.

“Doctor Scully can I have a minute alone with Agent Mulder”

“Sure Walter maybe he can talk sense into you.”

She hands Mulder Walters file and walks out the door. Mulder watches her as she leaves. He turns to Walter,

“wow doctors like that I can see why you’ve extended your stay.”

Skinner grunts. “She’s pretty but also a hard ass, like someone I know.” Mulder can’t help but chuckle.

“You should play her sometime Mulder, she’ll give you a run for your money.”

He starts to cough then. Mulder gets up from the seat next to him checking his lines.

“Hey, hey” Walter spurters. Mulder grabs him a glass of water on the table.

“What the hell happened to you Walter? Afraid the pretty doctor will find out you are NSA?”

Walter rolls his eyes. He mutters thanks and settles in.

“Mulder if I was ever going to suggest a woman to keep you in line and be your ally, it would be her, I’ve known Doctor Scully for a long time. Was a good friend of her fathers before he died last year. She took it rough. Changed careers, she was at the Farm.”

“She’s ex CIA?”

Mulders was impressed before now he was down right shocked.

“Yes, she is smart and capable of taking both of us done in seconds. But she is also very guarded and lonely.”

“Right because you would know that.”

Mulder is now seeing where this whole thing is going.

“Well I’m dating her mom so yea..” Mulders eyes flash up to his bald friend.

“Walter you keep unfolding like a flower.”

“Yea well just challenge her to chess, see if it can lead to a dinner.” He coughs again.

Mulder helps Walter settle back in shaking his head.

“I don’t know Walter,” Walter looks at him.

“I haven’t known you very long Mulder, but Dana’s been through a lot and she could use a friend, and someone decent at chess.” Mulder nods

“I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”

Walter sighs as the door swings close and Mulders footfalls fade.

The coffee is terrible and he almost spits it out while looking around the small cafeteria. Doctor Scully is sitting in a corner reviewing a file. She catches his eye and smiles. It’s soft but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He sees it now the underlying fear within her. He goes over and pulls out his bag of chess pieces.

“Skinman has said you are a formidable force, have time for a game?” he asks.

He is a little shy, he hasn’t dated much since being in DC. She bites her lip and looks at her watch he watches as she reaches up and rubs her face.

“Ok one game.” she concedes and Mulder can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

He sets up the pieces and she can’t help but laugh at his spock figurine for a Bishop.

“What?” he asks and laughs when he sees her point.

“Oh yea lost a piece not too long ago anyway. Black or white doctor Scully?”

“Just Scully is fine, white Mulder.”

“He's talked about me hasn’t he?” at her sheepish look up.

Mulder realizes that the beautiful Doctor Scully is kind, thoughtful and must be crazy.

“He told you I was crazy?” Mulder huffs

She can’t help licking her lips “He might have mentioned the alien thing..yea” but she doesn’t laugh at him.

“And you still want to do this?” he nods towards the game.

“From what Walter said, I think we could both use someone to just talk too.” Mulder nods smiling at her.

One game turns into five Mulder 3 Scully 2. When she gets paged she writes down her number on a napkin and the words rematch. He grins all the way out to his car.

He waits one day and calls her. She answers on the second ring, and while it starts with talking about chess it ends 5 hours later at 1am when her soft snores come across the line. She calls him the next day to apologize for falling asleep on him. He tells her she can make it up to him by having dinner together. After a fair amount of time which scares the hell out him that he pushed too far too soon she sighs yes. He doesn’t know the history there but from the sound of it she’s been very hurt in a prior relationship, making dating unappealing. So he does one better and says how about just coffee. He can almost feel her smile through the phone, perfect she says. They meet on a rare Saturday morning they would both normally work and he walks with her around the same park he met Walter over a year ago. Coffee turns to lunch then to a new thriller at the local theater then to hours spent rummaging through a vintage bookshop. When 7pm rolls around she looks up from the copy of Jose Chungs catching his eye over his copy of a popular sci-fi. She comes up and brushes his arm,

“Maybe dinner too..” her smile is soft and shy and he can’t imagine a world without it.

The dinner goes great and he calls her as soon as he gets home. She hesitates a bit and feels like they are rushing into something.

“Something good I hope?” he can’t help the pleading in his voice.

There is no one on the planet he has been able to handle for an entire day, let alone want to spend the entire evening talking to as well. He has so many questions, so many theories and all of the sudden he wants her opinion on them all. Doctor Scully is captivating, she is brilliant, kind, funny and drop dead gorgeous in a way that should make her much more pretentious and not nearly so available. She talks to him anyway even though they talked most of the day, even though she doesn’t like butter on her popcorn she might be perfect. Then when he pushes for another date she says “I don’t think so.” and he hears the soft click that matches the sound of his heart breaking.

#mulder and scully #au #early meeting #chess #myfic #the x-files #fanfic #msr #fluff #with a side of angst

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daydreamingabouthockey · 5 years ago

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Somewhere in Stockholm Chapter 2

Word count:1,775

Masterlist.

Chapter 1

Note: chapter 2 of Somewhere in Stockholm sorry this took awhile. I’m refreshed I took a holiday to Stockholm so I have some new inspiration. Ft Alex Nylander (sorry about the weird formatting I’m trying to fix it atm)

Maggie stood outside a yellow painted apartment block on a deserted quiet street. She stared at the buzzers until she found the one labelled Altelius . A small buzzer sounded, She pushed the door and found herself in a small but grand hallway with a large chandelier and a grand staircase. Damn this was fancy and this was his second home where he only came in the off season?

She hauled her suitcase up the flights of stairs Stopping on the fourth floor and a white doors with the numbers ninety written on it, she knocked on the door and waited. It was opened by a young blonde boy, he had a half asleep expression on his face, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and was mid way through brushing his teeth. “Hi, i’m Maggie?” she said unsure.

“Sorry wrong flat” he said or at least that is what she thought he said before slamming the door in her face.Maggie stood there stunned for a moment unsure what to think apart from she must have been at the wrong place, but Will had definitely text her flat ninety. She knocked again. This time she could hear from inside the flat two boys arguing in Swedish. The door eventually opened again but this time, a different blonde answered the door and Maggie swore her heart skipped a beat. This guy was handsome, tall, Blue eyes a flow of long blonde hair and was naked from the waist up and from what she could see this guy was ripped. Suddenly she understood Morgan’s warning. Oh boy she was in trouble. “Hi I’m Maggie,” She said a little unsure. Her cheeks burning. “Ah Maggie, Mo’s erm friend, hi,I’m Willy ” he said pulling her in for a hug and Maggie had never felt more awkward. Why had he said friend like that? Also she was hugging a topless stranger in a hallway and damn how ripped what this dude? “Come in,” he said grinning, he grabbing her suitcase and pulling it in.“You don’t have to do that, its ok, it’s kind of heavy,” she said trying to pull it off him but in the process losing the tug of war, I mean duh, he was a pro athlete. “It’s okay, hey Alex come say hey,” he yelled out. The younger boy from earlier returned into the hallway still only wearing his sweatpants. What was up with these boys? Was wearing clothes optional or something? If so she was not going to complain. “Eh?” the younger boy Alex asked.“We have a guest young Nylander,”Will said hitting his brother over the head. Alex turned to stare at Maggie “Oh hi, sorry I erm slammed the door in your face,” he said and she got the feeling Alex Nylander didn’t like her very much. “Its okay,” she spluttered still distracted by the two blondes. She could feel her cheeks flushing. “We’ve had a couple of fans turn up to our flat recently, so now we’re a bit wary,hence the name change on the buzzer to Altelius instead of Nylander,”. “Oh wow, people really do that,” “Yeah, I had a grandma chase me down the road last week,” Will joked at least she thought he was. She really couldn’t tell.“So you can take my room it’s just through here,” Will said pointing to the door “Oh,”. “Something wrong?” He asked running his hands through his hair. Something she found very distracting. “I mean I know Morgan said your a bit of a charmer but I think you got me a bit wrong,I can’t share a bed, with you I don’t know you and” Maggie blabbered nervously . He stopped her and laughed “Chill Maggie, I’ll sleep on the sofa, I’m not trying to, wait what did Mo say about me?” He asked with a cheeky grin and a laugh. “Oh nothing,” she said suddenly turning red as a tomato. He gave her the full tour of the place, kitchen, living room, a swish bathroom which was all in true scandivanian style and looked like it had come straight out of an ikea catalogue. He showed her Alex’s room which looked chaotic. Clothes all overspilling from his suitcase and cans of red bull dotted around any available surface, papers haphazardly piled on the desk in the corner.When Maggie was finally led into William’s room she was surprised at the contrast of the two brother’s rooms. She surveyed the room around her, double bed with grey sheets, a bedside cabinet, the room was clean and sparse like no-one really lived in this room apart from a few personal items. A blue maple leafs duffle bag identical to the one, she had seen at Morgan’s place. Beside the bed was a photo of she assumed his family given they all looked identical, blonde hair blue eyed, mum, sisters, Alex and a bald man who he guessed must of been his dad. Apart from that the room didn’t seem very lived in. Maggie flopped down on the bed, picking up her phone to text her family to let them all know she was safe.

To: Mom

From: Maggie

Hey Mom just telling you know, I arrived in Stockholm. I’ll call you in a couple of days love you! M x

Then she quickly typed out a message to Morgan.

To: Mo Bro

From: Maggie

Made it safely to Willy’s of course I’ve embarrassed myself already. Also does erm Willy think clothes are something optional?

Her phone pinged back immediately.

To: Maggie

From: Mo Bro

Oh no what did you do? I forgot to warn you about that, he is very liberal with clothing must be a European thing. He walks around half naked at lot at the rink. You get used to it. X

She was pulled out of her daze by Will wandering into the room, who was thankfully now wearing a t-shirt. “Hey,” he said smiling widely “So i’m not sure if you had anything planned whilst you were here but me and Alex were going to and watch the Eurovision later, if you want to come, there doing this big event in Kungsträdgården Park” Willy asked sitting down on the bed. “Sure I’ve never seen the eurovision before,”

“Your in for a treat then,” he said and she could have sworn he winked at her. Was William Nylander flirting with her? She sat on the bed, she had only just met this guy. She had met a fair few hockey boys growing up and being friends with one and she had sworn off dating hockey players after learning the hard way with Leo Mustang the star player for the Giants in Vancouver. She had met him through Morgan and despite his warning she had dated him anyway something which backfired massively on her later when he brutally dumped her for a hotter skinner blonde girl at a party in front of all of his friends. The only saving grace was that Morgan had been there to pick her up and defend her. Like the true best friend he was. He hadn’t ever once told her I told you so even though she knew he was thinking it. She loved Morgan for that. An hour later Maggie had showered, power nap and was ready to go out on a new adventure. William effortlessly weaved through the winding streets of the buildings were coloured white, yellows and reds. Maggie looked around in joy. There was nothing like this at home. This place was beautiful. “I don’t understand the deal with this Eurovision,” she sighed putting another mouthful of strawberry ice cream in her mouth. They had stopped off at what Alex had described as the best ice cream in Stockholm. “I didn’t either at first when I moved here from Canada, it’s weird, countries singing weird songs and perform in the strangest outfits then everyone gets angry when neighbouring countries vote for each other, for us it’s a night we watch tv and get drunk, it’s just even more hyped up this year because it’s in our city,”

“Ah well it sounds like fun so, Mo said you live out in Sweden during the off season you live here all the time you are here?”

“Some of the time, I spend a lot of time at my parents, this is just mine and Alex’s place,”

“Oh wow it’s so nice,” she said, nodding. In Seattle, she shared a tiny apartment with her best friend Molly and her boyfriend, Brad. She had become excellent at being third wheel to them. She could only dream of owning her own place.“So how did you meet Morgan? I thought a pretty girl like you he’s been showing you off?”

“Oh I live in Seattle but me and Morgs go way back we met at school in Couver,”

“Ah makes sense,” she said blushing.

“What brings you to Sweden apart from you know meeting me?” He asked with a playful grin. She laughed and pushed Willy.

“I’m interrailing around Europe,”

“And Mo didn’t want to come?”

“Nah he’d rather sit on his butt, see Maggie, his dog, play golf and go fishing,”

“Wait he named his dog after you?”

“Yeah well, he refuses to admit it,” she said with a shrug.

“So when he’s talking about Maggie,” he said, his eyes suddenly lighting up like it makes sense. “He was talking about you and not the dog?”

“Yes,” she said bursting out into laughter.

“That makes a lot more sense I wondered why he told me me and Maggie got dressed up and went for dinner,” he shrugged. “Did you have a bath with him?”

“Ew no” Maggie said with a laugh “that one was the dog,that is weird, I would never shower with him,”wrinkling her nose as she laughed.

“You and Morgan aren’t?” He asked his tilting head.

“God no he’s my best friend,”

“Oh okay good, I mean not good cool,” he said blushing and running through his hands through his hair again and awkwardly laughing. The pair went silent for a moment until Alex suddenly said goodbye turning to walk away.

“Where is he going? Are we not..” she trailed pointing to Alex walking up the hill

“Oh Alex is going to meet some of his friends, I said we’d meet back later, but I was thinking you might be hungry?”

It was that moment when Maggie’s stomach had decided to loudly gurgle. “Well I think that settles it and I know just the place,” he said with a wide grin.

#toronto maple leafs #william nylander #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #maple leafs #nhl drabble #nhl fic #william nylander imagine #alex nylander imagine #alex nylander #somewhere in stockholm #toronto maple leafs writing #toronto maple leaf imagine

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lokisgame · 5 years ago

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A Generous Donation [9]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8]

Scully knocked on the office door and went in. Walter Skinner was a tall, respectful man, bald and bespectacled, with an air of a ranking officer, which he was actually, an army doctor who served three tours in Vietnam. People who came to his door found confidence and brusque reassurance. They probably wouldn't try to cry on his shoulder, but they would definitely be in good hands. "Tell me." She said, seeing her old friend look up from his coffee and the file in his hand. He took off his glasses and smiled at her. "I don't want to know whom you bribed, begged or fucked, but it worked."

"What?" "We should have looked at the father from the beginning." "Will doesn’t have a father," she said sitting in a chair opposite him and Skinner raised one eyebrow, "I mean he does, obviously, somewhere. But I told you, I used donor sperm for the IVF." "You don't have to lie to me, Dana," he said, starting to look as confused as she felt, "I don't care." "What are you talking about, I didn't even think about looking for the guy." "You didn't? Because this last sample you brought," he glanced at the papers again, "Mulder, Fox W., is a match, so close that it could only be from a member of immediate family." Her heart started sucking all the blood back into her chest, in double time. "That’s impossible." "See for yourself," Skinner said and handed her two sheets of film. She took the slides to the light box, and pinned them side by side. The similarities were striking, even for her rusty genetics. "Oh my God.” “Nothing short of a miracle,” he said, standing behind her. “Can we use it?” “We need to do more thorough exams of the donor, of course, but if he checks out, he’s your best chance. It's best to act quickly, while Will still has strength to go through the chemo. We'll contact the guy, and if he agrees, schedule the appointments. If everything goes well, we can have him donate by Thursday. We'll start Will on preparations as soon as we have the results." She didn't hear half of what he said, staring at the blinding white light behind thick and thin bands of hard evidence.

Scully didn't know if she should laugh or cry or sing or curl up in a corner and wait for the second coming, but somehow she found her way back to her office. She took messages from the nurse at the nurses station and fumbled with them, looking for the key, when she heard her name called near by. Looking up, she saw a pair of smiling blue eyes. "Hi sis, I just dropped off some books for Will." "Charlie," she sighed and finally snapped out of it. "Something's wrong?" He asked, slowing down, "you look like you've seen a ghost." She barked out a laugh that had nothing to do with humour. "You have a moment? I need to talk to someone." "Sure," he said, radiating concern. He followed her inside and took off his coat, and sitting on the couch watched her bustle around the coffee maker. "Shit," she said finally, when the machine began to gurgle and sputter, "there's no easy way to say it, so I'm just gonna say it." "Okay." "Remember that guy I told you about?" "The Harvard guy?" Charlie said, ready to roll up his sleeves and go kick some ass. "He's William's dad." His jaw dropped to the floor. "What?" "He's his biological father, the semen I used for the IVF," "Fuck, I know what it means, but how?" "He must have sold his sperm to the bank, guys do that." "Did you tell him?" "Not yet. I just found out." "Will you tell him?" Silence. She paced the office worrying her cuticles, while the coffee maker spat and bubbled and Charlie leaned over the coffee table, catching her hands on the next pass and pulling her onto the couch beside him. "Stop that, you'll hurt yourself," he said, keeping her hands in his. She held on, finally looking up, her eyes wide, terrified. "What do I do?" "Whatever it takes to keep Will safe." He said, squeezing her hands, "will he donate?" "First he needs to talk to Walter, his DNA matches, his blood work is clean, but history matters too." "Will Walter tell him about the father part?" "No, the DNA match is what's important, 7 in 10 recipients don't find donors inside their family, and there is a chance, however slim, that it's a coincidence." "How slim?" "One in five billion?" She said, not believing it one bit. "Okay, so he is Will's dad. Will he freak?" "I don't know," she sighed, getting up again, "he likes Will, and he volunteered for the test. But I was practically crying into his shoulder when he did, so he could've been trying to make me feel better." "I need to meet this guy, looks like I might have a new brother-in-law." "Don't mock, I had a rough month." "And you opened up to someone you barely know." "He's a psychologist, he had training." "Then I'll send him a bottle of scotch." She was coming back with the mugs, when she suddenly stopped. "Oh God." Panic in her voice made him drop the tease. "What?" "What if he says no?" "What if he says yes?" He said, leaning over to take the coffee from her, before she fed it to the carpet. "What if he says yes." She repeated, even more panicked. "How will I repay him?" "I don't think it's the kind of debt that you pay back." "He gave me a son, I can't ask for more." "You have no choice. Will, you're doing it for Will." "Charlie," she said, her voice smaller, "I like this guy. What if he freaks and runs?" "He won't." "But what if?" "Will you stop? You're starting to spiral." "I can't, how will I look him in the eye?" She kept going, her voice flat, "now that I know, how can I not tell him." Her face was going paler and paler and he couldn't stand it anymore, he puled her into a hug and held tight. "Calm down," he said softly, rubbing her back, "it will all work out." "It's too good to be true." "Look at it this way, you can finally tell mom she was wrong." "Oh no, mom!" She moaned and hid in his arms deeper, "you can't tell her. You know how she was, about this whole IVF deal." "Yeah, and look, turns out the guy really was great all along." "One in five billion."

Though they parted very amicably not more than a few hours ago, a voice inside him kept screaming 'go to her!' And life taught him to listen to these hunches. It wasn't nearly lunchtime yet, but Mulder figured, he might as well drop off the food early. What's the point of bringing lunch, if it's past lunch hour? He breezed by the nurses station and was walking down the hall, when doors to one of the offices opened and a young man came out, with Scully right behind him, her shoulders slumped in distress. The guy turned and pulled her into his arms, dropping a kiss on top of her head as she hugged him back. Mulder watched the scene unfold and his blood ran cold, his steps growing slow. Young, tall and handsome, curly red hair and horn-rimmed glasses, and definitely used to sharing her space. He paused ten feet from them and the guy looked up, catching his gaze, breaking the moment. Scully felt him shift and looked around as well, her eyes fell on him and she blushed. "Mulder," she said, trying to smile and hide some new fear in her eyes as she turned to the man. "Charlie, this is Fox Mulder, my," She hesitated, and Mulder wasn't sure what hurt him more, the pause or the two seconds it took her to let go of the other man. "Hi," the guy smiled warmly, stepping back from her and reaching out to shake Mulders' hand, "Charlie Scully, Dana's brother." "Fox Mulder," Mulder smiled back, shaking and trying to shake off the foolish feeling, while trying to figure out what bothered Scully, all at the same time. "Is everything okay?" "Let's hope so," he said cryptically and turned back to his sister, leaning to kiss her forehead, "I'll leave you two to talk, call me later, 'kay?" Scully nodded and let go of his coat sleeve, and Charlie tuned to leave, but then paused again. "Oh, by the way, mom called, Missy's in town for Thanksgiving, roll call at dinner on Thursday." "We'll see," Scully sighed and he nodded at them both one last time before leaving. Mulder watched him go for a second then turned to Scully, forgetting lunch for a second. She didn't look up so he stepped closer, taking her brother's place and brushed her arm with the back of his hand. "Hey, what is it?" She managed a glance at him, but it didn't last, her eyes were wet again. "Can't talk about it?" She shook her head, and her shoulders shuddered when she took a deep breath. "Come by, when you’re finished," he said quietly, rubbing her arm gently, "I’ll make dinner and…" That seemed to cheer her up a bit. "You?" She smiled, a little more real this time, sparing a glance at the paper bag in his hand. "Yeah, you’ve fed me for two days, I'm still one day behind," he said, "we'll eat and talk and see if we can make it alright, whatever it is." And as he spoke, he watched her transform, puling up walls around her fragile self and putting her game face on. "You'll get a call from the transplantation institute," she said quietly, "they'll want to talk to you." "Is this what this is about?" Scully nodded, dropping her gaze, and it all fell into place. "Hey, c'mere," he said, relieved, and puled her into his arms, hugging her tight and feeling her arms sneak under his coat. "I won't bail on your son." He whispered and she hugged him tighter, "he'll get through this." "You think so?" "I know so," he said, just for her. "If he has even a fraction of your strength, he'll be okay."

#generous donation #x files fanfic #sweet nothings #au

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hockeylvr59 · 6 years ago

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What Ifs || Jeff Skinner

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: It’s still cold outside so I needed some warm summer feelings. Plus the plot for this one is another that has been in my head for months. I’ve been in a huge Skinner mood lately so its about time I actually wrote it down.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3202

Song Inspiration: What Ifs - Kane Brown

P.S. The Spillway is a real place in Linesville, PA and looks something like this.

It was finally summer vacation. Well, as much of a summer vacation as being an adult allowed. Since you were little, the week surrounding the 4th of July was the one time a year you’d get to see all of your cousins. It was so important to you that you made sure to get off work even now, in order to go up to your grandmother’s cottage.

For the most part, you spent your time swimming in the creek, skipping rocks, hanging out by the fire talking and playing charades, or on the porch playing card or dice games. Of course there were occasional trips to the store, or out for ice cream, and every few years a group of you drove up to the spillway to see the fish.

This year your cousin had brought her boyfriend along and so a group of you went to show him the spillway for the first time. It was always crazy seeing just how many fish could be crammed into an area, to the point that the waterfowl were able to walk on their backs.

As you were getting ready to leave one of your cousins asked about the fish having been sick the previous year or two and so you pulled your phone from your pocket to google while you walked. You definitely should have known better because after a moment your body slammed forward and then bounced back like you had walked into a wall.

And maybe you had...except walls didn’t usually reach out to catch you from falling.

Hearing a male voice ask if you were okay you nodded and before looking up began to apologize for not watching where you were walking. A giggle assured you that it was okay and when you finally met the gaze of the man in front of you, your eyes went wide and you gasped.

“Holy shit…” You murmured. Either this man was a damn good lookalike for Jeff Skinner or the Sabres forward himself was standing in front of you. A lookalike wouldn’t have that damn giggle though and so that simply left one option. Why Jeff Skinner was here in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania was another question entirely.

In the moment it had taken your brain to process all of that, Jeff had started running his fingers through his hair and a blush rose on your cheeks as you gripped your phone tightly between your fingers.

“You know who I am?” He asked and when you nodded his own cheeks flushed and after a moment he smiled. Hearing your family call your name you cursed under your breath before pulling back.

“That’s me...guess I have to go.” You murmured. “Enjoy the fish. It’s kind of a weird but cool thing.” There was certainly a large part that wanted to ask for an autograph or a picture but he was clearly on vacation himself and bumping into him had been enough of an intrusion into his day.

“Hey y/n...wait…” He called when you stepped around him to meet your family at the car. The fact that he had said your name alone made you pause and glancing back at him you tilted your head in curiosity.

“I um...I don’t know how long you’ll be in the area but I’m staying up near Erie for the rest of the week. I uh...if you go up that way maybe we could meet up and talk?”

The question completely caught you off guard and your sisters called your name again.

“I...I’d really like that.” You finally managed. Seconds later Jeff’s phone was in your hands and opening his call feature you quickly dialed your own number before handing it back. “I uh..I’ll let you know if we come up to Erie…”

“Sounds good.” He breathed and as you climbed into the back of the car you glared at your sisters and cousins daring them to say something and then sighed in relief when they let it go.

____

Once back at the cottage you slipped your phone from your pocket and clicked on the number that had called you not even half an hour before to add it into your contacts. You really didn’t expect that Jeff would try to get in contact with you again. After all, you’d simply run into him and then had spent not even two minutes in his presence and he was an NHLer who could have pretty much any girl in the world.

Still, when, that evening at dinner, a trip up to Lake Erie to swim, since the creek was really too high to enjoy, was proposed, you were all for it. You did really want to swim and sunbathe on the beach but if you were up at Erie, there was really no excuse not to invite Jeff and see if he actually meant what he had said.

After checking the forecast it was decided that a trip would be made to the lake not tomorrow but the following day. So, before falling asleep that night, you’d sent Jeff a text telling him that you would indeed be in the Erie area and that he was welcome to come if he didn’t already have plans. Laying awake you wondered if he would actually respond, the reasonable side of your mind telling you not to get your hopes up.

To your surprise, the following morning you woke up to a text declaring that he’d love to meet you at the beach and to let him know when and where you were when you got there. Simply replying with a ‘thumbs up’ emoji you proceeded to get dressed for the day to just enjoy hanging out with your family.

It wasn’t until you and your sister went out on the kayaks that the topic of the previous day was brought up. Your sister was significantly younger than you but at the same time was probably the one person you felt most comfortable talking to.

“So...are you gonna spill on who that guy yesterday was?” She asked as you paddled upstream, keeping your eyes on the banks in hopes of seeing the bald eagle that was known to nest nearby.

“He...uh...he’s a hockey player for the Buffalo Sabres.” You stated softly causing your sister’s head to snap in your direction.

“Woah, seriously? What the hell was he doing at the spillway?”

“I don’t really know. I just bumped into him y/s/n. He caught me from falling and when I looked up I immediately recognized him.”

“Oh god, is he one of your hockey crushes?” She questioned rolling her eyes at you because she was well aware of your obsession with the sport’s athletes.

“I mean kind of, yeah, he’s adorable. He has the best smile ever and his dimples are adorable. He was a figure skater growing up and so I could honestly watch him skate all day. He used to play for Carolina before getting traded to Buffalo.”

“And you didn’t ask for an autograph or selfie?” She added knowing that if you had it would be pretty obvious.

“No. I didn’t want to bother him any more than I had already. He’s on vacation clearly.”

The conversation lulled for a moment as you continued to paddle before turning around to head back downstream.

“But he gave me his number and is going to meet us at the beach tomorrow.” You added softly, straighening out your kayak before just starting to drift for a moment.

“What?!” Your sister exclaimed nearly losing her paddle into the water in the process.

“Yeah...I didn’t ask for anything and instead told him to enjoy the spillway and when I turned to leave he told me to wait and the next thing I know he’s handing me his phone and suggesting that if I was going to be in the Erie area that we meet up. So I called myself so he had my number and that was that. I uh...texted him last night about the lake, not expecting a response mind you, but this morning there was a text declaring that that sounded like fun and to let him know when and where we were when we get there.”

“Damn..this vacation just got interesting.” You sister teased.

“Don’t say anything to anyone else please. It’s not a big deal.”

“I won’t, but are you trying to convince me or yourself because this seems like a pretty big deal.” Glaring at her as you pulled the kayaks up to the bank and climbed out she simply shoved you before the two of you headed back inside to get something to drink.

____

The drive up to Erie wasn’t too bad, you rode with your female cousins and sisters so that you could blare music and sing the entire way while all of the parents drove seperately.

Thankfully while the beach was busy, it wasn’t overly crowded. Finding a spot you noted down what beach number you were at and then helped unload everything from the suv. You had worn your swim suit under your clothes so you didn’t need to change before heading to find a spot to sprawl out. While everyone was making themselves comfortable on the beach, you shot a quick text to Jeff telling him that you were there and where at before you grabbed your own towel, settling at the outer edge of where your family was. Slipping off your sandals, you let your sister spray you down with sunscreen before settling back onto the towel.

Jeff hadn’t responded and part of you wondered if something had come up that took priority over hanging with some stranger. Just as you had given up hope of him showing someone asked if the spot next to you was taken and glancing up you couldn’t help but blush as Jeff’s smiling face looked down at you.

“I mean I was kind of saving it for someone but he never texted me back so I don’t think he’s going to show.” You teased before motioning for him to make himself comfortable.

“Sorry.” He replied and you shook your head to assure him that it was really fine.

“You’re here aren’t you?” You asked and he gave you a bit of a smirk before reaching into the bag he’d brought for sunscreen.

“I’m Jeff by the way. I know you know that but we didn’t really get to introduce ourselves.” He added holding out a hand for you to shake which caused you to laugh quietly.

“Y/N.” You responded, reaching to take a sip out of your water bottle before laying back on your towel, all the while peeking through your lashes as he lathered on the sunscreen.

After a moment he pulled his shirt over his head in that effortless way boys do so that he could get his chest immediately your body went hot because though you knew he was gorgeous, up close it was almost too much.

For a moment he attempted to coat his back and though he had pretty good flexibility, there was no way he could finish himself. Glancing around to make sure that your family wasn’t paying much attention to you, you grabbed the bottle from beside him and squeezed a dollop of lotion into your hands before holding them up toward him.

“Want some help?” You inquired and after getting his permission you proceeded to run the lotion into his skin, taking in the feeling of his muscles under your fingertips. Today was going to be the absolute death of you yet. Assured that his back and shoulders were now protected from the suns rays, you wiped the remainder of the lotion into your legs before standing and tossing your sun glasses onto the towel.

“I’m going in.” You declared, your eyes meeting your sister’s who simply smirked at you seeing Jeff at your side. The sand was hot under your feet and so by the time you reached the water, it’s coolness felt fantastic against your skin.

Resting your hands on your hips you simply let the waves lap at your legs for a moment before you started wading in, diving under the water entirely once it reached your waist. When you surfaced, Jeff was at the water’s edge and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You coming?” You inquired, floating as much as you could while the waves crested and pushed you closer and closer to shore again. The lake was really your favorite place because it had the waves that made everything more fun but it was fresh water as opposed to salt that hurt your eyes.

Admittedly, it was sad when Jeff finally joined you, the water hiding his body from your eyes, but at the same time being close to him in general made your pulse jump.

“I didn’t expect you to get in the water so quickly.” He admitted as he floated next to you, the laughs of your cousins and sisters reaching your ears from just a little ways down the beach.

“We came to the lake for a reason.” You declared. “If I wanted to sunbathe we didn’t need to drive the hour up here. Plus I’ve always been a water bug.” Swimming though the waves again, Jeff followed, eventually tugging at your foot in order to get your attention.

His touch on your skin, even that of your foot, sent a jolt through your body and you resumed just treading water as you looked at him.

“Why didn’t you ask for an autograph or picture if you knew who I was?” He inquired softly, his voice and presence causing you to shiver.

“Because you’re clearly on vacation. I don’t know...I guess it just doesn’t feel right bothering someone like that even if they are a bit of a celebrity.”

“So you did want one?” He asked, his smile growing wider causing his dimples to really appear.

“Well yeah, but honestly I never expected to meet someone I was a fan of so the experience itself is enough for me.” Nodding to himself, Jeff reached out to splash you causing you to laugh. “Hey now. Play nice Mr. Skinner.” You scolded, squealing when his hands reached out to your waist pulling you closer to him.

“Are you a Sabres fan?” He asked, now doing most of the work to keep both of you afloat as you talked.

“Penguins actually. But I became a fan of yours after Jordan was traded to Carolina and I saw you play.”

“Hmm..” He hummed making you wonder what he was thinking.

“But Buffalo is a team that I watch on occasion, and that I usually don’t root against.”

“Well that’s good to know.” He stated. “Otherwise I don’t know if I could give you my autograph.” Laughing you squirmed from his grasp to swim a little more before deciding that you needed a break and moved to return to your towel on the beach.

Plopping down your sister tossed you another bottle of water as Jeff was still in the water for the moment.

“You look like you’re having fun.” She whispered to you and when you nodded she smiled. “Good. You deserve it.”

Obviously by now other members of your family noticed your company but you just prayed they didn’t say anything for now and that your dad didn’t recognize him. Your dad was the only member of your family into hockey enough that there was even a chance he’d recognize Jeff since he wasn’t a penguin.

Laying back on the towel you closed your eyes for a moment until water droplets fell onto you from above. Rolling your eyes, you watched Jeff as he sat down.

“What? You looked hot.” He teased. Actually your skin was quite cool still from the water and when you opened your mouth to comment, your brain realized what he had actually meant and you snapped it shut again. There was no way in hell that Jeff Skinner thought you were hot.

The two of you continued to chat about various things as you laid next to each other, everything from hockey, to what you were going to school for, future goals, your crazy family next to you. He had sisters as well so he totally understood being surrounded by woman and definitely sympathized with your dad and uncles who were in the same boat.

After awhile Jeff pulled his phone out of his pocket and told you to smile, snapping a couple selfies, some smiling, a few others with you making faces at him.

Sadly the rest of the afternoon went by way too quickly and it felt like no time had passed at all before your family was packing up to go home. After carrying your stuff to the car you made the excuse of needing to use the bathroom to sneak one more moment alone with Jeff. Standing outside the changing rooms he wrapped you into a hug, your nose pressed into the fabric of his t-shirt that smelled like salt from his sweat mixed with deodorant and laundry soap. It was a scent for you to associate with him.

“Can we keep talking?” He asked you and you looked up at him surprised. You really didn’t expect anything after today as great as it had been.

“Yeah of course.” You responded, and when he pulled you into a hug once more you heard him whisper ‘good.’ “I had fun today.” You commented as you started to walk back to the cars.

“Me too. This was definitely the highlight of my vacation.” You knew you needed to leave but again your body ached to remain close to him for as long as possible. “Hey. Come here for a second.”

Leading you over to his car, you couldn’t tell if it was actually his or just a rental, he opened the trunk and reached into a duffel bag, pulling out a hat. Another pocket contained a sharpie and after pressing the pen into the fabric for a moment, his tongue stuck out while he wrote he handed it to you.

“There. Now you’ll have an autograph and selfies.” He seemed pleased with himself as you slid the hat onto your head. “You look good in sabres gear. I’ll convert you yet.”

“We’ll see about that.” You said, smiling up at him. “Thank you for all this. Pretty sure it was the highlight of my vacation too.”

Turning to wave at him as you walked back to the car you couldn’t help but smile and wonder what fate had in store for you as he called out to you that he would text you.

____

Back in the car with your cousins, you slipped the cap off your head, finguring Jeff’s signature with a smile. Today had been the last thing you’d expected when you arrived for just another standard family summer vacation.

You were bound to be asked a thousand questions later but for now you were just going to think about the sweet, smiley, gorgeous NHL player that had absolutely turned your life upside down.

#jeff skinner #jeff skinner imagine #buffalo sabres #buffalo sabres imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #bsabres #010

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years ago

Text

Culmination

This is chapter 14. To start at the beginning click here.

I had to address “Skinner told me,” my all time biggest pet peeve on the show, because god forbid they actually write a scene where Scully gets to tell Mulder the most important thing she’s ever had to tell him. Especially since I believe this particular moment had so much weight and affected their relationship down the road.

Also, Mulder still has a lot of garbage to make up for. Thank god for S11 Mulder, is all I'm saying.

INFORMATION

(The Truth)

MULDER

All roads have led here.

In the end, all he’s left with is this dank, dark jail cell and the knowledge that no matter what he does, the world is going to end, and soon. He knows the timetable and the method. He knows the truth. And what’s worse, he believes it utterly and completely.

As he lies half naked on the cold pavement of the cell, he thinks of Scully, and baby William. He thinks of a future they will not get to have, a future she will be robbed of. Time they all will be robbed of.

They’ve already wasted so much time.

He hated having to act distant with her yesterday. He hopes she understood why he did what he did. He tries to focus on something good, like how incredible she’d looked; she’d let her hair grow out and he was reminded of how she looked the day he met her. But the length of her hair only brought to the painful forefront how long it’s been since they’ve actually laid eyes on each other. Every inch further proof of time passing, wasting away.

It’s been even longer than it had been while he was abducted and dead, and somehow this has been worse because he could feel the time passing, slowly, tediously.

More time spent alone.

He aches to see her again and it’s the first time he knows for sure he will very soon. He wishes it were under better circumstances but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s glad he got caught. He’s relieved he’s been forced to give himself up. He couldn’t take the solitude any longer. If it means facing the music, he will, even if he hates this particular tune. He wants to see his family.

What are you thinking?

About my son. About his mother.

The guard is relentless. He knows they are trying to brainwash him into forgetting what he’s learned. He wishes they could. Now that he knows, he wishes he could un-know it. The irony of learning the truth he’s sought for so long and now wishing he hadn’t learned it at all isn’t lost on him.

His thoughts drift to Clyde Bruckman from all those years ago, and his ability to see the deaths of others. Bruckman couldn’t live with that knowledge and ended his own life. Can Mulder live with knowing exactly when and how every human being on the planet will die?

What will he tell Scully? Will she believe it too? She’s been through so much, he doesn’t want to take away any any more of her happiness. Maybe they’ll make it ten years without her having to know. Maybe he’s just kidding himself.

Will he even get out of his current predicament alive?

He knows the military is responsible for all of this. The secrets they hold are worth killing for, and taking him out wouldn’t be difficult. So why this ridiculous charade? He wonders why they’re bothering to put him through this, why they don’t just kill him. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long at all.

The government has used him to help them bury the truth before, and they’re doing it again. Spooky Fox Mulder, ranting and raving about apocalyptic alien colonizations would only help their cause, not harm it.

He won’t give them the satisfaction.

The doors to his cell slide open, and the asshole with the nightstick comes back in. He flings an orange jumpsuit at him. “Put that on, you have visitors.”

Please… please let it be her.

He doesn’t know who he’s praying to, but he hopes the prayer is answered. A few minutes pass. And then:

“...Mulder?” Her voice is barely a whisper this time.

He turns around and notices the guard has left them alone, thank god. He does his best Hannibal Lecter.

“I smelled you coming, Clarice.”

Her face is priceless and he wishes he could bottle it but instead he decides to put her out of her misery and laughs.

She exhales, the relief palpable. “Dammit, Mulder, it’s not funny seeing you put on that act.”

“No, that is funny,” he explains. “What’s not funny is what they do to you in here when you don’t put on that act.”

He’s waited too long already, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that they’re in a jail cell, or that Skinner is standing right there, or even that the world is coming to an end. If anything, that knowledge is all Mulder needs to cross over to Scully and kiss her for all she’s worth. He feels her knees go weak as she grabs his head for support. He never wants to stop kissing her again, but eventually they have to. Goddamn Skinner. They shift to a hug, and he envelops her with his arms.

When they finally detach, he goes for Skinner. “C’mere, you big, bald, beautiful man.”

“The only thing you’re gonna be kissing is your sweet ass goodbye, with the trouble you’re in, Mulder,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that right around the fiftieth brainwashing session.”

He takes Scully’s hand, kisses it. Holds it close to his heart. The way she’s looking at him now is something he’s never felt worthy of, but it’s there just the same.

Soon Agents Doggett and Reyes show up and the whirlwind of Mulder’s farcical trial begins in earnest.

***

After they discuss his options, the cell clears out but Skinner remains.

“You know none of this really matters, right?” Mulder sighs. ��This is only going to end one way.”

“How, Mulder? With you on death row? That’s not gonna happen, not on my watch. I’m not letting Scully go through that again.”

Mulder doesn’t want her to go through that again, either. But his options are pretty limited at the moment.

Skinner leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Mulder shrugs. “Make our work mean something, Skinner. Anything. Everything Scully and I have uncovered sits in the basement, none of it brought to light because no one will believe it. Maybe someone in that room will hear it.”

Skinner looks uncomfortable. “Why would they listen to me? They already think you’re a joke.”

Mulder sighs and rubs his temples. “Now you’re catching on.”

“Well, what’s their angle then? To discredit you? You’ve already done that for them, year after year. No offense,” he adds.

“None taken.”

“If they wanted to kill you, they’d just kill you. I still don’t understand why you’re standing here at all.”

“This is a perfect opportunity for them. They want me to help them bury their own secrets because they know I’m not going to out them.”

“Why? What do you know, Mulder?”

“Trust me, it’s not something I can put on the official record.”

“So what, you just plan to die with the truth? You’ll only be furthering their own agenda.”

“You don’t get it, Skinner. Nothing you or I can do matters. None of this matters. We hold none of the cards. All we can do is go down fighting.”

Skinner removes his glasses, wipes them on his shirt, puts them back on. “I can’t be a party to you allowing yourself to get put to death, Mulder. I won’t just do nothing.”

“Try my case, then, sir.”

“Maybe something, anything we’ve got would be enough to save your life. Right now that’s all I want to do. The rest of this government conspiracy crap is secondary. I owe it to you, and to Scully.”

Mulder closes his eyes, leans back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do about Scully. I know she won’t give up on me, even though that’s exactly what she should do.”

Skinner doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“I know all this seems really important right now. But don’t lose sight of the big picture, of your life. You’ve got an important choice to make, Mulder. Don’t make the wrong one. Trust me.”

He starts to head toward the cell door and Mulder takes that in. He wishes he had a choice. He wishes he knew a way out of this. He can’t think of a good plan because he can’t see an endgame that isn’t tragedy. It’s impossible for him to think about any kind of future right now; with Scully, with William. For him. For anyone. All he can think about is the present.

“Sir? Can you do me another favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Can you ask Scully to bring William?”

Skinner stops, is silent. Silent for a long time. Mulder doesn’t know why but the dread that lurches up inside him is very real and immediate.

“Sir….?”

“I think... you need to talk to Scully about that.”

He starts to panic. “No, Skinner, what happened?” He walks to Skinner and grabs the back of his jacket. “Tell me right now! Is it William? Did something happen to him?”

Oh god, that baby. Scully’s whole world. If something happened to him…

“What is it?!” The terror in Mulder’s voice is enough to get Skinner to turn around. “Tell me!”

Skinner can’t look him in the eye. He shakes his head. “William… is gone.”

Mulder’s heart sinks. His breath stops. Suddenly, everything they have been discussing seems utterly unimportant.

“William is... dead?”

“No, not dead,” Skinner quickly corrects. “But it felt like a death to Scully. Everything just… became too much, it was too dangerous for him. She gave him up anonymously for adoption.”

Mulder stares at Skinner. “When?”

“Couple months ago.”

Mulder’s legs give out and he sinks to the floor, his head in his hands. Everything they’ve gone through, how much Scully wanted that child, all of it gone. He left for nothing. He’s been separated from his family for no reason at all, and even though leaving was meant to protect them all, he failed.

She must have felt so desperate, so alone to make such a decision. Why did he ever leave? The dangers they feared seem so insignificant now.

He didn’t think things could get any worse. He’s never been more wrong in his life.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this.” Mulder can’t look at him. He just wants Skinner to leave before he breaks down completely. “I’m… I’m going to leave you alone, okay? Scully will be back tomorrow. You should talk then.”

Skinner quietly exits the cell.

After the door closes, Mulder bursts into tears. His body is so wracked with uncontrollable sobs he falls to his side and pulls his knees to his chest. He grieves for William, but his grief soon turns to Scully. He loved their child, of course, but the entire time he’s been gone he felt his love for William through his love for her. Every day that passed, every moment he missed, every milestone she must have witnessed, he imagined it through her eyes.

He thinks of her broken heart, again, and feels completely numb.

He doesn’t sleep that night, tormented by desperate cries and fits of wakefulness. He thinks of a night back in Bellefleur, Oregon, where he held Scully in comfort and security and regrets all the choices he subsequently made.

***

She comes to him soon, as he knew she would. Her hand softly touches his shoulder and he wakes.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He wonders how many more times he’ll get to hear her say that. It can’t be many. He slowly gets up, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Her face comes into focus and it gives him hope, if only for a moment.

“I need you to talk to me, confide in me, or we’ll lose.”

He doesn’t want to talk about any of this. “We can’t win, Scully. We can only hope to go down fighting.”

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes glistening. “Mulder, I’m so scared I’ve just got you back and now I’m going to lose you again.”

“I know what I’m doing.” All he can say is something he knows she won’t accept or appreciate. His eyes are begging her to tell him what he already knows.

“Well, whatever you’re doing… you have no idea how much has already been lost… what I’ve had to do.”

She looks so devastated, so defeated, he can’t make her say the words.

“I do know. Skinner told me.”

She doesn’t look terribly surprised that Skinner told him something she really should have. Maybe she’s relieved that she doesn’t have to see him react. Maybe he’s also relieved she didn’t have to see it. She slowly looks up at him, ashamed.

“Our son, Mulder...” she says, breaking down. It’s as if she hasn’t been able to talk to anyone properly about this decision and maybe she hasn’t. She falls into him, nothing else to do, and the tears come. “I gave him up.”

Mulder holds her, shellshocked. This is an eventuality he never even considered and now here they are. He’s not angry, or disappointed. He’s just overwhelmingly numb about the whole thing.

It feels oddly inevitable that this happened to them. How could it ever have gone differently? Why can’t anything good ever stay that way for them?

“I’m so afraid you could never forgive me,” she whispers into his ear as she cries.

He can’t bear how much responsibility she’s accepting for this turn of events. She made the decision, yes, but if it weren’t for him and the cloud of trouble surrounding him wherever he goes none of this would have happened. Yet again, he feels responsible for her unhappiness and he can’t believe they are back here once again.

“I know you had no choice,” he says. It’s the only thing he can think of to say. He doesn’t know the particulars but he doesn’t have to; he knows Scully had no choice. William meant everything to her, and even though he was only with them for a couple short days, seeing her that happy was enough for Mulder to understand her utter desolation.

This misery is too much to take. All he wants to do is make her feel better and he doesn’t think he can even do that for her.

“I just missed you both so much.”

She hugs him tighter. “God, where have you been? Where have you been hiding?”

“In New Mexico.”

“Doing what?”

His face is buried in her shoulder. “Looking for the truth,” he mumbles. He sounds so dejected but is still trying to make her laugh, and she does. It’s a tiny thing, but it’s something to hold onto in this dark moment.

She pulls away and they look at each other tenderly. He can’t believe how much time they wasted not looking at each other this way, and now the world is ending and everything is complete shit. The only good, pure thing is her face, so he takes it in as long as he possibly can.

“You found something, didn’t you? What did you find?” Scully reverts back into investigative mode, and as much as he wants to tell her something, give her anything she could possibly ask of him, he can’t.

He’s probably going to be put to death. Their child is gone forever. He can’t give her more bad news.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You found something in that facility. That’s what you were doing, right? Mulder, what did you find out there?”

“Scully, I can’t tell you.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” She looks so confused and hurt, he doesn’t want to make her feel that way but if it’s between that and decimating her completely he has to take the former.

“You’ve got to trust me, Scully. I know things it’s better you don’t.”

She looks at him sadly. “I trust you, Mulder. I’ll always trust you. But look around. I don’t know what could possibly be worse than where we already are.”

“I’m trying to protect you the only way I know how.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t need you to do that, Mulder. It’s me. It’s you and me, together. Always. Remember? I want to know what you know.”

“I’m sorry, Scully.” He shakes his head. “I can’t. You are the only person left in the world that I love. I’m never going to do or say anything I know will cause you pain. I just can’t. I won’t. I need you to hear me.”

She looks into his eyes. “I do hear you. But what you’re saying right now is causing me pain, too.”

He has two choices and they’re both impossible. He chooses the one that won’t mean telling her the world is ending and none of this even matters. All he can do is shake his head.

She takes his face in her hands and presses her lips to his, not happy with his decision but accepting it. He covers her hands with his own. When they part again, he wipes a tear from her eye with his thumb.

“I really like your hair.”

She smiles, looks down. “Thanks.”

It seems so trivial, so trite to compliment her hair at a time like this, that he knows how significant the gesture actually is. She kisses him one more time, then takes his hand.

“Try to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She slowly stands up, and he doesn’t release her hand until she’s started walking away. She lets his hand drop, and the cell door slides open, then closed.

He’s never felt more hopeless in his life. He doesn’t have a plan anymore. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. There is no endgame.

If he dies with the truth, maybe she can live with hope.

SCULLY

“I’d rather die.”

I’d rather die.

Words have always been a powerful tool for them. In their work, connecting their minds to each other in a private language, almost a secret shorthand they’d refined. So many words had been uttered between them over the years they almost didn’t need them anymore. One look could floor her in any given circumstance. When words failed them, they’d find a way back to each other. They always have.

But these words have torn her apart.

How could he have said that, to her? How could he not know how those words would make her feel?

Maybe he did know. Maybe he’s given up, on everything. Can she really blame him? His life’s work is on trial, he’s probably getting put to death, and she gave up his only chance at fatherhood. She’s the only thing left he has to live for, and maybe she’s not enough for him.

Maybe she will never be enough for him.

She’s done everything she could to bring him back to her, to keep him alive, and it’s as if he doesn’t even care. He doesn't even want to try. Being alive isn’t worth it to him; not without his quest.

She’s so tired of the quest. All she can think of now are the days and nights she spent missing him, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Watching William get older every day without him. Cursing this fucking quest for taking him away from her, yet again.

She’s always respected the work, always understood the magnitude of the forces against them. She’s always understood the unique position they’ve been in all these years. More than anything, she’s always understood her devotion to him, and she’s never questioned his devotion to her.

What she doesn’t understand, what she may never understand, is this obsession; what it does to him. It takes him far away from her, somewhere she can’t go, somewhere he will not take her. It takes him to a place where he tells her to her face he’d rather die.

He’s never lied to her about who he is, ever. She should have seen something like this coming. The idea he would choose to die for his quest rather than live for her is something she hasn’t had to think about before. She tells herself this isn’t Mulder, this part isn’t him. This is the obsession talking. She hates the obsession now.

Back when they first met it was something about Mulder that drew her to him, something she admired. She was so young then, so eager.

She was so stupid.

After so much sacrifice, so much loss, all she’s been left with is him. All he has is her. What she needs is to be enough for him, and it seems that he’s telling her she isn’t.

I’d rather die.

It breaks her heart. All she needs is him, but he needs more.

You say this is greater than us and maybe it is. But this is us fighting this fight, Mulder, not you. It’s you and me. That’s what I’m fighting for, Mulder. You and me.

The way their relationship progressed has been so unusual, she has no map, no compass to tell her how they should be feeling, and how they should be sharing their pain. And she doesn’t know what to think about how he feels about William. Ever since she made the decision it has weighed on her heart in a way she could never explain to anyone, not even Mulder. The guilt she feels for making Mulder a father and tearing it away from him is only compounded by her own pain and loss. He said what he needed to say, and she could tell he didn’t want her to hurt, but she can’t quite shake the feeling there are things left unsaid between them. It’s much too painful right now to think about.

If he ever gets out of this cell, what will happen next? She will go with him, because she will always go with him. She doesn’t doubt his love for her. She doesn’t think she ever could. But she often wonders when this will all be over; when they can escape this darkness that follows them once and for all. When they can finally be free.

Does he even want to be free?

Maybe falling in love with her threw a wrench into his plans. She may be the hindrance she’s always feared she was after all, just in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Will she ever really know for sure?

Maybe it would have been better if they’d never met. She wonders for the first time in a long time what her life would be like without him, without all of this. She tries, she really tries to picture it.

She can’t. She can’t because she knows the truth: she loves him more than that life. She loves him more than anything in the world.

This is her truth. She hopes it will be enough to set them free.

***

The phone rings, and rings, and rings.

Please answer, Mom. Please.

Scully stands outdoors in the cold, Gibson Praise asleep inside the car. It’s so late, or rather so early, she hopes her mother will answer the phone. They haven’t spoken since she gave William up for adoption. Scully expected the distance to last for some time, and she felt she deserved it. The pain William’s sudden disappearance caused in her mother’s life wasn’t so easily healed.

But she needs to speak to her, now. Or she may never again.

“...Hello?”

“Mom?” Scully’s voice is soft, tentative. “Please don’t hang up, please.”

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. But she doesn’t hang up.

“You don’t have to talk, Mom, and I completely understand if you don’t want to. But I need you to listen, please. This is very important.”

The silence continues. Taking this as a sign of acquiescence, Scully continues.

“I’m… going to be out of touch for awhile, probably a long time. I don’t know how long. Mulder is in trouble. I mean… we both are. So I just need you to know we’re going to have to disappear for awhile.”

She stops for a moment, catches her breath. Even with everything she and Mulder have been through, this is a phone call she never expected to make.

“Are you still there?”

She hears a soft sob, and knows she’s there.

Scully breaks down. “I’m so sorry, Mom… I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you know that. I’d never want to do anything to hurt you, and when I gave up William I did that. And I’ll never stop being sorry for how that hurt you. But you have to understand it hurt me too, more than I can possibly explain.”

After a brief silence, Maggie speaks. “Is Fox all right?”

Scully sniffles, but a smile crosses her face at last. “He’s okay, we both are. It’s just… it’s complicated. Our lives are in danger. The less you know, the better. I need you to trust me.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“They’ll be asking you if I’ve contacted you. Just tell them we haven’t spoken for weeks, that shouldn’t be too hard to do… considering.”

For a moment she hears nothing on the other end.

“Mom? Are you there?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how dangerous this job has become for you, Dana. And I know why you did what you did. You never asked for any of this. But it’s the challenge that God has chosen to give to you both. And I’m relieved that you at least have each other. Please take care of yourselves, sweetheart. And call me when you can. Send my love to Fox.”

Scully waits.

“I love you, Dana.”

Scully grips the phone with both hands and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s just now coming to terms with everything she’s choosing to give up for Mulder.

“I love you too, Mom.”

As she ends the call, she stares at the phone in her hand. She won’t be calling her mother again for a long, long time. She doesn’t know when she will get used to that idea. She removes the SIM card and crushes it with her foot, then throws the cell phone over the guardrail.

Just a few minutes later, another car pulls up and he gets out. In this moment she knows it’s the end of the road. She’s making a choice, to give up everything in her life to be with him.

She knows in her heart she would make this choice every single time.

***

The rain pounds on the windows outside the motel room. It feels chaotic, apocalyptic.

Appropriate.

They lay in bed, holding each other. Their clothes are scattered around them on the floor. They’d both been exhausted, physically spent by the day’s events, but ultimately they were unable to hold back any longer. It had been too long. The aliens may be coming, but they’re both only human, after all.

She knew she’d made the right decision to stay with him; for her there wasn’t really an alternative. The words he’d said in that jail cell hurt, but now she knows why he’d said them. She should have known he was only trying to protect her, as usual. She should have trusted him, like he’d asked. She doesn’t like that she doubted him, but she also doesn’t like how he’d made her feel: powerless, alone. She can’t stand feeling that way, not with him. She hopes he won’t do it again.

Maybe there’s hope.

She’s sure of one thing… she hopes this will all be over soon. She wants nothing more than to slow down, to stop. To get out of the damn car like she told him years ago. She can only hope he wants to do the same.

At least right now they are calm, just for now. Her eyes glance to the window and the rain against the glass reminds her of another night, an important step they’d taken that feels much longer ago than it actually was.

“What are we going to do, Mulder?” she asks him quietly.

“Can we just stay right here? I think I could live with that.” He’s flat on his back, her head resting on his chest.

“The good news is, right now I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“That is good news. Finally.”

They lay quietly and Scully listens to his heart beating.

“Scully, I hope you know that I understand how hard it must have been for you to make this choice. To stay with me. I know what you’re giving up.”

She closes her eyes, holds him tighter. “You don’t know, Mulder. If you did, you’d know it wasn’t a difficult choice for me to make at all.”

He kisses the top of her head. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

She knows he’s joking but she reassures him all the same. “Don’t say that. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“I’m not joking, Scully. You probably think I am but I’m not.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“I’m serious.” He lets the sentiment hang in the air for a moment. “I mean it. I love you more than I think I could ever adequately express.”

“You do a pretty good job trying,” she replies playfully.

“I’ll try again tomorrow. And then again. And then again. It’s not like we have anything else to do.”

“I’ve never been so excited to be so bored.”

The rain patters on the windows. She lazily trails her fingers along his chest. “But…really, what are we going to do?”

“What, you mean about the end of the world as we know it?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know. We live our lives, I guess?”

A thought occurs to her that she hasn’t yet articulated to him. “Back during my cancer I thought about this a lot. The idea of knowing you have a shelf life is scary, but in a way there’s some comfort to be taken.” She folds her arms across his chest and rests her chin to better face him. “Knowing your time is so limited makes you think about things differently. Makes you appreciate what you have more.”

“I get that, Scully. Not quite in the same way you could, but I get that.” He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You do get it in the same way, though. When you thought you were dying, and you never told me. It’s the same thing. 2012 might be the end of the world, but knowing I would lose you would have been the end of my world.”

He’s quiet. She’s not trying to make him feel bad, she doesn’t want him to think she is.

“I was afraid of dying,” she continues, “but I was more afraid of the things I wouldn’t get to do before I did. The regret I had in those moments, that I wasn’t strong enough to even tell you how much you meant to me.”

“But you did. You told me. You were always telling me, Scully. I just couldn’t see it. I refused to see it.”

“And then I got better.”

“And I still didn’t see it.”

She shuts her eyes thoughtfully. “No, you didn’t. But I should have made you see. I should have taken my experience to mean something. Instead I continued to be afraid.”

“I’m afraid now, Scully. I’m afraid the world may actually be headed straight to hell and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“Maybe we can. Even when all hope seemed lost for me, you never gave up. Because of that, you saved my life. Like you said… maybe there’s hope, Mulder.”

He wraps his arms around her and she shifts her body to lay on his. Even though they have so little, they have each other and right now it feels like enough.

She leans down and kisses him deeply. It doesn’t feel possible to be happy knowing everything they’ve lost but she is. In this decidedly abnormal scenario, it’s the most normal she’s felt; the two of them against the world. It always comes back to the two of them, no matter what.

You and me, always.

“Maybe we don’t think about that right now. At least for right now,” he says softly.

She tucks her head underneath his neck and enjoys the warmth of his body underneath hers.

“Okay. How about for a long right now?”

“As long as you want, Scully. Promise.”

He’s slowly running his fingers through her hair, staring at the ceiling. They are quiet for a couple minutes.

“I’m sorry about William,” he suddenly says. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

She bites her lip. This isn’t something she wants to talk about right now. It’s just too hard. The name is painful to even hear. She just holds him and remains silent. He seems to take her cue, and stops talking, dragging his fingers along her back.

“I love you, Mulder. Thanks for not dying today.”

“You’re welcome, Scully. I know this isn’t the life you pictured. I’m sorry I can’t give you that.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that. I always assumed we’d end up busting you out of prison and going on the lam.”

He chuckles. “Me too, actually.”

“This part I did picture, though. You and me, just like this.”

“Well, I’m glad I came through in some way.”

“You always come through. For me, you do.”

As the rain continues to fall outside, she thinks again of their first night together, when everything changed. When they made a decision to move forward without fear, and take a chance.

They’re doing the same now, choosing to live, to fight another day. Of all the ways she’d imagined her life, and even with all the concerns she has about the future, she knows what matters is that they are in this together.

Thanks for reading! Back with more tomorrow.

#msr #txf #msr fanfic #fanfiction #the truth #culmination #god mulder can be a prick #but we love him anyway

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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

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-Words of Love- Epilogue

Words of Love (27/27) [ There would never be a couple who loved each other like they did.]

Important Note: I wrote this on March 21st, 2018 aka I wrote this right before the finale aired...my optimism is retrospectively painful and contemporarily inaccurate, lolol.

He got to spend sixteen years with his parents, the Van De Kamp’s that is. They never hid the fact he was adopted from him, but they said they didn’t know much about his birth parents; other than they had wanted him, but simply couldn’t keep him. His adoptive parents were wonderful, loving, and everything someone would want from a mother and father. They didn’t understand why he was different than all the other kids, but they did their best. He missed them everyday.

He had never met his birth mother growing up, but he knew he well. It was a part of what made him different; the visions. For as long as he could remember, if he tried hard enough, he could see her. A woman with red hair and melancholy eyes. The same eyes he saw when he looked in the mirror.

When he did meet them, Scully and Mulder, his mother and father, it was too dangerous to stick around. He had to run around for a while, avoid the dangers that had been keeping them apart since the beginning. But those first meetings were enough to leave an impression. For him, they were an enigma, a curious pair that held answers to his life he wanted more than anything to know. For them, he was the manifestation of years of love, he was the physical embodiment of their bond. The face of the future they had spent so long fighting for.

He didn’t know if it was their connection, or if she had powers she didn’t know about. Maybe he wanted something so badly he made it up. One night he just had a vision of her, much like what she must’ve seen when he checked in on her. She didn’t say anything, it was only for a moment, but he knew it was time. He didn’t know why, but he knew it was safe to find them. He just wanted to get to know her better.

He would never mention it to them, but he found it funny that the most cautious couple he had ever met still left their address listed in the White Pages. He just showed up on their door one day. Mulder answered and looked like a man holding a gun in a china shop, he didn’t want to do anything to startle him away. Scully looked like she had been expecting him.

It was awkward at first, how do you talk to someone you know nothing about but share everything with? They bounced back and forth between asking each other questions, nothing too intense, he had heard enough of what he needed to hear at the morgue that fateful night. They were the same type of questions someone would ask on a first date, albeit answered with unabashed honesty. After a while, they asked if he was staying anywhere and he realized he was so eager to come, he hadn’t made any preparations. That guest room was assembled in record time.

The first few weeks were spent with shy trepidation until he realized that he was the one who would have to make the first move. They would never invade his personal space, he could tell they felt like they hadn’t earned it. He would catch them both staring at him when they thought he wasn’t looking; while they were eating, when they would lounge around the living room, while they ran errands, it was always a look of pure fascination. The same type of look someone would give a rose blooming through a crack in the cement, a beautiful miracle, but one you would treat with fragile hands. They enjoyed doing just simple mundane things together, the things they had missed out on for years, things that had just been fantasies. He was sure they thought he was just indulging them, but this meant just as much to him as it did them.

When he did make the first move, it took them by surprise. He and Mulder were sitting at the kitchen table, Mulder reading an online article and sneaking peeks at him over the laptop screen, him reading a comic doing the same. Scully walked in and casually said, “Jackson, I put new sheets on your bed, I hope you don’t mind.”

There was no reason for his action aside from the fact he wanted to. He got up from his seat, walked over, and pulled her into a warm hug. She was significantly shorter than him, so he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said, “Thank you for everything you do and have ever done for me.” He felt her body initially tense in shock from the embrace before relaxing. At his words, he felt her body shake lightly and wrap her arms tightly around his body. She cried. He didn’t know if she cried for lost time, for thankfulness at what was to come, a combination of both, or something completely different. All he knew was that her tears were contagious, his own ran down his face and into her hair, the streaks down Mulder’s cheeks attested to this fact. It was impossible not to adore this woman, it made him happy he had her genes.

A lot of the time he spent at the house with them after that was filled with going through albums. Hearing them talk about the past was better than any television show he’d ever seen. The center of the story changed a lot, a lot seemed to involve an Aunt he had named Samantha, when he referred to her as that he saw tears in Mulder’s eyes, joy that more than two people in this whole world cared about her passed being an experiment.

There were others that seemed important to the narrative of his life, a bald man named Skinner, for whom they claim to be forever indebted to. A couple of agents who kept the X-Files alive when no one else would, one fought tooth and nail to keep pregnant Scully safe when Mulder was gone, the other sang whale songs to help him sleep at night when he was a baby. They were married now. Some were talked about with unrepentant disdain, a cigarette smoking man with a penchant for playing god. They had gone through so much, and they had the wounds to prove it. No wonder they were inseparable.

That was his favorite part of the time he spent living at their house. You had never seen a couple more in love. He supposed after all the crazy shit they’d been through together, being together was the only time they felt safe, secure, and happy. He was genuinely curious what they were like before meeting each other, he couldn’t picture one functioning without the other. How did it feel finding the person that made you whole?

After a few years, he found a woman who did that for him. He tried his best to emulate the way Mulder treated Scully. He himself hadn’t been the best with girlfriends in the past, but he was determined to be better. When he asked Mulder for advice, received such thoughtful, thorough answers. Anytime he asked anything ‘fatherly’ from Mulder, it was treated with the utmost importance. It was amusing to him that Mulder felt inadequate to give an answer to how to have a successful relationship. He simply said everyday he just tried to make sure Scully was comfortable, safe, and happy. Sometimes he felt like he was failing, but Scully put up with him anyhow.

When things started getting serious with his now-wife, he moved out of their house into his own place just ten minutes away. It was bittersweet, but they talked on the phone on a near daily basis. The sense of routine and normalcy in life was jarring to all three of them, but more than welcome. They missed the beginning of his life, but they more than compensated for the rest of it. They attended everything from his wedding to the birth of his twins. He named them Melissa and Samantha. He didn’t know if Scully and Mulder would ever run out of tears.

The milestones they missed with him, they got to experience through their grandchildren. People they never thought would exist in their wildest dreams. Mulder played countless games of baseball with them and he blamed Scully for his daughters becoming obsessed with science. He knew from the stories that all they ever wanted was a family, and you’d never see a couple more grateful for what they have.

He spent nearly twenty years without them, but he was so glad he got to spend thirty years with them. Despite the long running joke about immortality that always went over his head, Scully went first. It was peaceful, in her sleep, a blessing and something that would never had been anticipated during her years at the FBI. The next day Mulder went in the same way. That’s the way it was meant to be.

People called it a phenomenon, the odds of that happening were one in a million. Those people obviously didn’t know them very well. How could Mulder continue when the light of his life was gone, his body gave out without her. He always said he would follow her no matter what.

He and his wife moved into their house, everything had been left to him and the girls in the will. He buried them in the field on their land. Scully had mentioned a company that buried people in a way that allowed their bodies to decompose in a way to nourish trees. It just seemed like the right thing to do. He buried them side by side and planted a tree. Call him sentimental, but he wanted another manifestation of their love to grow past his own life span. As the years went by, the tree grew and flourished, it grew in an obscure way that almost looked like a hand reaching out of the ground. He knew it was Mulder and Scully saying hi.

He spent countless nights sitting on the porch, just like he had seen them do for countless decades. Every night he looked out into the sky and watched the stars, his parents words ringing in his ears, “Who says they aren’t souls? Traveling through time as starlight.” He didn’t know if it was true, but he wanted to believe.

No matter what, he was positive they were together, somewhere, finding the truth they spent their lives seeking.

#words of love #x files #x files fanfic #msr #mulder and scully #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #my fanfiction

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years ago

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Hi!! I read the extended IVF Christmas prompt and loved it! I was wondering if you'd consider also writing a bit more for #5 of the IVF? I could use a little cheering up and I love your fanfics! Have a wonderful day!

sorry for the wait, anon! i hope you enjoy this. other parts are here and here.

—

1. They’re living together. Mulder’s stuff has gradually migratedover to her apartment, her closets and shelves and dressers; his fish tank sitsin her living room. There’s a clutter of unpacked cardboard boxes in the hall,but the baby’s room is painted, crib set up, star mobile hanging from theceiling. Scully bought it on a shopping trip with her mother, and tried topretend like it was Maggie’s idea, but Mulder saw right through her and kissedher in the baby room with his hands on her stomach.

They’re living together, but they were practically living togetheralready. Nights in his apartment, nights in hers. The night she was staying athis apartment when someone called to tell them that Donnie Pfaster has brokeninto her apartment, and the two and a half weeks spent in a panic at hisapartment, refusing to go back until he gently convinced her. Cleaned it up forher while refusing to let her help and made her tea. The near month straight hestayed with her after his mother died and they found his sister too late.(Teena had left a lengthy letter of apology and family heirlooms for the baby.The onesie that Mulder and Samantha came home from the hospital in, old babytoys, a family doll that had belonged to them both. All things that sat in thebaby’s room now.) The week where he refused to leave after the smoker asked herto go on some insane road trip and she admitted she halfway considered itbefore telling him. She didn’t ask him to move in until the end of a weekendwhere there were crop circles in England and an ex in the hospital, and theywere lying in her bed together with her feet against his ribs and his head inher lap. But now, they are really living together, and their baby is due inthree days. It feels like some strange dream, some alternate reality.

It’s a Saturday in August, entirely too hot, and Mulder’s on thecouch, contemplating dinner, and Scully’s latest cravings, and whether or nothe can talk her into a viewing of newly released The Lazarus Bowl (theycouldn’t fly out to LA for the release, but Skinner reports that it is good;Scully caught a preview on TV one time and expressed her disgust), when Scullycalls out from the bedroom. “Mulder?”

“What’s up, Scully?” he calls, putting down his drink and standingup. “You okay?”

She exits the bedroom with an unreadable look on her face, one ofhis t-shirts stretched taut across her stomach and her hands on either side,pressing in. “My water just broke,” she says, with the tiniest, worried smile.

2. He stays with her. He doesn’t leave her side. He’s slightlyterrified to leave her side. He puts on the scrubs at Scully’s insistence (he’sbeen ignoring doctors for years, but he’d never ignore her), and then he standsdirectly beside her, holding her hand and letting her squeeze the life out ofit, kissing her sweaty forehead. When she cries out with pain, it is difficultnot to try to take it all away, not to bargain and plead for it to end. All hecan do is try to comfort her, and he does. And he knows it is worth it as soonas they hear the splitting cries, see the doctor hold up the baby.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor says cheerfully.

Mulder cuts the cord with trembling fingers, and they pass thebaby to Scully. He would have it no other way. She is crying as they lay thebaby on her chest; she places her face next to his and whispers something thatMulder can’t hear. Their son. He moves back to her side, strokes her hair andkisses her temple, his eyes on the baby. Their son. Their son. He touches thebaby’s arm with feather-light fingers.

“He’s here,” Scully says weepily. “Oh, god, Mulder, we did it. Wegot him here.”

Mulder dips his head and kisses the baby’s bald head. He iscrying, too. “We did it,” he agrees, and the tears are dripping down his face,and he genuinely thinks the sight of Scully with their baby is the mostbeautiful thing he’s ever seen.

3. “What do you want to call him?” he asks that night, seatedbeside Scully’s bed with the swaddled baby cradled in his arms.

Scully is stroking the baby’s hand with one finger, nudging hislittle fist open, and she says absently, “I was considering William.” He’sstartled, looking up at her in surprise, and she gives him a look of sort ofsoft confirmation. “After our fathers,” she says quietly.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He thinks of hismother, of the flowers from Maggie on the dresser and the outfit from hisfamily that Scully packed in the bag to bring William home in. “Yeah?” hemutters, leaning forward to rest his head against hers. “I like it.”

“Are you sure?” she asks in a low voice. Her hand is still on thebaby’s arm, but she reaches up with the free one to touch the side of his face.

He’s thought of his parents a lot recently, of everything shittyabout his childhood, of all the ways he doesn’t want to be like them. But withthe bad things come the good things, and with the wounds of his mother’s deathstill raw, he can’t help but think of the best parts of his father. The partsthat read Saturday morning comics to him when he was a kid, taught him how to throwa baseball, taught him how to change a tire and ride a bike and fix a leakysink. And his father feels almost irrelevant when he thinks of Scully and herfather; he’d never met the man, but he knows how much he meant to Scully.

“Positive,” he says, brushing his lips over her forehead. PassesWilliam to Scully as he starts to fuss. “As long as you promise we never haveto call him Bill.”

4. They’re surprisingly good together as parents. He feels like heshould’ve seen it coming, considering that they’ve worked together for sevenyears now, but he never did. Never thought they’d ever be in this type ofsituation.

But still: their lives fall into a sort of a routine. His leave isused up long before Scully’s, but he doesn’t take any cases. Skinner’s hintedthat their budget may be under review soon, and besides that, he doesn’t wantto leave Scully and Will. He spends most of his time rattling aimlessly aroundthe office, making calls home to entertain a tired and frazzled Scully,sneaking out early to give Scully a chance to rest. “I miss you at work,Scully,” he says almost every day, and her replies vary from genuine andaffectionate to exhausted and on edge, but they’re almost always some variationof, “We miss you at home.” He pins up baby pictures on the bulletin board nextto blurry photos of monsters and the photo of him and Scully.

Skinner puts him on a task force for an entirely un-supernaturalserial killer. He throws himself into work between 9 and 5, and then he goeshome and tries to forget it all, buries his face in Scully’s hair and holds herfor a long moment, cradles William on his chest while they watch TV. Theytether him to Earth in a way he is beyond grateful for. His family.

He learns to change diapers. He wakes up when Scully does in themiddle of the night, swearing that it’s practically a habit anyway, promisingto take over feeding duties when they switch him to a bottle. He puts Williamto bed, and he hums tunelessly, and he burns dinner again and again until hegets it right, and he makes an effort to make sure that there’s nothingexpired in the fridge, and he folds laundry as soon as it’s clean possibly forthe first time in his life, and he makes an effort to keep things clean. Hekisses Scully, and sleeps in her (their) bed, and steals all the coversand runs her hot baths, and lets her take four hour naps on the weekend.Promises to take her somewhere nice someday. And it’s about the most bizarreturn he could’ve expected for his life—his messy, dangerous, tragic life—and hedoesn’t regret a bit of it. This, this is what he imagined in the moment Scullyasked him to be a donor. The moment he said yes and saw that thousand-wattsmile spread across her face.

5. There’s another week on Scully’s maternity leave, but she’sbored out of her mind, and she’s declared that it’s time William sees theX-Files office, anyway. (Mulder grins dopily when she says that, and she says,“To show him what a crackpot his father is, of course,” and he says, “Oh, Ihave plenty of stories about his mother, you know,” and she kicks him in theshin.) He gives her the desk chair, scoops Will up from his car seat andbounces him on his knee, takes him around the office and shows him theparaphernalia. “Look, Will,” he whispers in the baby’s ear. William waves hisfist at the blurry photo. “That’s a genuine photo of Bigfoot.”

“That is not Bigfoot,” Scully says determinedly. “That is afaked photo, a complete scheme that your father fell for.”

William babbles absently, stuffing his fist into his mouth.Mulder’s about to retort when the phone rings. He passes Will to Scully andanswers.

It’s Billy Miles, a throwback seven years deep. Hearing his voiceand thinking of Scully, of what they are to each other and the way they were onthat case seven years ago is overwhelming. Especially with their child rightthere, balancing in his mother’s arms, sucking on a pacifier.

More alien abductions. All the way across the fucking country,thousands of miles away from Scully and Will.

He’s shaking his head before Billy can finish, politely refusingand offering condolences. He hangs up and turns to Scully.

She’s raising her eyebrows at him, curious. “Mulder, who wasthat?” she asks. “Something important?”

“No,” he says, and finds he actually means it. He reaches down toWill and lets his son seize his finger in his hand. He kisses Scully’s cheek,unable to help it. “Nothing important at all.”

#xf fanfic #i wrote this #i write too much kidfic dont i #this is the only thing i've finished since sunday

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greekowl87 · 7 years ago

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Fic: False Flags Redux 9/13

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) | AO3

And, as always, thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie for helping make this possible. And thanks to everyone who has read, commented, liked, and reblogged this story. Tagging @today-in-fic .

9/13

Yorktown, Virginia October 12, 1862

Scully brought her wool shawl around her as she held her basket close to her chest and struggled down the muddy main street back to the small farmhouse that she and Mulder shared with an old man and his wife. By now, she honestly thought they’d be in Richmond by now but with the war and the Union’s undying peninsula campaign, she was just happy to be alive and with Mulder by their side. So they went into a small lull of paradise living in Yorktown. In an agreement, they kept up their appearances as Katherine and William, a young couple who had yet to be married. A young couple who had given up their wedding bands in favor of their lives never allowed the chance to marry, with all family dead. But things had changed. Tomorrow morning, despite the union occupation, they were ready to tie the knot, officially, well, Katherine and William were on paper, but it would her and him, as Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, officially husband and wife. But it made her smile. False names, false lives, but her and Mulder were genuine. For the first time in her life, she could remember being happy.

Scully kicked a loose pebble stuck in the mud as she trudged through the main street towards the carriage house she and Mulder lived in on the small farm. As she neared the property, she went to the main house first to drop off her basket from the market. She opened the door and undid her shaw, placing the basket on the kitchen table. “Sharon, I’m back!” she called.

“In here, Katherine. We, um, have a visitor.”

Scully stiffened, her hand dancing around her apron where she wore the knife that she hid in her dress. “Where’s William?” she called, thinking of Mulder.

“With me.”

Well, she thought, if they weren’t dead, then things had to somewhat safe. She relaxed and forced a smile on her face and walked into the sitting room. Mulder instantly rose first, holding out his hand to her. Scully grasped his hand tightly and glanced at the old couple who took them in, Walter and Sharon Skinner, and then the stranger, a familiar man dressed in a Union officer’s uniform. Scully felt Mulder’s arm come around her possessively and she gave a weak smile.

“Charlie," Scully greeted him stiffly.

Mulder loosened his grip on the mention of her younger brother’s name. Scully turned to him and placed a calming hand on his chest. “It’s Charlie, my brother,” she whispered, “we’re okay.”

Mulder focused on her and nodded. Mulder had never met any of Scully's family but he knew their names. Scully rubbed Mulder's arm soothingly. “Charlie, how did you find me?”

“Can we speak in private, Katherine?”

Mulder did not let her go and the old farmer, Walter, stood angrily. “I will not be demeaned in my own house, nor will they! I tolerate the Union Army but I will not be belittled in my own home.”

“I mean you no harm, sir. And my apologies” Charlie bowed in humility. “I have searched for my sister so long. It’s been months since I last received a letter from her.”

Mulder arched an eyebrow suspiciously. It had been months since Scully attempted to write her family. Mulder pulled her closer as Charlie gazed at Mulder cautiously before looking at Walter. “It is okay, Mr. Skinner,” Scully said, hugging Mulder. “This is my youngest brother.”

“Are you sure, Catherine?”

“Yes. I would recognize him anywhere." She could feel Charlie's gaze bearing into Mulder and the fact he held her. "I’ll bring William with me. I wish to talk to him in private.” Mulder’s eyes never left the union officer’s face, staring at him with contempt. “It’s okay, William.” Her hands came out and rubbed his arms. “William. It’s okay.” He nodded. Scully took a deep breath and turned to their benefactors. “We’ll be okay, Walter.”

The bald farmer eyed the union officer wearily. “Sharon and I will be out in the kitchen if yout need anything.”

The three watched the old couple leave before the Union office hissed at Scully. “What the hell were you thinking, Dana, running off with the Union coming?”

Mulder released Scully and watched Scully immediately grow stern, fostering a presence he had only seen in private in between them. He saw a strong and capable woman and he fell in love with her even more and his heart soared. “Mulder,” she began, motioning to the officer, “this is Lieutenant Charles Scully, my contact, and youngest brother.”

"Mulder?" The youngest Scully glared at Mulder. “Dana, this was your contact?”

She wrapped her arms defensively around herself and walked to the window. “Scully, you okay?” Mulder asked softly.

“I’m fine,” she replied, giving him a small smile.

“Dana, what happened to your husband? Your mission?”

Mulder looked at the new stranger. “He was wounded in the thigh during the battle of the ironclads. Damn fool took one of the rifles from my marines to fire on the ship and shore.” Mulder spoke brusquely.

Charlie turned to gather and measure Mulder and Scully stormed in between them. She caught Mulder’s hand gently, instantly calming him and the action did not go unnoticed by her brother. “Where is your husband, Dana?”

“Dead as far as I am concerned,” she shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him since he transferred Mulder to ‘watch over me.’”

“Then why is he still here?”

"We escaped when the Union came to Norfolk. We thought it was best if we ran."

"You letter indicated Richmond. Why are you not there?"

"The opportunity never presented to itself."

"Then why are you still here?"

“I love him.”

Mulder smiled and fought from letting it showed, despite the tense situation, but he remained silent but he loved Dana Scully more than ever. “You love him, Dana? You’re a married woman!”

“I am a person,” she detested hotly. "And as far as I am concerned. A widow. I do not know if Franklin is alive or not. I do not know where he is."

“A fallen woman,” her brother echoed ominously.

“My life is my decision, Charlie.”

“You risk our cause, Dana! All for what? This man?”

“This is the man who got you your information,” she yelled. “He risked everything for is. Isn't it enough I trust him with my life?”

“So much you forsake your own marriage? Who are you now?”

“What marriage?” she answered heatedly. “I hated him. As far as the world is concerned, my husband is dead, Dana Buchanan is dead. I'm Dana Scully once more. And I am to marry Fox Mulder this Sunday, officially, in front of a Catholic priest. I would appreciate if you were there.”

The invitation left the air bitter as Charlie chewed his jaw. "If I could find you, and if Buchanan is alive, Dana, how do you know he won't find you?"

“The question I should be asking is how you found us,” Scully countered.

“Do not turn this around to be about me, Dana.”

“If you found me, what is to make me think we are safe anywhere?” Scully turned to Mulder, fear and worry etched in her face. “Mulder, we can’t stay here.”

“Scully, calm down,” he said softly. He hesitated before reaching out to grasp her hand. His other hand cupped her cheek. He could feel Charlie's scorching gaze. “We’re safe here. No one has found us.”

“How long, Mulder before someone does?”

Mulder glanced at her youngest brother wearily. He debated whether to go any further with revealing his identity. She sensed his hesitation and took his hand. “Charlie is okay, Mulder,” she whispered affectionately. “It would be big brother Bill you would have to worry about. You can trust him. We're safe.”

Charlie relaxed slightly seeing his sister open up to this towering stranger which he regarded with distrust. “Dana, who is this man anyways to you,” he asked, forcing himself to calm his demeanor.

“My real name is Fox Mulder,” the tall man replied, straightening up to his full height. He held out his hand in greeting. “Former lieutenant in the Confederate marines, and before that, a captain in the United States Army, and used to be a spy.”

“You were Dana’s contact,” Charlie asked, shaking the hand reluctantly. “The mysterious ‘M.’”

“M. for mysterious?” He chuckled. He cast a sideways glance at Scully. “Scully, you make me sound more appealing than I am.”

“You very appealing, Mulder,” she murmured affectionately.

“Mr. Mulder, or should I say, Mr. Healey?” Charlie asked.

“Healey,” he specified. “We are a young married couple who never actually had a chance to marry. Officially.”

“Beauty of poor wartime record keeping,” Scully added.

"Right."

“I will be outside with Walter.” He kissed her cheek softly and squeezes her hand. “Just holler.”

With that, he left brother and sister standing awkwardly in the small kitchen. Scully crossed her arms defensively. She gazed outside and watched Mulder walk towards the small outcrop of buildings, waving in greeting to Walter and Sharon. She looked at her baby brother critically. “How did you find me, Charlie?”

“You have a bounty hunter after your...partner.”

Scully overlooked his snide comment. “What bounty hunter? We covered our tracks.”

“Apparently not well enough,” he murmured.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were supposed to stay put in Norfolk.”

“What good would I do with the army occupying that city? I would have sat there, bored to tears. No, I did what I thought was best. It’s my life, Charlie. Not anyone else.”

“You were always too headstrong, Dana,” he sighed. “What about dad?”

“I did not want to marry that man. He is close to twenty years my senior, Charlie. He is dad’s age. It’s vile. I despised being married to him for several years. He already has nine children. He does not need me for that.”

Charlie looked down at the ground. “Mom would kill from grandchildren, you know that, Dae.”

“Because Missy choose the freer lifestyle, the responsibility of continuing the family line falls on me? I don’t think so,” she said defiantly. “Bill has three children, I know you’re wife is expecting soon, right?”

“We lost him two months ago, Dana."

"I'm sorry," she choked."

He waved off the condolances. "I could not contact you because I did not know where you were. Jesus, you just ran off with some stranger!”

“He is not just some stranger,” she hissed. Scully’s voice took on an edge that held ages’ worth of devotion and love for Mulder. “He is everything to me, Charlie. Everything. I have never felt such life and hope until I met him. I trust him, more than anyone else on this Earth, and not just with my life, my heart as well.”

Charlie gazed at her for a moment. “That’s a lot coming from you, Dae.”

“I mean every word.”

He weighed what he said next carefully. “Does he make you happy, Dana?”

“Yes,” she answered simply.

He nodded. “I have duty come a calling. I am stationed here until February but come to the yellow house by the river if you can meet. That’s where I am staying. Maybe I can meet your new…”

“Husband,” she said.

“Husband." He licked his lips. You haven’t actually married, have you?”

“I already told you. We haven'. Yet. This Sunday, hopefully. I want to, but with our names…” Scully shook her head. “We’ll be by. When is convenient?”

“Tomorrow night around eleven. We’ll be safe and have privacy.” He gently kissed his sister's cheeks. “Till tomorrow, Dana.”

. . . .

Holiday Inn at the Airport Norfolk, Virginia December 19, 1998

Scully stretched as she regained consciousness, sleeping lingering around the edges of her perception. She stretched, like she usually did, feeling her muscles stretch but her morning ritual was stopped by a warm solid body pretzeled around hers. With her movement, a large hand from the arm resting around her midsection flexed against her abdomen, lingering over her fresh bullet scar from New York before caressing her skin lightly. Then a soft kiss on her shoulder and a large nose nuzzling her cheek.

It had been real. Not a dream from a lifetime ago.

“Hmph. What time is it,” he grumbled into her hair.

She blinked away the sleep from her eyes and saw darkness except for light from the parking lot lights filtering through the hotel window. “The sun hasn’t even risen yet.”

“Hmph. Go back to sleep.”

“Mulder.”

But he only answered her with a soft snore. Scully smiled and took the moment of silence to take in the moment. Ever since she had reclaimed her past memories of the 19th century, she had dreamed about Mulder, about moments like this. Scully had always some attraction to Mulder. She probably did not remember when it started, likely their first case when she had thrown herself into his arms half naked in fear of mosquito bits when the power had gone out. She remembered his hands smoothing over her back and the shivers she had gotten afterward. Maybe it had been then because that was when the fantasies had started, always starting with the lingering sensation she recalled of his hand on her shoulder.

But now. She snuggled against his chest as he was spooning her from behind. It had been so long since she had been touched like this. Sure, she hugged and kissed her mother but that was obligatory. She yearned for Mulder’s subtle touches, even if she would not admit it to herself, but now. This very moment. It was not a dream. Holy hell. It was real. Last night had actually happened.

She turned with difficulty to face Mulder, his arms hanging around her, their legs entwined in a knot. She raised her hand slightly and touched her cheek lightly with her index finger, tracing his features slowly, as if trying to memorize him and this moment.

They did. They actually did it.

A part of Scully expected a cheerleading squad and the Philadelphia Phillies mascot to burst in her hotel room and celebrate this momentous achievement, but she settled for his quiet breathing instead. She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong against her palm. He was alive. He was here. He was with her.

“Mulder,” she spoke softly, caressing his cheek.

His eyes fluttered open and focused on her. He stretched as his hands lazily played up and down her sides. “Morning, Scully.”

“Morning yourself, Hot Stuff?”

“Hot Stuff? Really?”

Scully wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing against him. “Mm-Hmm. I am myself, all at once.”

Mulder was quiet and stroked his hair. “Everything?”

“Well, this lifetime and the last. I remember. Clear as day.”

“Everything?” he asked again.

“Everything,” she confirmed, kissing his lips. “No regrets?”

“No regrets,” he smiled pushing back her hair. “I don’t remember everything, but enough. I remember you. I'll always remember you.”

“I was married to him, Mulder, in my last life.” The words sounded foreign on her lips as she admitted to a past life, but it felt right. “But you. You saved me.”

“We’re key to this,” he admitted softly. “Whether we like it or not.”

“We can’t tell anyone,” she said, resting her forehead against his chest.

“We won’t,” he affirmed. His arms came around like a cocoon and she closed her eyes. His words came from two lifetimes of experiences and love. “There is only you, remember that, Scully. You’re the only one that matters.”

. . . .

FBI Field Office Norfolk, Virginia December 18, 1998

Mulder watched Scully sit in a conference room through the window, watching the television intently, a file and notepad sitting in front of her. After last night, she quietly told them in their rental car she wanted to watch the interview videos alone once they got to the field office, citing what they had originally intended last night. Mulder was making use of a spare desk out in their bullpen, his original profile and the evidence of his journal from his imprisonment. He sipped the bitter coffee as he hunched over the journal. But Mulder could not bring himself to read Buckley’s personal journal. His thoughts kept drifting to Scully.

He glanced at the conference room across the way and saw his partner before refocusing on the task laying in front of him but he could not focus at all. He rubbed his hand across his face and a memory, unspurned and unhurried flooded his senses, and he closed his eyes. He could feel her tender touch against the nape of his neck...was it from the 19th century or from last night?

I love you, Mulder, she breathed into his ear.

Had she said that? Did she say that?

Mulder felt himself shiver uncontrollably. He felt the ghostly sensations of her touch lingering. Mulder, her ghostly form had called.

His present self-pushed his work forward on the borrowed desk and stormed to towards the conference room where his partner was in. He slammed the door shut, starling her. He drew the blinds closed and looked at her hungrily. Scully causally paused the VHS tape and stayed focused on the television screen.

“It’s chaotic, isn’t it?” she asked

She was still facing the fuzzy television screen and Mulder slouched against the door as if the new memories threatened to crush him.

“Scully.”

He called her name. She flashbacked to a memory from her previous life. Mulder screaming in the middle of the night from nightmares. She remembered, her older self, cradling him protectively, kissing away his tears. “I’m here, Mulder. I’m here.”

When had she spoken those words? This life or the other? She glanced at the closed blinds quickly before cradling his large, lanky form against her. Scully allowed her older self to guide her current body. She held his lanky form against her in a tight hug the best she could. He pressed his face into her neck trying to steady his breathing, clutching her like an anchor to reality. She kissed the nape of his neck and ran her hands up and down his back soothingly.

“Focus on the present,” she whispered, recalling how thinking about Mulder was the only thing that kept her centered. “Think about me. This moment is real, Mulder. This is the present. This is our lives.” She lowered her voice and whispered in his ear. “Last night was real.”

Mulder sighed against her as the rush of memories ebbed to a dull throbbing in the back of his mind as he focused on the moment of Scully cradling him. “I’m sorry,” he managed. He tried to get up but ended up slouching beside her. Scully took his hand and squeezed it. “I can’t...I can’t separate now from then,” he admitted quietly. “I know how you must've felt. After last night, everything’s come back in full force. We were a hot item, Scully.”

“We’re a hot item now,” she murmured softly. Scully slouched next to him against the door and turned her head to look at him. “I know what you mean. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“How did you do it?” he whispered. “Separating everything?”

“It is not necessarily separated but rather, but blended together. I am myself all at once. And I had you.” She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to touch him. She corrected herself. “I have you, Mulder. I’ve always had you.”

Mulder took a deep breath, focusing on Scully. She caressed his cheek. “We have work to do,” she whispered. “We can work this out tonight, okay? I figured out what Buckley wants.”

“We need to tell the ASAC then, Scully,” he replied.

“It’s not that simple. Mulder, do you trust me?”

“Is that even a question?”

“We’ll talk about it tonight then,” she promised.

. . . . .

Mulder’s head was still swimming as he sipped the lukewarm coffee. Scully sat next to him as she had discreetly rubbed his thigh underneath the table in comfort. He felt himself relax a fraction with the soothing sensation of her fingers running against his suit pants. As they gathered with the rest of the other agents and U.S. marshalls, he cast a glance and noted Diana leaning against a corner with her arms crossed. Her dead brown eyes locked with his momentarily and he looked away, focusing instead A cold shiver passed over him and Mulder squeezed Scully’s hand gently, a silent affirmation. Wordless, she returned the squeeze and let her hand go slack in his under the table.

“All right, everyone, listen up!” ASAC called. “Devins, dim the lights!”

“Yes, sir!”

The lights dimmed and a projector came on, displaying a slide of the gruesome murder scene from Hampton the previous day. Scully could hear murmurs of disgust and even an 'Oh my, God' muttered under someone's breath.

“We are losing time, ladies and gentleman,” he began. “Francis Buckley killed yesterday afternoon. This time in Hampton.”

A new slide flashed in place, revealing the blown out brains all over the concrete. Scully grimaced. “According to the autopsy performed by Agent Scully, the victim was killed, execution style with a .44 round projectile at the base of the skull.”

“Executed more like it,” someone commented.

Scully felt herself shiver, rolling her neck side to side as if to shake the cold feel of metal being pressed against her skull. Mulder squeezed her hand and stood up, walking towards the front of the group. “Buckley is growing more reckless,” Mulder began. The slide changed to Buckley’s original mugshot when she and Mulder arrested him the year before. “Agent Scully and I captured Buckley after he murdered three people. There were no connections between the first three victims and there is nothing connecting the current victim. He was your run of the mill murderer. In the first three, there was something that was stolen like money or a ring, something of value. This was not the case with this most recent murder.”

He took a deep breath and let his gaze linger on Scully before continuing. “He has acted out, lashed out. I reviewed all recorded interviews with him over the past week and he shows signs of mental instability.”

“What about his belief in past lives, Agent Mulder?” Diana spoke up from the back.

Mulder’s hazel eyes darted to the darkened corner and saw Diana standing with her arms crossed, looking expectantly at him. She was challenging and trying to bait him. "And what about past lives, Agent Fowley?”

Scully heard the coldness of his tone and she shifted in her seat to see Diana's reaction. “His journal indicates he is aware of past lives, his own in fact. Wouldn't you agree that has an impact on the current case.”

“Multiple personalities. He has been diagnosed as schizophrenic in the past,” Mulder answered easily, not indulging Diana. “It is not my place to investigate the claims you are insinuating, Agent Fowley.”

“It used to be.”

The entire task force was now caught up in the soap opera drama between Spooky Mulder and Agent Fowley. “I no longer run the X-Files. My job is to catch a killer. Since we are on the topic of mental instabilities, this is a new addition. The thought of multiple personalities is a real possibility.” He looked at the group of agents. “This makes it harder to predict him. In your handouts, you have my updated profile.”

“Thank you, Agent Mulder,” the ASAC nodded.

Mulder returned to his seat beside Scully quietly. “Now, we are going public, hoping someone will have some information. The marshalls are helping us. We are going to hold a press conference and be brief as possible in explaining the situation in the next day or two. That’s it for now. Get to work, people.”

Scully gathered her notes and Mulder did the same as Diana stormed to Mulder. Scully glanced at her partner wordlessly and he whispered, “Why don’t you get our things together,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you out by our rental.”

She heard the tightness in his voice but she nodded, replying, “I’ll be outside in the car waiting.”

Mulder passed her the rental keys and Scully left. Mulder took in the measure of his former partner and ex-wife. Memories blurred for him between what was and what was happening. Scully. Just thinking about her made him feel grounded and centered. He took a deep breath and looked at Diana. “What the hell was that, Fox?”

“What was what?”

Mulder looked at her evenly. “I am here to catch a killer, Diana, not chase wild theories about past lives.”

“You didn’t use to be like this, Fox. I know that look you have in your eye. You are considering the possibility.”

Mulder recalled Scully’s hands against his body from last night and centuries ago. How she made him feel. Alive. Whole. Complete. He tried to push past her. “You aren’t my partner, Diana. Scully is.”

“So you follow her science now? She is holding you back.”

Just the opposite. Mulder recalled the tension between him and Scully and now he knew, he only trusted Scully. No one else. Mulder did not grace with Diana with a reply. “I need to go.”

. . . .

Scully shivered as she turned up the heat in the car as she waited for Mulder to come join her so they could head back to their hotel. The gray overcast sky, which she had just noticed, opened up and began to snow. She sighed, her mind replaying the day. Mulder looked so uncertain, earlier that afternoon when she held him and beheld the same old age in his eyes that she had. She jumped when the car door open letting in him in and he slammed it shut. Mulder silently gripped the steering wheel, the whites of his knuckles showing. Scully gently placed her gloved hand on his forearm as he relaxed. “Scully,” he whispered softly, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” she asked softly. “For what?”

“I couldn’t protect you. It was my fault. When he caught us in Yorktown. I should have protected the both of you.” He closed his eyes and leaned backward. "I should have protected you."

It took her a moment to realize what he was referring to, her vision of her own execution and he was remembering. She bit her lip and whispered, “It was not you, Mulder. It wasn’t your fault. It’s already done. You didn't cause us to be caught. You weren't the one who killed me.”

“I should have done more,” he bemoaned.

“Take us back to the hotel, Mulder, we need to talk.”

. . . . .

Holiday Inn at the Airport Norfolk, Virginia December 19, 1998

Scully recognized when he would withdraw into himself and martyr himself to guilt. He sat on her hotel bed in his jeans and a green knit sweater. Mulder’s legs were crossed as he leaned back into the pillows, his eyes closed in thought, his arms raised, cradling his head, and his eyes closed. Scully wore a pair of black jeans and her University of Maryland hoodie. She sat at the edge of the bed and resisted the urge to reach out and touch him to comfort him. The silence was deafening.

After last night, Scully wanted to act on that new intimacy that they had created (or rediscovered) last night. “Mulder.”

His eyes opened and focused on her. She wanted to do so much more. She quietly sat next to him, closer to the headboard, and wordless brought her hand to his chest, resting it on his heart. The uneasy silence he was unsure how to operate in this new space they had created. Mulder quietly released his arms and wrapped it around Scully’s shoulders and brought her towards his chest. As foreign as it seemed, it felt so natural. Scully relaxed and melted to his side. He sighed, relaxing as she ran her hand lightly across his stomach.

“I don’t know what we are going to do, Scully,” he whispered.

“We need to remember everything,” she replied.

“What do you remember?”

She looked up at him before looking back down, wrapping her leg around his waist and his own. “I was married to him. I remembered this morning. He was my husband for seven years, and you...you were one of his officers.”

“A marine. I remember seeing you for the first time. I felt my heart seize in my chest and your eyes, Scully.”

“What about my eyes?”

“When you walked into the basement office, you looked so cute decked out in that god awful jacket. But, you looked me in the eye and never winced away. Everyone else did.”

“Why would I do that?”

Mulder was safe. Mulder was always safe with her.

She closed her eyes and her mind drifted as a new memory took over. A ship. There were on a ship. No. Not a ship. A hammock? “Well, I tend to make people want to stay away.”

“Lucky for me because I get to keep you all for myself.”

A silence engulfed them as Scully detangled herself from Mulder reluctantly and he was already wishing she was back against his side. “What could you not tell me earlier today,” he asked softly.

Scully blinked, recalling her brief conversation with Mulder. She shifted hesitantly, looking down at the comforter, playing with the hem of her jeans. “How much...how much do you remember, Mulder?”

He sat straighter up and leaned back into the pillows and crossed his arms. “I told you already. Enough,” he answered tentatively.

“You know, in that life, Buckley was my husband,” she repeated in a whisper. “Captain Franklin Buchanan.”

“Who was I, Scully?”

“He was a navy captain in the Confederacy during the Civil War. You were a lieutenant on his ship,” she spoke slowly, watching him close his eyes. She reached for his hand, grasping it lightly. “You saw me in the street once. But it was at a dinner party, and I just knew you had to be the one.”

“What happened?”

“We were spies, Mulder,” she spoke softly. “Well, I dragged you into it, but we were spies.”

“Like Moose and Squirrel,” he teased lightly. “Not that different I suppose.”

She gave a small smile. “Well, after a few months, things between us moved quickly and the Union retook Norfolk. We decided to run.”

“Together.” It was a statement rather than a question. She nodded again. “He wants revenge. Revenge…”

Mulder was already in full profiler mood, analyzing what could and could not be. “I’m going to bed, Mulder,” she spoke quietly.She slid off the hotel bed and kissed his cheek, startling him out of his reverie. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Mulder.”

“You’re not staying?” he asked, surprised.

“We still have a case, Mulder.” She hesitated before placing a brief kiss on his cheek and giving him a cheeky smile before disappearing into the adjoining room.

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia October 12, 1862

That night was colder than Scully had anticipated and her thin cloak was failing to keep her warm. Mulder walked beside her small form and she felt his arm come around her waist and pull her closer. She gazed at him knowingly and he just smiled. “You know I’m a rebel.”

“Used to be,” she whispered. “Thank you for doing this.”

Mulder kissed her lovingly as they came to the end of the muddy main street and large white building that sat near the shore of the York River. She felt him grow tense as they approached a fortified area with Union soldiers. She placed a calming hand over his heart as the came closer to the white building and coiled around her slightly like a large shadow. Subtly, she led Mulder up the steps past the Union soldiers as if they were not there. He was quiet as she opened the door and ushered them inside. In the receiving room, Scully saw her brother standing in the common room in front of the fire. Scully patted his chest before untangling herself from him. She took a few steps forward. “Was that really necessary, Charlie? The soldiers?”

“They’re my men, well, Major Howe’s men.” The Union Lieutenant turned to face his sister and took full measure of Mulder. “You can’t be too careful, Dana. How do you know you can trust him?”

Mulder gritted his teeth as Scully turned, to look at him, willing him silently to calm. “Because I do, Charlie,” she replied tensely. “That should be good enough for you. I trust him just as he trusts me. He is a deserter and a spy. I am a spy and if either one of us is caught, we are dead. How did you find me?”

He held up a finger and withdrew from his breast pocket a stack of letters. “They were hoping I would see you since they have not heard from you since April.”

“Well,” Scully huffed, “it was not like I had the time to.”

“Because of him.”

“Charlie, stop it. My choices are mine alone. Mulder had nothing to do with us running except for following me. You detested Franklin. Only because Missy decided to be the free spirit and go to Europe so I had to marry. Bill is the perfect son. Missy is the black sheep. I have to be the perfect child. You can do as you please. How is that fair?”

“You’re a woman, Dana. It’s expected.”

Mulder used all of his willpower to keep quiet. He understood where her brother was keeping from, Mulder understood societal tradition. But Charlie did not know Scully, his Scully. He only knew Dana. He reached out his hand slightly to her in affirmation. Discreetly, she squeezed it while keeping her attention on Charlie.

“If it is expected that in place of my husband’s death to find a new husband than I did.”

“You’re husband’s not dead,” Charlie answered softly, watching Mulder. “Captain Buchanan was promoted admiral and resides in Alabama. He is still recovering from his thigh wound.”

Mulder lowered his eyes in shame. What was he doing? Scully sensed the change and turned suddenly to look at him She cupped his face and suddenly there was only them. She caressed his temples with her thumbs and smiled. “I regret nothing,” she murmured. “Stay?” He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Who are you, Mr. Mulder, to my sister?”

He looked up at Charlie and took measure of the other man. Scully released his face as Mulder grew more confident knowing he had her. “Fox Mulder, former Lieutenant of Confederate Marines, and before that, Lieutenant of the United States Army, adjunct to the war office.”

“Seriously,” Charlie laughed. “Didn’t you graduate from Virginia Military Institute?”

“What if I did?”

“Mulder, it’s okay,” Scully soothed.

“I am not implying anything, good sir. I heard stories about you when I went there myself. I was two years behind you in class.”

“That’s why I picked him, Charlie. He knows what he is doing.”

“Hmph.” The younger Scully stalked to the fire. “Tomorrow night, Dana. I desire to see you again. I want you to come alone.”

“Charlie.”

“It’s non-negotiable, Dana.”

. . . .

Scully shivered and turned into Mulder’s warmth in their small bed above the Skinner’s coach house. He sighed, kissing her forehead as he disappeared and came back with two wool blankets and draped it over their bed. Mulder crawled beneath the blanket and held her as she began to cry.

. . . .

Holiday Inn by the Airport Norfolk, Virginia December 18, 1998

Mulder awoke when he heard a door close. Still groggy with sleep, he sat up only to feel a warm, soothing hand across his chest, resting quietly against his heart. A petite figure crawled beneath the covers of his hotel bed, coiling around him like a snake. He felt the warmth of freshly fallen tears as she nuzzled his chest. His arm came around her instantly. “Scully?” he murmured.

“I love you,” she cried silently. “I love you, Mulder.”

Half raked with sleep and old memories. He pulled her close, remembering an odd night where he had held her in a small bed in some carriage house. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered, kissing her hair, his own voice sounding foreign, “we’ll be okay. We'll figure this out, Scully. Just you and me, like always.”

#false flags redux #xfiles #xf fic #msr #msr fic #mulder and scully #mulder #scully #diana fowley #txf #txf fic

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namemussnochgeaendertwerden-blog · 7 years ago

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lazy days

Aloha!

Nach unserem Robinson Cruiso ähnlichen Trip melden wir uns wieder zu Wort.

Wir sind von Phnom Penh mit ‘nem MiniVan nach Sihanoukville gedüst, um mit der Speedferry direkt auf die Insel unserer Träume zu “fliegen”: Koh Rong Samloem.

Völlig gespannt auf die bald anstehenden “Ausruh-Days” genossen wir die Fahrt, bis…

… Alex noch einmal im Reiseführer nachlas, dass wir unser Hostel an der unschönsten Seite der Insel in dem kleinen Dorf M’ Pai Bay gebucht hatten. Scheiße! Als wir ankamen war es tatsächlich noch ungefähr 30 mal schlimmer als wir erwartet hatten. Müllberge an der Küste, so weit das Auge reicht!

Ein wenig demotiviert fanden wir dann nach einiger Zeit unser Hostel und treffen auf 2 sehr entspannte Dudes, die uns ein ganz cooles kleines Bungalow vermieteten. Allerdings macht eine ganz nette Unterkunft in keinster Weise einen unidyllischen Strand wett.. Also entschieden wir uns statt 3 Nächten nur eine zu bleiben.

Da der frühe Vogel den Wurm fängt, und ich (Lukas) sowieso kaum schlafen konnte - weil mich ein Moskito direkt in die Oberlippe gestochen hat - sind wir sogar um 5:15 am nächsten Tag aufgestanden um den Sonnenaufgang zu erleben! Die Sonne war zwar hinter einem Hügel, doch der Ort hatte, bevor alle wach sind, eine sehr schöne Atmosphäre! Wäre da nur nicht dieser Müll überall. Naja..

Wir haben uns ein Boot zum Serecen Bay geordert und sind direkt um 8:30 los. Natürlich ohne ein Hostel gebucht zu haben, weil Internet auf der Insel ein wenig schwierig war und wir eigentlich auch garkeine Lust hatten uns festzulegen.

Das nenne ich mal nen Strand! Die Bucht hat eine Art Hufeisenform und der Sand ist strahlend weiß. Außerdem ist das Wasser total klar und ziemlich türkis! Alles in Allem schon so wie man sich so ‘nen „Paradies-Strand“ vorstellt.

Super sympathisch und perfekt zum Strand passend finden wir dann auch „Sunny Bungalows“. Wir haben Glück und kriegen noch ein echt sehr schönes, kleines Bungalow zu einem sehr günstigen Preis. Mit pinkem Blümchen Moskitonetz, einer kalten Dusche und halb offenen Wänden bringt es eine gute Prise Jungelfeeling mit und wir verlieben uns sehr rasch in unser Schlafgemach.

Generell sind die Leute hier super entspannt und man kriegt ne sehr große Ladung „positiv vibes“ mit. Besonders wenn man bei bestem Sonnenschein ankommt und erstmal direkt ins Meer hüpft! Danach noch schnell Wäsche gewaschen - ungefähr 1,5h weil wir es in einem Mini-Waschbecken machen mussten - und wieder an den Strand, um ihn ein wenig zu erkunden.

Unser Bungalow war relativ weit rechts und je weiter wir nach links gingen, umso teurer wurden die Resorts und Restaurants und gleichzeitig wurde der Strand unschöner. Deswegen waren wir gut bedient mit unserer Lage.

Der nächste Tag war eigentlich schon für tauchen eingeplant, jedoch hatte Alex sich leicht erkältet. Deswegen beschlossen wir lieber noch einen Tag zu chillen und uns mit Royal-D (super gutes und hilfreiches Vitaminpulver) zu versorgen. Also lagen wir dann eigentlich wieder viel am Strand, sind schwimmen gegangen, haben Ice Coffee getrunken und die Insel genossen.

Der Morgen hat dann leider schon ziemlich verregnet angefangen. Einerseits waren wir super happy dass wir gestern die Sonne nochmal so ausgiebig nutzen konnten, andererseits halt auch echt nicht so das beste Wetter für die Sicht beim Tauchen.

ABER… alle Sorge umsonst, denn es war episch! Lukas hatte sich ein bisschen Sorgen gemacht dass es mit seinen Ohren und sowas nicht so richtig klappt. Und weil unser Tauchlehrer 4 Leute (alle deutsch) hatte, die noch nie getaucht waren, haben wir den ersten Tauchgang ausgesetzt damit der Tauchlehrer ein bisschen mehr auf uns (speziell Lukas) achten kann. Aber wie ich schon sagte, unnötig! Weil es echt total super easy und problemlos war. Dadurch hatten wir dann zwar nur einen Tauchgang, dafür war der aber über 1h (und natürlich haben wir weniger zahlen müssen).

Der nächste Tag war dann immer noch ziemlich verregnet. Wir hatten aber auch keine Lust im Bugalow rum zu hängen, also sind wir ein bisschen durch den Urwald zu einem anderen Strand getingelt. Man hat sich echt gefühlt wie im tiefsten Jungle, der Weg war eher ein kleiner ziemlich steiler und steiniger Pfand, aber dank unserer Skinners (kleine Werbung) hat das super viel Spaß gemacht, so ein bisschen trekking mäßig. Wir , bzw. nur Lukas, haben einen Affen gesehen! Der andere Strand war, warscheinlich wegen Nebensaison, relativ ausgestorben. Es hatte nur ein Bungalow Resort offen, was aber so schön war, dass wir dort direkt einen Ice Coffee und einen Papaya Shake schlürften. Dann nach hause und relativ früh sleepen um den nächsten, hoffentlich sonnenscheinreicheren Tag, zu nutzen.

Und zum Glück war unser letzter Tag nochmal strahlender Sonnenschein den wir - man glaubt es kaum - erneut zum stranden genutzt haben. Und nicht zu vergessen! Wir waren noch im Wasserfall baden und duschen, das war nochmal ziemlich cool und vorallem mit dem kühlen Wasser ziemlich erfrischend.

Und dann war auch “schon“ Abreise angesagt. Da wir aber die letzte Ferry von der Insel genommen haben, hatten wir noch einen halben Tag Zeit. Um 16 Uhr gings dann wieder auf Richtung Sihanoukville um dann von da aus um 18 Uhr mit dem Nachtbus weiter nach Battambang zu fahren.

Aber davon im nächsten Eintrag mehr!

XOXO

#travel #backpack #couple #southeastasia #cambodia #island #kohrongsamloem

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 8 years ago

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The Bodyguard- Ch 9

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

You guys are going to hate @alittlemissfit and I. Aka Queens of the Slow Burn.

Mrs. Mulder paces back and forth across the parlor while Bill smokes his pipe, stares out the window. There are two guards posted outside the house but their intimidating presence does nothing to calm Teena’s fears.

She looks over at Fox who’s fast asleep on the couch, his hurt leg propped up on a pillow. She then looks at her watch, makes a mental note that she’ll have to wake him in ten minutes thanks to his concussion.

“When will they be here, Bill?” She asks her ex husband in a hushed voice. He gives a slight shrug but doesn’t turn her way, getting her fuming as she continues to pace.

Hearing the bell Bill stands up, cuts over to the foyer to answer to the door. Staying put in the parlor, Teena frowns, hearing the voices of a man and a woman. Knowing though whoever is there shouldn’t walk in and see Fox out cold on the couch she walks over, shakes his arm gently.

“Fox. Darling, time to wake up.”

“Arggh,” Mulder groans.

“Please cooperate, Fox. Your new bodyguard is here and I need to check your pupils.”

Groaning again he forces himself to sit up. After examining his eyes Teena switches on the lamp on the sofa table, takes a seat next to her son as Bill walks back in the parlor. Accompanied by a small, redhaired woman and a tall, bald man who addresses her by name.

Smiling politely Teena stands up, extends her hand to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You must be Fox’s new bodyguard.”

Shaking his head Skinner gestures to Scully, “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, ma’am. This is Special Agent Dana Scully. She was trained by NCIS and was top of her class at Artemis. She’s going to be responsible for guarding your son.”

Teena looks over at the slight woman, finds she’s not even looking at her but rather at Fox. The expression on her face is strange and Teena narrows her eyes.

“Ms. Scully?” Her voice sounds harsh as it leaves her mouth, taking Scully by surprise.

“Oh! I’m sorry, ma’am. Dana Scully,” she says, awkwardly shaking Teena’s hand.

“I just, uh- I’ve met your son. I was at the scene of his accident this afternoon. Didn’t realize who he was.”

She’s trying and failing to hide her nerves, keeps glancing at Mulder who’s looking equally puzzled.

“Is that right?” Bill exclaims. “We were told there was someone at the scene that helped him. That must’ve been you.” he says pleasantly. Her cheeks going pink Scully nods, gives him a small smile.

“Well, thank you for keeping an eye on him. Teena and I are both grateful.”

Bill says, looking to his pursed lip wife before looking to his son.

“Fox, aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Mulder nods dumbly before trying to get to his feet, only to remember he can’t. Not without his crutches over in the corner.

“Hi, I...I’m Fox. Fox Mulder. But I’d rather you call me Mulder,” he says as Teena sighs, shoots him a glare. It’s bad enough her son has such disdain for his name, but drawing attention to that in front of guests. Her lips purse more as she folds her arms over her chest.

“Dana Scully,” Scully says, her brow furrowed. “I’ll be your new bodyguard.”

“You were the woman at the hospital,” Mulder recalls as Scully’s face goes red and she looks down, away from him while all the eyes in the room look to her.

“Yes, I was,” she says softly. “Like I said, I was on the scene after the crash. I followed the ambulance to the hospital just to see if you were alright.”

“Well, how nice it is to be so highly regarded,” Mulder quips, catching looks from Teena and Bill.

“Why did you leave?” he asks, his smirk going serious.

“Something came up,” Scully says coolly before an awkward silence sets in.

Eager to break it Bill clears his throat,

“Well, Ms. Scully. I don’t know if you heard about Fox’s condition. He’s sustained a concussion so he’ll need to be woken up every couple of hours.”

“I understand. I was pre-med at Stanford so any basic medical attention your son requires, I can provide.”

“Well, would you look at that. Medicine and muscle all in one. Good choice, Pop,” Mulder scoffs.

“Fox!” Teena hisses as Bill rolls his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Please excuse my son, Ms. Scully. Whatever medicine he’s on has got him acting punchy.”

“Well luckily I have the muscle to punch back,” Scully retorts, getting a glare from Teena, a mortified look from Skinner but a hearty laugh from Bill.

“Walter told us you’re planning to stay the night. If you’d prefer to make other arrangements though it’s not an-”

“It’s not a problem, Mr. Mulder. I’ll be fine,” she says, nodding to her overnight bag in the corner.

“Well then, just make yourself comfortable in here. Feel free to turn on the TV. We have a fully stocked bookshelf just over there and you can help yourself to water or coffee in the kitchen.”

“I appreciate it, sir. Don’t worry though, we’ll be fine.”

Nodding, Bill looks at the cool look she gives Mulder, the annoyed look he gives her right back, and smiles.

“I don’t doubt that. If my son steps out of line don’t hesitate to find me,” he says, giving Mulder a cautionary look before patting Scully on the shoulder.

“I have a feeling you’ve got this handled though.”

Smiling, Scully nods, thanks him before Bill nods for Walter to follow him into the study. Leaving Teena still pursed lipped, looking at Scully and her son judgmentally.

Smile fading, swallowing hard Scully approaches the older, stern woman.

“Mrs. Mulder, let me assure you that-”

“Are you sure you are capable of looking after my son?” Teena interrupts. “His life was just threatened today, you know. That crash on the highway was no accident.”

“I understand, ma’am. But I’ve been briefed on the situation and on the men who we believe are after your son. I’ve received Navy training as well as training through Artemis, I’m a good shot, and I’m highly skilled in both hand to hand combat and tactical defensive strategy. The grounds of your estate are being guarded but if anyone should breach the perimeter and access the house, I’m fully prepared to defend your son.”

Nodding slightly, Teena glances at her son then back to the woman in front of her who’s meeting her eyes, looking as cool and collected as ever.

“You have an alarm on your watch to wake Fox every two hours?”

“Yes,” Scully answers. “I’ll set it as soon as he goes back to sleep.”

“You two do remember that I’m right here, right?” Mulder asks, annoyed.

Rolling her eyes Teena looks back to Scully.

“However punchy he may be this evening, you’re responsible for the care and wellbeing of my only son. I will be coming down to check on you this evening and you had better be awake and on guard,” Teena says in a low, clipped voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” Scully replies, addressing the woman the way she would a Navy captain. Her reservations about Teena aside, the family matriarch clearly commanded respect.

Keeping her eyes trained on Scully as she walks out of the parlor, Teena bites her lip before glancing at Mulder. The sternness in her eyes fading out.

“Sleep well, Fox,” she says worriedly as Mulder nods, swallows hard.

“You too, Mom.”

Standing silently in the middle of the room, Scully keeps her eyes trained on her detail. On Fox. Or Mulder, she thinks to herself, suddenly feeling very tired.

When he looks back at her with no recognition she debates if she should bring up the elephant in the room.

“So I’ve seen you naked and now I’m going to be your bodyguard. Is that cool?” she mutters under her breath, hoping he didn’t hear her but also hoping he had.

“Thanks for helping me after the car accident,” Mulder says awkwardly as she frowns, bites her lip.

“I...of course. It wasn’t any trouble.”

“The details are pretty hazy, but if you said you were there-”

“Wait, do...do you not remember me? At all?” she asks, her face flushing with embarrassment. Wondering how far his not remembering her goes back to.

“I guess I was knocked out pretty good,” Mulder says, frowning as she looks blankly at him for a moment.

“No, I mean…”

“What?” he asks after she trails off, shakes her head again.

“Nothing. Forget it, I...it’s been a long day.”

“But…”

“You should get some rest,” Scully says, trying to ignore the way he’s squinting at her, his head cocked with a mystified expression on his face. Turning on her heel she grabs her bag, walks back in the parlor to see him lying down, still looking at her with the same expression.

“You can turn on the TV if you want. I usually fall asleep with it on,” Mulder offers as she shakes her head. . “You shouldn’t be watching TV with a concussion,” she says dismissively, taking a seat in the armchair next to the couch. Reaching for her bag she pulls out some paperbacks that she brought.

“Try and get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours.” Putting her feet up on a nearby ottoman she puts on her glasses, while Mulder keeps looking at her.

“Do I know you from somewhere else?” he asks. She freezes up for a moment before she shrugs, does her best to act casual.

“Do I?” he asks again.

“Get some sleep,” Scully says softly, opening her book.

Mulder finally rolls on his side, turns away from her and when she hears his breathing grow even she sets the alarm on her watch.

For awhile she just stares at him. Even rolled over she still has a clear view of his face. His sleeping, too damn handsome, five o’clock shadowed face. Even with deep purple bruises beneath both his eyes, a scabbed over cut on his forehead, he still manages to look as attractive as he had that night.

Looking at his pouty lips she thinks back to how they felt against hers, wonders what they’d feel like on other places on her body. A warmth started to form between her legs and she shakes her head, chastises herself.

He didn’t remember her. Even factoring in his concussion he should have at least some recognition but it’s clear he has no memory of her at all, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t cut at her a little.

Yes, she’d been the one to leave that night without a note, without even giving him her real name, but the sex had been great, at least it had been for her. It stung a bit that even with a few drinks in her she could remember every detail and he’d forgotten them all.

Forcing all thoughts of that night from her mind, she focuses on the novel in her hand and the long night of observation ahead of her.

“Mulder? Mulder, time to wake up.”

The low, feminine voice lures him out of the wonderful dream he’s managed to lose himself in. He’d been back in bed with the mystery woman, but instead of a faceless vision she looks like his new bodyguard. She’s moving above him and his hands are on her hips, her breasts swaying with her movements. It’s Dana riding him passionately, biting her lip to keep from crying out, looking down at him with lidded eyes.

Her voice blends seamlessly into his dream as she wakes him up and for a brief moment when he looks at her he fears he’s said something embarrassing.

She’s perched on the coffee table in front of the couch and is close enough that he can smell vanilla lotion she must’ve just put on. She’s changed into leggings and a large grey t-shirt with NAVY written across it in black print. He’s painfully aware she’s not wearing a bra underneath it, and hopes that the afghan covering him is enough to conceal his erection.

Glancing down he inwardly sighs in relief that it is. Looks back up to see her looking at him, brows furrowed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better before I woke up,” he grumbles, squirming a little under the blanket.

“Follow my finger,” she instructs, moving it to the left, then the right.

“How bad is your headache on a scale of 1-10?”

“Seven,” Mulder shrugs. “It’s wasn’t bad when I was discharged but now-”

“Were you prescribed pain medication?”

Slowly nodding he quickly regrets it.

“When was your last dose?”

Closing his eyes he tries his best to remember, “Around 4:30. I think.”

“Okay, you’re probably due to take more. Where are the pills?”

“Try the kitchen counter. Just make sure you don’t grab Mom’s happy pills.”

Nodding in understanding, wondering if she ought to pop a few, Scully gets to her feet but isn’t sure where to walk after leaving the parlor.

“Which way-”

“Right through the dining room,” Mulder says with a sigh as he turns to watch her go.

Admiring the view as she leaves he feels himself harden again and scolds himself, glares down at his concealed crotch.

Hearing the water running in the kitchen he hastily adjusts the blankets before Scully walks back in the parlor, crouches down next to the coffee table where she sets the water glass.

“You weren’t kidding about the happy pills,” she snorts, uncapping and tilting the pill bottle into her hand.

“Oh yeah. She’s got quite a collection,” Mulder sighs as she hands him the two capsules and the water. He swears he feels a spark when her fingers brush his, and that feeling amplifies at the smirk on her lips.

“That spot on the countertop looked straight out of Valley Of The Dolls.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, but the movement makes him grateful he has his own meds coming. Tossing the pills back he takes a sip of water.

“Finish that. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Whatever you say, doc,” Mulder grumbles but he obeys. Met with a look though he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Look, if you get really fed up with me don’t hesitate to sneak one or two of Mom’s pills. Trust me, Teena won’t even know they’re gone.”

“If I hadn’t signed a code of conduct prohibiting inebriation when on duty, I’d probably take you up on that.”

“I’m just not used to this. Being back here. My every move being watched. Not being able to get off the damn couch.”

“If you need your crutches-”

“No. I’m...I’m fine, Scully,” Mulder says, squeezing her hand to keep her from moving as he slumps back more into the couch cushions. His eyes are going heavy but he sees her arch a brow and gives her a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Special Agent Scully...Dana...I don’t-”

“It’s alright. Scully’s fine. I mean if you want me to call you Mulder, I-”

“I even make my parents call me Mulder,” he laughs, looking up at her with a starry eyed expression. Clearly the meds are starting to kick in. He still hasn’t let go of her hand.

“You should get some sleep, Mulder.”

“But I’m not grumpy now. We...we should keep talking. Get to know each other better.”

“You know more about me than you think,” she says to herself as he frowns, cocks his head at her in a confused puppy kind of way.

“What was that, Scully?”

“Try and get some sleep.”

Tucking the blanket more around him with her free hand, she goes to move her other one out of his. Sensing that, Mulder moves to brush his lips on her fingertips and she bites her lip, blinks back tears. Feeling grateful the lights in here are dimmed.

“Y...you look like a Katherine, Scully…” he mumbles before his eyes slip shut. She lets go of his hand then, tucks the blankets more around him before brushing her lips on his forehead, perching on the edge of the coffee table.

“Good night, Fox.”

#i wrote this #we wrote this #the bodyguard #txf fanfic #x files fanfic

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greekowl87 · 7 years ago

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Holiday Fic: Ugly Sweater Party

A/N: This was inspired by a photo someone made of Mulder and Scully wearing holiday sweaters, Scully's had Bigfoot, and I have no idea who to credit, but this inspired this fic. If you know what I am talking about, please tag me so I can link to it. Thanks!

I could have probably have done so much more with this but after sitting in the library for nine hours today and working on a research paper, my mind barely functions and I was lucky enough to get this written. Thanks for reading.

Tagging @thexmasfileschallenge and @today-in-fic

The emergence of Mulder and Scully from the basement office was not an unusual event, especially when their boss, AD Skinner summoned them to his office without telling them why.

"Why do you think Skinner wants to see us," Mulder spoke softly into Scully's ear as they walked.

"I don't know, have you pissed him off for anything recently?" she teased.

"I hope not. Maybe it's a new case. We have been pretty dry lately."

"Maybe."

Kimberly, Skinner's sectary, smiled at them as they entered the office and told them. "The door is open. He is expecting you."

Mulder pushed open the door for Scully as she strolled in first. Skinner did not look up from his paperwork as his agents took their respective seats in the two chairs facing his executive desk. Skinner signed something and finally looked at Mulder and Scully, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "You're probably wondering why I called you here this afternoon," he said.

"Not particularly, sir," Mulder replied, glancing at Scully.

"I have a favor to ask of you two." Skinner sighed. "I have been roped into throwing a holiday part with my sister and brother-in-law coming into town this weekend. An ugly sweater party I think they called it. As I," he shifted uncomfortably before continuing, "don't have many work acquaintances, I need you both to come. I have already invited a few Core buddies and my sister has friends. But I need some guests from the FBI."

"Is that a request, sir or an order," Scully asked.

"An order. Saturday night, 8 o'clock. Bring your alcoholic beverages and something to share," he said.

"Is that all?" Mulder asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you have something to tell me, Mulder?"

"No, sir.

"Then dismissed."

He went back to work and the agents, casting quizzical glances at one another, left without saying another word. When the got back to the basement office and they looked at each other. "I guess we got to go sweater shopping, Mulder."

. . . .

They lingered in her car together, taking measure of the ugly sweaters they had bought each other. Scully glanced at Mulder and then grimaced as she looked down at the blue and white snow inspired Bigfoot outline. "Why did you get me Bigfoot, Mulder? Could you think of nothing else? Where on Earth did you ever find it?"

"It's a yeti technically, Scully and I could ask you the same." He looked down at his green and white sweater where the periodic symbols of elements formed in shape of a Christmas tree proclaiming 'It's a Chemistree!' "Science. Really?"

She chuckled and said, "It seems fitting, doesn't it? I mean, since we are involved now, you could say it's a couple's outfit. Maybe we should do a Christmas card to?"

"We haven't exactly gone proclaiming to the world," he murmured. "Skinner must suspect something."

"As far as he knows, we're partners, nothing more. Now, did you bring the bottle of vodka?"

"Did you bring the green bean casserole?"

They both grinned at each other and got out of the car and took the elevator to Skinner's Crystal City apartment. By the time they stepped off and into the hallway, the party was already in full swing. They could hear laughter and music from the closed apartment door. "Look's like we have the right place," Mulder murmured, nudging Scully to go first.

As they stood in front of the door, Scully raised her hand to knock, balancing the casserole with her other hand. A light knock and Skinner opened the door widely and with sudden gusto. "Mulder! Scully! I'm glad you could make it! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show."

Scully smirked noticing Skinner's own ugly Christmas sweater, a gingerbread man holding a candy cane with the words 'Let's get baked!' beneath it. "Nice sweater, sir," she managed.

"I could say the same for you both, very...you," he chuckled. "Come in, come in, let me introduce you to everyone!"

He ushered them into a chaotic Christmas party with a huge group of people and children weaving in and out of the adults with laughter. Skinner took the casserole and the bottle of vodka and nudged them to his sister and her husband, who introduced themselves. "I'm Charlotte," the older woman said, who looked like a very feminine version of Skinner, "and this is my husband Robert."

"Dana," Scully supplied, holding out her hand. "This is Fox."

"Pleasure," Mulder smiled. "I'm sorry, but you and AD Skinner look awfully alike."

"Twins," Charlotte laughed. "I'm the older one of course. Please feel free to have fun. We have a contest for the ugliest Christmas sweater, however, should we count you two together or separate?"

"We come as a package," Mulder answered, wrapping his arm slightly around Scully's waist, "isn't that right, Scully?"

"That's right," she grounded out, panic rising in her chest as Mulder's intimate display. She tried to pull away, in case Skinner saw them but Mulder only held tighter to his side. "A package. Two peas in a pod."

"Lovely. Don't forget to vote. Well, I must see to the others, feel free to give me a shout and enjoy yourselves."

Skinner's sister left them and Scully glanced sharply up at Mulder. "What the hell?" she hissed.

"Skinner's drunk, as is everyone here, he won't mind or notice. Come on, let's make like normal people and mingle."

She bit her lip and forced herself not to reply. The hours passed, eventually striking midnight, with the party showing no signs of slowing down. Mulder and Scully found themselves loosening up and actually having fun. By midnight, Skinner was clinking a beer bottle down on a table, calling for attention.

"First off, I want to thank everyone for coming. First off, Charlotte, despite you being my older sister, I'm still the best looking in between us," he called, laughing.

"Well, baldness must be the ticket," she called back.

"Must be. Secondly, to my buddies from the Core for inspiring my sweater," he continued, clearly intoxicated. "We remember those marvelous nights in Da Nang smoking that good stuff."

"Hoo-rah, Mr. Clean," one of the older men wearing a Vietnam Veterans hat called.

"Mr. Clean," Scully whispered into Mulder's arm, amused.

"Better than Skinman," he answered.

"I would also like to thank two of my agents for coming," he indicated to Mulder and Scully. "As much as you make me lose what remains of my hair, Mulder, I still have the best agents in the FBI with you and Scully."

"Thanks, Mr. Clean," Mulder called back, saluting with his beer.

The group chuckled and Skinner answered with mock severity, trying not to laugh, "Monday, 10am, my office, Mulder."

"Yes, sir."

"Lastly, I just want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Hunkunah, and Happy Holidays. It would not mean a thing to mean if it weren't for you all." Skinner raised his drink to toast as the room mirrored his actions. "Cheers!"

"Cheers," everyone echoed.

Scully had melted to Mulder's side affectionately and looked up and stole a kiss. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

"Merry Christmas, Scully."

"Walter, don't forget to announce the winners of the sweater contest."

"Oh, right. Did you already tally the votes?"

"Shit, no." She looked around, rushed. "I can't find them, Walter!"

"Forget about it," Skinner shouted. "Everyone, let's continue to have fun!"

Scully nuzzled Mulder's chest. "Well," she sighed softly. "I think you have the best sweater."

"Well, what can I say, my partner has impeccable taste."

She smiled. "You wanna get out of her and head back to my place? Brunch tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. Let's get out of here."

#xfiles #xf fanfic #txf #msr #msr fic #fluff #holiday #skinner #scully #mulder #ugly sweater party #ramble #thexmasfileschristmaschallenge #todayinfic #random

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